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PB 

1 

MA 

v.22 

c.  1 

ROBA 


U.RAKY 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES 


A.    MAESHALL    ELLIOTT 

MANAGING   EDITOR 


JAMES  W.  BRIGHT,   HERMANN  COLLITZ, 
ASSOCIATE  EDITORS 


VOLUME    XXII 

1907 


BALTIMOKE  :  THE  EDITORS 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


ORIGINAL    ARTICLES. 

Broadus,  E.  K.,  Addison's  Discourse  on  Ancient 
and  Modern  Learning 

Gerber,  A.,  All  of  the  Five  Fictitious  Italian 
Editions  of  Writings  of  Machiavelli  and 
Three  of  Those  of  Pietro  Aretino  Printed 
by  John  Wolfe  of  London  (1584-1588)... 

Morrison,  Alfred  J.,  The  French  Novel  of  In- 
trigue from  1150-1300.  II 

Bruner,  James  D.,  The  Subsequent  Union  of 
Dying  Dramatic  Lovers 

Klein,  David,  A  Rabbinical  Analogue  to  Patelin 

Beam,  Jacob  N.,  Richard  Strauss'  Salome  and 
Heine's  Atta  Troll 

^11     AIU    .a     f  The  Concordance  Society 

Cook,  Alberts.,  <'    , 

I  Marlowe,  Faustus  13.  91-2.... 

Fay,  Edwin  W.,  Ancient  Words  with  Living 
Cognates 

Richards,  Alfred  E.,  Some  Faustus  Notes 

Buck,  P.  M.,  Jr.,  Add.  MS.  34064,  and  Spenser's 
Ruins  of  Time  and  Mother  Hubberd's  Tale... 

Benham,  Allen  R.,  Two  Notes  on  Dante 

Tupper,  Frederick,  Jr...  Samson  Agonisles,  1665-6 

T.  .  .     .      (  Grifon  '  Greek ' 

Livingston,  A.  A.,  •{       '   . 

\.Gr\/Mgne  'Greek' 

Hammond,  Eleanor  Prescott,  Two  Chaucer 
Cruces 

Crawford,  J.  P.  Wickersham,  A  Rare  Collection 
of  Spanish  Eutremeses 

Lancaster,  H.  Carrington,  The  Date  of  ai  in 
Connaitre  and  Parattre 

Schinz,  A.,  Ferdinand  Brunetiere  (1849-1906). 

Sparrow,  Caroline  L.,  Browning's  Dramas.   I... 

Doubedout,  E.  J.,  Edgar  Poe  et  Alfred  de 
Musset 

De  Perott,  Joseph,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  and 

the  Mirrour  of  Knighthood 

-  Shearin,  H.  G.,  On  the  Inflection  of  the  Old- 
English  Long-Stemmed  Adjective 

Collester,  Clinton  H.,  Notes  on  the  "New  Eng- 
land Short  o." 

Cooper,  Lane,  A  Glance  at  Wordsworth's  Read- 
ing. I 

ii 


1-2 

2-6 
6-11 

11-12 
12-13 

13-14 
33-35 
35-37 

37-39 
39-41 

41-46 
46 
47 

47-49 
49-51 

51-52 
52-54 

54-56 
56-57 
65-71 

71-76 
76-78 
78-80 
80-83 
83-89 


Sparrow,  Caroline  L.,  Browning's  Dramas.    II..      97-103 
Baker,  George  M.,  An  Early  English  Transla- 
tion of  Miss  Sara  Sampson 103-104 

Gay,  Lucy  M.,  Studies  in  Middle  French 104-109 

Meader,  C.  L.,  German  selb 109-110 

Cooper,  Lane,  A  Glance  at  Wordsworth's  Read- 
ing.   II  HO-117 

•'Wood,  Francis  A.,  Some  Disputed  Etymologies.     118-122 
Gerber,  A.,  All  of  the  Five  Fictitious  Italian 
Editions  of  Writings  of  Machiavelli  and 
Three  of  those  of  Pietro  Aretino  Printed  by 
John  Wolfe  of  London  (1584-1589).     II...     129-135 
Adams,  Jr.,  Joseph  Quincy,  The  Authorship  of 

Two  Seventeenth  Century  Plays 135-137 

Warren,  F.  M.,  The  Council  of  Remiremont....     137-140 
Osgood,  Charles  G.,  Jr.,  Milton's  'Sphere  of 

Fortune' 140-141 

Mosemiller,  C.  A.,  Etymologies Franjaises 141-144 

Kerlin,  Robert  T.,  Scott's  Ivanhoe  and  Sydney's 

Arcadia 144-146 

Cook,  Albert  S.,  Various  Notes:  Carlyle,  Sar- 
lor  Resartus  ;  Chaucer,  Parl.  Foules,  353  ; 

Beowulf,  1408ff 146-147 

Buchanan,  Milton  A.,  Notes  on  Calderon  :  The 
Vera  Tassis  Edition  ;  the  T*&t  of  La  Vida 

es  SueHo 148-150 

Pearce,  J.  W.,  Miscellaneous  Notes 151-152 

Jenkins,  T.  Atkinson,  Three  Notes  to  A.  Dau- 

det's  Stories 152 

Bright,  James  W.,  Residual  Ens 152-153 

Morton,  Edward  Payson,  Mr.  William  J.  Craig 

(1843-1906) 153 

Howard,  W.  G.,  Schillers  Einfluss  auf  Hebbel..     161-163 
Miller,  Aura,  The  Sources  of  the  Text  of  Ham- 
let in   the  Editions  of  Rowe,   Pope,   and 

Theobald 163-168 

McBryde,  J.  M.,  Jr.,  Charms  for  Thieves 168-170 

Glascock,  C.  C.,  The  Use  of  Contrasts  in  Suder- 

mann's  Plays 170-177 

Fisher,    Lizette  Andrews,    Shakspere  and  the 

Capitol 177-182 

Gerber,  A. ,  'All  of  the  Five  Fictitious  Italian 
Editions  of  Writings  of  Machiavelli  and 
Three  of  those  of  Pietro  Aretino  Printed  by 
John  Wolfe  of  London  (1584-1589).  III.  201-206 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


111 


Cook,  Albert  S.,  Miscellaneous  Notes  : 

Chaucer,  Knights  Tale,  810-811 207 

Lea/en 207 

Dream  of  the  Rood  54 207 

Spenser,"  .F.  Q.,  1.  1.  1.  6 298-209 

Spenser,  F.  Q.,  I.  Int.  3.  5 209 

Davidson,  F.  J.  A.,  The  Plays  of  Paul  Hervieu    209-215 
Buchanan,  Milton   A,,  Notes  on  the  Spanish 

Drama :    Calderon's    La    Vida    es    Sveilo. 

Lope's  El  Honrado  Hermano.     Tirso,  El 

Caballerode  Olmeda 215-218 

Belden,  H.  M.,  The  Date  of  Coleridge's  Melan- 
choly   218-220 

.Hart,  J.  M.,  OE.  werg,  werig,  'accursed';  wer- 

gen,  'to  curse' 220-222 

Baker,  Harry  T.,  The  Authorship  of  Pericles, 

v,  1.  1-101 222-223 

Cutting,  Starr  Willard,  Fiirbrechen  :  Walther 

von  der  Vogelweide,  105-14.     (Wilraanns)  224 

Adauis,  Jr.,  Joseph   Quincy,  Robert  Greene's 

What  thing  is  Loue? 225 

Searles  Colbert,  The  Stageability  of  Garnier's 

Tragedies 225-229 

Johnston,  Oliver  M. ,  Origin  of  the  Vow  Motif 

in  the  White  Wolf  and  Belated  Stories 233-234 

,  Wood,  Francis  A.,  Etymological  Notes 234-236 

Durand,  W.  Y.,  A  "Local  Hit"  in  Edwards's 

Damon  and  Pythias 237-238 

Crawford,  J.  P.  Wickersham,  El  Principe  Don 

Carlos  of  Xime'nez  de  Enciso 238-241 

Hart,  Walter  Morris,  The  Lady  in  the  Garden.     241-242 
Fitz-Gerald,    John    D.,    A    Latin-Portuguese 

Play  concerning  Saints  Vitus  and  Modestus    242-243 
Hawkins,  K.  L.,  A  Letter  from  One  Maiden  of 

the  Benaissance  to  Another ,.., 243-245 

McBryde,  Jr.,  J.  M.,  The  Sator-Acrostic 245-249 

REVIEWS,  r 

Men^ndez  y  Pelayo,  D.  M.,  Orfgines  de  la 

Novela.  [James  Fitzmauricc-Kelly.] 14-19 

Cohen,  Gustave,  Histoire  de  la  Mise  en  ScSne 
dans  le  Theatre  religieux  francais  du 
Moyen-Age.  [P.  Hamelius.]  19-21 

Becent  Studies  of  ThePearl.   [  Clark  S.  Northup.  ]         21-22 

Annales  de  la  Socie'te'  Jean-Jacques  Bousseau. 

[A.  Schinz.] 22-24 

Lohmeyer,  Edward,  Die  Kasseler  Grimm-G?e- 

sellschaft,  1896-1905.  [Karl  Detiev  Jessen.]  24-25 

Vreeland,  Williamson  Up  Dike,  Etude  sur  les 
Rapports  Litte'raires  entre  Geneve  et 
1'Angleterre  jusqu'a  la  Publication  de  la 
Nouvelle  HelDise.  {Helen  J.  Huebener.]....  25-27 


Deutsches  Liederbuch  fur  amerikanische  Stu- 

denten.     [W.  H.  Carruth.] 57-58 

Deutsches   Liederbuch  fur  amerikanische  Stu- 

denten.     [Paul  R.  Pope.  ] 58-59 

Ford,  J.  D.  M.,  The  Bomances  of  Chivalry  in 

Italian  Verse.     [  J.  Geddes,  Jr.  ] 60-61 

Guerlac,  O.,  Selections  from  French  Authors. 

[O.  B.  Super.} 61-62 

Thayer,  William  Waterman,  Laurence  Sterne 

in  Germany.     [Thomas  Stoclcham  Baker.]...        89-94 

Saintsbury,    George,    A    History    of    English 

Prosody.     [  Wm.  Hand  Browne.  ] 122-124 

Wallace,  Elizabeth,  La  Perfecta  Casada.     [ John 

D.  Fitz-Gerald.] 125 

,  Jordan,  Richard,  Die  altenglischen  Siiugetier- 

namen.     [Charles  Huniington  Whitman.]....     154-157 

Plessow,  Max,  Geschichte  der  Fabeldichtung 
in  England  bis  zu  John  Gay  (1726). 
[Philip  Harry] 157-158 

Chatfield-Taylor,  H.  C.,  Moliere.   A  Biography, 

[Wm.A.  Nitze.] 182-184 

Chatfield-Taylor,  H.  C.,  Moliere.    A  Biography. 

[F.C.  L.  van  Steenderen.] 184-186 

Schofield,  Wm.  Henry,  English  Literature  from 
the  Norman  Conquest  to  Chaucer.  [John 
S.P.  Tatlock.] 185-189 

Thomas,    Calvin,    An    Anthology    of    German 

Literature  (Part  I).     [H.  Z.  Kip.] 189-180 

Geddes,  J.,  La  Chanson  de  Roland.     [Raymond 

Weeks.] 190-192 

Neilson,  William  Allan,  The  Complete  Dramatic 
and  Poetic  Works  of  William  Shakespeare. 
[A.  H.  Thorndike.] 192-194 

Ravenel,  Florence  Leftwich,  La  Vie  Seint  Ed- 
mund le  Rei.  [T.  Atkinson  Jenkins.] 194-196 

The  King's  English.     [George  Philip  Krapp.]. .     196-197 

Collins,  J.  Churton,  The  Plays  and  Poems  of 

Robert  Greene.     [Robert  Adger  Law.  ] 197-199 

Mene'ndez  Pidal,  Ramon,  Primera  Cronica  Ge- 
neral 6  sea  Estoria  de  Espana  que  mando 
componer  Alfonso  el  Sabio  y  se  Continuaba 
bajo  Sancho  IV  en  1289.  [  C.  CarrollMarden.  ]  229-232 

Trautmann,   M.,   Banner  Beitrdge  zur  Anglie- 

tile.    Heft  xvil.     [Fr.  Klaeber.] 250-252 

Rod,  Edouard,  L'a/aire  Jean-Jacques  Bousseau. 

[Albert  Schinz.] 252-256 

Ray,  John  A.,  Drake  dans  la  Poesie  Espagnole 

(1570-1732).     [J.  P.  Wickersham  Crawford]     256-258 

Brewer,  Antony,  The  Love-Sick  King,  edited 
from  the  Quarto  of  1655  by  A.  E.  H. 
Swaen.  [Joseph  Quincy  Adams,  Jr.] 258-260 

Alarcon,  Don  Pedro  A.  De,  Novelas  Cortas,  edi- 
ted by  W.  F.  Giese.  [George B.  BrovmelL]  260 


IV 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


CORRESPONDENCE. 

Nitze,  William  A.,  Dr.  Sommer's  Alleged  Dis- 
covery of  a  new  Manuscript 

Hart,  J.  M.,  Tudor  Pronunciation  of  ou  <O.  E. 

u;  oa  <0.  E.  a 

Wilkins,  Ernest  H,,  Margutte  and  the  Monkey 
Gerig,  J.  L.,  The  Archives  of  Southern  France 

Livingston,  A.  A.,  Peler  le  Geai 

Morton,   Edward   Payson,   Huggins's   Orlando 

Furioso  Again 

Licklider,   Albert    H.,    Alexander    Scott's    A 

Rondel  of  Luve 

Cook,  Albert  S.,  Henryson,  Testament  of  Cres- 

seid  8-14 

•  Hemingway,  Samuel  B.,  Cynewulf's  Christ,  1L 

173b-176a 

Fletcher,  Jefferson  B.,  " The  Widdowes  Daugh- 
ter of  the  Glenne." 

Northup,  Clark  S.,  An  Archaism  in  The  Ancient 

Mariner 

Cooper,  Lane,  Mummia  in  Purchas  his  Pilgrim- 
age  

Sommer,   H.   Oskar,   A    Note   on    the    Prose 

Perceval 

Colwell,  W.  A,,  Ths  First  English  Translator 

of  Oberon 

Gerould,  G.  H.,  The  North-English  Homily 

Collection 

Gerig,  J.  L.,  A  Becipe  for  Epilepsy 

.   Bryant,  Frank  E.,  Beowulf  62 


27 

28 
28 

28-30 
30-31 

31-32 
32 
62 

62-63 
63 

63-64 
64 

94-95 
95 

95-96 
96 
96 


Tweedie,  W.  M.,  " From  China  to  Peru." 

Cook,  Albert  S.,  Chaucer,  Prol.  466 

Bichards,  Alfred  E.,  Marlowe,  Faustus,  Scene  14 

Klein,  David,  Old  Plays 

Myrick,  Arthur  B.,  A  Note  on  a  Sonnet  of 

Ste'phane  Mallarm^ 

Guerlac,  O.  G,,  Bejoinder  to  Professor  Super's 

Criticism 

Cutting,  Starr  Willard,  A  Language  of  the 

Philippines 

Kittredge,  G.  L.,  The  Etymology  of  bore 

•  Klaeber,  Fr.,  Beowulf,  62 

.Schlutter,  Otto  B.,  Errata 

Harris,  L.  M.,  Tell  me,  Where  is  Fancy  Bred. 

Shaw,  J.  E.,  Mary  Lucretia  Davidson 

Padelford,  Frederick  M.,  An  Unnoted  Source 

of  L'  Allegro 

Spingarn,  J.  E.,  Milton's  Fame 

Young,  Mary  Vance,  The  Eyes  as  Generators 

of  Love 

Adams,  Jr.,  Joseph  Quincy,  John  Hey  wood's 

The  Play  of  the  Weather 

Danton,  George  Henry,  A  Curious  Slip  in  Wie- 

land 

Spingarn,  J.  E.,  Art  for  Art's  Sake  :  A  Query. 

•  Shearin,    Hubert    G.,    The   Phoenix    and    the 

Guthlae 

Belden,  H.  M.,  Archaisms  in  Ballads 

BRIEF   MENTION. 
264. 


126 
126 

126-127 
127 

127 
128 

159 

159-160 

160 

160 

199 

199-200 

200 
232 

232 
262 

262 
263 

263 

263-264 


INDEX  TO  VOLUME  XXII,  1907. 


Adams,  Jr.,  Joseph  Quincy,  The  Authorship 

of  Two  Seventeenth  Century  Plays 135-137 

—  Eobert  Greene'*  What  thing  is  Loue? 225 

—  John  Hey  wood' a  The  Play  of  the  Weather 262 

—  The  Love-Sick  King 258-260 

Addison's   Discourse  on   Ancient  and  Modern 

Learning 1-2 

Alarc6n,  Don  Pedro  A.  De,  Novelas  Corlas 260 

Art  for  Art's  Sake  :  A  Query 263 

Baker,  George  M.,  An  Early  English  Trans- 
lation of  Miss  Sara  Sampson 103-104 

Baker,  Harry  T.,  The  Authorship  of  Pericles^ 

v.  1,  1-101 222-223 

Baker,  T.  S.,  Thayer's  Lawrence  Sterne  in 

Germany 89-94 

Ballads,  Archaisms  in  — 263-264 

Beam,  Jacob  N.,  Kichard  Strauss'  Salome  and 

Heine's  Aita  Troll 13-14 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher  and  the  Mirrour  of 

Knighthood 76-78 

Beitrage,  Bonner  —  zur  Anglistik 250-252 

Belden,  H.  M.,  The  date  of  Coleridge's  Melan- 
choly   218-220 

—  Archaisms  in  Ballads 263-264 

Benham,  Allen  B.,  Two  Notes  on  Dante 46 

Beowulf,  1408  ff.   146-147 160 

—,62 96 

Brewer,  Antony,  The  Love-Sick  King 258-260 

Bright,  James  \V.,  Residual  Ens 152-153 

Broadus,  E.  K.,  Addison's  Discourse  on  Ancient 

and  Modern  Learning 1-2 

Browne,  Win.  Hand,  Saintsbury  :  A  History  of 

English  Prosody 122-124 

Brownell,  George  G.,  Novelas  Cortas 260 

Browning's  Dramas,  1 65-70 

"  II 97-103 

Bruner,  James  D.,  The  Subsequent  Union  of 

Dying  Dramatic  Lovers 11-12 

Brunetiere,  Ferdinand  (1849-1906) 50-57 

Bryant,  Frank  E.,  Beowulf  62 96 

Buchanan,  Milton  A.,  A  Note  on  Calderon  : 

The   Vera  Lassis   Edition  ;   The  Text  of 

LaVida  es  SueTio 148-150 

—  Notes  on  the  Spanish  Drama  :  Calderon's  La 

Vida  esSveno,  Lope' s  El  Honrado  Hermano. 

Tirso,  El  Caballero  de  Olmeda 215-218 

Buck,  Jr.,  P.  M.,  Add.  MS.  34064,  and  Spen- 
ser's Ruins  of  Time  and  Mother  Hubberd's 
Tale 41-46 


Calderon,  A  Note  on  :  The  Vera  Tassis  Edi- 
tion ;  The  Text  of  La  Vida  es  Sueno 

—  La  Vida  es  Sueno 

Carlyle,  Sartor  Resartus 

Carruth,  W.  H.,  Deutsches  Liederbuch  fur 
amerikanische  Studenten 

Chatfield-Taylor,  H.  C.,  Moliere.  A  Biography 
(see  Nitze) 

—  A  Biography  (see  van  Steenderen) 

Chaucer,  Two  Cruces 

—  Prol.,  466 

—  Part.  Foules,  353 

—  English  Literature  from   the  Norman  Con- 

quest to — (see  Schofield  and  Tatlock) 

-  Knight's  Tale,  810-811 

Cohen,  Gustavus,  Histoire  de  la  Mise  en  Scene 

dans  le  Theatre  religieux  francais  duMoyen- 
Age  (see  Hamelius) 

Coleridge's  Melancholy,  The  date  of  — 

Collester,  Clinton  H.,  Notes  on  the  "New  Eng- 
land Short  o" 

Collins,  J.  Churton,  The  Plays  and  Poems  of 
Robert  Greene  (see  Law) 

Colwell,  W.  A.,  The  First  English  Translator 
of  Oberon 

Cook,  Albert  S.,  The  Concordance  Society 

-Marlowe,  Faustus  13.  91-2 

—  Henryson,  Testament  of  Cresseid,  8-14 

—  Chaucer,  Prol.  466 

r  Carlyle,  Sartor  Resartus, 

—  Various  Notes  -j  Chaucer,  Parl.  Foules  353, 

I  Beowulf,  1408  ff. 

Chaucer,    Knights  ] 
Tale,  810-811.     I 
Leafen. 
Dream  of  the  Rood 

54.  207-209 

Spenser,  F.  Q.  1. 

1.  1.  6. 

i  Spenser,  F.  Q.  I, 
[     Int.  3,  5. 
Cooper,  Lane,  Mummia  in  Purchas  his  Pilgrimage 

—  A  Glance  at  Wordsworth's  Reading.    I 

Cortas,  Novelas  — 

Craig,  Mr.  William  J.,  (1843-1906) 

Crawford,  J.  P.  Wickersham,  A  Rare  Collection 
of  Spanish  Entremeses 

-  Drake  dans  la  Poesie  Espagnole  (1570-1732).. 


(us,  i 
353,  j 


148-150 
215-218 
146-147 

57-58 

182-184 

184-186 

51-52 

126 

146-147 

186-189 
207 


19-21 
218-220 

80-83 
197-199 

75 

33-35 
35-37 

62 
126 

146-147 


—  Miscellaneous  Notes 


64 

83-89 

110-117 

260 

153 

52-54 
256-258 


INDEX  TO    VOLUME  XXII,    1907. 


Crawford,  J.  P.  Wickersham,  El  Prfncipe  Don 

Carlos  of  Xime'nez  de  Enciso 238-241 

Cutting,  Starr  Willard,  A  Language  of  the 

Philippines 159 

—  Furbrechen  :  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide, 

105-14  (Wilmanns) 224 

Cynewulf  s  Christ,  11.  173b-176a 62-63 

Dante,  Two  Notes  on  — 46 

Danton,  George  Henry,  A  Curious  Slip  in 

Wieland , 262 

Damon  and  Pythias,  A  "Local  Hit"  in  Ed- 

wards's  —  237-238 

Daudet'  s  Stories,  Three  Notes  to  A.  — 152 

Davidson,  F.  J.  A.,  The  Plays  of  Paul  Hervieu  209-215 

Davidson,  Mary  Lucretia  (see  Shaw) 199-200 

Doubedout,  E.  J.,  Edgar  Poe  et  Alfred  de 

Musset 71-76 

Dramatic  Lovers,  The  Subsequent  Union  of —  11-12 
Durand,  Walter  Tate,  A  "  Local  Hit"  in  Ed- 

wards's  Damon  and  Pythias 237-238 

English  Prosody.  A  History  of  —  (see  Saints- 
bury  and  Browne) 122-124 

—  Literature  from   the  Norman   Conquest  to 

Chaucer  (see  Schofield  and  Tatlock) 186-189 

—  The  King's  —  (see  Krapp) 196-197 

Etymological  Notes 234-236 

Faustus  13.  91-2,  Marlowe's 35-37 

—  Some  —  Notes 39-41 

—  Marlowe,  — ,  Scene  14 126-127 

Fay,  Edwin  W.,   Ancient  Words  with  Living 

Cognates 37-39 

Fisher,  L.  A.,  Shakspere  and  the  Capitol 177-182 

Fitz-Gerald,  John  D.,  Wallace,  La  Perfecta 

Casada 125 

—  A  Latin-Portuguese  Play  Concerning  Saints 

Vitus  and  Modestus 242-243 

Fitzmaurice-Kelly,  James,  Mengndez  y  Pelayo : 

Origines  de  la  Novela 14-19 

Fletcher,  Jefferson  B.,  "  The  Widdowes  Daugh- 
ter of  the  Glenne" 63 

Ford,  J.  D.  M.,  The  Romances  of  Chivalry  in 

Italian  Verse  (see  Geddes,  Jr.) 60-61 

French  Novel,  The  —  of  Intrigue  from  1150- 

1300.  II 6-11 

—  Selections  from  —  Authors  (see  Guerlac  and 

Super) 61-62 

—  Studies  in  Middle  — 104-109 

Garnier's  Tragedies,  The  Stageability  of  — ....  225-229 

Gay,  Lucy  M. ,  Studies  in  Middle  French 104-109 

Geddes,  Jr.,  J.  Ford,  The  Eomances  of  Chiv- 
alry in  Italian  Verse 60-61 

—  La  Chanson  de  Roland  (see  Weeks) 190-192 


Gerber,  A.,  All  of  the  Five  Fictitious  Italian 
Editions  of  Writings  of  Machiavelli  and 
Three  of  those  of  Pietro  Aretino  Printed 

by  John  Wolfe  of  London  (1584-1588) 2-6 

II.     129-135 

"  "  "          III.     201-206 

Gerig,  J.  L.,  The  Archives  of  Southern  France        28-30 

—  A  Recipe  for  Epilepsy 96 

German  selb 109-110 

Gerould,  G.  H.,  The  North  English  Homily 

Collection 95-96 

Glascook,  C.  C.,  The  Use  of  Contrasts  in  Suder- 

mann's  Plays 170-177 

Greene,  Robert,  The  Plays  and  Poems  of  — 

(see  Collins  and  Law) 197-199 

—  What  thing  is  Lone? 225 

Guerlac,  O.,  Selections  from   French   Authors 

(see  Super) 61-62 

—  Rejoinder  to  Professor  Super's  Criticism 126 

Gutldac,  The  Phoenix  and  the  —   263 

Hamelius,  P.,  Cohen  :  Histoire  de  la  Mise  en 
Scene  dans  le  Theatre  religieux  francais  du 

Moyen-Age 19-21 

Hamlet,  The  Sources  of  the  Text  of  —  in  the 

Editions  of  Rowe,  Pope,  and  Theobald 163-168 

Hammond,  E.  P.,  Two  Chaucer  Cruces 51-52 

Harris,  L.  M.,  Tell  Me,  Where  is  Fancy  Bred.  199 

Harry,  Philip,  Plessow  :  Geschichte  der  Fabel- 
dichtung  in  England  bis  zu  John  Gay 

(1726) 157-158 

Hart,  J.  M.,  Tudor  Pronunciation  of  ou  <OE. 

u;  oa<OE.  a 28 

—  OE.  wery,werig  'accused' ;  wergen  'to curse.'     220-222 
Hart,  Walter  Morris,  The  Lady  in  the  Garden.     241-242 
Hawkins,  R.  L.,  A  Letter  from  One  Maiden  of 

the  Renaissance  to  Another 243-245 

Heine's  Alia   Troll,    Richard    Strauss'   Salome 

and  — 13-14 

Hemingway,  Samuel  B.,  Cynewulf's  Christ,  11. 

173b-176a 62-63 

Hervieu,  Paul,  The  Plays  of — 209-215 

Heywood's,  John,  The  Play  of  the  Weather 262 

Howard,  W.  G.,  Schillers  Einfluss  auf  Hebbel.     161-163 
Huebner,  Helen  J.,  Vreeland  :   Etude  sur  les 
Rapports     Litt^raires    entre    Geneve    et 
1'Angleterre  jusqu'i  la  Publication  de  la 
Nouvelle  HeVise 25-27 

Italian,  All  of  the  Five  Fictitious  —  Editions 
of  Writings  of  Machiavelli  and  Three  of 
those  of  Pietro  Aretino  Printed  by  John 

Wolfe  of  London  (1584-1588) 2-6 

"     "    "     "  II.  129-135 

—  "     "     "    "     "  III.  201-206 


INDEX  TO   VOLUME  XXII,    1907. 


m 


Italian,   The    Romances    of    Chivalry    in  — 

Verse  (see  Ford  and  Geddes,  Jr.) 60-61 

Jenkins,    T.    Atkinson,   Three    Notes    to    A. 

Daudet's  Stories 152 

—  Ravenel:  La  Vie  Seint  Edmund  le  Rei 194-196 

Jessen,  Karl  Detley,  Lohmeyer:  Die  Kasseler 

Grimm-Gesellschaft,  1896-1905 24-25 

Johnston,  Oliver  M.,  Origin  of  the  Vow  Motif 

in  the  White  Wolf  and  Related  Stories 233-234 

Jordan,  Richard,  Die  Altenglischen  Saugetier- 

namen  (see  Whitman)  154-157 

Kerlin,  Robert  T.,  Scott's  Imnhoe  and  Sydney's 

Arcadia 144-146 

King,  The  Love-Sick  — 258-260 

Kip,  H.  Z.,  Thomas  :  An  Anthology  of  German 

Literature  (Part  I)  189-190 

Kittredge,  G.  L.,  The  Etymology  of  bore. 159-160 

Klaeber,  Fr.,  Beowulf,  62 160 

—  Banner  Beilrage  zur  Anglislik 250-252 

Klein,    David,    A     Rabbinical     Analogue     to 

Patelin 12-13 

—  Old  Plays 127 

Krapp,  Geo.  P.,  The  King's  English 196-197 

Lancaster,  H.  Carrington,  The  Date  of  at  in 

Cmnaitre  and  Paraitre 54-56 

Lady  in  the  Garden,  The—  241-242 

Law,  Robert  A.,  Collins  :  The  Plays  and  Poems 

of  Robert  Greene 197-199 

Licklider,  Albert  H.,  Alexander  Scott's  A  Ron- 
del of  Luxe, 32 

Livingston,  A.  A.,  Peler  le  Geai 30-31 

-  Grifan  'Greek' 47-49 

—  Gnfaigne  'Greek' 49-51 

Lohmeyer,  Edward,  Die  Kasseler  Grimm-Ge- 
sellschaft, 1896-1905  (see  Jessen) 24-25 

McBryde,  Jr.,  J.  M.,  Charms  for  Thieves, 168-170 

-  The  Sator-Acrostic 245-249 

Machiavelli,  All  of  the  Five  Fictitious  Italian 

Editions  of  Writings  of  —  and  Three  of 
those  of   Pietro  Aretino  Printed  by  John 

Wolfe  of  London  (1584-1588) 2-6 

"    "    "    "    "   II.  129-135 
"    "    "  III.  201-206 

Mallarmd,  A  Note  on  a  Sonnet  of  St^phane  — .  127 

Harden,  C.  Carroll,  Menendez  Pidal,  Eamon  : 

Primera  Cronica  General  6  sea  Estoria  de 

Espafia  que   Mando  Componer  Alfonso  el 

Sabio  y  se  Continuaba  bajo  Sancho  V  en 

1289 229-232 

Marlowe,  Faustus  13.  91-2 35-37 

Meader,  C.  L.,  German  selb 109-110 

Menendez  y   Pelayo,    D.    M.,   Origines  de   la 

Novela  (see  Fitzmaurice-Kelly) 14-19 


Mendndez  Pidal,  Ramon,  Primera  Cronica  Ge- 
neral 6  sea  Estoria  de  Espana  que  mand6 
componer  Alfonso  el  Sabio  y  se  Continuaba 
bajo  Sancho  IV  en  1289  (see  Marden) 229-232 

Miller,  Aura,  The  Sources  of  the  Text  of  Ham- 
let in  the  Editions  of  Rowe,  Pope,  and 
Theobald 163-168 

Milton's  'Sphere  of  Fortune' 140-141 

—  Fame 232 

Modestus,  A  Latin-Portuguese  Play  Concerning 

Saints  Vitus  and  —  242-243 

Moliere.    A   Biography    (see   Chatfield-Taylor 

andNitze) 182-184 

"  "          (see  Chatfield-Taylor 

and  van  Steenderen) 184-186 

Morrison,  Alfred  J.,  The  French  Novel  of  In- 
trigue from  1150-1300.  II 6-11 

Morton,    Edward    Payson,  Huggins's    Orlando 

Furioso  Again : 31-32 

—  Mr.  William  J.  Craig  (1843-1906) 153 

Mosemiller,  C.  A.,  Etymologies  Franeaises 141-144 

de  Musset,  Alfred,  Edgar  Poe  et  — 71-76 

Myrick,  Arthur   B.,  A   Note  on  a   Sonnet  of 

Ste'phane  Mallarme' 127 

Neilson,  William  Allan,  The  Complete  Dra- 
matic and  Poetic  Works  of  William  Shake- 
speare (see  Thorndike)., 192-194 

Nitze,  William  A.,  Dr.  Sommer's  Alleged  Dis- 
covery of  a  New  Manuscript 27 

—  Chatfield-Taylor  :  Moliere.    A  Biography....     182-184 
Northup,  Clark  S.,  Recent  Studies  of  The  Pearl        21-22 

—  An  Archaism  in  The  Ancient  Mariner 63-64 

Osgood,  Jr.,  Charles  G.,  Milton's  'Sphere  of 

Fortune.' 140-141 

Padelford,  Frederick  M.,  An  Unnoted  Source 

of  L' Allegro 200 

Patelin,  A  Rabbinical  Analogue  to  — 12-13 

Pearce,  J.  W.,  Miscellaneous  Notes 151-152 

Pericles,  The  Authorship  of  — 222-223 

De  Perott,  Joseph,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  and 

the  Mirrour  of  Knighthood ,...  76-78 

Phoenix,  The  —  and  the  Guthlac 263 

Plessow,  Max,  Geschichte  der  Fabeldichtung  in 
England  bis  zu  John  Gay  (1726)  (see 

Harry) 157-158 

Poe,  Edgar,  et  Alfred  de  Musset 71-76 

Poesie  Espagnole,  Drake  dans  la  —  ( 1570-1732) .  256-258 
Pope,    Paul    R.,    Deutsches    Liederbuch    fur 

amerikanische  Studenten 58-59 

Ravenel,  F.  L.,  La  Vie  Seint  Edmund  le  Rei 

(see  Jenkins) 194-196 

Ray,  John  Arthur,  Drake  dans  la  Poesie  Espag- 
nole (1570-1732) 256-258 


IV 


INDEX  TO  VOLUME  XXII,    1907. 


Belated  Stories,  Origin  of  the  Vow  Motif  in  the 
White  Wolf  and  —  ................................ 

Bemiremont,  The  Council  of  ........................ 

Renaissance,  A  Letter  from  One  Maiden  of  the 
-to  Another  ....................................... 

Richards,  Alfred  E.,  Some  Faustus  Notes  ....... 

—  Marlowe,  Faustus,  Scene  14  ...................... 

Rod,  Edouard,  L'a/aire  Jean-Jacques  Rousseau.. 
Roland,  La  Chanson  de  —  (see  Geddes   and 

Weeks)  ........................................  ..... 

Rousseau,  Jean-  Jacques,  Annales  de  la  Socie'te' 
(seeSchinz)  ........................................ 

—  L'  'affaire  Jean-  Jacques  —  .......................... 

Saintsbury,  George,  A  History  of  English 
Prosody  (see  Browne)  ............................ 

Sator,  The  —  Acrostic  ................................. 

Schiller's  Einfluss  auf  Hebbel  ........................ 

Schinz,  A.  ,  Annales  de  la  Socie'te'  Jean-  Jacques 
Rousseau  ............................................. 

—  Ferdinand  Brunetiere  (1849-1906)  ............. 

—  L'affaire  Jean-Jacques  Rousseau  .................. 

Schlutter,  Otto  B.,  Errata  ............................. 

Schofield,  Wm,  Henry,  English  Literature  from 

the  Norman  Conquest  to  Chaucer  (see  Tat- 

lock)  .................................................. 

Scott's  Ivanhoe  and  Sidney's  Arcadia  ............... 

Searles,  Colbert,  The  Stageability  of  Garnier's 

Tragedies  ............................................ 

Seventeenth  Century  Plays,  The  Authorship  of 

Two  —  ............................................... 

Shakspere  and  the  Capitol  ............................ 

—  The  Complete  Dramatic  Works  of  William 

—  (seeNeilson  and  Thorndike)  ............... 

Shaw,  J.  E.,  Mary  Lucretia  Davidson  ............ 

Shearin,  H.  G.,  On  the  Inflection  of  the  Old- 

English  Long-Stemmed  Adjective  ........... 

—  The  Phoenix  and  the  Gutldac  ..................... 

Sommer's,  Dr.,  Alleged   Discovery  of  a  New 

Manuscript  (sec  Nitze)  .......................... 

—  H.  Oskar,  A  Note  on  the  Prose  Perceval  ..... 

Spanish,  A  Rare  Collection  of  —  Entremeses... 

—  Notes  on  the  —  Drama  :  Calderon's  La  Vida 

es    SueHo.    Lope's  El  Honrado   Herma.no. 

Tirso,  El  CabaUera  de  Olmeda  .................. 

Sparrow,  Caroline  L.,  Browning's  Dramas.     L. 

"  "         II.. 

Spenser's  Ruins  of  Time  and  Mother  Hubberd's 

Tale,  Add.  MS.  34064,  and  —  ................. 


233-234 
137-140 

243-245 

39-41 

126-127 

252-256 

190-192 

22-24 
252-255 


122-124 
245-249 
161-163 

22-24 

56-57 

252-256 

160 


186-189 
144-146 

225-229 

135-137 

177-182 

192-194 
199-200 

78-80 
263 

27 

94-95 
52-54 


215-218 

65-71 

97-103 


Spenser's  .F.  Q.  1.  1.  1.  6 208-209 

—  F.  Q.  I.  Int.  3.  5 209 

Spingarn,  J.  E.,  Milton's  Fame 232 

—  Art  for  Art's  Sake  :  A  Query 263 

Strauss' ,  Richard,  Salome  and  Heine's  Atla  Troll  13-14 

Sudermann's  Plays,  The  Use  of  Contrasts  in  —  170-177 
Super,  O.  B. ,  Guerlac :   Selections  from  French 

Authors 61-62 

Tatlock,  John  S.  P.,  Schofield :  English  Litera- 
ture from  the  Norman  Conquest  to  Chaucer.  186-189 

Thayer,  W.  W.,  Laurence  Sterne  in  Germany 

(see  Baker) 89-94 

Thomas,  Calvin,  An  Anthology  of  German 

Literature  (Part  I)  (see  Kip) 189-190 

Thorndike,  A.  H.,  Neilson  :  The  Complete 

Dramatic  Works  of  William  Shakepeare...  192-194 

Trautmann,  Dr.  M.,  Conner  Beitrdge  zurAnglis- 

tik.  Heft  xvn 250-252 

Tweedie,  W.  M.,  "From  China  to  Peru" 126 

Van  Stecnderen,  F.  C.  L.,  Chatfield-Taylor : 

Moliere.  A  Biography 184-186 

Vitug,  A  Latin-Portuguese  Play  Concerning 

Saints  —  and  Modestus 242-243 

Vreeland,  Williamson  Up  Dike,  Etude  sur  les 
Rapports  Litteraires  entre  Geneve  et 
1'Angleterre  jusqu'a  la  Publication  de  la 
Nouvelle  He'lo'ise  (see  Huebner) 25-27 

Wallace,  Elizabeth,  La  Perfecta  Casada  (see 

Fitz-Gerald) 125 

Warren,  F.  M.,  The  Council  of  Remiremont...  137-140 
Weeks,  Raymond,  Geddes  :  La  Chanson  de 

Roland 190-192 

White  Wolf,  Origin  of  the  Vow  Motif  in  the  — 

and  Related  Stories 233-234 

Whitman,  Charles  Huntington,  Jordan  :  Die  • 

altenglischen  Siiiigetiernamea 154-157 

Wieland,  A  Curious  Slip  in  — 262 

Wilkins,  Ernest  H.,  Margutte  and  the  Monkey  28 

Wood,  Francis  A.,  Some  Disputed  Etymologies  118-122 

—  Etymological  Notes 234-236 

Wordsworth's  Reading,  A  Glance  at  — .     1 83-89 

"  "         "        II....     110-117 

Ximinez   de  Enciso,  El  Principe  Don  Carlos 

of— 238-241 

Young,  Mary  Vance,  The  Eyes  as  Generators 

of  Love 232 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES 


VOL.  XXII. 


BALTIMORE,   JANUARY,    1907. 


No.  1. 


ADDISON'S  DISCOURSE  ON  ANCIENT  AND 
MODERN  LEARNING. 

In  the  admirable  bibliography  in  the  Wendell- 
Greenough  edition  of  Addison's  Essays  (Athe- 
naeum Press  Series,  Ginn,  1905),  A  Discourse  on 
Ancient  and  Modern  Learning  is  placed  among 
the  "Doubtful  Works";  but  the  internal  evi- 
dence seems  to  me  to  show  unmistakably  that  the 
Discourse  is  by  Addison.  In  addition  to  a  general 
similarity  of  style,  there  are  a  number  of  passages 
tallying  closely  in  form  and  thought  with  parts 
of  the  essays  on  Milton  and  on  the  Pleasures  of 
the  Imagination.  Hurd  (Addison's  Works,  Bohn 
Ed.  v,  214)  "guesses"  that  it  was  "drawn  up  by 
him  (Addison)  in  his  younger  days,  and  that  it 
was  not  retouched  or  at  least  finished  by  him.  The 
reason  might  be  that  he  had  afterwards  worked 
up  the  principal  observations  of  this  piece  into 
his  critical  papers  on  Milton."  The  Dictionary 
of  National  Biography  says  merely  that  the  Dis- 
course "  is  regarded  by  Hurd  as  genuine."  A.  S. 
Cook  (Addison's  Criticisms  on  Paradise  Lost, 
Ginn,  1892)  notes  that  the  second  and  third  of 
the  selections  from  Spectator  273,  quoted  below, 
had  been  anticipated  in  the  Discourse,  "if,  as 
Hurd  supposes,  this  paper  was  written  in  his 
younger  days."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Spectator 
273  draws  largely  upon  the  Discourse,  one  passage 
being  transferred  almost  en  bloc,  and  others  being 
condensed  and  polished.  Moreover,  the  germ  of 
Addison's  theory  of  the  secondary  pleasures  of 
the  imagination  is  to  be  found  in  the  Discourse.1 

1  Addison  early  developed  a  disposition  to  speculate  on 
the  pleasures  of  the  imagination.  Compare  the  following 
from  the  Essay  on  the  Georyics,  written  when  Addison 

was  twenty-one  :   "  Virgil loves  to  suggest  a  truth 

indirectly,  and  without  giving  us  a  full  and  open  view  of 
it,  to  let  us  see  just  so  much  as  will  naturally  lead  the 
imagination  into  all  the  parts  that  lie  concealed.  This  is 
wonderfully  diverting  to  the  understanding,  thus  to  receive 
a  precept  that  enters  as  it  were  through  a  by-way,  and  to 
apprehend  an  idea  that  draws  a  whole  train  after  it.  For 
here  the  mind,  which  is  always  delighted  with  its  own 
discoveries,  only  takes  the  hint  from  the  poet,  and  seems 
to  work  out  the  rest  by  the  strength  of  its  own  faculties." 


It  is  clear  that  the  Discourse  was  a  juvenile  per- 
formance, which  the  author  had  no  idea  of  pub- 
lishing, and  upon  which  he  felt  that  he  could 
draw  at  will.  It  did  not  appear  until  1739, 
twenty  years  after  the  author's  death.  I  append 
the  most  significant  parallels  : 


Discourse. 

"But  as  for  the  charac- 
ters of  such  as  lived  in  his 
(Virgil's)  own  time,  I  have 
not  so  much  to  say  of  him 
as  of  Homer.  He  is  indeed 
very  barren  in  this  part  of 
his  poem,  and  has  but  little 
varied  the  manners  of  the 
principal  persons  in  it.  His 
Aeneas  is  a  compound  of 
valor  and  piety  ;  Achates 
calls  himself  his  friend,  but 
takes  no  occasion  of  show- 
ing himself  so  ;  Mnesteus, 
Sergestus,  Gyas,  and  Cloan- 
thus,  are  all  of  them  men 
of  the  same  stamp  and  char- 
acter. 

Fortemque  Gyan,  fortem- 
que  Cloanthum." 

Discourse. 

"He  (Milton)  has  obliged 
all  mankind,  and  related 
the  whole  species  to  the 
two  chief  actors  in  his  poem. 
Nay,  what  is  infinitely  more 
considerable,  we  behold  in 
him  not  only  our  ancestors 
but  our  representatives.  We 
are  really  engaged  in  their 
adventures,  and  have  a  per- 
sonal interest  in  their  good 
or  ill  success." 


Discourse. 

"And  here  the  first  and 
most  general  advantage  the 
ancients  had  over  us,  was 
that  they  knew  all  the  se- 


Spectator  273. 

"  Virgil  falls  infinitely 
short  of  Homer  in  the  char- 
acters of  his  poem,  both  as 
to  their  variety  and  nov- 
elty. Aeneas  is  indeed  a 
perfect  character ;  but  as 
for  Achates,  though  he  is 
styled  the  hero's  friend,  he 
does  nothing  in  the  whole 
poem  which  may  deserve 
that  title.  Gyas,  Mnes- 
theus,  Sergestus,  and  Cloan- 
thus,  are  all  men  of  the 
same  stamp  and  character. 
Fortemque  Gyan,  fortem- 
que  Cloanthum." 

-Virg. 


Spectator  273. 

"The  whole  species  of 
mankind  was  in  two  per- 
sons at  the  time  to  which 
the  subject  of  his  poem  was 

confined Milton's 

poem  is  admirable  in  this 
respect,  since  it  is  impos- 
sible for  any  of  its  readers 
....  not  to  be  related  to 
the  persons  who  are  the 
principal  actors  in  this 
poem.  But  what  is  still 
infinitely  more  to  its  ad- 
vantage, the  principal  ac- 
tors in  this  poem  are  not 
only  our  progenitors  but 
our  representatives." 

Spectator  273. 

"There  is  another  cir- 
cumstance in  the  principal 
actors  of  the  Iliad  and 
Aeneid  which  gives  a  pecu- 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


Discourse. 

cret  history  of  a  composure  ; 
what  was  the  occasion  of 
such  a  discourse  or  poem, 
whom  such  a  sentence  aimed 
at,  what  person  lay  disguised 
in  such  a  character  :  for  by 
this  means  they  could  see 
their  author  in  a  variety  of 
lights,  and  receive  several 
different  entertainments 
from  the  same  passage. 
We,  on  the  contrary,  can 
only  please  ourselves  with 
the  wit  or  good  sense  of  a 
writer,  as  it  stands  stripped 
of  all  those  accidental  cir- 
cumstances that  at  first 
helped  to  set  it  off.  We 
have  him  but  in  a  single 
view,  and  only  discover 
such  essential  standing 
beauties  as  no  time  or  years 
can  possibly  deface." 


Discourse. 

"Nothing  can  be  more 
delightful  than  to  see  two 
characters  facing  each  other 
all  along,  and  running  par- 
allel through  the  whole 
piece  ;  to  compare  feature 
with  feature,  to  find  out 
the  nice  resemblances  in 
every  touch,  and  to  see 
where  the  copy  fails,  and 
where  it  comes  up  to  the 
original.  The  reader  can- 
not but  be  pleased  to  have 
an  acquaintance  thus  rising 
by  degrees  in  his  imagi- 
nation, for  whilst  the  mind 
is  busy  in  applying  every 
particular,  and  adjusting 
the  several  parts  of  the 
description,  it  is  not  a  little 
delighted  with  its  discov- 


Spectator  273. 

liar  beauty  to  those  two 
poems,  and  was  therefore 
contrived  with  very  great 
judgment — I  mean  the  au- 
thors having  chosen  for 
their  heroes  persons  who 
were  so  nearly  related  to 
the  people  for  whom  they 
wrote.  Achilles  was  a 
Greek,  and  Aeneas  the  re- 
mote founder  of  Borne.  By 
this  means  their  country- 
men (whom  they  princi- 
pally proposed  to  them- 
selves for  their  readers) 
were  particularly  attentive 
to  all  the  parts  of  their 
story,  and  sympathized 
with  their  heroes  in  all 
their  adventures.  A  Roman 
could  not  but  rejoice  in  the 
escapes,  successes  and  vic- 
tories of  Aeneas,  and  be 
grieved  at  any  defeats, 
misfortunes  or  disappoint- 
ments that  befell  him  ;  or 
a  Greek  must  have  the 
same  regard  for  Achilles. 
And  it  is  plain  that  each  of 
those  poems  have  (si'c)  lost 
this  great  advantage,  among 
those  readers  to  whom  their 
heroes  are  as  strangers  or 
indifferent  persons. ' ' 

Spectator  416. 

'•In  all  these  instances, 
this  secondary  pleasure  of 
the  imagination  proceeds 
from  that  action  of  the 
mind,  which  compares  the 
ideas  arising  from  the  ori- 
ginal objects,  with  the  ideas 
we  receive  from  the  statue, 
picture,  description  or 
sound  that  represents  them. 
It  is  impossible  for  us  to 
give  the  necessary  reason, 
why  this  operation  of  the 
mind  is  attended  with  so 
much  pleasure,  as  I  have 
before  observed  on  the 
same  occasion  ;  but  we  find 
a  great  variety  of  entertain- 
ments derived  from  this 
single  principle,  for  it  is 
this  that  not  only  gives  us 


Discourse. 

eries,  and  feels  something 
like  the  satisfaction  of  an 
author  from  his  own  com- 
posure. .  .  .  When  Phidias 
had  carved  out  his  Jupiter, 
and  the  spectator  stood  as- 
tonished at  so  awful  and 
majestic  a  figure,  he  sur- 
prised them  still  more  by 
telling  them  it  was  a  copy  ; 
and  to  make  his  words  true, 
showed  them  the  original, 
in  that  magnificent  descrip- 
tion of  Jupiter,  towards  the 
latter  end  of  the  first  Iliad. 
The  comparing  both  to- 
gether probably  discovered 
secret  graces  in  each  of 
them,  and  gave  new  beauty 
to  their  performances." 


Harvard  University. 


Spectator  416. 

a  relish  of  statuary,  paint- 
ing and  description,  but 
makes  us  delight  in  all  the 
actions  and  arts  of  mimi- 
cry." 


E.  K.  BKOADUS. 


ALL  OF  THE  FIVE  FICTITIOUS  ITALIAN 
EDITIONS  OF  WHITINGS  OF  MACHI- 
AVELLI  AND  THREE  OF  THOSE  OF 
PIETRO  ARETINO  PRINTED  BY  JOHN 
WOLFE  OF  LONDON  (1584-1588). 

A.  MACHIAVELLI. 

1.  /  Discorsi  di  Nico-  \  lo  Machiavelli,  so-  \ 
pro,    la,   Prima  Deca   di  \  Tito   Liuio.  \  Con  due 

Tauole,  etc.  Nouellamente  emmendati,  &  con  somma 
|  euro,  ristampati.  \  Device  of  a  flourishing  palm 
tree  with  toads  and  serpents  about  the  root,  and  in 
its  branches  the  words  :  II  vostro  malignare  non 
gioua  nulla  \  In  Palermo  \  Appresso  gli  heredi 
d'  Antoniello  degli  Antonielli  a  xxviij  di  Genaio, 
1584.  Preface  by  the  printer  to  the  reader  with 
promise  to  publish  more  of  Machiavelli  same  date 
and  place.  Carte  xvi  -f  200.  8°. 

2.  II  Prencipe   di  Nioolo  Ma-  \  chiauelli,  Al 
Magnifioo  Lorenzo  etc.  |  Con  alcune  altre  operette, 
i  titoli  delle  quali  trouerai  nella  seguente  facciata.  \ 
Device  of   the  palm  tree,  etc.,  as  in  No.  1.     In 
Palermo  \  Appresso  gli  heredi  d' Antoniello    degli 
Antonielli  I  a  xxviij  di  Gennaio,  1584.  |  Always 
in  the  same  volume  with  the  preceding  but  with 


January,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


separate    numbering  of   leaves   and   sheets.     No 
Preface  to  the  Header.     Carte  0  +  80.    8°. 

3.  Libro  dell'  Arte  \  delta  Guerra   di  \  Nieolo 
Maohia-  \  uelli  Oittadino,  et  Se-  \  cretario  Fioren- 
tino.  |  Nouamente  eorretli  (  !),      &  con  somma  dili- 
genza  ristampati  (!).  |  Device  of  the  palm  tree  as 
in  Nos.  1  and  2.  |  In  Palermo  appres  \  so  Antonello 
degli  |  Antonelli.  \  No  year.     On  the  cancel  title 
page,  which  in  most  editions  takes  the  place  of  the 
original  one,  the  wording  of  the  title  is  changed, 
and  device,  place  and  publisher  are  omitted  and 
replaced   by  MDLxxxvii.     No  Preface   to   the 
Reader.     Carte  i  -f  151  and  an  extra  size  Plate 
for  Figura  vii.    8°. 

4.  Historic  di  \  Nieolo  Macchia-  \  uelli,  Oitta- 
dino, |  et  Secretario  |  Fiorentino,  \  Al  Santissimo, 
etc.  |  Nuouamente  ammendate,  &  con  somma  dili- 
genza    ristampate,    \    con    lioenza    de     superiori  \ 
Giolito's  device  |  InPiacenza  appresso  \  gli  heredi 
di  Gabriel  Giolito  \  de  Ferrari.  \  1587.  |  Preface 
to   the  Reader  with  a  reference  to  Antoniello's 
promise    dated    Piacenza,    June   2,    1587.     Pp. 
xii  +  568.    12°. 

5.  Lasino  \  doro  di  Nieolo  \  Macchiauelli,  \  con 
tutte   laltre  \  sue    operette.  \  La  contenenza   delle 
quali  ha-  \  uerai  nella  seguente  facciata.  \  Lower 
part  of  Giglio's  device  |  In  Roma  MDLxxxvin. 

|  Preface  to  the  Reader  with  a  reference  to 
Antoniello's  promise  dated  Roma,  May  20,  1588. 
8°. 

B.  PIETRO  ARETINO. 
1.  A  general  title  for  the  entire  volume  is  lacking. 

1.  La  Prima  Parte  de  Ragiona-  \  menti  di  M. 
Pietro  Aretino,  co-  \  gnominato  il  flagello  de  \ 
prencipi,  il  veritiero,  el  diui  \  no,  diuisa  in  tre 
Giornate,  la  \  contenenza  de  le  quali  si  \  porra  ne 
la  facciata  \  seguente.  \  Veritas  odium  parit.  \ 
MDLxxxiin.  |  Considerable  space  below.  Pref- 
ace by  Barbagrigia  to  Reader  dated  Bengodi, 
October  21,  1584. 

La  Seconda  Parte  de  Ragiona  \  menti,  etc.,  as 
above,  Doppo  le  quali  habbiamo  aggiuntoilPiaceuol 
|  Ragionamento  del  Zoppino,  composto  \  da  questo 
medeximo  autore  per  \  suo  piacere.  \  Veritas,  etc.  | 
No  year.  Close  Bengodi.  Commento  \  di  Ser 
Agresto  \  da  Fiearuolff  sopra  \  la  Prima  Ficata  del 
Padre  Siceo.  \  Con  la  Diceria  \  de  Nasi  \  No  year. 
Preface  to  Reader  by  L'Herede  di  Barbagrigia 


dated  Bengodi  January  ( !)  12,  1584.  Pp.  xii  + 
228,  viii  +  401,  0  +  142.  8°.  The  numbering 
of  sheets  is  continuous  throughout  the  volume. 

2.  Quattro    \    Comedie     del  \  Diuino    Pietro  \ 
Aretino.  \  doe   \    II    Marescalco    La    Talanta.  \ 
La  Cortegiana  L'  Hipocrito.  \  Nouellamente  ritor- 
nate,  per  mezzo  della  \  stampa,  a  luce,  a  richiesta 
de  conosci  \  tori  del  lor  valore.  \  Head  of  Pietro 
surrounded   by  D.   Petrus.   Aretinus.   Flagellum. 
Principum.  in  shape  of  a  coin.  |  MDLxxxvin.  | 
Preface  with  a  reference  to  Barbagrigia' s  promise, 
but  no  place  or  date.  Separate  title  pages  with  year 
for  the  last  three  comedies.     Pp.  xvi  +  292.    8°. 

3.  La  |  Terza,  et  \   Ultima  Parte  \  de  Ragiona- 
\  menti     del     Divino     Pietro  \  Aretino.  \  Ne     la 
quale  si  contengono  due  ragionamenti  \  eio  e  de  le 
Corti,  e  del  Giuoco,  cosa  morale,  e  bella.  \  Head, 
etc.,  as    in    No.     2.    |  Veritas    Odium   parit.  j 
Appresso   Gio.  Andrea  del  Melagrano   [   1589.  | 
Preface  with  a  reference  to  the  promise  of  Barba- 
grigia dated   from  Valcerca  January  13,   1589. 
Special  title  page  for  second  part  :   II  Ragiona- 
mento |  del  diuino  \  etc.  |  nel  quale  si  parla  \  del 
Gioco  con  mora-  \  lita  piaceuole.  \  Head  as  in  No. 
2  and  M.D.XLXXIX  (!)  |  instead  of  1589.     Carte 
iii  +  203.    8°. 

The  problem  of  the  real  home  and  origin  of  the 
five  fictitious  Italian  editions  of  Machiavelli  of  the 
years  1584-88  was  first  raised  by  Bongi,1  who, 
realizing  that  they  could  not  possibly  have  been 
printed  in  Italy,  acutely  conjectured  from  the 
peculiar  lustre  of  the  vellum  of  the  binding  of 
some  of  them  that  they  must  have  come  from 
England.  At  his  instigation  Alfred  W.  Pollard 
of  the  British  Museum  gave  the  matter  some 
attention,  as  a  result  of  which  the  following  entries 
were  made  in  the  Museum  Catalogue.  Under 
Discord,  '  The  initial  letters  show  that  this  book 
was  printed  at  London  by  John  Wolfe.  The 
device  on  the  title  page  was  subsequently  used  by 
Adam  Islip. '  Under  Preneipe :  '  Printed  like  the 
Discorsi  with  the  same  imprint  at  London  by  John 
Wolfe. '  Under  Arte :  '  Probably  printed  secretly 
at  London  by  John  Wolfe.'  Under  Historie 
simply:  'Probably  printed  secretly  in  London.' 

1  See :  Archivio  Slorico  Italiano,  ser.  5,  vol.  xix,  1897, 
and  my  article  in  the  November  issue  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes, 
vol.  xxi,  1906. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


Under  Asino,  the  same  entry.  The  three  edi- 
tions of  Pietro  Aretino  have,  as  far  as  I  am 
aware  of  it,  apart  from  Bongi's  conjecture  that 
the  second  might  have  been  printed  in  France  or 
England,  not  only  never  been  attributed  to  John 
Wolfe  but  not  even  been  located  in  England. 
The  Museum  Catalogue  makes  no  suggestion  re- 
garding the  first  and  puts  '  Venice  ? '  after  the 
second  and  'Paris?'  after  the  third,  while  Ber- 
tani,s  the  latest  biographer  of  Pietro  Aretino,  adds 
Venezia  to  the  firm  appearing  on  the  title  page  of 
the  third. 

My  own  interest  in  this  question  was  not 
thoroughly  aroused  until  last  summer,  when, 
during  a  visit  to  Richmond,  Indiana,  I  happened 
to  notice  perchance  in  the  choice  private  library 
of  some  friends  of  mine,  that  Figura  vn  of  the 
Arte  of  1587  must  in  all  probability  have  been 
taken  from  Peter  Whitehorne's  English  trans- 
lation of  Machiavelli'  s  work,  which  was  dedicated 
to  Queen  Elizabeth  and  in  the  years  of  1560-88 
passed  through  no  less  than  three  editions.  This 
prospective  confirmation  of  the  English  origin  of 
one  of  the  five  books  gave  me  the  conviction  that 
a  special  investigation  of  the  whole  matter  might 
yield  more  definite  results  than  as  yet  had  been 
obtained,  and,  relinquishing  for  the  present  my  in- 
tention of  continuing  my  study  of  Machiavelli  in 
Florence  and  Venice,  I  came  to  London,  where 
even  my  most  sanguine  expectations  have  been 
surpassed.  My  Richmond  observation  proved 
correct,  a  minute  comparison  and  measuring  of 
the  type  and  the  initial  letters  of  other  books 
printed  by  John  Wolfe  made  it  appear  even  more 
probable  that  he  had  issued  the  Arte  and  the 
Historie  than  that  he  had  published  the  Discorsi 
and  the  Preneipe,  and  the  last  lingering  doubts,  of 
which  I  could  not  rid  myself  because  I  had  noticed 
a  few  of  Wolfe's  initial  letters  also  with  other 
London  printers  of  the  time,  were  suddenly  dis- 
pelled by  direct  and  irrefutable  testimony. 

Searching  one  day  for  information  on  the  life 
and  person  of  John  Wolfe,  in  the  unparalleled  Re- 
ference Library  of  the  Museum,  I  came  across 
Typographical  Antiquities  or  an  Historical  Account 
of  the  Origin  and  Progress  of  Printing  in  Great 


Britain  and  Ireland  :  containing  Memoirs  of  our 
Ancient  Printers,  and  a  Register  of  Boolcs  printed 
by  them,  from  the  year  MCCCCLXXI  to  the  year 
MDC.  Begun  by  the  late  JOSEPH  AMES,  etc. 
Considerably  augmented —  by  WILLIAM  HERBERT, 
etc. — London,  MDCCLXXXV,  etc.,  3.  vols.  4°. 
I  eagerly  turned  to  John  Wolfe  who  occupies  Vol. 
n,  p.  1170-1189  and,  after  casting  a  glance  on 
the  few  remarks  about  his  person  and  noticing 
that  he  was  surnamed  Machivill,  I  began  to  peruse 
the  titles  of  the  books  he  had  printed.  Nothing 
under  1584,  1587  or  1588  that  had  any  special 
bearing  on  the  question  in  hand,  but  when  I  came 
to  1593  I  felt  a  thrill  of  delight.  Philadelphus, 
or  A  Defence  of  Brutes,  and  the  Brutans  History. 
Written  by  R.  H.  Device  a  flourishing  palm  tree, 
with  serpents  and  toads  about  the  root,  having 
this  motto  :  II  vostro  malignare  non  gioua  nulla, 
etc.,  etc.  Imprinted  by  him,  1593,  etc.*  The 
palm  tree  of  the  Discorgi,  the  Preneipe,  the  Arte,  in 
a  book  duly  accredited  to  John  Wolfe  six  years 
before  Adam  Islip  made  the  first  use  of  it  when  it 
had  become  rather  worn  out !  That  settled  John 
Wolfe's  claim  to  the  first  three  editions.  But  that 
was  not  all.  At  the  end  of  the  list  of  books  the 
titles  of  which  were  given  in  full  there  followed 
the  statement :  '  He  had  also  licenses  for  the  fol- 
lowing,' and  twice  more  I  had  occasion  to  rejoice. 
Under  1587  it  said,  ' Historio  (!)  de  (!)  Nicolo 
Machiauelli  Cittadino  et  Secretario Florentine  (!)  ' 
and  1588,  L'asine  (!)  d'oro  dy  (!)  Nicolo  Maccha- 
uelli  ( !).'  The  fourth  and  fifth  directly  accredited 
to  John  Wolfe  and  not  even  printed  secretly.  The 
Machiavelli  problem  was  solved.  But  something 
else  a  little  farther  on  caught  my  attention,  still  in 
1588  :  '  Dialogo  di  Pietro  Aretino  vel  ( !)  quale  si 
parla  del  gra.co  (!)  con  moranta  (!)  Piaceuole,' 
in  which  the  title  of  the  second  part  of  our  third 
work  of  Pietro  Aretino  may  be  recognized  and 
immediately  afterwards,  '  Ragionamento  nel  quale 
M.  Pietro  Aretino  figura  quattro  suoi  amid  che 
fanellano  ( !)  delle  corti  del  mondo,  e  di  quella  del 
cielo. '  This,  to  be  sure,  is  not  the  title  which  our 
third  work  has  now  but  that  which  the  first  part 
had  in  the  old  edition  of  Novara,  1538.  John 
Wolfe,  therefore,  in  this  case  evidently  produced 


"Carlo   Bertani,  Pietro  Aretino  e  le  sue   Opere  secondo 
nuove  indagini.     Sondrio,  1901,  p.  363,  note. 


3  The  device  shows  some  wear,  proving  that  it  was  not 
used  here  for  the  first  time. 


January,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


the  books  he  was  going  to  reprint,  not  his  own 
copy.  Under  these  circumstances  it  may  seem 
doubtful  whether  the  '  Lettere  di  Pietro  Are- 
tino,'  for  which  he  likewise  received  a  license, 
were  ever  actually  printed  by  him  or  not.  The 
Museum  does  not  seem  to  possess  a  copy  that 
could  be  ascribed  to  him. 

Applying  to  the  Superintendent  of  the  Reading 
Room,  I  learned  through  his  courtesy  that  there 
klso  existed  a  diplomatic  reprint  of  the  principal 
source  of  Ames  and  Herbert's  work,  which  fortu- 
nately covered  the  same  period,  viz. :  A  Transcript 
of  the  Registers  of  the  Company  of  Stationers  of 
London ;  1554-1640  A.  D.,  etc.  Edited  by  ED- 
WARD AEBEE,  etc,  Privately  Printed.  London 
1875  if.  5  vols.  4°,  from  the  second  volume  of 
which  I  transcribe  for  fuller  information  the  fol- 
lowing items : 

18  Septembris  [i.  e.  1587] 

John  wolf.  Rececmed  of  him  for  printings  an 
Italian  booke  Entitled  Historic  di  NICOLO  MA- 
CHIAUELLI  Cittadino  et  Secretario  Fiorentino. 
Authorised  wider  th[e]  archbishop  of  CANTER- 
BURIES hand  vid. 

^  The  statement  '  Con  licema  de  superiori '  on  the 
title  of  our  edition  is  therefore  not  a  fake  ;  the  Pri- 
mate of  England  who,  at  that  time,  together  with 
the  bishop  of  London,  exercised  the  supreme  su- 
pervision on  new  publications,  having  sanctioned  it. 

xvii°  die  Septembris  [1588] 
John  wolf.  Allowed  vnto  him  for  his  copie,  to 
be  printed  in  Italian  |  a  booke  tntitwled  L'asino 
D'oro.  Dy  (!).  NICOLO  MAecnauELLi  |  vppon 
Condicon  that  yt  may  be  allowed  hereafter  [no 
sum  stated]  beinge  nowe  allowed  wider  th[e 
h]  andes  of  master  HARTWELL  and  master  war- 
den coldock.  | 

The  archbishop,  therefore,  was  not  specially 
consulted  this  time  nor  was  he  in  case  of  the  fol- 
lowing works  of  Pietro  Aretino. 

xx°  die  Septembris.  [1588] 
John  wolfe  |  Item  allowed  vnto  him  for  his  copie 
wider  th[e  h]  andes  aforesaid.     Quattro  Comedie 
Del   Dewmo(!)    PIETRO    ARETINO    [no   sum 
stated.] 

This  entry  was  overlooked  by  Ames  and  Her- 
bert in  the  compilation  of  their  work,  and  estab- 


lishes John  Wolfe's  title  to  the  second  work  of 
Pietro  Aretino.     Finally  : 

xiiii10  octobris  [1588] 

John  ivolf.  Alowed  vnto  him  for  his  copie  Dia- 
logo  Di  PIETRO  ARETINO  nel  quale  riparla  del 
gioco  ( !)  con  moralita  R&aeeuole  ( !).  [no  sum 
stated]  vnder  master  HARTWELL  hand  and 
Th[e]  wardens. 

J.  wolf.  Afowed  vnto  him  for  his  copy.  Ragiona- 
mento.  nel  quale.  Messire  PIETRO  ARETINO 
figura  Quattro  suoi  Amid  chefanellano  ( !)  delle 
Conti  ( !)  Del  mondo.  e  di  quella  Del  cielo. 
[no  sum  stated]  vnder  master  HARTWELL  and 
Th[e]  wardens  handes. 

After  this   follows  the  license   for   Lettere  di 
PIETRO  ARETINO  discussed  above. 


It  remains  for  me  to  give  some  of  the  circum- 
stantial evidence  of  type  and  initial  letters,  and, 
although  the  discovery  of  the  device  of  the  palm- 
tree  on  John  Wolfe's  Philadelphus  of  1593  as- 
sures his  title  to  the  Discern,  the  Prencipe  and 
the  Arte  of  MachiaveUi,  they  will  not  be  excluded 
in  the  following. 

1.  Discorsi  and  Prencipe:  The  round  characters 
of  the  Preface  to  the  Reader  as  well  as  the  italics 
of  the^body  of  the  text  and  the  two  principal  kinds 
of  initial  letters  all  recur,  as  must  have  been  stated 
Pollard  to  Bongi,    1.  c.,  in  the  Vita  di  Carlo 
Magno  Imperadore  by  Ubaldino,  printed  by  Wolfe 
in   1581.     Examples   of  one  or   both   kinds   of 
these  initial  letters,  however,  are  also  met  with  in 
books  by  several  other  printers,  viz.,  in  Giordano 
Bruno's  Explioatio  Triginta  Sigillorum  of  1583, 
probably  done  by  Vautrollier  ;  An  Answer  to  the 
Untruthes,    etc.,    printed    by   John   Jackson   for 
Thomas  Cadman,  1589  ;  Ubaldino  :  A  Discourse 
concerning*  the  Spanish  Fleets,   etc.;   imprinted 
by  A.  Hatfield,   1590  ;  The  Florentine  Historie, 
printed  by  Thomas  Creede  for  William  Ponsonby,' 
1595,  and  The  Fountains  of  Ancient  Fiction  and 
A  Discourse  Against  Nicholas  Machiavell,  etc., 
printed  by  Adam  Islip,  with  whom  we  also  found 
the  palm  tree,  in  1599  and  1602. 

2.  Arte:  The  italics  of  the  text  are  identical 
with  those  of  the  Prefaces  to  the  Reader  in  the 
Asino  and  the  Quattro  Comedie  of  Pietro  Aretino 
and  other  books  printed  by  Wolfe.  The  little 
ornament  over  the  Proemio  is  found  in  the  Pastor 


6 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


Fido  by  Guarini,  printed  by  Wolfe  in  1591.  The 
peculiar  frame  of  the  initial  letter — a  wrap  is  sus- 
pended above  the  centre — of  the  Proemio  recurs 
in  Stow's  Survay  of  London,  printed  by  "Wolfe  in 
1598,  pp.  60,  102  and  161,  The  initial  letters  of 
the  several  books  are  duplicated  in  Ubaldino  :  Le 
Vite  delle  Donne Illustri,  printed  by  Wolfe  in  1591, 
viz. ,  Books  in,  iv,  v  and  vii,  on  pp.  70,  54,  5  and  7.  * 
Finally,  and  this  is  the  most  telling  correspond- 
ence, the  very  peculiar  ornamental  strip  of  the 
close  of  the  Proemio  and  Book  i  occurs  once  more 
in  Stow's  Survay,  p.  450,  top. 

If  the  Historie  were  not  given  to  John  Wolf  by 
the  Registers,  parallels  of  type  could  be  adduced 
from  the  Pastor  Fido  and  of  initial  letters  from 
the  Vite  delle  Donne.  Thus  everything  tends  to 
bear  out  the  evidence  of  the  palm  tree  and  the 
Registers  and  to  confirm  John  Wolfe's  title  to  all 
the  editions  of  Machiavelli. 

As  for  Pietro  Aretino's  second  work  which  is 
accredited  by  the  Registers,  I  will  only  say  that  it 
is  in  type,  number  of  lines  on  page,  etc.,  exactly 
like  the  Comedie  and  the  Asino,  and  shares  one 
initial  letter  with  the  Vite  delle  Donne,  another 
kind  with  the  Comedie  and  Asino,  and  the  device 
on  the  title  page  with  the  Comedie.  It,  therefore, 
cannot  possibly  have  been  printed  in  Venice. 

3.  The  first  volume  of  Aretino.  Here  John 
Wolfe's  claim  is  based  on  correspondences  of  type, 
initial  letters  and  other  ornaments  almost  exclu- 
sively since  there  exist  two  more  editions  of  the 
first  and  second  parts  of  it  with  the  same  preface 
by  the  fictitious  Barbagrigia  and  the  same  year 
and  date.  Very  fortunately  circumstantial  evi- 
dence is  abundant.  For  convenience  sake  I 
designate  the  Parts  by  Roman  and  the  Giornate 
by  Arabic  figures.  The  italics  are  those  of  the 
Arte  and  the  other  books  cited  there,  and  the  large 
initial  letters  those  of  the  Discorsi  and  the  Pren- 
oipe,  though,  as  was  stated  above,  they  were  not 

*  Again  these  two  kinds  of  initial  letters  did  not  belong 
to  John  Wolfe  exclusively,  the  frame  of  the  first  recurring 
in  'An  Answer  to  the  Untrutftes,'  printed,  as  stated  above, 
by  John  Jackson  for  Thomas  Cadman,  in  1589.  The 
second  in  The  Florentine  Historie,  also  cited  above,  printed 
by  Thomas  Creede  for  William  Ponsonby,  1595.  The 
little  ornament  above  the  Proemio  is  found  in  practically 
identical  shape  in  Giordano  Bruno's  Candelaio,  Patiggi, 

M.D.LXXXII. 


confined  to  John  Wolfe.  The  frame  of  the  initial 
letter  with  the  suspended  wrap  I,  1  is  that  of  the 
Arte  and  the  Survay.  The  frames  of  two  kinds  of 
initial  letters  not  found  in  any  other  of  the  eight 
works  under  consideration  likewise  recur  in  the 
Survay,  viz.  :  that  of  the  Preface  of  Barbagrigia 
on  p.  450,  and  those  of  II,  1  ;  III,  Proemio  and 
III,  Lettera  on  pp.  58,  94  and  147.  Thus  all 
initial  letters  can  be  duplicated  from  other  books 
printed  by  Wolfe.  But  still  more  satisfactory 
evidence  is  offered  by  the  recurrence  of  the  charac- 
teristic large  square  ornament  which  serves  to  fill 
the  vacant  space  at  the  close  of  several  divisions 
of  Aretino's  volume  at  the  close  of  the  text  of  the 
often  quoted  Survay.  Circumstantial  evidence  of 
such  completeness  cannot  fail  to  carry  a  good  deal 
of  weight  with  it.  It  will  be  further  strengthened 
in  the  second  part  of  this  paper,  which  will  deal 
with  John  Wolfe's  personality,  the  reasons  for  his 
not  putting  his  name  on  these  editions  and  his 
merits  for  the  promotion  of  the  printing  of  Italian 
books  in  England. 

A.  GERBEE. 

Flensburg,  Germany. 


THE  FRENCH  NOVEL  OF  INTRIGUE 
FROM  1150  TO  1300.     H. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  of  romances,  intrin- 
sically and  historically,  is  Amadas  et  Idoine  (c. 
1180).15  The  author  has  not  looked  abroad  for 
his  heroine.  Idoine  is  a  daughter  of  Burgundy, 
positive,  energetic,  commonsense,  and  of  a  vig- 
orous morality.  Amadas,  having  overcome  Ido- 
ine's  indifference,  is  called  away  home.  His  sweet- 
heart is  married  by  her  father  to  the  Count  of 
Nevers.  In  her  extremity  Idoine  summons  the 
dread  spinster  Clotho  and  her  sisters.  The  three 
frighten  the  Count  into  the  belief  that  his  countess 
has  an  awful  malady.16  The  disappointed  Ama- 
das, meanwhile,  has  become  raving  mad,  and 

15  Amadas  et  Idoine.  p.  p.  C.  Hippeau,  Paris,  1863.     Cf. 
An  English  Miscellany  Presented  to  Dr.  Furnivall,  Oxford, 
1901.  Gaston  Paris,  p.  386  ff. 

16  Engingnife  est,  partant  s'en  tient,  1.  2441.    Cf.  Oliges, 
1.  3329. 


January,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


wanders  amont,  aval,  et  hors  et  ens,  coming  finally 
to  Lucca.  Idoine  informs  herself  of  his  condition 
and  his  whereabouts,  and  asks  her  husband' s  leave 
to  make  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome.  The  Count,  who 
is  a  man  of  affairs,  is  perfectly  willing.  With  her 
esquire  Garines,  Idoine  sets  out  for  Rome  and 
stops  at  Lucca.  She  brings  Amadas  to  his  senses, 
persuades  him  to  be  reasonable  when  he  protests 
that  he  is  unworthy  of  her,  puts  fine  raiment  upon 
him,  and  sees  to  everything  like  the  capable 
woman  she  is.  The  poet  reflects  on  the  subject 
of  women  : 

Signer,  je  1'di,  bien  ai  garant,  3570. 

Fols  est,  qui  en  nule  se  fie.  3608. 

Pour  ce,  si  est  de  feme  fine, 
Boine,  loial,  et  enterine 
Une  des  mervelles  du  mont, 
Que  mult  tres  peu  de  tex  en  soiit. 
Une  boine  .c.  homes  vaut. 

De  ces  boines  est  Idoine  une  3663. 

So  much  accomplished ,  Idoine  falls  ill.  About 
to  die,  so  she  thinks,  she  takes  measures  to  keep 
Amadas  alive.  She  confesses  : 

"  Par  mon  grant  peciet  ainai 
A  ins  de  vous,  s'  en  soi^s  certains, 
Lone  tans  .iii.  miens  cosins  germains."  " 

Amadas  promises  that  with  this  information  he 
will  not  die,  whereat  Idoine  contentedly  appears 
to.  She  is  entombed.  A  certain  ring  revives 
her. 

Idoine  throughout  has  been  stern  with  Amadas  : 

Que  nus  n'i  ptiisse  vilounie  6753. 

Noter,  ne  mal,  ne  felounie.18 

She  and  Amadas  get  home  to  Burgundy,  where 
she  tells  the  Count  she  has  seen  St.  Peter  at  Rome 
— "bele  persoune  me  sambla" — and  St.  Peter 
has  advised  a  divorce.  The  Count  is  in  love  with 
another  woman  and  matters  are  amicably  ar- 
ranged." Chre'tien,  although  he  must  be  allowed 
the  palm  of  priority,  has  been  distanced  on  his 
own  ground.  Fenice  is  too  absorbed  to  show 
much  imagination.20  Idoine  employs  the  Fates. 

11  P.  175 — the  line  numbering  is  confused. 
18  Cf.  CKgif,  5251  ;  Chatdain  de  Cvucy,  3621. 
"11.  7367 a.     Cf.  Grober,  Grundruss,  II,  2,  532— "Die 
Losung  der  Ehe  ist  ganz  modern." 
10  Cf.  Lanson,  op.  cit.,  pp.  52-53. 


The  author  of  Amadas  et  Idoine  has  equally 
failed  to  face  the  situation,  for  one  reason  because 
his  is  a  story  of  love  that  will  not  be  thwarted, 
only  incidentally  a  novel  of  intrigue.  But  Idoine' s 
resort  to  magic  and  the  complacence  of  the  hus- 
band in  the  case  class  the  story  with  Cliges  and 
Erode.  Another  point  in  common  between  the 
three  is,  that  however  frivolous  the  handling  of  the 
intrigue  may  be,  we  are  sufficiently  admonished  that 
women  hi  love  must  not  be  parceniers.  Who  could 
imagine  Fenice  and  Athenais  and  Idoine  unfaith- 
ful to  Cliges,  Parides  and  Amadas  ?  Chre'tien  and 
his  school  seem  blind  to  the  logic  of  their  code 
which  might  lead  anywhere — -feme  est  li  oisiax  seur 
la  rainne. "  It  is  strange  how  few  stories  of  irre- 
sponsible intrigue  are  to  be  found  in  the  Old 
French  period  ;  Joufrois  (c.  1250),"  so  far  as  I 
know,  stands  alone  23 — evidently  the  work  of  a 
man  to  whom  women  are  fair  and  not  fond  enough. 

Count  Joufrois,  of  Poitiers,  Don  Juan  of  his 
region,  hears  of  a  beautiful  lady  kept  by  her 
husband  under  watch  in  an  ancient  tower,  near  a 
city.  Joufrois  comes  to  this  city  for  the  tourneys, 
and  in  the  field  before  the  tower  displays  great 
prowess.  At  night  he  keeps  open  hostel. 

Mais  vos  pas  ne  me  demandez  1179. 

Si  la  dame  del  chastel  yit 
Lo  bel  hostel  que  li  cuens  fit  ? 
Oil  certes,  tot  a  devise. 

After  Joufrois  is  gone — ne  set  qu'il  fait  qui 
feme  gaite  " — Lady  Agnes  of  the  Ancient  Tower 
sends  out  a  man  to  make  inquiries.  The  man 
returns  and  the  lady  is  pleased  : 

"  Va,"  fait  ele,  "  je  le  cuit  bien  ;  1398. 

Qu'einz  en  mun  cuer  sor  tote  rien 
Pansoie  je  par  devinaile 
Que  ce  estoit  li  cuens  sanz  faile. 

Biaus  est  et  lares  et  vigoros,  1405. 

Aperz  et  sages  et  cortois  ; 
Ce  ai  oi'  dire  maintes  fois." 

The  Count  comes  back  in  the  guise  of  a  hermit, 

21  Dohpathos,  4259. 

"Joufrois.  Herausgeg.  v.  Konrad  Hofmann  und  Franz 
Muncker,  Halle,  1880.  Cf.  Grober,  Grwndriss,  n,  1,  776. 

23  The  Provencal  Flamenco,  is  similar.  For  a  translation 
of  the  crucial  dialogue,  cf.  Suchier-Birch-Hirschfeld, 
Oeschichte  der  Framosischen  Litteralur.  Leipzig  u.  Wien, 
1900,  p.  89. 

"Eracle,  4601. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


a  gaberlunzie  man.25  He  had  reckoned  upon  the 
sure  effect  of  his  lance  play  and  largess  within 
eyeshot  of  the  tower.  The  husband  of  the  lady 
is  won  by  the  godly  bearing  of  the  hermit  and  is 
moved  to  treat  his  wife  with  less  severity.  "  God 
pardon  me,"  he  says,  "you  may  do  as  you  please 
from  this  day  forth. ' '  She  doubts  at  first,  but  her 
lord  is  serious  and  she  is  shrewd.  She  answers  : 

"  Mais  tant  ai  a  pris  ceste  estage  1824. 

Que  jamais  non  voil  a  nul  jor 
Ensir  de  ceste  aute  tor, 
Car  n'ai  pas  ceste  seigle  a  pris." 

The  husband  is  insistent : 

"  Ainz  voil,  qu'alez  demain  el  jor  1842. 

Veoir  I'ermite  en  sa  maison 
Que  ja  ne  verreiz  si  bien  non." 

The  next  morning,  accordingly,  the  lady  visits  the 
hermitage  (11.  1853-2147).  Afterwards,  her 
husband  asks  if  the  hermit  is  not  as  represented. 
The  lady  answers  yes  : 

Quant  cil  I'oi,  molt  en  fu  liez.  2163. 

"Dame,"  fait  il,  "bienferiez 
Si  sovenz  li  aliez  veoir ; 
Que  grant  pro  i  poez  avoir 
De  celui,  qui  toz  nos  chadele." 
Et  cele  dit,  si  fera  ele, 
Puis  que  lui  plaist,  dorenavant. 

Nothing  is  dodged  in  Joufrois,  except  the  stricter 
ethics.  The  story  is  full  of  the  "joy  of  life." 
Poitou,  the  country  of  Queen  Eleanor,  sent  its 
contingents  as  well  as  Provence  to  the  baths  of 
Bourbonne  where  celosos  extr&meHos,  like  Count 
Archambaut,  took  precautions  in  vain  against 
wives  like  Flamenca. 

We  are  assured  that  heaven  and  hell  were  very 
present  to  these  people  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Few 
of  them  seem  to  have  realized  those  extremes  in 
themselves.  Hence  perhaps  their  simplicities  and 
their  evasions  in  such  serious  matters  as  the  per- 
sonal relations  of  men  and  women.  The  Ch&telain 
de  Coucy  K  (c.  1300)  is  the  only  novel  of  the  list 
in  which  there  is  any  attempt  at  thoroughgoing 
analysis  of  the  heart.  The  story  by  contrast 
seems  modern. 

Note  the  introduction  of  a  man  in  love.     The 

15  Cf.  Chatelain  de  Coucy,  11.  6610-6650. 
mUHisloire  du  Chatelain  de  Cowy  etdela  Dame  de  Fayel. 
p.  p.  G.  A.  Crapelet,  Paris,  1829. 


Chatelain  de  Coucy  is  enamored  of  the  Dame  de 
Fayel.      He  is  announced  at  the  castle  : 

Dist  la  dame  :  "II  soil  bien  venus  :         133. 

Or  en  r'  ale's  i  lui  lasus 

Et  si  li  faites  compaignie, 

Et  tant  que  g'iere  appareillie." 


La  dame  s'est  tost  acesme'e, 
Car  belle  dame  est  tost  parfe." 


149. 


The  lady  appears.     She  remarks  the  chatelain' s 
troubled  look  and  suspects  the  cause. 

Lore  dist :  "  Sire,  je  say  de  fit  186. 

C'aucune  chose  vous  anoie  : 

Se  mes  sires  fust  cy,  grant  joie 

Vous  feist,  s'en  fusse  plus  aise. 

S'or  n'i  est  cy  ne  vous  desplaise. 

II  i  sera  une  autre  fois." 

The  chatelain  speaks  of  his  heart.    The  answer  is  : 

"  Bien  saves  mes  corps  est  lii^s  218. 

Du  fort  lien  de  mariage  ; 
J'ay  mary  preu,  vaillant  et  sage 
Que  pour  homme  ne  fausseroie." 

They  go  to  supper.     The  chatelain  is  abstracted. 
The  lady  : 

"  Mengie's,  je  vous  empri,  245. 

Et  par  la  foy  que  deves  mi, 
Faites  uu  poi  plus  li  chiere. 

Vous  fustes  au  tournoy  1'autrier."  252. 

Dist  la  dame,  "  j'oy  center." 
— Haa !  dame,  vous  voles  parler 
D' autre  chose  que  je  ne  voel." 

The  lady  begins  to  think  of  her  suitor's  attrac- 
tions. She  hears  him  talked  of ;  he  is  conspicuous 
at  tourneys  : 

La  dame  souvent  ooit  349. 

Maint  recort  qu'al  cuer  li  touchoit. 
MSs  encor  n'estoit  pas  ferue 
Du  dart  d' amours. 

The  chatelain  makes  a  song  to  his  lady.  A 
minstrel  sings  it  in  her  presence : 

Et  quant  sot  que  cilz  1'avoit  fait  417. 

Qui  maint  traval  ot  pour  lui  trait, 
Amours  le  cuer  li  atendrie. 


27  Cf .  Le  Livre  du  Chevalier  de  la  Tour  Landry.  Pour 
I' enseignement  de  set  files.  A.  de  Montaiglon,  Paris,  1854, 
ch.  xxxi.  D'une  dame  qui  mettoit  le  quart  du  jour  a 
elle  appareillier,  or,  in  the  Tudor  English  translation, 
"I  wolde  ye  knew  an  ensample  of  the  lady  that  wolde 
have  alwey  a  quarter  of  a  day  to  arraie  her." 


January,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


The  lord  of  Fayel  is  hospitable,  unsuspecting. 
When  the  chatelain  calls  again,  Fayel  says  : 

"  Dame,  prenes  455. 

Le  chastelain  et  si  laves, 
Qui  nous  a  fait  tres  grant  honnour 
Que  ci  fist  ore  son  retour. 
Lors  ont  lav£  et  sont  assis. 

De  maintes  causes  ont  parle1, 

D'armes,  d' amours,  de  chiens,  d'oisiaus. 

La  dame  n'ert  pas  enplaidie,  470. 

Ains  f  u  d'  une  maniere  coie. 

Et  non  pourquant  ses  iex  envoie 

Simplement  vers  le  chastelain, 

Esgarder  ne  1'ose  de  plain. 

Fayel  must  be  away  to  a  case  in  court  (un  plait). 
He  bids  his  wife  entertain  their  guest.  Hostess 
and  guest  play  at  tables  and  at  talk.  Wanting  to 
know  when  he  will  see  her  again,  the  chatelain 
says  : 

"  Dame,  j'entens  que  vous  seres  667. 

A  la  feste  ou  li  grant  plentes 
Ert  des  dames  de  cest  pays." 

— Par  Dieu,  sire,  vous  dites  voir  673. 

Ma  dame  de  Coucy  hersoir 

Me  manda  que  je  y  alaisse, 

Ne  pour  nul  soing  ne  le  laissasse." 

In  the  lady's  heart  common  sense  and  passion 
have  debated  (11.  777  ff.).  But  at  this  tourney 
the  chatelain  is  very  conspicuous.  The  heralds 
give  him  honor  : 

La  dame  de  Fayel  ooit  1365. 

Les  parolles  dont  joie  avoit, 

Car  li  chastelains  empresent 

Vebit,  et  dedens  son  cuer  sent 

Que  plus  ne  se  poet  destourner 

Que  il  ne  li  conviegne  amer. 

Apres  souper  avint  ensy  1481. 

Qu'au  boire  sist  par  dales  ly. 

Tant  ont  la  ensamble  parle"  1500. 

Qu' environ  eulz  sont  tout  Iev4, 
Et  lore  d'ileuques  se  leverent. 

They  appoint  a  day  for  further  talk,  a  Tuesday 
when  Fayel  will  be  abroad.  The  Tuesday  comes, 
and  the  chatelain  presents  himself.  They  canvass 
the  situation.  Wariness  must  be  theirs,  they 
think.  The  chatelain  suggests  that  a  trusty  maid 
might  help  them  : 


La  dame  respont :    "  Une  en  say 
En  qui  tres  bien  me  fieray. 


2217. 


2227. 


Et  sy  crby  qu'elle  va  peasant 

Un  petitet  no  convenant 

Puis  les  joustes  de  1'autre  fois." 

A  plan  is  sketched  —  secret  doors,  etc.  The  lady 
opens  her  mind  to  the  trusty  maid,  her  cousin 
Isabel.  Isabel  advises  : 

"  Miex  ameroie  estre  dampnee'  2357. 

Que  par  moy  fuissies  acusee. 
Et  non  pourquant  vous  aves  tort 
Que  aves  fait  de  ce  acort  : 
Car  moult  m'esmerveill  par  m'ame 
De  vous  qui  estes  haute  dame, 
S'aves  mari  preu  et  vaillant 
Et  sus  ce  faites  un  amant." 

Lady  Fayel  defends  her  course,  but  says  she  will 
try  her  man  the  first  time  he  comes  to  the  wicket 
gate: 

"  Adont  le  verres-vous  cesser  2406. 

De  ci  venir  d'ore  en  avant  ; 
Ets'il  m'aime  ne  tant  ne  quant, 
Ne  laira,  quoy  qu'a  lui  aviengne 
Que  souventes  fois  n'  i  reviegne.  '  '  28 

Having  found  the  door  barred  against  him,  the 
chatelain  goes  home  and  to  bed,  sick  of  disap- 
pointment. The  lady  is  distressed  at  this  upshot 
of  her  pleasantry.  Isabel  conveys  word  that 
nothing  serious  was  meant.  The  chatelain  writes 
a  letter  the  answer  to  which  (IL  3049  ff.  )  fixes 
another  day.  This  second  time  he  is  not  long 
kept  waiting.  At  break  of  day  Isabel  warns. 
The  chatelain  asks  when  he  may  hope  to  come 
again  : 


A  eel  consel  fu  appellee 
La  damoiselle,  car  senee 
Estoit,  et  de  bons  avis  plaine  ; 


3611. 


28  Cf.  Le  Chastaiement  des  Dames.  Eobert  de  Blois : 
Sammt.  Werke.  Herausgeg.  v.  Dr.  Jacob  Ulrich,  Berlin, 
1895.  1.  750  : 

S'il  vous  aime  tant  con  il  dist 

Ne  laira  por  nul  escondit 

Qu'il  reviegne. 

and  L'Art  d'Amors    (Jacques  d' Amiens),    Dr.    Gustav 
Korting,  Leipzig,  1868,  11.  2051-2061  : 

La  ou  pues  bien  ton  huis  ouvrir 

ens  le  puea  mettre  et  recoillir. 


encor  te  voel  ie  consellier  : 
fai  le  un  petit  dehors  muser. 


10 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


Si  lor  dist :  "  Qui  la  vie  maine 

Qu'en  pensee  aves  a  mener, 

Son  cuer  convient  amesurer 

Contre  son  vouloir  a  la  fois, 

Car  li  cuers  n'entent  que  ses  drois." 

"One  ought,"  says  Isabel, 

"  Tous  temps  si  prive'ement         3621. 
Ouvrer  que  mal-parliere  gent, 
N'envieus,  en  sacent  que  dire." 

Word  will  be  sent,  she  adds, 

"  Par  lettres  que  feray  parler  3651. 

En  mon  non  sans  nul  mot  sonner 
De  ma  dame  pour  riens  qui  soil, 
Pour  le  peril  s'il  avenoit 
Que  li  garcons  euist  perdu 
Les  lettres." 

Isabel  knows   her   world.     A  jealous  lady  of 
Vermandois — 

Moult  est  la  dame  en  grant  esrour         3951. 
Et  moult  s'avise  par  quel  tour 
Pora  savoir  sans  lone  plait  faire 
La  verit4  de  cest  affaire — 

sets  a  spy  upon  the  chatelain's  goings  and  comings. 
Hence  it  is  Fayel  who  admits  the  chatelain  when 
he  knocks  at  the  secret  door  one  night.  The 
visitor  protests  that  he  comes  to  see  Isabel,  who 
bears  him  out  and  is  confirmed  by  her  mistress — 
a  very  dramatic  scene  (11.  4648  ff. ) : 

"Voir,"  dist  lisires,  "  j'ay  merveilles     4733. 
Je  croy  que  siec  sus  mes  oreilles, 
Ne  sai  que  penser  ne  que  dire 
Si  bel  vous  saves  escondire. 


Or  chastelains,  vous  en  ires." 

From  this  point  clever  deception  degenerates 
into  vulgar  subterfuge.  Domestic  peace  at  Fayel 
has  vanished.  The  lord 

Sa  fame  remprosne  forment  6212. 

Mes  n'ose  pas  son  maltalent 
Moustre  par  batre,  tant  est  sage, 
Car  elle  estoit  de  grant  linage. 

It  comes  about  that  the  chatelain  joins  a  crusading 
party  for  the  East.  At  the  last  moment  the  lady 
is  refused  permission  to  go.  She  has  shown  over- 
much eagerness.  The  chatelain  cannot  now  with- 
draw. In  the  East  he  dies.  His  heart,  he  com- 
mands, shall  be  given  to  Lady  Fayel  as  memento 
of  their  loves.  Fayel  intervenes.  The  chatelain's 
heart  is  served  as  a  choice  morsel  at  table.  The 


lady,  convinced  of  what  she  has  partaken,  is  over- 
come with  grief  and  speedily  dies.  Fayel  seeks 
distraction  in  travel,  but  can  find  none  whatso- 
ever. After  a  few  months  he  dies. 

Such  a  tragedy  must,  I  think,  seem  startling 
after  what  we  have  been  examining.  It  would 
appear  that  it  required  a  good  century  and  a  half 
for  the  Celtic  depth  of  feeling  to  gain  any  real 
hold  upon  French  minds.29  Speaking  of  Flamenca, 
M.  Paul  Meyer  observes  that  it  is  a  work  of  a 
period  "a  laquelle  tot  ou  tard  viennent  aboutir 
toutes  les  litte'ratures  :  celle  ou  le  recit  d'aventures, 
si  inouies,  si  variees  qu'on  les  suppose,  ne  suffit 
plus  a  exciter  Pinteret,  ou  1' imagination  n'ayant 
plus  pour  les  faits  exterieurs  la  curiosite  du  pre- 
mier age  se  complait  dans  la  description  des  sen- 
timents intimes. ' ' 30  There  are  few  such  works  in 
the  Old  French,  and  the  Chatelain  de  Couey  is 
perhaps  the  best  of  them.  Sone  de  Namay,  with 
all  its  genuine  interest,  lacks  the  form  to  give  it 
currency.  Chretien  was  master  almost  to  the 
end.  If  it  is  true  that  he  wrote  Guillaume 
d' Angleterre,  we  have  but  supported  evidence  of 
his  genius.  The  story,  to  be  sure,  is  mediocre. 
However,  its  author  could  please  his  public  with 
a  novel  of  wifely  loyalty  that  was  to  find  echo  in 
the  Manekine  and  Octavian  more  than  a  hundred 
years  later.31  Escanor  is  in  direct  descent  from 
Yvain.  Soredamor  ( Cligte~)  is  the  first  of  the 
conventionally  coy  jeunes  filles,™  and  of  the  five 
heroines  of  intrigue  here  noticed  Fenice,  Athenais, 
and  Idoine  are  ' '  true  lovers. ' ' 

Doubtless  in  that  century  and  a  half  liaisons 
were  as  usual  at  one  period  as  at  another.33  We 

19Cf.  Lanson,  op.  cit.,  p.  57 — "  Est-ce  Chretien  qui  ne 
comprenait  pas  la  legende  Celtique?" 

30  Le  Roman  de  Flamenca.  p.  p.  Paul  Meyer,  Paris,  1865. 
p.  xv. 

81  Cf.  A  Comparative  Study  of  the  Poem  Guillaume  tf  An- 
gleterre, by  Philip  Ogdeu.  Johns  Hopkins  Diss.  Balti- 
more, 1900.  Other  legends  of  good  women,  as  wives, 
were  much  read,  e.  g.,  Le  Comte  de  Poitiers  and  La  Violelte, 
cf.  B.  Ohle  :  Ueber  die  romanischen  VorUiufer  von  Shake- 
speare's Cymbeline.  Leipzig  Diss.,  1890. 

M  Soredamor  is  inspired  of  Lavinia  in  the  Roman 
<£  &neas,  but  Lavinia  is  not  consistently  modest.  Cf. 
j&neae,  p.  p.  Jacques  Salverda  de  Grave,  Halle,  1891.  11. 
7857-9268. 

38  Cf.  La  Satire  des  Femmes  dans  la  Poesie  Lyrique  du 
May  en  Age,  by  Theodore  Lee  NeS.  Chicago  Diss.,  Paris, 
1900.  pp.  68-88. 


January,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


11 


can  discern  that  they  were  regarded  throughout 
in  the  North  of  France  with  a  certain  moral  ear- 
nestness. Romances  of  intrigue  were  infrequent. 
When  undertaken,  extraordinary  circumstances 
were  dwelt  upon  and  the  lovers  were  apt  to  marry. 
A  plot  of  that  character  was  sometimes  only  inci- 
dental. Or,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Chdtelain  de 
Coney,  the  story  was  of  a  sort  to  be  deterrent  in 
effect."  The  tone  of  the  chateaux  may  have  been 
not  seldom  that  of  the  chevalier  de  la  Tour 
Landry  :  "II  n'est  ou  monde  plus  grant  trayson 
que  de  decevoir  aucunes  gentilz  femmes,  ne  leur 
accroistre  aucun  villain  blasme."  The  chevalier 
wrote  in  his  old  age.  Jean  de  Meun,  with  his 
viude  chambre  fait  dame  fole,3S  speaks  as  a  young 
man. 


ALFRED  J.  MORRISON. 


Hampden-Sidney  College. 


THE    SUBSEQUENT    UNION  OF   DYING 
DRAMATIC  LOVERS. 

In  The  Modern  Language  Review,  Vol.  i,  No. 
1,  p.  54,  Mr.  G.  C.  Moore  Smith  calls  attention 
to  what  he  considers  as  the  probable  source  of  a 
couplet  in  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Act  iv,  sc.  3,  11. 
57-8,  where  Juliet  says  : 

"  stay,  Tybalt  stay  ; 
Borneo,  I  come  !  this  do  I  drink  to  thee." 

Mr.  Smith  cites  the  last  line  of  Marlowe's  Dido  as 
perhaps  suggesting  these  last  words  of  Juliet.  The 
line  is  as  follows  : 

"  Now,  sweet  larbas  stay  !   I  come  to  thee  (kills  herself)." 

It  is  true  that  the  words  of  these  two  speeches 
do  resemble  each  other  in  a  rather  striking  man- 
ner, but  it  will  be  observed  that  the  motifs  are  not 
quite  the  same.  In  the  first  place,  the  word 
' '  stay ' '  in  Juliet' s  speech  is  not  spoken  to  her 
lover,  but  in  Dido's  speech  the  same  word  is 
addressed  to  the  one  beloved  of  the  unhappy 
queen.  Again,  while  the  words  of  Dido  are 
really  her  last,  those  of  Juliet  are  only  appar- 

84  Cf.  La  Chastelaine  de  Vergi.    Romania,  XXI,  pp.  165- 
193. 
35  Roman  de  la  Rote,  1.  9903. 


ently,  or  rather  perhaps  possibly,  so.  While 
Dido  means  that  she  will  presently  join  her  lover 
in  another  world,  Juliet  thinks  only,  it  may  be, 
of  meeting  Romeo  in  the  tomb,  where,  at  the  end 
of  her  death-like  sleep,  they  will  unite  and  set  out 
at  once  together  for  Mantua.  It  is  not  to  be 
denied,  however,  that  Juliet  has  some  misgivings 
as  to  the  effects  of  the  potion,  but  she  can  hardly 
think,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  places  a  dagger 
by  her  side  as  a  precaution,  that  she  and  her  hus- 
band are  to  be  united  in  death  at  the  tomb,  much 
less  in  a  future  world. 

A  closer  parallel  to  Dido's  line,  at  least  as  far 
as  the  motifs  are  concerned,  is  to  be  found  in  a 
speech  of  Ferdinand,  in  the  final  scene  of  the 
catastrophe  of  Schiller's  Kabale  und  Liebe,  in 
which  the  hero,  after  Luise,  his  lover,  has  already 
died  of  poison,  and  after  he  himself  has  swallowed 
the  fatal  draught,  says  : 

"  Luise ! — Luise  ! — Ich  komme." 

A  somewhat  similar  motif  is  found  in  the  last 
scene  of  the  catastrophe  of  Victor  Hugo's  Hernani, 
11.  2151-53,  where  the  lovers,  after  they  have 
drunk  their  poison  and  have  come  fully  to  realize 
the  fact  that  they  are  soon  to  die  together,  say,  in 
the  midst  of  intense  physical  suffering  : 

"  Vers  des  darted  nouvelles 

Nous  allons  tout  3, 1'heure  ensemble  ouvrir  nos  ailes. 
Partons  d'un  vol  <?gal  vers  un  monde  meilleur." 

There  is  an  idea  underlying  these  tragic  catas- 
trophes that  is  common  to  many  romantic  dramas, 
the  idea  being  a  contribution  from  Mediaeval 
Christianity  ;  and  this  idea  is  the  belief  that  tem- 
pest-tossed and  star-crossed  lovers,  who  go  down 
in  defeat  in  their  unequal  conflict  in  this  world, 
will  be  victoriously  united  in  another  world.  This 
idea  is  much  akin  to  that  of  martyrdom,  and  is 
not  to  be  considered  therefore  as  wholly  tragic. 
Such  romantic  heroes  feel  as  if  they  come  forth 
more  as  conquerors  than  as  victims,  and  easily 
console  themselves  for  their  stormy  and  troubled 
earthly  life  by  the  fact  that  they  die  together,  both 
cherishing  the  hope  that  they  are  about  to  be 
finally  and  forever  united.  Hernani,  in  Hugo's 
Hernani,  11.  2155-58,  says  to  his  dying  sweet- 
heart : 

"Oh  1  be'ni  soil  le  ciel  qui  m'a  fait  une  vie 
D"abimes  entoure'e  et  de  spectres  suivie, 
Mais  qui  permet  que,  las  d'un  si  rude  chemin, 
Je  puiase  m'endormir  ma  bouche  sur  ta  main  I " 


12 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


When  the  revengeful  old  Duke  Gomez  witnesses 
their  joyous  and  hopeful  death,  he  exclaims  : 

"  Qu'ils  sont  heureux  ! " 

Their  sufferings  cease,  and  Dona  Sol  declares  that 
they  are  only  sleeping  in  their  bridal  bed  in 
heaven. 

Instead,  then,  of  these  great  dramatists  borrow- 
ing individual  words  or  even  phrases  from  one 
another,  is  it  not  more  probable  that  they  all  go 
back  to  that  Mediaeval,  Christian,  and  Romantic 
idea  of  heroic  lovers  being  united  in  a  future 
world.  If  therefore  one  of  the  lovers  dies  a  little 
before  the  other,  will  not  the  latter  naturally  say, 
"stay,"  or  "I  come?"  or,  if  they  are  about  to 
die  together,  will  they  not  be  likely  to  say,  "we 
will  set  out  together  to  an  upper  and  better 
world?" 

Some  one  may  object,  answering  that  even  An- 
tigoue  experienced  a  feeling  of  triumph  in  her 
death,  realizing  that  she  had  obeyed  a  divine 
rather  than  a  human  law,  and  that  therefore  the 
idea  of  martyrdom  is  Ancient  as  well  as  Mediaeval, 
Pagan  as  well  as  Christian,  Classical  as  well  as 
Romantic.  Still,  it  may  be  further  argued,  there 
was  perhaps  no  thought  in  the  mind  of  the  ancient 
dramatic  lovers  of  a  happy  and  eternal  union  in 
another  world.1 

JAMES  D.  BRUNER. 

The  University  of  North  Carolina. 


1  ADDENDUM. 

Since  writing  the  above  article,  I  have  discovered  a  still 
closer  parallel  to  Dido's  line,  which  strengthens,  I  think, 
the  probable  correctness  of  my  interpretation  of  the  par- 
allels in  question.  In  Shakespeare's  Antony  and  Cleopatra, 
Act  iv,  sc.  14,  11.  50-54,  Antony  thinking  Cleopatra  dead, 
says: 

"  I  come  my  queen  .  .  .   Stay  for  me  : 

Where  souls  do  couch  on  flowers,  we'  11  hand  in  hand, 

And  with  our  sprightly  port  make  the  ghosts  gaze  : 

Dido  and  her  Aeneas  shall  want  troops, 

And  all  the  haunt  be  ours." 

Again,  Cleopatra  about  to  apply  the  aspic  to  her  breast, 
says,  Act  v,  sc.  2,  11.  283-287  : 


'  '  Methinks  I  hear 
Antony  call  .  .  .  Husband,  I  come." 


J.  D.  B. 


A  RABBINICAL  ANALOGUE   TO 

PATELIN. 

In  the  Introduction  to  his  translation  of  Patelin, 
Dr.  Holbrook  expresses  the  view  that  the  plot  of 
that  farce  was  doubtless  not  created.  The  fol- 
lowing analogue  is  presented  as  a  contribution  to 
the  investigation  of  the  source  of  the  plot.  It  is  a 
parable  by  Jacob  of  Dubno,  commonly  known  as 
the  Dubner  Maggid,  on  Deuteronomy  xxxn,  18. 
Translated,  it  reads  thus  : 

"Of  the  Rock  that  begat  thee  thou  art  un- 
mindful, and  hast  forgotten  God  that  formed 
thee."  THE  PARABLE  :  Reuben  owed  Simeon  a 
certain  sum  of  money.  And  Reuben  came  to 
Levi  and  besought  him  to  give  him  counsel  how 
to  shake  off  his  creditor,  for  Simeon  was  pressing 
him  hard.  And  he  gave  him  counsel  that  he 
pretend  to  be  crazy.  ' '  When  Simeon  comes  to 
thee  begin  thou  to  chirp  and  pipe  and  to  leap 
about  in  dances. ' '  He  did  so,  and  when  Simeon 
saw  that  he  was  crazy  he  desisted  from  him. 
Later,  Reuben  came  to  Levi  and  asked  him  for  a 
loan  for  a  few  days  ;  which  he  granted.  When 
the  time  for  payment  arrived,  Levi  came  to  Reu- 
ben to  dun  him.  And  Reuben  began  to  chirp  to 
him  as  he  had  done  to  Simeon,  as  told  above. 
Levi  raised  his  stick  on  him  and  struck  him  many 
a  blow  and  said  :  "Lo,  thou  wicked  man,  this 
counsel  J  gave  thee.  Did  I  then  advise  thus  with 
respect  to  me  ?  "  THE  EXPLANATION  :  The  vir- 
tues of  forgetfulness  with  which  God  has  favored 
man,  have  long  been  explained.  For  if  there 
were  not  in  him  the  characteristic  of  forgetfulness, 
man  would  not  build  a  house  or  take  a  wife  ft.  e. , 
undertake  anything  permanent]  ;  as  saith  the  Mas- 
ter of  the  Law,  Rambam  (blessed  be  his  memory): 
"If  there  were  no  fools  the  world  would  be  de- 
stroyed." And  man  goes  with  this  forgetfulness 
and  forgets  his  creator  and  his  former  ;  and  there 
is  no  wickedness  greater  than  this.  And  this  is 
the  meaning  of  "Of  the  Rock  that  begat  thee 
thou  art  unmindful"  :  He  begat  in  thee  the  trait 
of  forgetfulness  that  thou  mightst  forget  things  ; 
and  with  compassion  did  the  Holy  One  (praised 
be  He)  thus,  to  bring  about  thy  welfare  and  thy 
continuance.  And  thou  with  this  forgetfulness 
with  which  thou  art  endowed,  goest  and  forgettest 
the  God  that  formed  thee. 


January,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


13 


Here  we  really  have  two  analogues — one  in  the 
parable  and  one  in  the  explanation.  A  second, 
and  more  fanciful,  explanation  affords  a  third 
parallel.  It  is  nowhere  recorded,  as  far  as  I 
know,  but  one  may  hear  it  in  the  synagogue  in 
connection  with  this  parable.  It  states  that  God 
taught  man  how  to  elude  the  devil  by  unconcer- 
nedly whistling  and  chirping,  and  man  has  utilized 
the  instruction  to  elude  Him. 

In  rating  these  analogues  we  must  be  careful  to 
remember  two  things — that  Jacob  Dubno  died 
in  1804,  and  that  the  maggidim,  or  traveling 
preachers,  are  prolific  in  the  invention  of  parables 
to  this  day.  It  is  therefore  just  possible  that  our 
parable  is  entirely  a  creation  of  Dubno' s.  On  the 
other  hand,  we  have  grounds  for  believing  that  it 
is  not.  Dubno  undertook  to  explain  the  difficult 
passages  in  the  Pentateuch  by  means  of  parables. 
He  therefore  made  it  his  business  to  collect  these 
wherever  he  could  find  them — in  the  Talmud  and 
the  Midrash  as  well  as  in  popular  tradition. 
Jewish  life  has  favored  the  preservation  of  folk 
tales,  for  it  is  still  Medieval.  The  Renascence  did 
not  penetrate  the  Ghetto.  In  fact,  the  student  of 
history  coping  with  the  problems  of  Medieval 
culture,  would  spare  himself  a  considerable  amount 
of  uncertain  speculation  if  he  went  to  live  for  some 
time  in  a  typical  Jewish  community,  for  there  he 
would  find  the  Medieval  ideals  in  actual  operation. 

Owing  to  the  exclusiveness  of  the  Russian  Ghetto 
it  is  not  likely  that  the  French  farce  should  have 
made  its  way  there  all  the  way  from  France — cer- 
tainly not  as  a  play,  for  until  recently  the  Jews 
abominated  the  theater,  and  only  those  tolerate  it 
now  who  have  been  affected  by  modern  civilization. 
It  is  still  less  likely  that  the  orthodox  Rabbi  Jacob 
should  have  become  personally  familiar  with  the 
farce  or  its  imitations. 

If  other  versions  of  the  story  could  be  discovered 
among  Jewish  legends,  or  if  the  source  of  Dubno's 
parable  could  be  traced  in  older  Hebrew  literature, 
the  plot  of  Patelin  would  be  fairly  well  established 
as  a  popular  and  wide-spread  Medieval  tale. 
However  the  whole  question  is  an  uncertain  one, 
and  this  contribution  is  presented  for  what  it  is 
worth,  in  the  hope  that  it  will  lead  to  further 
investigation. 

DAVID  KLEIN. 
College  of  the  City  of  New  York. 


RICHARD  STRAUSS'  SALOME  AND 
HEINE'S  ATTA  TROLL. 

The  recent  performances  of  Richard  Strauss' 
music-drama  in  Germany  have  served  to  call 
attention  again  to  Oscar  Wilde,  whose  Salome 
(1893)  Strauss  used  as  his  text.  Hermann  Suder- 
mann  also  gave  to  the  world  eight  years  ago  the 
same  modern  and  romantic  motivation  of  the  exe- 
cution of  John  the  Baptist,  in  the  desire  of  the 
enamoured  Salome  to  avenge  not  only  her  slighted 
charms  but  also  the  failure  of  her  arts  of  seduction. 
It  is  more  than  probable  that  Sudermann  in  the 
composition  of  Johannes  had  before  him  Wilde's 
work  of  five  years  previous,  for  while  it  is  quite  in 
keeping  with  the  spirit  of  modern  literature  that 
attempts  should  be  made  to  represent  Salome,  one 
of  the  chief  characters  in  the  biblical  episode,  as 
something  more  than  a  mere  passive  tool  in  the 
revengeful  plotting  of  Herodias,  it  seems  by  more 
than  mere  chance  that  Wilde  and  Sudermann 
should  agree  in  the  same  manner  of  motivation. 

The  idea,  however,  was  not  original  with  Oscar 
Wilde.  Professor  Francke  (  Glimpses  of  Modern 
Culture)  has  called  attention  in  this  respect  to 
Heine's  Atta  Troll.  Here  pass  in  romantic  rout 
before  the  poet's  eyes  certain  satanic  women  of 
legend  and  history.  Last  of  all  comes  the  one 
which  fascinated  Heine  most. 

Wirldich  eine  Fiirstin  war  sie, 
War  Judaas  Konigin, 
Des  Herodes  schijnes  Weib, 
Die  des  Tilufcrs  Haupt  begehrt  hat. 

Dieser  Blutschuld  halber  ward  sie 
Auch  vermaledeit ;  als  Nachtspuk 
Muss  sie  bis  dem  jiingsten  Tage 
Eeiten  mit  der  wilden  Jagd. 

In  den  Handen  tragt  sie  immer 
Jene  Schussel  mit  dem  Haupte 
Des  Johannes,  und  sie  kiisst  es  ; 
Ja,  sie  kiisst  das  Haupt  mit  Inbrunst. 

Denn  sie  liebte  einst  Johannem — 
In  der  Bibel  steht  es  nicht, 
Doch  im  Volke  lebt  die  Sage 
Von  Herodias'  blutger  Liebe— 

Anders  war1  ja  unerldiirlich 
Das  Geliiste  jener  Dame — 
Wird  ein  Weib  das  Haupt  begehren 
Eines  Mannes,  den  sie  nicht  liebt? 


14 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


War  vielleicht  ein  hischen  boee 
Auf  den  Liebsten,  Hess  ihn  kopfen  ; 
Aber  als  sie  auf  der  Schiissel 
Das  geliebte  Haupt  erblickte, 

Weinte  sie  und  ward  verruckt, 
Und  sie  starb  in  Liebeswahnsinn — 
(Liebeswahnsinn  1  Pleonasmus ! 
Liebe  ist  ja  schon  ein  Wahnsinn  !) 

Nachtlich  auferstehend  tragt  sie, 
Wie  gesagt,  das  blutge  Haupt 
In  der  Hand,  auf  ihrer  Jagdfahrt — 
Doch  mil  toller  Weiberlaune 

Schleudert  sie  das  Haupt  zuweilen 
Durch  die  Liifte,  kindisch  lachend, 
Und  sie  fangt  es  sehr  behende 
Wieder  auf,  wie  einen  Spielball. 

According  to  Heine,  the  woman  enamoured  of 
John  is  not  Salome  but  Herodias.  The  perverted 
and  disgusting  Liebeswahnsinn  of  this  Herodias  is 
reproduced  in  its  exact  details  and  ascribed  to  the 
daughter  in  Wilde' s  Salome,  but  it  finds  no  place 
in  Johannes.  We  have  been  accustomed  to  look 
upon  these  two  women  as  equally  guilty  of  the 
death  of  the  prophet,  and  it  is  no  more  strange 
that  the  deeds  of  the  one,  should,  by  conscious 
poetic  license  (in  Sudermann's  Johannes,  both 
women  try  to  seduce  John),  be  ascribed  to  the 
other,  than  that  their  names  and  subsequent  his- 
tory should  be  confused  by  Josephus  ( Ant.  lib.  18. 
cap.  7),  Nicephorus  (Hist,  eccles.  lib.  1.  cap.  20), 
and  Metaphrastes  (  Vitce  Sanctorum). 

This  love  element,  introduced  into  the  story  is 
probably  entirely  of  nineteenth  century  romantic 
origin.  The  editors  and  commentators  of  Heine, 
even  if  they  have  attempted  it,  have  not  yet  given 
the  form  and  source  of  the  popular  legend  which 
he  quotes.  It  does  not  seem  to  have  existed  in 
the  older  authorities  on  the  legends  of  the  martyrs 
and  saints.  I  have  searched  for  it  in  vain  in  the 
Apocryphal  Gospels  and  Epistles,  in  Josephus, 
in  the  writings  of  the  Ante-Nicene,  Nicene,  and 
Post-Nicene  Fathers,  in  Tillemont's  Memoirs  pour 
servir  a  I' histoire  ecclesiastique  des  six  premiers 
siecles  (1706),  in  the  Aeta  Sanctorum,  and  in 
Baring-Gould's  Lives  of  the  Saints.  The  only 
passage  of  which  Heine's 

"  Und  sie  fangt  es  sehr  behende 
Wieder  auf,  wie  einen  Spielball." 

is  a  reminiscence,   is  where  Eusebius  Emesenus 
speaks  of  Salome  playing  with  the  head  of  John 


the  Baptist  as  with  an  apple.     (Keu  ryv 

avTcrv   Se'Sw/ca   T<a  Kopacrtw    firi  irivo.Ki,  KCU    d 

•n-po<jerra.t£fv.      Oratio  de  adventu  et  Annuntiatione 
Joannis  apud  in/eras. ) 

In  view  of  the  well-known  fertility  and  per- 
versity of  Heine' s  imagination,  it  is  likely  that  he 
invented  the  Sage  pure  and  simple  and  assigned  a 
fictitious  source.  There  is  all  the  more  ground  for 
this  belief  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  Heine  did 
exactly  this  thing  in  at  least  one  other  notable 
instance.  The  solution  of  the  problem  of  the 
Flying  Dutchman's  release  from  his  curse  is  in 
Wagner's  drama  taken  bodily  from  Heine's  Aus 
den  Memoiren  des  Herren  von  Schnabelewopski, 
vn.  Wagner  acknowledged  this  indebtedness  as 
quoted  by  Elster,  Heines  Werke,  Bd.  iv,  S.  9. 
In  the  same  place  Elster  gives  the  results  of  inves- 
tigations which  proved  that  the  sources  assigned 
by  Heine  for  this  solution  were  entirely  fictitious. 


Princeton,  N.  J. 


JACOB  N.  BEAM. 


SPANISH   LITERATURE. 

Orlgenes  de  la  Novela.  Tomo  I.  Introduction. 
Tratado  hwtorico  sobre  la  primitiva  novela  es- 
panola,  por  D.  M.  MENENDEZ  Y  PELAYO  de 
la  Real  Academia  Espanola.  Madrid  :  Bailly- 
Bailliere  e  Hijos,  1905.  8vo,  dxxxiv  pp. 

I. 

It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  this  volume  is 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  contributions  made  in 
our  time  to  the  history  of  Spanish  literature. 
Senor  Menendez  y  Pelayo's  qualifications  are  in- 
contestable ;  he  is  versed  in  many  other  literatures 
besides  that  of  his  own  country,  and  has  thus 
acquired  the  means  of  applying  the  comparative 
test ;  he  seems  to  have  read  almost  everything, 
and  to  have  forgotten  next  to  nothing  ;  he  covers 
immense  tracts  of  difficult  ground  with  enviable 
sagacity  and  surefootedness  ;  and  his  diverse 
learning  enables  him  to  illuminate  every  aspect 
of  his  subject  with  ingenious  and  suggestive  par- 
allels. Probably  he  alone  is  competent  to  criticize 
his  own  work  effectively.  I  must  be  content  to 
give  a  general  idea  of  its  scope  and  value,  and 
even  this  is  no  easy  task. 


January,  1907]. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


15 


After  defining  the  relation  of  the  Greek  and 
Latin  romances  to  the  Spanish  novel,  the  author 
at  once  enters  upon  his  main  theme  by  tracing  the 
transmission  of  the  Oriental  apologue  to  the  Span- 
ish Arabs  and  Jews,  its  circulation  in  Spain,  and 
its  diffusion  throughout  Western  Europe.  This  is 
a  singularly  useful  piece  of  work,  and  it  has  the 
further  merit  of  being  the  first  adequate  presenta- 
tion of  a  literary  development  which  has  hitherto 
been  obscured  by  fantastic  theories.  For  the  first 
time  we  are  on  solid  ground.  Unlike  Royer- 
Collard,  Senor  Menendez  y  Pelayo  does  not  ' '  dis- 
dain a  fact " ;  he  abounds  in  clear  and  definite 
details,  and,  though  the  inclusion  of  every  addi- 
tional fact  increases  the  probabilities  of  error,  his 
accuracy  is  rarely  at  fault.  He  indicates  the  sub- 
terranean course  of  Kalilah  and  Dimnah  from  the 
immemorial  East  to  mediaeval  Spain  ;  he  follows 
the  broadening  European  stream  from  the  age  of 
philosophic  mystics  like  Ramon  Lull  and  warrior- 
statesmen  like  Juan  Manuel  to  the  humaner,  more 
ironic  days  of  La  Fontaine  ;  and  he  vitalizes  the 
dry  bibliographical  minutiae  which  form  the  basis 
of  the  exposition.  Equally  interesting  are  the 
analysis  of  Barlaam  and  Josaphat,1  and  the  spir- 
ited description  of  the  astonishing  adventures  and 
transformations  undergone  by  a  romance  which 
was  destined  to  stimulate  the  genius  of  men  so  far 
apart  in  temperament  and  time  as  Judah  ben 

1  The  Graeco-Christian  form  of  Barlaam  and  Josaphat  is 
conjecturally  assigned  (p.  xxviii),  on  the  authority  of 
Zotenberg,  to  the  seventh  century.  The  chronological 
point  has  no  special  bearing  on  Spanish  literature ;  but, 
on  general  grounds,  it  may  be  worth  while  to  direct  atten- 
tion to  the  present  Dean  of  Westminster's  striking  dis- 
covery that  the  Apology  of  Aristides,  long  regarded  as 
lost,  is  interpolated  in  the  text  of  Barlaam  and  Josaphat 
immediately  after  Nachor,  the  impostor  who  poses  as 
Barlaam,  appears  on  the  scene.  See  Joseph  Armitage 
Kobinson,  Texts  and  Studies:  contributions  to  Biblical  and 
patriotic  literature  (Cambridge,  1891),  vol.  I,  pt.  1. 

The  Apology  was  written  during  the  reign  of  Hadrian, 
and  yet,  until  1891,  no  scholar  had  ever  detected  any  dif- 
ferences between  the  diction  of  this  interpolated  passage 
and  that  of  the  rest  of  the  text,  though  the  latter  was  writ- 
ten— ez  hypothesi — some  five  centuries  later.  This  may  not 
seriously  invalidate  Zotenberg's  conclusions  as  to  the  date 
of  composition,  but  it  should  be  a  warning  to  those  who 
undertake  to  decide  questions  of  literary  chronology  and 
attribution  on  stylistic  grounds.  The  practice  has  been, 
and  is,  much  too  common  among  students  of  Spanish 
literature. 


Samuel  the  Levite,  Ramon  Lull,  Boccaccio,  Lope 
de  Vega,  Calderon,  and  Lessing.  This  is  followed 
by  a  critical  disquisition  on  Pedro  Alfonso's  Dis- 
ciplina  clericalis,  the  ultimate  source  of  Sancho 
Panza's  story  about  Lope  Ruiz'  goats  in  Don 
Quixote  (Part  i,  chap,  xx) — a  tale  which  entered 
vernacular  literature  in  the  Novellino  (No.  30), 
and  has  become  a  universal  favorite  in  nurseries 
through  the  version  given  by  the  Grimms  in  their 
Kinder-  und  Hausmarchen  (No.  86).  Like  every 
other  critic,  Senor  Menendez  y  Pelayo  is  at  his 
best  when  dealing  with  the  writers  whom  he  most 
esteems.  Examples  of  this  are  seen  in  his  dis- 
quisition on  Abu  Bakr  ibn  al-Tufail  (the  Abu- 
bacer  of  the  Schoolmen),  whose  philosophical  ro- 
mance so  strangely  anticipates  the  idea  of  Gra- 
cian's  Criticon,  and  in  the  section  which  deals 
with  Ramon  Lull.  The  latter  indeed  amounts  to 
an  admirable  monograph  on  an  author  with  whose 
philosophical  views  few  modern  readers  are  likely 
to  be  in  sympathy  ;  but,  however  that  may  be, 
the  picturesque  figure  of  the  passionate  pilgrim 
is  placed  in  the  true  historic  perspective,  and 
delineated  with  uncommon  force.  With  this 
should  be  mentioned  some  curious  points  of  con- 
tact between  the  characters  of  Abu  Zaid  of  Saruj 
and  Guzman  de  Alfarache  (a  pure  coincidence,  for 
we  may  be  tolerably  sure  that  Mateo  Aleman 
never  heard  of  Hariri) ;  a  concise  but  exhaustive 
survey  of  the  literatura  aljamiada,  so  amusingly 
overrated  by  the  enthusiastic  Estebanez  Calderon  ; 
and  an  appreciation  of  Don  Juan  Manuel  which 
constitutes  a  capital  chapter  in  the  history  of  com- 
parative literature.  The  sketches  of  the  Arch- 
priest  of  Talavera  and  of  Fray  Anselmo  de  Tur- 
meda  (a  gifted  sinner  who  deserved  to  be  saved 
from  the  oblivion  into  which  he  had  fallen),  are 
full  of  life  and  color.  The  ensuing  chapter  on 
the  Romances  of  Chivalry — which  appear,  like  the 
picaresque  novels,  to  have  some  early  exemplars 
in  Arabic  (p.  xliii) — brings  us  into  the  full  cur- 
rent of  European  literature,  and  the  consideration 
of  it  may  be  reserved  for  another  chapter. 

Meanwhile,  it  will  be  convenient  to  note  a  few 
possible  addenda  or  suggestions.  T.  W.  Rhys 
Davids'  Buddhist  Birth  Stories,  or  Jataka  Tales 
might  be  consulted  in  connection  with  some  traits 
of  Kalilah  and  Dimnah  mentioned  on  p.  xvi. 
The  reprint  of  Stark  (Athens,  1851),  andVittorio 


16 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


Puntoni's  edition  of  the  Directorium  humance  vitas 
(Pisa,  1884) — which  includes  the  prolegomena 
omitted  by  Stark— are  worth  giving  on  p.  xvii. 
By  a  slip  of  the  pen  Raimond  de  Beziers'  version 
of  Kalilah  and  Dimnah  is  said  (p.  xx)  to  be  in 
French  instead  of  in  Latin.  On  p.  xxxv,  the  year 
of  Pedro  Alfonso's  birth  is  stated  to  be  1062,  and 
unquestionably  this  is  the  date  generally  accepted 
— probably  on  the  authority  of  Labouderie,  who 
gives  it  in  his  edition  of  the  Disciplina  clericalis 
(Paris,  1824).  It  may  be  right,  but  it  seems 
quite  possible  that  Labouderie  took  the  date  from 
a  passage  in  the  preface  to  Pedro  Alfonso's  Dia- 
logi.  The  question  is  whether  this  is  correctly 
given  in  the  printed  editions  of  the  treatise  ;  it 
reads  as  follows  in  the  British  Museum  codex 
of  the  Dialogi  contra  Judaeos  (Harleian  MSB., 
3861)  :— 

"  Hora  etiam  baptismatis  preter  ea  que  preraissa  sunt 
credidi  beatos  apostolos.  et  sanctam  ecclesiam  catholicam. 
Hoc  autem  factum  est  anno  a  natiuitate  domini  Mmo. 
Cmo.  visext«.  era  Mma.  Cma.  XLma.  Illlta.  mense  iiilio. 
die  natalia  apostolorum  petri  et  pauli." 

As  it  stands  this  means  that  Pedro  Alfonso  was 
baptized  in  1106,  or  1144  of  the  Spanish  Era. 
In  the  printed  editions,  however,  "eraMm*.  C°"." 
is  transformed  into  "setatis  mese  anno  "  ;  it  might 
be  possible  to  decide  the  point  by  collating  other 
manuscripts  of  the  Dialogi. 

On  p.  xxxv,  a  place  might  be  found  for  La 
Estoria  del  rey  Anemar  e  de  losaphat  e  de  Bar- 
laam,  edited  by  F.  Lauchert  in  vol.  vn  of  Ro- 
manische  Forschungen.  Burton's  version  of  the 
Arabian  Nights  (p.  lix)  appears  to  be  little  more 
than  a  brutal  plagiarism  from  John  Payne,  whose 
translation  is  overlooked.  Too  much  importance 
is,  I  think,  given  to  King  Sancho's  Castigos  (pp. 
xliii  and  Ixxi) :  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  an  uneasy 
suspicion  that,  as  in  the  case  of  Alfonso  the 
Learned,  Sancho  has  very  little  responsibility  for 
some  of  the  writings  to  which  his  name  is  attached. 
The  origin  of  the  mistake  concerning  the  Libra  del 
Oso  (p.  civ)  has  been  explained  by  Mr.  G.  Tyler 
Northup  in  Modern  Language  Notes,  vol.  xx,  p. 
30.  The  omission  of  the  edition  of  the  Corvacho, 
alleged  by  Panzer  to  have  been  printed  at  Seville 
in  1495,  is  probably  justified  (p.  cxii) ;  Salvd,  is 
doubtful  as  to  the  existence  of  the  edition  which, 
according  to  Menendez  and  Gallardo,  was  pub- 
lished at  Toledo  in  1499  by  Pedro  Hagenbach. 


However,  this  is  an  unimportant  matter.  But 
the  highest  compliment  one  can  pay  Senor  Men- 
endez y  Pelayo  is  to  scrutinize  his  work  with 
microscopic  eyes  :  he  is  to  be  judged  by  no  ordi- 
nary standard. 

II. 

In  his  fourth  chapter,  which  is  of  wide  and 
exceptional  interest,  Senor  Menendez  y  Pelayo 
indicates  the  antecedents  of  the  romances  of 
chivalry,  beginning  with  the  Chanson  de  Roland 
and  Turpin's  false  chronicle.  With  a  fine  adroit- 
ness he  threads  his  way  through  a  labyrinth  of 
perplexing  details,  and  brings  Spain  into  literary 
relation  with  the  rest  of  Western  Europe.  Col- 
lateral questions  are  exhaustively  discussed,  and 
many  an  obscure  point  is  made  clear.  It  may  be 
remarked  in  passing  that,  though  Gaston  Paris 
did  at  one  time,  as  the  author  notes  (p.  cxxix), 
believe  the  first  five  chapters  of  Turpin's  false 
chronicle  to  be  the  work  of  a  Spanish  monk 
attached  to  the  monastery  at  Santiago  de  Com- 
postela,  he  modified  his  opinion  nineteen  years 
later  ;  his  review  of  the  third  edition  of  Dozy's 
Recherches  in  Romania  (vol.  xi,  pp.  419-426) 
records  conclusions  very  similar  to  those  arrived 
at  by  Senor  Menendez  y  Pelayo.  The  writer 
pleads  ingeniously  in  support  of  his  favorite  thesis 
that  the  assonant  prose  of  the  Maynete  legend  in 
the  Cronica  general  points  to  the  existence  of  a 
Spanish  poem  independent  of  the  French.  The 
argument  may  not  be  convincing,  and,  in  fact,  it 
is  admitted  (p.  cxxxv)  that  there  are  considerable 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  accepting  it  ;  but  the 
hypothesis  is  ably  presented,  and  is  worth  bearing 
in  mind.  The  components  of  La  Gran  Conquista 
de  Ultramar  are  duly  examined,  and  the  relation 
between  Doon  de  la  Roche  and  the  Historia  de 
Enrrique  fi  de  Oliva,  rey  de  Ihenisalem,  Empe- 
rador  de  Constantinopla  is  clearly  defined  (pp. 
cxxxvii-cxxxviii).  No  doubt  Wolf's  analysis  of 
the  latter  book  in  Ueber  die  neuesten  Leistungen 
der  Franzosen  is  less  valuable  now  that  it  was 
before  Gayangos  reprinted  the  Spanish  text ;  but 
almost  everything  from  Wolf '  s  pen  repays  perusal, 
and  this  analysis  should  be  mentioned  in  a  note 
together  with  the  informing  study  Ueber  die  Oliva- 
Sage  in  the  Viennese  Academy's  Denkschn/ten 
(vol.  vn,  pp.  263-268).  The  legends  of  the 
Charlemagne  cycle,  which  come  next  in  order, 


January,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


17 


are  no  less  interesting  to  students  of  English  than 
to  students  of  Spanish  literature.  The  prose 
Fierabras  le  geant,  translated  into  English  by 
Caxton  in  1485  and  into  Spanish  forty  years  later 
under  the  title  of  Historia  de  Carlo  Magno  y  de 
los  doce  Pares,  was  utilized  by  Calder6n  in  La 
Puente  Mantible,  just  as  Lope  de  Vega  utilized 
I  Reali  di  Franeia  in  La  Mocedad  de  Roldan. 
These  and  other  derivatives  from  the  French,  as 
well  as  the  prolific  Italian  developments,  are 
treated  in  the  masterly  pages  leading  up  to  the 
off-shoots  of  the  Roman  de  Troie,  of  the  Apollo- 
nius  story,  of  Partonopeus  de  Blow,  of  Floire  et 
Blancheflor,  and  of  Amis  et  Amiles.  P.  cliii  con- 
veys to  me  the  rare  sensation  of  discovering  that 
I  have  chanced  to  read  the  forty-five  chapters  of 
a  Spanish  book — the  Historia,  del  rey  Canamor  y 
del  infante  Turian  su  fijo — which  has  escaped  the 
author  (whose  loss,  in  this  matter,  is  to  be  envied 
rather  than  regretted).  By  a  slow  but  most  skil- 
fully contrived  transition,  the  writer  passes  to  the 
diffusion  of  the  Breton  legends  in  the  Peninsula, 
and  in  his  fifth  chapter  attacks  the  formidable 
problem  of  Amadis  and  its  origins. 

Every  page  of  this  discussion  deserves  to  be  read 
with  the  closest  attention,  and,  long  as  it  is,  one 
wishes  it  were  longer.  Everything  connected  with 
Amadis  de  Gaula  is  obscure  and  perplexing  ;  after 
a  minute  examination  (pp.  cc-ccxxi)  of  the  evi- 
dence brought  forward  to  support  the  conflicting 
claims  of  Spain  and  Portugal,  Senor  Menendez  y 
Pelayo  formulates  eight  provisional  conclusions  at 
which  he  has  arrived.  It  may  be  convenient  to 
state  these  conclusions  in  a  condensed  form,  and 
to  denote  points  of  agreement,  doubt,  and  dissent. 

1.  Amadis  is  a  very  free  imitation  of  the  Breton 
prose  romances,  chiefly  of  Tristan  and  Lancelot. 

There  will  probably  be  no  great  difference  of 
opinion  on  this  point :  I  understand  that  the 
indebtedness  of  Amadis  in  this  respect  will  be 
made  clear  in  a  study  now  passing  through  the 
press. 

2.  Amadis  existed   before  1325,   the  year  in 
which  Alfonso  IV  ascended  the  throne  of  Por- 
tugal.    This  monarch  suggested  an  alteration  in 
the  Briolanja  episode,  and  the  fact  that  a  change 
was  made  implies  the  existence  of  an  earlier  text 
which  may  be  referred  conjecturally  to  the  time 
of  Alfonso  III,  or  Alfonso  the  Learned. 


It  may  be  objected  that  the  identification  of  the 
Infante  Alfonso  is  uncertain.  On  p.  ccxi,  Senor 
Men<5ndez  y  Pelayo  writes  : — 

"El  infante  de  quien  se  trata  no  puede  ser  otro  (y  en 
esto  conviene  todo  el  mundo)  que  don  Alfonso  IV,  hijo 
primoge'nito  del  rey  D.  Dionis  ti  quien  sucedi6  en  el  trono 
en  1325,  y  que  desde  1297  tuvo  casa  y  corte  separada  de  la 
de  su  padre." 

The  phrase  "en  esto  conviene  todo  el  mundo," 
is  perhaps  too  sweeping.  Madame  Michaelis  de 
Vasconcellos  in  the  Grundriss  der  romanischen 
Philologie  (n  Band,  2  Abteilung,  p.  222)  seems 
equally  positive  that  the  Alfonso  in  question  was 
the  son  of  Alfonso  III,  and  brother  of  King  Diniz. 
This  would  throw  the  date  back  to  before  1312, 
and  possibly  earlier  than  1304.  It  is  safer  to 
suspend  judgment  concerning  these  identifications, 
and  the  deductions  drawn  from  them. 

3.  The  author  of  the  text  put  together  during 
the  reign  of  King  Diniz  was  possibly — even  prob- 
ably— Joao   de   Lobeira  who  flourished  between 
1258-1286,    and  wrote  the  two  fragments  of  a 
poem   which   reappears   as   Leonoreta's   song   in 
Amadis  (Book  ir,  chapter  11). 

This  is  extremely  plausible.  Yet  perhaps  Pro- 
fessor Baist's  suggestion — that  the  song  is  a  late 
interpolation  in  Montalvo's  text — deserves  more 
consideration  than  it  receives  on  p.  ccxiv.  It  is 
only  fair  to  observe  that,  though  Senor  Men6ndez  y 
Pelayo  combats  this  theory,  he  does  not  absolutely 
reject  it. 

4.  In  default  of  data,  we  cannot  say  positively 
in  what  language  the  original  Amadis  was  written. 
But,  as  Montalvo  speaks  of  having  "corrected" 
(not  translated)  the  first  three  books,  the  proba- 
bility is  that  there  were  several  versions  of  the  text 
in  Portuguese  and  Spanish. 

No  doubt  there  were — in  Montalvo's  time.  But 
two  capital  questions  are  left  undecided.  Did  the 
Peninsular  Amadis  derive  from  a  French  original, 
and,  if  so,  was  it  first  translated  or  adopted  by  a 
Spaniard,  or  by  a  Portuguese  ?  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that,  though  Herberay's  statement  may  be 
inaccurate,  there  is  more  foundation  for  it  than 
Senor  Menfindez  y  Pelayo  is  disposed  to  allow  (p. 
ccxvi).  The  existence  of  a  lost  French  original 
appears  intrinsically  probable,  and,  if  it  did  exist, 
it  is  just  as  likely  to  have  been  translated  or 
adapted  by  a  Spaniard  as  by  a  Portuguese. 


18 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  JVb.  1. 


5.  Amadls  was  known  in  Castille  from  the  time 
of  Lopez  de  Ayala  and  Ferrus  :  this  text  consisted 
of  three  books  only. 

This,  I  think,  may  be  admitted  without  any 
reserve. 

6.  The  assertion  of  Gomes  Eannes  de  Azurara 
that  Amadls  was  written  by  Vasco  de  Lobeira  in 
the  reign  of  King  Fernando  of  Portugal  deserves 
no  credence. 

Clearly  not.  Fernando  died  in  1383  :  Vasco 
de  Lobeira  was  knighted  in  1385.  The  inference 
that  he  wrote  Amadls  in  his  boyhood  is  absurd  in 
the  face  of  it. 

7.  The  report  of  a  manuscript  Amadis  in  Por- 
tuguese, existing  in  the  Aveiro  archives,  is  vague 
and  unsatisfactory. 

It  certainly  is.  But,  even  if  it  were  correct,  it 
would  throw  little  light  on  the  main  point.  The 
same  may  be  said  of  the  Portuguese  Amadis  which 
is  reported  to  have  existed  in  the  Vimiero  archives. 
Assuming  that  both  manuscripts  ever  existed,  there 
is  nothing  to  show  their  dates. 

8.  The  only  existing  form  of  Amadis  is  Mon- 
talvo's  Spanish  text,  the  earliest  known  edition  of 
which  appeared  in  1508.     A  passage  in  the  pre- 
face proves  that  the  book  was  written  after  1492, 
for  it  alludes  to  the  capture  of  Granada.     To  the 
three  existing  books  of  Amadis,  Garci  Ordonez  de 
Montalvo   added   a  fourth,  probably   written  by 
himself. 

It  is  true  that  no  edition  of  Amadis  has  as  yet 
been  found  older  than  the  Zaragoza  edition  of 
1508,  now  in  the  British  Museum.  But  the  future 
may  have  bibliographical  surprises  in  store.  Ersch 
and  Gruber,  as  well  as  Ebert,  speak  of  an  incun- 
able  edition, '  and  there  is  no  reason  to  assume  that 
they  spoke  without  any  warrant.  For  the  rest, 
the  passage  in  the  preface  is  decisive  only  as  re- 
gards the  preface  :  the  text  itself  may  have  been 
finished  before  1492.  The  name  of  the  arranger 
seems  to  be  as  uncertain  as  everything  else  con- 
nected with  Amadis.  In  the  1508  edition  it  is 
given  as  Garci  Rodriguez  [de  Montalbo] ;  in  the 

1Allgemeine  Encyctopddie  ....  herausgegeben  von  J.  S. 
Ersch  und  J.  G.  Gruber  (Leipzig,  1819),  vol.  in,  p.  298  ; 
Maximilian  Pfeifler,  Amadissludien :  Inaugural  Dissertation 
zur  Erlangung  der  Doktoriviirde  der  hoken  philosophischen 
Falcultat  der  Friedrich- Alexanders- Universitdl,  Erlangen 
(Mainz,  1905),  p.  2,  note  1. 


reprints  of  Amadis  it  appears  as  Garci  Ordonez  ; 
and,  in  some  editions  of  the  Sergas  de  Esplandidn, 
the  writer  is  called  Garci  Gutierrez. 

Admirable  as  is  Sefior  Mene'ndez  y  Pelayo's 
presentation  of  the  case,  a  few  minor  details  sug- 
gest comment.  Is  it  strictly  accurate  to  describe 
Macandon  (p,  cciii. )  as  page  to  King  Lisuarte  ? 
Was  he  not  rather  a  stranger  who,  when  advanced 
in  years,  found  his  way  to  Lisuarte' s  court  ?  It 
seems  doubtful  if  the  episode  in  which  he  is  con- 
cerned should  be  dismissed  as  insignificant  (p. 
cciii. ),  for  it  constitutes  the  crucial  test  of  the  love 
of  Amadis  and  Oriana.  The  inference  that  Mon- 
talvo used  at  least  three  antiguos  originals*  for  the 
Briolanja  incident  (p.  ccix. )  may  be  correct ;  but 
it  might  be  argued  that  the  third  text  was  Mon- 
talvo's  own  arrangement.  By  a  simple  oversight 
Brian  de  Monjaste  is  said  to  appear  for  the  first 
time  in  the  fourth  book  of  Amadis  (p.  ccxxxii. )  ; 
"  don  brian  de  monjaste,  cauallero  muy  preciado, 
fijo  del  rey  Ladasan  de  Spafia"  is  mentioned  in 
Book  ii.,  chapter  Ixiij  of  the  1508  edition.  But 
these  and  other  similar  trifles  may  be  set  right  by 
a  few  pen  strokes.  It  would  be  strange  indeed  if 
there  were  no  slips  in  a  work  of  such  dimensions  ; 
it  is  astonishing  that  they  are  so  unimportant  and 
so  few.  The  temptation  to  follow  the  author  in 
detail  through  the  rest  of  this  chapter,  which 
includes  an  excellent  discussion  of  the  Palmerin 
question  (now  finally  answered  in  Mr.  Purser's 
convincing  book)  is  considerable  ;  but  it  must  be 
resisted,  for  I  have  already  trespassed  too  much  on 
the  hospitality  of  these  columns.  The  study  of 
the  sentimental  novel  in  such  examples  as  the 
Siervo  libre  de  amor  of  Rodriguez  de  la  Carnara, 
Fernandez  de  San  Pedro's  Cdrcel  de  Amor,  and 
the  anonymous  Cuestion  de  Amor  is  followed  by  a 
discussion  of  the  historical  novel  as  exemplified  in 
Guevara's  Marco  Aurelio,  which  is  incomparably 
the  best  ever  written  on  the  subject.  The  same 
may  be  said  of  the  charming  essay  on  Montem6r, 
which  finds  its  place  in  the  eighth  (and,  for  the 
present,  the  last)  chapter  ;  the  school  of  prose 
pastorals,  from  Sannazaro  and  Bernardim  Ribeiro 
to  Galvez  Montalvo,  is  reviewed  with  a  fulness  of 
knowledge  and  a  warm  appreciation  which  will 
be  admired  even  by  those  who  cannot  approach 
the  one  nor  share  the  other. 

I  have  marked  a  few  corrigenda  and  omissions. 


January,  1907] . 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


19 


On    page   cxxxv,  note,    for    ' '  tomo   xvi ' '   read 
"  tomo  xvii,  pp.  513-541,   tomo  xix,  pp.  562- 
591,  y  tomo  xxn,  pp.  345-363."     Joly  would 
refer  Benoit  de  Sainte-More's  Roman  de  Troie  to 
1184  ratherthan  to  1160  (p.  cxlv).     Guido  delle 
Colonne  appears  to  have  compiled  the  Historia 
Trojana  at  the  suggestion  of  Mateo  della  Porta 
who  died  in  1272  ;  it  may  therefore  be  presumed 
that  he  began  the  work  somewhat  before  this  date 
(p.  cxlv).    The  relation  of  the  Conde  Partinuples 
to  the  Icelandic  Partalopa  Saga  and  the  Danish 
Persenober  is  shown  by  Eugen  Kolbing  in  Die 
verschiedenen    Gestaltungen  der  Partonopeus-Sage 
(  Germanistische  Studien,  vol.  n,  pp.  55-1 14  and 
312-316) :  a  reference  to  it  might  be  useful  on  p. 
cxlviii.     Robert  Kaltenbacher  in  Der  altframo- 
sische  Roman,  Paris  et  Vienne  (Erlangen,  1904) 
reprints  the  Catalan  text  of  1495  and  the  Spanish 
text  of  1524  ;  the  story  was  translated  by  Caxton 
in  1485  (p.  clii).     An  early  version  of  the  Swan- 
children  legend  in  Dolopathos  deserves  mention  on 
p.  clvi.     The  Lansdowne  MS.  362  in  the  British 
Museum  proves  that  Florence  de  Rome  was  cur- 
rent in  England  during  the  thirteenth  century. 
The  serviceable  list  of  books  recommended  on  p. 
clx  should  be  completed  by  the  addition  of  Pro- 
fessor Rhys'  Hibbert  Lectures  and  Studies  in  the 
Arthurian  Legend,  Professor  Anwyl's   contribu- 
tions  to   the  ZeUsehrift  fur   Celtische  Philologie, 
and  Mr.  Alfred  Nutt's  remarkable  essays  in  Pro- 
fessor  Kuno   Meyer's  edition   of   The  Voyage  of 
Bran,  Son  of  Febal,  to  the  Land  of  the  Living. 
On  p.  clxvi  others  besides  readers  of  English  will 
look  for  a  reference  to  Mr.  Nutt's  indispensable 
Studies  on  the  Legend  of  the  Holy  Grail.     Trist&n 
de   Leonis,  as   stated   on   p.    clxxxiv,   has   been 
ascribed  to  Philippe  Camus  (to  whose  publications 
Mr.   Foulche'-Delbose  refers  in  the  Revue  hispa- 
nique,  vol.  xi,  pp.  587-595) ;  the  Spanish  Tris- 
tan de  Leonis  derives  apparently  from  the  French 
of   Luc,  Seigneur   du  Chateau  de  Gast.     As  an 
illustration   of  the  rapid  diffusion  of  Amadis  in 
Italy    (p.    ccxxxix),    a    sentence   from   a   letter 
written  by  Bembo  to   Ramusio  on  February  4, 
1512,   is  worth  quoting: — "Ben  si  pare  che  il 
Valerio  sia  sepolto  in  quel  suo  Amadigi "  (Vit- 
torio  Cian,  Decennio  della  vita  del  Bembo,  p.  206). 
The  vogue  of  the  book  in  France  is  shown  by  M. 
E.  Bourciez  in  Les  mceurs  polies  et  la  litterature 


de  cour  sous  Henri  II.  Sefior  Men6ndez  y 
Pelayo's  work  was  probably  already  in  print 
before  Maximilian  Pfeiffer's  Amadisstudien 
(Mainz,  1905)  was  available ;  otherwise  it 
would  have  been  included  on  p.  dxxvi,  for  it 
contains  one  or  two  bibliographical  details  usually 
overlooked.  It  is  doubtful,  to  say  the  least, 
whether  the  first  two  parts  of  Palmerm  de  Ingla- 
terra  were  translated  into  English  before  1596 
(p.  cclxxv) :  Mr.  Purser,  indeed  (op.  cit.  p.  391) 
is  not  altogether  satisfied  that  they  were  printed 
before  1609.  Lastly,  on  p.  cdlxxvii,  "  Wilcox  " 
should  be  "  Wilson." 

Possibly  some  of  these  suggestions  may  be 
utilized  in  the  second  edition  which  is  certain  to 
be  forthcoming  before  long.  Meanwhile,  all  stu- 
dents of  Spanish  literature  will  rejoice  in  the 
possession  of  a  book  which  is  at  once  a  monument 
of  learning  and  a  masterpiece  of  artistic  exposition. 


London. 


JAMES  FITZMA.URICE-KELLY. 


Histoire  de  la  Mise  en  scene  dans  le  Theatre  religieux 
francais  du  Moyen-Age,  par  GUSTAVE  COHEN. 
Paris,  Honore  Champion,  1906.  8°,  304  pp. 

The  present  work  is  a  prize  essay  printed  by 
the  Belgian  Academy,  who  are  responsible  for  the 
choice  of  its  subject.  In  this  instance,  they  aimed 
less  at  favoring  original  research  than  at  obtaining 
a  consistent  and  systematic  survey  of  the  somewhat 
scattered  results  of  the  latest  investigations.  In 
this  Mr.  G.  Cohen  has  fully  succeeded,  and 
reference  to  his  essay  will  palpably  lighten  the 
labors  of  future  students  of  the  mediaeval  drama 
by  providing  them  at  once  with  the  necessary  facts 
and  authorities.  The  author  may  thus  pride 
himself  on  having  made  a  valuable  addition  to  the 
extant  literature  on  the  subject. 

As  its  title  implies,  his  work  deals  less  with  the 
texts  themselves  than  with  the  rubrics  settling  the 
details  of  stage  management  and  stage  business, 
and  with  documents  of  every  description  throwing 
light  on  the  external  history  of  the  mystery  plays. 
It  is  divided  into  three  books  :  I.  La  mise  en  scene 
dans  le  drame  liturgique,  describing  the  chanting 
of  sequences  and  scenes  in  connection  with  services 
inside  the  church.  II.  La  mise  en  scene  dans  le 


20 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


drame  semi-liturgique,  mainly  confined  to  the  Nor- 
man jew  d'Adam,  which  was  acted  just  outside  the 
porch.  III.  La  mise  en  seine  dans  lea  mys&res, 
covering  the  whole  huge  mass  of  French  vernacular 
mysteries  down  to  the  Renaissance.  The  amount 
of  materials  surveyed  in  the  last  book  is  such,  that 
we  should  have  welcomed  another  subdivision  into 
early  and  late  plays,  as  the  mainly  spectacular  and 
courtly  shows  arranged  on  behalf  of,  or  in  honor  of, 
princes  and  noblemen  in  the  fifteenth  century 
were,  on  Mr.  Cohen's  own  evidence,  gotten  up  in 
a  style  quite  different  from  that  of  the  earlier  plays 
managed  by  the  clergy  and  city  guilds.  In  fact, 
the  seeretz,  feintes,  and  other  machinery  formed  so 
prominent  a  feature  of  these  entertainments,  that 
they  nearly  belong  to  the  same  kind  as  the  masks 
so  ably  discussed  by  Mr.  Brotanek  in  his  well- 
known  work. 

Throughout  Mr.  Cohen's  three  books,  we  get  a 
careful  account  of  whatever  details  have  come 
down  to  us  throwing  light  on  the  scene  (church  or 
square)  where  the  plays  were  enacted,  on  the 
stages,  the  screens,  the  costumes  and  other  para- 
phernalia used,  on  the  class  from  which  the  players 
were  drawn  and  the  rehearsals  that  they  had  to  go 
through.  In  the  two  first  books,  where  the  subject 
is  well-defined  and  limited,  all  these  particulars 
fall  easily  into  their  places,  while  in  the  third  they 
bulge  somewhat  chaotically,  owing  to  the  amount 
of  heterogeneous  matter  to  be  digested.  Our 
author's  attitude  is  on  the  whole  sensible  and 
sound,  though  I  should  have  liked  him  to  assume 
a  less  patronizing  tone  towards  the  artists  whom  he 
disdainfully  styles  octeurs  maladroits.  Why  on 
earth  could  not  a  gifted  citizen,  guided  by  proper 
training  and  attention,  and  sustained  by  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  high  social  and  religious  function 
do  in  the  Middle  Ages  what  many  underbred  and 
underpaid  courtesans  can  nowadays  perform  on 
provincial  stages  of  the  continent  ?  I  have  myself 
seen  an  elderly  Flemish  farmer  act  and  sing  his 
part  in  a  religious  procession  and  mystery  with  a 
composed  and  fervent  zeal  that  could  not  have 
been  excelled. 

Although  acquainted  with  Mr.  E.  K.  Chambers' 
book  on  the  mediseval  stage,  Mr.  Cohen  makes  no 
mention  of  that  writer's  theory  on  the  possible 
influence  of  the  heathenish  folk-plays  on  the 
Christian  stage.  The  current  account  of  the 


growth  of  the  mystery  out  of  the  sequence  has 
appealed  to  the  sense  of  symmetry  of  contemporary 
scholars  with  such  force  that  they  have  overlooked 
the  possible  grafting  of  foreign  slips  upon  the 
main  stock,  and  have  shut  their  eyes  to  the  many 
points  of  likeness  between  the  Teutonic  folk-plays 
and  the  mysteries  of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth 
centuries.  Since  the  appearance  of  Mr.  E.  K. 
Chambers'  volumes,  these  points,  though  not  easy 
to  clear  up,  can  no  more  be  entirely  neglected. 
One  circumstance  supporting  Mr.  Chambers'  views 
is  pointed  out  by  Mr.  Cohen  himself  when  he 
writes  :  "Les  echafauds  comprenaient,  cornme  nous 
venons  de  le  voir,  des  constructions  en  bois,  et,  en 
avant  des  mansions,  une  plate-forme  reservee  aux 
evolutions  des  acteurs.  Cetespace  libre  s'appelait 
le  champ,  la  terre,  le  pare  ou  parquet.  C'est  le 
' deambulatorye  '  des  Anglais." 

"  Tous  ces  termes,  comme  on  le  voit,  rappellent 
un  temps  ou  il  n'y  avait  pas  encore  d' echafauds  et 
ou  le  jeu  se  faisait  sur  la  terre,  dans  un  pare,  sur 
unepelouse"  (pp.  88-89). 

If  the  origin  of  the  mysteries  had  been  merely 
liturgical,  the  names  applied  to  the  stage  and  its 
parts  should  have  shown  a  trace  of  it.  The  folk- 
plays  were  and  are  still  performed  on  greens  or 
meadows,  and  such  names  as  field,  ground  or  close 
(champ,  terre,  pare)  point  decidedly  to  the  folk- 
play,  and  away  from  the  church.  However,  the 
evidence  is  far  too  scarce  and  vague  to  allow  us 
unduly  to  press  this  point.  Real  and  counterfeit 
animals  (asses,  horses,  dragons)  are  a  prominent 
feature  of  the  folk-plays  and  reappear  in  the 
mysteries,  seeming  to  form  a  connecting  link 
between  the  two  kinds.  Mr.  Cohen  might  have 
entered  into  a  closer  discussion  of  Mr.  Chambers' 
views,  instead  of  simply  stating  that  the  feast  of 
the  asses  was  not  imagined  for  the  ass's  sake 
(p.  31),  and  when  mentioning  the  serpent  monte 
avee  art  (54)  ought  at  least  to  have  briefly  alluded 
to  the  numberless  dragons  and  monsters  that 
aroused  and  in  Belgium  still  arouse  the  wonder  of 
children  young  and  old  at  folk-plays  and  proces- 
sions. 

The  forte  of  Mr.  Cohen's  work  lies  in  his 
knowledge  of  manuscript  sources  and  miniatures, 
which  he  has  successfully  searched  for  testimonies 
on  the  players'  costumes  and  on  the  connection 
between  the  evolution  of  the  pictorial  arts  and  that 


January,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


21 


of  the  stage.  Here  he  has  fully  availed  himself 
of  the  wealth  of  materials  treasured  in  the  libraries 
of  Belgium  and  France,  and  while  following  in  the 
footsteps  of  Louis  Male,  has  unearthed  a  plentiful 
supply  of  fresh  evidence,  and  put  it  before  us  in  a 
clear  and  convincing  manner.  This  book  is  thus 
another  step  forward  in  the  right  direction. 

Its  interest  and  usefulness  are  enhanced  by 
half-a-dozen  appropriately  chosen  photographic 
plates. 

P.  HAMELIUS. 
University  of  Ltege. 


RECENT  STUDIES   OF  THE  PEARL. 

The  Author  of  The  Pearl,  Considered  in  the  Light 
of  his  Theological  Opinions.     By  CARLETON  F. 
BROWN.     Reprinted   from  the  Publications  of 
the  Modern  Language  Association  of  America, 
xrx,  1.     Baltimore,  1904.     8vo,  pp.  39. 

The  Nature  and  Fabric  of  The  Pearl.  By  WIL- 
LIAM HENRY  SCHOFIELD.  Reprinted  from  the 
Publications  of  the  Modern  Language  Asso- 
ciation of  America,  xix,  1.  Baltimore,  1904. 
8vo,  pp.  62. 

Pearl  Rendered  into  Modern  English  Verse.  By 
S.  WEIR  MITCHELL.  New  York,  The  Century 
Co.,  1906.  8vo,  pp.  57. 

Pearl,  a  Fourteenth- Century  Poem.  Rendered 
into  Modern  English  by  G.  G.  COULTON. 
London,  David  Nutt,  1906.  16mo,  pp. 
viii,  51. 

This  noble  West-country  poem,  the  work  of  an 
unknown  pietist  contemporary  with  Chaucer  and 
Langland,  will  henceforth  receive  increased  atten- 
tion. On  the  linguistic  and  the  metrical  side  it 
has  already  been  studied  with  some  care,  though 
much  is  still  to  be  learned.  As  literature  we  are 
only  beginning  to  perceive  its  importance.  What- 
ever be  the  view  taken  of  its  purpose,  we  shall  all 
agree  in  pronouncing  it,  as  a  record  of  thought, 
highly  interesting  and  significant,  and  as  a  work 
of  art,  by  no  means  lacking  in  skillful  workman- 
ship, in  vivid  coloring,  in  warm  life.  The  edi- 
tions announced  by  Professors  Emerson,  Holthau- 
sen,  and  Osgood  will  render  the  poem  easily 
accessible  to  a  wide  body  of  scholars  and  readers. 


Dr.  Brown,  after  discussing  the  problem  of 
authorship,  and  without  great  effort  disposing  of 
the  Huchown  and  Strode  theories,  takes  up 
the  author's  Biblical  knowledge  and  theological 
opinions.  He  certainly  makes  it  much  more  than 
' '  moderately  clear ' '  that  the  poet  was  an  eccle- 
siastic (p.  126).  On  the  theological  side,  Dr. 
Brown  shows  clearly  that  the  poet  was  aiming 
his  argument,  like  Bradwardine,  at  the  Pelagian 
thought  then  current,  while  he  was  opposed  to 
Bradwardine  in  asserting  ' '  that  the  rewards  of 
the  heavenly  Kingdom  are  equal."  Dr.  Brown's 
argument  is  convincing. 

Professor  Schofield  has  not,  we  fear,  been  equally 
successful  in  maintaining  his  contention,  which  is 
that  The  Pearl  is  neither  elegy  nor  autobiography, 
but  is  merely  a  conventional  debate  and  vision 
setting  forth  a  subtle  theological  argument.  That 
the  framework  of  the  poem  is  that  of  a  vision,  and 
that  the  debate  effectively  expounds  and  defends 
the  equality  of  heavenly  rewards,  no  one  will 
doubt ;  but  that  this  excludes  the  possibility  that 
the  poem  is  based  on  a  personal  experience  is  still, 
we  think,  an  open  question.  Mr.  Coulton  has 
referred  (p.  vii,  note)  to  those  ecclesiastical  con- 
ditions which  would  allow  the  poet,  if  he  was  a 
member  of  a  minor  order,  to  marry.  That  the 
poet  nowhere  calls  Pearl  his  daughter  (p.  158, 
note),  or  that  she  addresses  him  with  "Sir,"  is 
not  important.  He  distinctly  says  (1.  233), 

Ho  watg  me  nerre  J>en  aunte  or  nece, 

gaining  by  the  circumlocution  a  rime  for  Grece, 
pryse,  spyce  ;  and  if  we  bear  in  mind  that  she  was 
now  transformed  into  a  girl  old  enough  to  be  a 
bride  of  the  Lamb,  there  is  nothing  in  her  address 
inconsistent  with  filial  devotion  or  love.  The 
rebuke  of  1.  290, 

Wy  horde  ge  men,  so  madde  ge  be  1 

is  addressed  to  men  in  general.  With  regard  to 
the  line  (243), 

Kegretted  by  myn  one,  on  nygte, 

it  seems  a  perfectly  fair  and  plausible  inference 
that  the  mother  of  the  child  was  dead  (p.  160)  ; 
Mr.  Gollancz  may  indeed  have  gone  too  far  in 
supposing  her  to  have  been  unfaithful ;  but  in  any 
case  the  poet's  failure  to  speak  of  her  can  hardly 
be  thought  of  as  "a  grave  artistic  fault."  The 
relation  of  father  and  child  had  been  especially 


22 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


close  ;  no  other  supposition  will  account  for  the 
sentiment  of  such  lines  as  9-24,  49-56,  164, 
231-4,  242-5,  280,  364-6,  1172-6,  1183-8, 
1206.  The  personal  note  in  these  lines  indicates 
either  a  reference  to  an  actual  loss,  or  an  extra- 
ordinarily vivid  imagination  on  the  part  of  this 
writer  of  allegory.  As  for  his  use  of  the  conven- 
tional vision,  it  is  no  more  strange  than  Boccaccio's 
use  of  the  conventional  eclogue  in  writing  of  his 
five-year-old  daughter,  Violante,  or  Milton's  use 
of  the  conventional  pastoral  figure  in  writing  of 
Edward  King.  Both  Boccaccio  and  Milton  man- 
aged to  express  genuine  feeling  ;  so,  to  our  thinking- 
did  the  author  of  The  Pearl.1 

Of  the  1212  lines  of  the  poem,  Dr.  Mitchell 
translates  only  552,  omitting  such  lines  "  as  add 
little  of  value,  or  such  as,  in  the  larger  gap  [589- 
1140],  deal  with  uninteresting  theological  or  alle, 
gorical  material."  While  for  the  most  part  em- 
ploying tetrameter  (except  in  stanza  2,  which  is 
wholly  in  pentameter),  he  does  not  attempt  the 
complex  verse  of  the  original,  but  contents  himself 
with  three  different  sets  of  rimes  a  b  a  b  for  each 
stanza.  He  frequently  resorts,  moreover,  to  cir- 
cumlocutions which  are  not  quite  faithful,  at  least 
to  the  atmosphere  of  the  original.  Mr.  Coulton, 
on  the  other  hand,  renders  the  whole  poem  into  a 
modern  form  which  keeps  surprisingly  close  to 
the  original,  generally  preserving  even  the  word- 
echoes  which  bind  the  stanzas  together.  Com- 
paring the  two  translations,  we  may  say  that  while 
Dr.  Mitchell's  is  more  pleasing  as  modern  poetry, 
Mr.  Coul ton's  is  somewhat  more  literal.  Both 
translations,  however,  possess  decided  merit. 
Neither  translator  has  apparently  made  use  of 
Holthausen's  emendations  in  Archiv  xc,  143- 
148,  some  of  which  must  be  accepted.  Some 
details  are  noted  below  ;  references  are  to  lines  : 

37.  ' '  That  spot  that  I  in  speche  expoun, ' ' 
M.  translates  ' '  That  place  I  sweeten  with  gentle 
rhyme"  ;  this  is  not  happy. 

44—48.  C.  comes  nearer  the  sense.  M.  misin- 
terprets wonys  in  47. 

51.    Why  does  C.  render  hert  by  "  brain?" 

115.  Stremande  is  not  well  rendered  by  "quiv- 
ering" (M.). 

1  Dr.  Osgood  appears  in  general  to  share  this  opinion  ; 
cp.  his  abstract  in  Pud/.  M.  L.  A.  xxi,  p.  xiiv. 


196.  C.  is  content  with  vowel-rime  (seen  : 
stream). 

254.  M.  changes  graye  to  "blue."  This  is 
unnecessary  and  misleading. 

278.  In  C.  "each  word"  makes  the  sentence 
grammatically  wrong. 

302,  308.  C.  translates  loue%  ' '  loveth,  loving. ' ' 
Obviously  the  meaning  is  "believes";  Gollancz 
reads  levez. 

337.    M.  here  comes  nearer  the  original. 

492.  "Too  high  a  fate."  M.  is  here  prefer- 
able as  a  real  translation. 

526,  619.  C.  "Gait"  would  be  better  than 
"gate." 

531.    M.  should  have  retained  "full  strong." 

552.  C.  "Seems"  would  be  better  than 
"think." 

672.    C.    changes  needlessly  to   "and  right." 

688.    C.    "  No  "  were  better  omitted  for  Mn.  E. 

771.    C.  translates  ]>yng  by  "king." 

1045.  C.  Better  "or"  for  Mn.  E. 

1046.  C.  "God  Himself  was"  would  be  bet- 
ter ;  cp.  1076  and  the  translation. 

1116.    C.  "Drew"  better. 

1166.  C.  translates  meruelous  by  "swirling." 
"Wondrous  waters"  is  better,  being  both  allitera- 
tive and  literal. 

Finally,  Dr.  Mitchell' s  beautiful  "Afterword" 
forms  a  pendant  worthy  to  stand  by  the  side  of 
Tennyson's  Prefatory  Lines,  and,  as  we  like  to 
think,  sounds  the  dominant  note  of  the  poem  : 

A  little  grave,  a  nameless  man's  distress, 
And  lo  !  a  wail  of  lyric  tenderness, 
Unheard,  unseen  for  half  a  thousand  years, 
Asks  from  love's  equal  loss  the  praise  of  tears. 


CLARK  S.  NORTHUP. 


Cornell  University. 


Annales  de  la  SoriMe  Jean-Jacques  Rousseau. 
Tome  I.  Geneve,  Jullien,  editeur,  1905.  xvi- 
324  pages. 

The  "  Socie'tS  Jean- Jacques  Rousseau"  was 
founded  in  Geneva  on  the  sixth  day  of  June, 
1904. 

Before  this  date  the  promoters  of  the  enterprise 
had  sent  out  circulars  inviting  persons  that  might 


January,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


23 


be  interested  to  join  the  society.  The  replies 
received  from  all  quarters  and  from  all  countries 
seemed  very  encouraging  ;  they  came  from  scien- 
tists like  Berthelot  and  Mobius,  from  critics  and 
scholars  like  Brunetiere  and  Morf,  from  original 
writers  like  Tolstoi  and  Rod.  Tolstoi,  for  in- 
stance, wrote  :  "  Rousseau  a  etemon  maitre  depuis 
I' age  de  15  ans. — -Rousseau  et  V  evangile  ont  ete  les 
deux  grandes  et  bienfaisantes  influences  de  ma  vie." 
The  ultimate  and  chief  purpose  of  the  Society 
is,  according  to  the  words  of  its  President,  M. 
Bernard  Bouvier,  professor  at  the  University  of 
Geneva  :  preparer  I' edition  de  Geneve  du  citoyen 
de  Geneve. 

A  few  months  before  the  formation  of  the 
"Societe,"  the  city  of  Geneva,  acting  upon  the 
request  of  Rousseau  scholars,  had  decided  to 
devote  a  special  room  of  the  public  library  to 
what  is  now  called  "Les  Archives  Jean- Jacques 
Rousseau."  Students  will  find  there  :  1)  all  the 
manuscripts  (which  are  obtainable)  of  Rousseau  ; 
2)  the  different  editions  of  his  separate  and  col- 
lective works  ;  3)  pictures  of  Rousseau  and  of 
people  he  knew,  of  places  where  he  lived,  of 
scenery  which  he  has  described  ;  4)  various  docu- 
ments concerning  Rousseau's  personality,  and  his 
relations  with  his  contemporaries  ;  5)  the  liter- 
ature on  Rousseau. 

As  there  are  other  places  where  manuscripts 
of  Rousseau  are  kept,  especially  in  Neuchatel 
(Switzerland),  which  has  the  richest  collection, 
and  in  Paris  (Bibliotheque  de  la  Chambre  des 
Deputes),  some  documents,  which  are  unpub- 
lished, will  necessarily  have  to  be  procured  in 
facsimiles. 

To  avail  himself  of  the  advantages  of  the 
' '  Archives, ' '  the  student  will,  of  course,  have  to 
go  to  Geneva.  But  it  is  the  intention  of  the 
Society  to  keep  all  its  members  regularly  informed 
as  to  the  progress  of  the  Rousseau  researches. 
With  this  purpose  in  view,  they  will  publish 
every  year  a  volume  which  will  be  called  Les 
Annales  Jean- Jacques  Rousseau,  the  first  of  which 
has  now  appeared. 

The  committee  has  endeavored  to  make  it 
such  as  to  appeal  to  the  general  literary  public, 
and  not  to  Rousseau  students  exclusively.  There 
are,  first,  a  few  articles  which  are  not  of  a  merely 
documentary  character.  The  paper  on  "Rous- 


seau et  le  docteur  Tronchin  "  is  a  praiseworthy 
attempt  to  be  impartial  in  discussing  the  relations 
of  the  two  men  ;  the  author  is  a  descendant  of  the 
famous  physician  of  Geneva. 

M.  Philippe  Godet,  in  ' '  Madame  de  CharriSre 
et  J.  - J.  Rousseau  ' '  publishes,  among  other  valu- 
able information,  some  passages  of  a  witty  defense 
of  Therese  Levasseur  by  Madame  de  Charriere. 
A  woman  defending  another  woman  is  rather 
unusual,  but  we  can  understand  it  very  well  when 
we  remember  that  Madame  de  Charri&re  hated 
Madame  de  Stael,  who  had  shortly  before  attacked 
violently,  and  without  real  proofs,  the  widow  of 
Rousseau.  Madame  de  Charriere  was  only  too 
glad,  therefore,  to  step  forward  in  defense  of  the 
illiterate  woman  who  could  not  reply  herself ;  and 
under  the  guise  of  a  generous  action,  to  tear  into 
pieces  her  young  rival. 

Those  who  are  interested  in  Rousseau's  music 
will  find  information  in  regard  to  his  theories  in 
the  article  contributed  by  Istel,  the  author  of  a 
book  on  the  subject:  "  La  partition  originale  du 
Pigmalion  de  J.  J.  Rousseau."  According  to 
Istel,  the  author  of  the  partition  is  really  Rous- 
seau, who  made  in  it  an  attempt  to  bring  about  a 
kind  of  compromise-opera  :  sharing  the  general 
prejudice  that  the  French  language  is  not  adapt- 
able to  singing,  he  causes  Pigmalion  to  recite  his 
part,  while  the  whole  musical  part  of  the  play  is 
performed  by  instruments. 

Other  contributions  will  especially  appeal  to  a 
smaller  circle  of  readers.  Lanson  publishes  very 
interesting  results  of  researches  made  in  Paris 
regarding  the  condemnation  of  the  Contrat  Social 
and  Emile.  Contrary  to  the  traditional  belief 
(and  to  Rousseau's  own  opinion  as  expressed  in 
the  "Confessions"),  it  would  seem  that  Rous- 
seau' s  danger,  if  he  had  stayed  in  France,  would  not 
have  been  imaginary.  He  might  have  escaped 
prosecution  had  he  consented  to  publish  anony- 
mously. But  since  he  insisted  upon  signing  his 
name,  he  forced  his  friends  to  let  the  law  take  its 
course  ;  he  took  away  from  them  and  from  the 
government  the  possibility  of  pretending  that  they 
did  not  know  who  the  author  of  the  book  was,  and 
of  leaving  him  undisturbed.  Rousseau's  idea  was 
that  it  would  be  hypocritical  not  to  sign  his  name. 
But,  even  if  he  had  not,  the  public  would  have 
found  out  in  other  ways  that  he  had  written 


24 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


Emile,  and  it  would  have  been  simply  good  policy 
to  take  into  consideration  the  peculiar  conditions 
of  the  time  ;  it  was  merely  a  question  of  observing 
a  conventionality  which  in  so  many  eases  before 
had  favored  the  spreading  of  new  ideas.  More- 
over, one  might  perhaps  ask  why  Rousseau 
accepted  at  all  the  protection  of  high  officials  as 
he  knew  that,  strictly  speaking,  they  would  have 
to  disobey  the  law  in  order  to  stand  by  him.  If 
he  did  not  want  to  compromise  with  the  law,  why 
did  he  ask  others  to  do  so  ?  Rousseau  thought  of 
looking  at  things  from  a  concrete  point  of  view  ; 
he  was  no  doubt  sincere,  but  nevertheless  mis- 
taken. Lauson  maintains  also  that  when  Rous- 
seau returned  from  England  to  France  he  was 
spied  upon  everywhere  and  thus  had  some  legiti- 
mate ground  for  complaint. 

We  take  pleasure  in  mentioning  particularly 
the  contribution  of  M.  Theophile  Dufour,  an 
enthusiastic  and  conscientious  Rousseauist.  He 
publishes:  1)  a  very  useful  list  of  Rousseau's 
writings  that  did  not  find  their  way  into  editions 
of  the  works,  but  were  printed  separately  ;  and 
2)  several  "pages  inedites  "  from  the  Geneva 
manuscripts. 

Among  other  documents  printed  for  the  first 
time  by  the  "Annales"  may  be  quoted:  the 
complete  text  of  the  ' '  Fetes  de  Ramire, ' '  from 
manuscripts  of  the  Bibliotheque  Nationale  (the 
chief  interest  of  this  play  is  that  it  brought  Rous- 
seau into  contact  with  Voltaire  for  the  first  time) ; 
a  letter  relating  a  visit  to  Rousseau  in  1771,  rue 
de  la  Platriere,  in  Paris  ;  marginal  notes  of  Vol- 
taire in  his  copy  of  Emile. 

A  resume  of  the  true  story  of  the  remains  of 
Rousseau,  is  contributed  by  G.  Valette,  together 
with  a  letter  of  Berthelot,  who  had  been  commis- 
sioned in  1897  to  examine  the  body,  in  the  Pan- 
theon. The  old  story  of  the  profanation  of  Vol- 
taire and  Rousseau's  remains,  that  was  started 
about  1826,  is  thus  definitely  dismissed  as  being 
without  any  foundation. 

The  book  closes  with  a  bibliography  and  ' '  Chro- 
niques. ' ' 

If  I  have  given  a  detailed  account  of  this  first 
volume  of  the  Annales,  it  was  in  order  to  show 
the  value  of  the  publication.  It  will  be,  of  course, 
indispensable  to  every  Rousseau  student  And  as 
far  as  we  know  the  volumes  to  follow  may  be  even 


more  interesting.  The  Rousseau  movement  seems 
to  gain  ground  continually.  M.  Bernard  Bouvier 
tells  us  that  in  Geneva  alone  four  students  are 
preparing  dissertations  on  Rousseau,  and  that 
several  plays,  having  Rousseau  as  central  char- 
acter, are  awaiting  representation  in  Paris.  In 
many  European  universities  special  courses  on 
Rousseau  are  announced. 

Americans  ought  to  do  their  share  in  making 
this  revival  profitable.  Of  all  French  writers 
Rousseau  cannot  fail  to  interest  them  specially, 
for  does  he  not  represent  —and  with  what  force  ! — 
the  Protestant  spirit  which  stirred  up  France  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  and  in  a  way  inspired 
the  French  Revolution  ?  Rousseau  proposed  to 
France  and  to  the  whole  continent  of  Europe  the 
individualism  which  Anglo-Saxon  nations  have 
developed  to  such  a  great  extent.  It  was  either 
de  Vogue  or  Bruuetiere — I  do  not  remember 
now  which — who  said  that,  hard  as  it  was  to 
acknowledge,  the  ideas  which  pervaded  France 
during  the  whole  nineteenth  century  were  of 
Swiss  origin  through  Rousseau  : — Swiss  is  alto- 
gether too  narrow  ;  Protestant  would  be  more 
adequate. 

So  far,  we  notice  that  only  two  American  Uni- 
versities have  subscribed  to  the  Annales.  It  is  to 
be  hoped  that  we  shall  see  many  more  on  next 
year's  list. 

A.  SCHINZ. 

Bryn  Mawr  College. 


Die  Kasseler  Grimm-  Gesellsehafl  1896-1905. 
Erster  Geschiiftsbericht,  erstattet  von  EDWARD 
LOHMEYEE.  Kassel :  1906.  8vo.,  35  pp. 

Some  time  ago,  in  this  journal,  (M.  L.  N., 
June,  1904,  p.  175),  Philip  S.  Allen  complained, 
in  general,  of  the  prevailing  German  methods  and, 
in  particular,  of  the  Kleinere  Schriften  of  Jacob 
Grimm  (which,  by  the  way,  constitute  eight,  not 
six  volumes,  1867-1890),  as  containing  the  very 
sweeping  of  his  minor  utterances.  ' '  For  the 
broom  of  the  German  editor  like  that  of  the 
crossing-sweeper  is  thorough,  and  the  activity  of 
either  is  apt  to  result  in  some  tidy  piles  of  waste. ' ' 
It  would  be  unscientific  to  gather  from  this  any 


January,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


25 


rash  generalization  as  to  sweeping  critical  state- 
ments, but  the  very  subject  of  my  little  notice 
calls  for  some  refutation  of  the  above-mentioned 
complaint.  Est  modus  in  rebus  one  is  urged  to 
quote.  Certainly  there  ought  to  be  a  limit,  set  by 
taste,  relevancy,  and  intrinsic  value,  to  the  serv- 
ing, by  publication,  of  everything  that  came  from 
the  pens  of,  e.  g.,  Felix  Liebrecht,  Reinhold 
Kohler,  Francis  J.  Child,  to  mention  some  folk- 
lorists.  But  Jacob  Grimm,  Wilhelm  Grimm,  and 
Ludwig  Uhland  are  of  a  caliber,  so  representative 
and  prototypal  in  character,  as  to  justify  the  pub- 
lication of  even  the  minutest  details  of  their  life 
and  its  literary  utterance.  These  founders  and 
classics  of  the  science  of  Germanics  (here  used 
equivalent  to  Germanistik~)  have  a  rightful  claim 
on  our  attention  to  even  the  minutise  of  their 
existence.  To  deny  this  would  mean  putting 
them  on  a  level  with  men  of  a  more  ordinary 
type.  There  can,  therefore,  really  be  no  ques- 
tioning the  scientific  appropriateness,  beside 
some  considerations  of  a  subtler  character,  of 
what  the  Kasseler  Grimm-Gesellschaft  is  doing 
and  aiming  at  in  collecting  everything  it  can  lay 
hold  on  of  literary  or  other  kind,  of  books  and 
manuscripts,  of  letters  printed  and  unprinted,  per- 
taining to,  directly  or  indirectly,  the  Brothers 
Grimm.  It  is  indeed  very  gratifying  to  learn  that 
the  collecting  activity  of  the  society  is  also  directed 
to  Ludwig  Grimm,  a  brother  of  the  'Brothers,' 
whose  delicate  engravings  are  the  delight  of  every 
one  interested  in  the  Romantik  and  its  time. 
Perhaps  the  interest  may  be  extended  to  a 
fourth  member  of  this  remarkable  family,  Her- 
man Grimm,  the  dear  man,  the  foremost  German 
essayist  and  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  last  century. 
Herman  Grimm,  and  since  his  demise,  Reinhold 
Steig  have,  so  far,  given  to  the  society  the  most 
substantial  help,  and  it  was  the  former,  also,  who 
strongly  recommended  that  the  aim  of  the  Grimm- 
Gesellschaft  should  be,  not  only  to  collect,  but  to 
edit,  scientifically  and  completely,  the  total  extant 
correspondence  of  the  two  brothers.  It  is  to  be 
insisted  that  nothing  be  omitted  from  this  corpus 
of  letters.  It  might  be  well  to  contemplate,  in 
addition  and  at  present,  the  publication  of  the 
artistic  work,  etchings,  pencil-drawings,  etc.,  of 
Ludwig  Grimm,  especially  since  both  Jacob  and 
Wilhelm  Grimm  were  frequently  drawn  by  their 
brother. 


It  is  quite  in  order  that  the  Grimm-Gesellschaft 
should  be  domiciled  in  the  capital  of  Hessen,  the 
dear  home  country  to  which  all  the  members  of  the 
Grimm  family  felt  loyally  and  forever  attached. 
The  annual  contribution  is  only  one  mark.  Con- 
sequently, in  order  to  enable  the  execution  of  its 
scientific  plans,  the  society  ought  to  either  increase 
its  membership  from  the  present  one  hundred  per- 
sons into  many  thousands,  or  to  combine,  with  a 
less  increase,  a  raising  of  the  annual  fee,  so  as  to 
be  more  proportionate  to  its  scientific  ends.  To 
be  sure,  however,  it  remains  with  the  Germanists, 
not  of  the  German  countries  only,  who  are  plough- 
ing largely  with  the  calves  inherited  from  the 
masters  of  olden  times,  to  give  material  aid  to 
this  undertaking.  For  membership  address  : 
Vorstand  der  Kasseler  Grimm-Gesellschaft  in 
Kassel,  Landesbibiiothek.1 


KARL  DETLEV  JESSEN. 


Bryn  Mawr,  Pa. 


Etude  sur  les  Rapports  Litteraires  entre  Geneve 
et  I' Angleterre  jusqu'a  la  publication  de  la 
Nouvelle  Heloise,  par  WILLIAMSON  UP  DIKE 
VKEELAND.  Geneve  :  Librairie  Henry  Ku'n- 
dig,  1901.  viii-198  pages. 

In  view  of  the  recent  publication  of  Tome  I  of 
the  Annales  de  la  Societe  Jean-Jacques  Rousseau 
(Geribve,  1905),  this  dissertation  by  Professor 
Vreeland  of  Princeton  deserves  careful  atten- 
tion. Although  a  few  years  old,  it  is  of  special 
interest  as  an  American  contribution  to  the  Rous- 
seau studies  which  are  being  pursued  with  renewed 
enthusiasm  at  Geneva  and  elsewhere. 

As  he  states  in  his  Preface,  Dr.  Vreeland' s 
purpose  is  to  examine  the  theory  which  M.  Joseph 
Texte  has  popularized  in  France.  This  theory, 
supported  by  French  and  English  critics,  including 
M.  Brunetiere  on  the  one  hand  and  on  the  other 

1  Subscriptions  to  the  Grimm  Society  (25  cents  a  year) 
and  contributions  to  its  funds  may  be  sent  to  the  editor  of 
the  German  department  of  the  Modern,  Language  Notes. 
Such  subscriptions  or  contributions  will  be  duly  acknowl- 
edged in  the  columns  of  the  Modern  Language  Notes. 
Every  professor  of  German  and  every  admirer  of  Grimm's 
Fairy  Tales  will  be  welcome  to  membership.— (Editor's 
Note.) 


26 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


Mr.  John  Morley  and  Sir  Leslie  Stephen,  is  that 
there  are  distinct  traces  of  English  influence  in 
the  "Caractere  genevois "  and  consequently  in 
the  genius  of  Rousseau. 

In  his  effort  to  determine  what  grounds  there 
might  be  for  such  assertions  in  regard  to  the 
genius  and  the  works  of  Rousseau,  the  writer 
recognizes  three  factors  :  (1)  Rousseau  was  born 
in  Geneva  and  passed  his  childhood  there  among 
the  bourgeoisie,  — a  class,  however,  which  does  not 
easily  undergo  foreign  influence  ;  (2)  He  had  the 
opportunity  of  seeing  some  Englishmen,  and  some 
French  and  Swiss  who  knew  England,  by  whom 
he  might  have  been  influenced  ;  (3)  He  read 
translations  of  English  books  and  descriptions  of 
England,  those  of  Muralt,  PreVost  and  Voltaire, 
and  from  these  may  have  drawn  some  of  his  ideas. 

The  first  part  of  the  dissertation  comprising 
almost  three-fourths  of  the  entire  subject-matter, 
is  devoted  to  a  detailed  discussion  of  these  factors. 
The  chronological  study  of  Texte's  book,  Jean- 
Jacques  Rousseau  et  lea  Origines  du  Cosmopoli- 
tisme  Litteraire  (Paris,  1895),  pages  106-107, 
which  is  given  in  this  connection,  points  out  inac- 
curacy in  his  quotations  from  the  Nouvelle  Helo'ise, 
glaring  chronological  errors  in  his  statements  with 
regard  to  the  Bibliotheque  Britannique  and  the 
' '  Debating-Clubs  ' '  at  Geneva,  and  the  general 
lack  of  sufficient  data  for  his  conclusions.  These 
observations  cannot  fail  to  afford  satisfaction  to 
those  who  have  sought  in  vain  among  Texte's 
pages  for  convincing  proofs  of  his  assertions  which 
tacitly  deprive  Rousseau  of  a  great  deal  of  origin- 
ality in  his  own  works. 

The  detailed  investigation  of  the  relations 
between  Geneva  and  England  from  the  time  of 
the  Reformation  to  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century  discloses  a  great  many  interesting  facts 
which  afford  abundant  food  for  thought  to  those 
disposed  to  sympathize  with  the  view  of  Rousseau 
held  in  France  in  consequence  of  Texte's  book. 
Although  discussion  of  the  literary  influences 
which  prevailed  in  a  by-gone  century  is  of  an 
essentially  theoretical  nature  and  the  documentary 
evidence  is  liable  to  be  too  general  and  often  elu- 
sive, the  testimony  given  here,  including  a  num- 
ber of  previously  unpublished  letters  to  Jean- 
Alphonse  Turrettini,  is  very  enlightening  and  the 
conclusions  drawn,  if  not  convincing  from  a  scien- 


tific point  of  view,  are  none  the  less  strongly 
persuasive. 

The  last  chapter  of  this  part  of  the  dissertation 
deals  with  the  authors  from  whom  Rousseau  may 
have  drawn.  Although  an  important  chapter,  it  is 
perhaps  the  least  satisfactory  in  that  it  fails  to 
give  an  exhaustive  list  of  the  authors  Rousseau 
had  read  before  he  wrote  the  Nouvelle  Heloise. 
Addison  and  other  contributors  to  the  Spectator, 
of  whom  Rousseau  himself  speaks  in  the  Confes- 
sions (e.g.,  Livre  in  "  Le  Speetateiir  me  plut 
beaucoup  et  me  fit  du  bien  " )  are  passed  over 
without  mention.  Dr.  Vreeland  speaks  only  of 
books  which  were  written  with  the  intention  of 
revealing  England  to  France  (especially  those  of 
Muralt  and  Voltaire).  In  confining  himself  to  these 
he  seems  to  disregard  the  fact  that  Rousseau  may 
have  drawn  as  well  and  more  profitably  from 
English  authors.  Richardson  is  the  only  one  of 
the  latter  who  is  taken  into  account. 

The  second  part  of  the  dissertation  is  devoted 
to  a  discussion  of  the  alleged  debt  of  Rousseau  to 
Richardson  and  the  similarities  between  the  Nou- 
velle Heloise  and  Clarissa  Harlowe.  There  would 
be  abundant  material  for  a  large-sized  book  on 
this  question  alone.  Therefore,  Dr.  Vreeland,  in 
the  few  pages  devoted  to  it,  could  scarcely  do  more 
than  indicate  the  problem  and  the  conclusions  that 
would  probably  be  reached  after  a  thorough  inves- 
tigation. * 

If,  possibly,  the  attitude  against  Texte  is  here  a 
little  too  pronounced,  the  conclusions  reached  seem 
eminently  impartial  and  true.  Briefly  stated  they 
are  these  :  Rousseau  borrowed  from  Richardson 
the  epistolary  form  of  his  novel  which  Clarissa 
Harloioe  and  Pamela  had  made  the  fashion.  The 
striking  resemblances  in  the  plan  and  in  several 
of  the  characters  of  the  two  books  are  of  minor 
importance  as  they  are  rather  of  an  external 

1  We  are  surprised  to  find  that  Dr.  Vreeland  mentions 
only  Sir  Leslie  Stephen's  essay  on  "  Cowper  and  Rous- 
seau," published  in  the  Cornhitt  Magazine,  1875,  and 
reproduced  in  Hours  in  a  Library,  Vol.  n,  which  deals 
only  indirectly  with  the  subject  under  discussion,  while  he 
fails  to  mention  the  essay  on  "Richardson's  Novels"  by 
the  same  author,  reproduced  in  Vol.  I  of  the  same  work 
which  bears  upon  the  very  point  in  question.  It  seems  to 
us  that  the  contentions  of  Mr.  Stephen  in  the  latter  essay 
do  not  harmonize  with  Dr.  Vreeland's  statements  on 
pages  153-154. 


January,  1907]. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


27 


nature.  Dr.  Vreeland  considers  that  the  greatest 
service  rendered  by  Richardson  to  Rousseau  was 
the  awakening  of  his  revery,  the  inspiration  to 
write  a  book  which  should  have  no  precedent  in 
France.  But  the  most  characteristic  feature  of 
the  Nouvelle  Helo'ise,  the  love  of  nature  and  sim- 
plicity, is  of  Rousseau  himself,  and  in  having 
chosen  the  form  which  best  suited  the  expression 
of  his  noble  theories  his  merit  is  not  diminished 
and  his  personal  glory  remains  entire. 


HELEN  J.  HUEBENER. 


Bryn  Motor  College. 


CORRESPONDENCE. 

DR.  SOMMER'S  ALLEGED  DISCOVERY  OF  A  NEW 
MANUSCRIPT. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — The  bulk  of  critical  material  in  Arthu- 
rian subjects  is  now  so  large  that  the  need  of  a 
good  bibliography  grows  daily  more  evident.  This 
fact  is  brought  forcibly  to  mind  in  reading  Dr. 
Oscar  Sommer's  article  in  the  December  Notes, 
entitled  "  An  Unknown  Manuscript  and  two  early 
printed  editions  of  the  Prose  Perceval." 

The  MS.— B.  N.  f.  1428— which  Dr.  Sommer 
there  identifies  as  the  Prose  Perceval  was  already 
identified  as  such  in  1896,  by  Wechssler  in  his 
article  :  Die  Handschriften  des  Perlesvaus  (cf. 
Zeitschrift  fur  rom.  Philologie,  xx,  80  if.  *)  ;  and  it 
has  since  been  briefly  compared  with  the  remaining 
MSS.  of  the  romance  (cf.  my  study :  Perlesvaus, 
Baltimore,  1902,  pp.  3-19).  If  Dr.  Sommer 
will  consult  these  references  and  the  note  by 
Gaston  Paris  in  Romania,  xxn,  297,  he  will  find 
further  that,  in  addition  to  the  MSS.  he  himself 
mentions,  four  other  MSS.  are  extant ;  one  of 
which,  Hatton  82  of  the  Bodleian  library,  repre- 
sents an  extremely  clear  version  of  the  text.  How 
singular  then  his  remark  is  :  that  ' '  at  least  ...  a 
dozen  prominent  scholars  .  .  .  have  during  the  last 
thirty  years  devoted  their  attention,  directly  or 
indirectly,  to  the  romances  of  the  Holy  Grail,  but 
none  of  them  has  challenged  M.  Potvin's  state- 
ment"— that  the  Brussels  MS.  is  unique!  (Dr. 
Sommer  says  ' '  Mons  ' '  instead  of  ' '  Brussels, ' ' 


but  he  is  evidently  confusing  the  well-known 
Perceval  MS.  with  that  of  the  Prose  Perceval  or 
rather  Perlesvaus,  for  the  latter  is  the  generally 
accepted  name. ) 

With  respect  to  the  two  printed  versions 
adduced  by  Dr.  Sommer,  these  too  have  been 
previously  identified  and  discussed  (cf.  the  biblio- 
graphy given  above).  It  is  interesting  to  note 
that  the  Grimms  (Altdeutsche  Walder,  Cassel, 
1813,  vol.  i)  and  Sir  Frederick  Madden  (Syr 
Gawayne,  p.  xix)  were  acquainted  with  the 
romance  (to  be  sure  only  as  Sainet  Greall)  in  this 
printed  form — in  fact,  Sir  Frederick  mentions  the 
edition  of  1516.  A  number  of  copies  of  both  editions 
(1516  and  1523)  were  sold  at  good  prices  between 
1784  and  1836  (cf.  F.  Michel,  Roman  du  St.  Graal, 
Bordeaux,  1841).  Copies  of  both  are  not  only  in 
the  British  Museum,  as  Dr.  Sommer  informs  us, 
but  also  in  the  Bibliotheque  Nationale.  Of  the 
1516  edition  three  copies  are  said  to  be  in  private 
hands  ;  the  copy  originally  belonging  to  Guyon  de 
Sardi&re  was  brought  to  America  some  years  ago 
by  Mr.  Kerr  of  New  York  and  is  now  in  the 
private  library  of  Mr.  Pierrepont  Morgan. 

I  formerly  believed  that  the  printed  versions 
were  derived  from  B.  N.  f.  1428  (cf.  my  study, 
p.  18),  but  subsequent  researches  have  convinced 
me  that  they  were  taken  from  a  codex  in  which 
the  Perlesvaus  was  part  of  a  romance-cycle  (cf. 
Brugger,  ZeitscJvrift  fur  franz.  Sprache  u.  Lit. 
xxix,  138).  This  would  account  for  certain 
changes  found  in  the  printed  texts  ;  notably  the 
ending  of  the  first  of  the  "last  branches"  (cf. 
Notes,  p.  226),  which  is  seen  on  comparison  to  be 
similar  to  that  of  the  Hengwrt  MS.  ,  the  last  words 
being  :  ' '  Ceulx  de  la  terre  les  appellerent  sainctz 
hommes. ' ' 

That  Mr.  Ward  should  "  have  failed  to  recognize 
in  the  eonqueste  the  text  of  Perceval  le  Gallois" 
(Dr.  Sommer  of  course  means  the  Perlesvaus  and 
not  as  the  name  implies  the  poem  of  Crestien)  is 
an  oversight  easily  explained  in  view  of  the  mass 
of  material  Mr.  Ward  had  to  handle.  I  hope  to 
treat  these  matters,  together  with  several  others, 
in  the  revised  edition  of  my  study. 


WILLIAM  A.  NITZE. 


Amherst  College. 


28 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


TUDOR  PRONUNCIATION  OF  gw  <  0.  E.  u ;  da  < 
O.  E.  a. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — The  diphthonging  of  O.  E.,  M.  E.  wwas 
in  late  M.  E. ,  and  early  Mn.  E.  ou,  before  it  passed 
into  the  present  au;  true,  we  continue  to  write 
e.  g. ,  '  house '  but  we  pronounce  the  German 
'  Haus. '  How  current  this  QU  sound  was  in  the 
days  of  Henry  VIII  may  be  illustrated  by  the 
following  apparent  crux  in  Wyatt.  In  his  sonnet 
beginning  ( Tottel's  Miscellany,  p.  39)  : 

"My  galley  charged  with  forgetfulnesse," 
the  fifth  line  reads  : 

"And  euery  houre,  a  thought  in  readinesse." 

In  FlugeFs  text  from  the  MS.  (Anglia,  xvm,  464) 
the  line  reads  : 

and  every  owre  a  thought  in  redines. 

Wyatt  is  translating  Petrarca's  sonnet  156 
(cxxxvii) : 

"  Passa  la  nave  mia  colma  d'obblio," 

where  line  five  reads  : 

A  ciascun  rerao  un  pensier  pronto  e  rio. 

Evidently  (h~) owre  'hour'  is  no  rendering  of 
remo  '  oar. '  Yet  we  can  scarcely  assume  that 
Wyatt,  an  excellent  Italian  scholar,  blundered  in 
his  interpretation  of  the  original.  Nott  amended 
to  :  "At  every  oar. ' '  No  emendation,  however, 
is  needed  ;  O.  E.  ar,  M.  E.  or,  ore,  hore,  etc., 
'  oar,'  and  M.  E.  tire  (O.  Fr.  ure~),  oure  '  hour,' 
must  have  sounded  so  much  alike  in  Wyatt' s  day 
that  one  might  easily  be  written  for  the  other.  In 
both  words  the  h-  is  parasitic. 

J.  M.  HART. 

Cornell  University. 


MARQUTTE  AND  THE  MONKEY. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — A  very  interesting  instance  of  Luigi 
Pulci's  use  of  beast  lore,  excellently  illustrative 
of  his  originality  in  adaptation,  appears  in  the 
account  of  the  death  of  Margutte,  in  the  Morgante, 
xix,  145-149. 


While  Margutte  is  sleeping,  Morgante  pulls  off 
and  hides  Margutte' s  boots  (called  stivaletti  and 
usatti}.  Margutte,  after  waking,  hunts  for  the 
boots.  Stanzas  147  and  148  are  as  follows  (in 
the  edition  of  G.  Volpi,  Firenze,  1900,  vol.  n, 
pp.  274-275)  :— 

' '  Bidea  Morgante,  sentendo  e'  si  cruccia  : 
Margutte  pure  al  fin  gli  ha  ritrovati  ; 
E  vede  che  gli  ha  presi  una  bertuccia, 
E  prima  se  gli  ha  messi  e  poi  cavati. 
Non  domandar  se  le  risa  gli  smuccia, 
Tanto  che  gli  occhi  son  tutti  gonfiati, 
E  par  che  gli  schizzassin  fuor  di  testa 
E  stava  pure  a  veder  questa  festa. 

A  poco  a  poco  si  fu  intabaccato 
A  questo  giuoco,  e  le  risa  cresceva  ; 
Tanto  che  '1  petto  avea  tanto  serrate, 
Che  si  volea  sfibbiar,  ma  non  poteva, 
Per  modo  egli  pare  essere  impaccia  to, 
Questa  bertuccia  si  gli  rimetteva : 
Allor  le  risa  Margutte  raddoppia, 
E  finalmente  per  la  pena  scoppia." 

This  episode  was  evidently  suggested  by  some 
form  of  the  account  of  the  method  of  monkey- 
catching  which  appears  in  the  Italian  bestiaries. 
The  substance  of  the  account,  as  it  appears  in 
the  bestiaries,  is  given  by  M.  Goldstaub  and  R. 
Wendriner  (Ein  Tosco -Venezianischer  Hestiarius, 
Halle,  1892,  p.  281)  as  follows  : 

"Der  Affe  hat  eiuen  stark  ausgepragten  Nach- 
ahmungstrieb,  welchen  die  Jager  benutzen,  um 
durch  eine  List  ihn  .  .  .  zu  fangen  :  vor  den 
Augen  des  Affen  versuchen  sie,  ganz  enge  Stie- 
felchen  anzuziehen  ;  nachdem  sie  Dies  mehrere 
Male  gethan  haben,  lassen  sie  die  Stiefelchen 
stehen  und  verbergen  sich  in  einem  Hinterhalt. 
Der  Aife  kommt  nun  herbei,  zieht  die  Stiefelchen 
an,  und  so  am  Entwischeu  verhindert,  wird  er  von 
den  Jiigern  ergrifFen." 

ERNEST  H.  WILKINS. 
Harvard  University. 


THE  ARCHIVES  OF  SOUTHERN  FRANCE. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — The   recent   article  *  on   the   projected 
union    of    the    notarial   with    the    departmental 

1  Archives  notarialcs,  leur  reunion  aux  archives  departemen- 
iales  ....  par  F.  Pasquier,  Besancon,  1905. 


January,  1907.  ] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


29 


archives  that  M.  Pasquier  addressed  to  the  assem- 
bly of  French  archivists  has  brought  up  the  ques- 
tion whether  the  general  condition  of  the  latter 
would  permit  the  archivists  to  receive  this  incre- 
ment to  their  already  heavy  burden.  Having 
had  occasion  to  work  in  the  archives  of  some  of 
the  principal  cities  of  provincial  France,  I  took 
advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  get  some  idea  of 
the  value  of  the  various  deposits  as  well  as  of  their 
arrangement  and  classification.  As  a  result  of 
this  investigation,  I  may  say  that  the  archives 
of  the  Midi  are  generally  richer  than  those  of 
northern  or  central  France — they  have  naturally 
suffered  less  from  the  ravages  of  the  Revolution — 
and  they  are  usually  classified  in  a  more  satis- 
factory manner. 

This,  of  course,  does  not  cast  any  reflection  on 
the  learning  of  the  archivists  of  the  North,  for  it 
must  be  admitted  that  some  of  the  most  scholarly 
archivists  are  to  be  found  in  this  section  of  the 
country.  On  the  contrary,  the  very  fact  that 
the  archivist  has  been  productive  in  lines  of  re- 
search furnishes  often  the  explanation  for  the  back- 
ward condition  of  the  archives  ;  for,  instead  of 
going  through  the  drudgery  of  classifying  and 
arranging  for  the  benefit  of  the  rare  chercheur 
the  vast  array  of  documents  entrusted  to  his  care, 
he  naturally  prefers  to  devote  his  time  as  far  as 
possible  to  work  in  which  he  is  personally  inter- 
ested. One  need  not  be  surprised  then  to  find 
that  there  are  certain  archivists  who  are  unable  to 
to  give  much  accurate  information  regarding  the 
contents  of  their  deposits.  And  I  might  add  that 
in  one  of  the  important  cities  of  the  Province,  I 
found  an  assistant  substituting  for  the  regular 
archivist  during  his  vacation,  who  confessed  his 
inability  to  read  any  document  of  earlier  date  than 
the  eighteenth  century  ! 

A  very  brief  discussion  of  the  condition  of  the 
deposits  in  some  of  the  cities  to  which  I  refer  may 
not  be  out  of  place  here.  At  Bourges,  I  was  quite 
disappointed  to  find  the  archives  of  a  rather 
limited  extent.  The  Etat  Civil,  which  comprises 
the  records  of  births  and  deaths,  consists  of  but  a 
few  dozen  volumes.  In  addition,  I  was  informed 
that  the  savants  who  are  acquainted  with  the 
scattered  information  contained  in  the  depart- 
mental archives  are  very  reluctant  to  communicate 
it  to  anyone  who  may  not  be  an  inhabitant  of 
Berry. 


At  Limoges  the  archives  are  being  well  systema- 
tized under  the  direction  of  the  learned  archivist, 
M.  Alfred  Leroux.  Furthermore,  a  handsome 
building  has  been  constructed  to  contain  this  rich 
deposit. 

Toulouse,  however,  makes  the  best  impression  of 
all.  There  are  in  this  city  four  exceedingly  rich 
and  exceptionally  well-classified  deposits.  These 
deposits  are  the  Etat  Civil,  which  is  at  the  Donjon 
of  the  Capitole,  the  parliamentary  and  notarial 
archives  which  are  both  at  the  Palais  de  Justice, 
and  the  departmental  archives  at  the  Prefecture. 
Toulouse  is  the  first  provincial  city  to  gather 
together  the  precious  notarial  documents,  which 
in  other  places  are  to  be  found  in  great  confusion 
in  the  attics  or  basements  of  the  notaries'  offices. 
Furthermore,  the  indefatigable  archivists,  M.  Pas- 
quier, M.  Macary,  and  M.  Roques,  have  prepared 
numerous  tables  and  indices,  so  that  rarely  is  any 
time  spent  in  fruitless  search  by  one  who  consults 
the  deposits  in  their  charge. 

Narbonne  possesses  probably  the  richest  com- 
munal archives  of  any  city  of  the  Province. 
Inventories  of  the  greater  part  of  these  documents 
have  already  been  published  in  several  bulky 
volumes  to  which  an  index  of  names  of  persons 
and  places  is  being  prepared  by  the  present  libra- 
rian of  that  city.  But  in  the  near-by  Montpelier, 
these  communal  deposits  are  of  little  importance. 
However,  this  is  more  than  made  up  for  by  the  rare 
wealth  of  the  departmental  archives  which,  though 
as  yet  not  well  arranged,  possess  a  fund  of  infor- 
mation on  the  religious  wars  of  the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  centuries. 

The  Revolution  is  especially  well  represented  at 
Niraes.  But  it  is  greatly  to  be  regretted  that  in 
this  city  measures  regarding  the  union  of  the 
notarial  and  departmental  archives  have  not  been 
taken.  In  the  office  of  one  notary 2  alone,  I  found 
an  immense  collection  of  liasses — evidently  a  com- 
plete list  of  records  extending  back  to  the  middle 
of  the  fifteenth  century — stowed  away  in  great 
confusion. 

The  archives  of  Aries  were  destroyed  by  fire 
about  1536,3  and  what  has  accrued  of  importance 
since  then  has  been  for  the  most  part  transported  to 

2Maitre  Degora. 

3Cf.  Les  Annalcs  de  la  mile  d' Aries,  depuis  ....  1482, 
jwqu'd  I'annee  1587.  Ex  libris  Laurfntii  Bvnnemant  pres- 
byteri  Arelatensis,  1780.  This  MS.  is  in  the  library  at  Aries. 


30 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  JVb.  1. 


the  departmental  bureau  of  Marseilles.  Still  some 
very  interesting  documents  are  yet  to  be  found  in 
the  private  collections  purchased  by  the  city  ;  and 
the  scholarly  librarian,  M.  Henri  Dayre,  is  ever 
ready  to  place  himself  at  the  complete  disposal  of 
the  chercheur.  But  if  the  necessary  information 
is  not  to  be  found  at  Aries,  one  has  only  to  con- 
sult the  extensive  deposits  at  Marseilles,  which 
are  being  rapidly  evolved  from  chaos  into  order 
through  the  untiring  labor  of  the  brilliant  archivist, 
who  cannot  be  adequately  thanked  for  the  services 
he  is  ever  ready  to  lend. 

The  four  rich  deposits  at  Lyons  differ  from  those 
at  Toulouse  in  that  the  notarial  system  is  as  yet 
non-existent,  while,  of  course,  there  is  no  par- 
liamentary section.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  three  of 
these  deposits  overlap  one  another  and  could  well 
be  brought  together  ;  and  especially  as  it  is  always 
difficult  to  gain  entrance  to  the  H6tel-Dieu  and 
the  Charite.  Regarding  the  classification  of  these 
four  deposits,  it  may  be  said  that,  although  efforts 
are  being  made  in  that  direction,  they  are  yet  in 
a  somewhat  chaotic  state. 

And  finally  at  Dijon,  the  want  of  careful 
arrangement  is  often  evident,  for,  notwithstanding 
that  many  volumes  of  Inventories  have  been  pub- 
lished, it  not  (infrequently  occurs  that  a  liasse 
indicated  therein  is  either  misplaced  or  removed 
from  the  archives. 

J.   L.   GERIG. 

Columbia,  University. 


PELEE  LE  GEAI. 

(Note  to  La  Fontaine's  Fables.  ) 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — M.  Delboulle,  in  his  Lea  Fables  de  la 
Fontaine,  mentions  a  parallel  between  the  Miserere 
of  the  Renclus  de  Moliens  and  La  Cigale  et  la 
Fourmi.  There  is  in  the  Carite  another  parallel, 
not  noted  in  the  Regnier  edition  of  La  Fontaine, 
which  should  be  added  to  M.  Delboulle' s  colla- 
tion, pp.  63-67,  under  Le  geai  pare  des  plumes 
dupaon.  The  Renclus  gives  evidence  of  famil- 
iarity with  this  fable  in  a  form  which  justifies 
La  Fontaine's  use  of  geai  as  the  traditional  French 
title  of  the  story,  in  preference  to  the  ehoucas  first 


advanced  by  Bai'f  and  Menage  and  approved  by 
Regnier  (La  Fontaine,  (Euvres,  I,  p.  298). 

The  passage  of  the  Carite,  CLXXV-CLXXXII, 
discusses  the  redemption  of  the  world  by  Mary, 
through  the  birth  of  Christ  ;  the  Virgin  is  in  com- 
bat with  Satan,  who  has  taken  the  form  of  a  gai, 
and  crept  into  the  forbidden  nest,  i.  e.  the  world 
or  the  human  heart,  CLXXV,  vv.  10-12  : 

Bien  sot  ou  li  gais  se  repust  ; 
Tout  desnicha  (juanke  il  pust, 
Et  cascun  jour  le  plume  et  poile. 

CLXXVI,  VV.   1-4  : 

Li  gais  Adan,  Evain  honi, 
Ki  dist  k'il  seroient  oni 
A  le  majest^  souveraine 
S'il  manjoient  dou  fruit  bani. 

But  Eve  by  her  sin  admits  the  gai  into  the  nest, 
whence  he  is  driven  by  the  Virgin  and  the  birth 
of  Christ,  CLXXVII,  8-12  : 

Quant  en  si  bas  fu  osteles 
Li  rois  dou  pais  souverain  ; 
Adonkes  fu  li  gais  peles, 
Li  orguilloiis  li  piel^s ; 
Le  virge  le  mist  en  pelain. 

The  Renclus  expresses  his  admiration  for  the 
Virgin  who  accomplished  this  great  thing  with 
one  dart,  a  ray  of  humility,  CLXXVIII,  vv.  10-12  : 

Oil !  se  pareille  ne  sai. 
Li  gais  ki  en  fu  al  essai 
Ne  orient  plus  dart  dont  on  le  fiere. 

The  Renclus  now  explains,  CLXXIX,  vv.  1-6  : 

Le  gai  apel  nostre  aversaire, 
Et  ses  engiens  se  plume  vaire  ; 
Sathans  est  vairs  com  vaire  plume. 
For  divers  engiens  de  mal  faire 
Son  ni  et  son  propre  repaire 
Claime  ou  cuer  ki  d'orguil  fume. 

But  the  precedent  of  shooting  at  the  jay  estab- 
lished by  Mary,  is  followed  by  the  ancient  saints, 
who,  CLXXX,  vv.  7-9  : 

Le  cachierent  fors  a  un  fais. 
Jadis  fu  pelichies  li  gais 
Quant  li  peneant  le  despisent. 

Even  though  the  world  has  changed  and,  v.  11, 
Au  gai  pres  tout  ont  faite  pais, 

the  Renclus  cites  the  example  of  the  Magdaleine, 
who,  CLXXXI,  vv.  1-3, 


January,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


31 


....  anicha 

Chest  gai ;  mais  puis  le  pelicha 
Le  dame  et  prist  aspre  venjanche. 

The  idea  then  of  this  sustained  metaphor  is  that 
Satan,  disguised  under  brilliant  plumage  gains 
admittance  to  the  human  soul.  Mary  strips  him 
of  these  feathers,  and  drives  him  out  in  disgrace. 
In  the  fable  the  jay  thus  gains  admittance  among 
the  peacocks,  who  similarly  reveal  the  fraud  and 
drive  him  out  in  derision.  The  Renclus  is  adapt- 
ing the  fable  to  his  theme. 

Let  us  add  tlaatpelichier,  doubtful  to  Van  Hamel, 
is  certainly  peler.  If  "  le  sens  paralt  etre  plutot  : 
chasser  hors  du  nid, ' '  the  fact  is  due  to  the  terse- 
ness of  the  passages  in  question  ;  for  in  the  author' s 
mind  peler  le  gai,  i.  e.  '  to  see  his  real  character,' 
was  tantamount  to  his  expulsion.  The  two  opera- 
tions go  on  side  by  side  through  the  passage. 


A.  A.  LIVINGSTON. 


Haverford  School. 


HUGGINS'S  OKLANDO  FUKIOSO  AGAIN. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — An  attempt  (in  Mod.  Lang.  Notes,  xx, 
199  f. )  to  determine  the  authorship  of  an  eighteenth 
century  translation  of  the  Orlando  Furioso,  claimed 
for  both  Win.  Huggins  and  T.  H.  Croker,  lacked 
completeness  because  I  had  been  unable  to  find 
'  Part  of  O.  F. ' ,  translated  by  Huggins.  Recently, 
through  the  kindness  of  Dr.  Paget  Toynbee,  and 
especially  of  Mr.  H.  A.  Wilson,  the  Librarian  of 
Magdalen  College,  Oxford,  some  of  the  missing 
evidence  has  been  supplied. 

That  Huggins  did  not  issue  a  new  edition  in 
1757,  but  merely  a  new  title-page  and  'Annota- 
tions,' which  would  be  bound  up  with  any  sets 
remaining  in  stock,  is  confirmed  by  the  existence 
in  the  library  of  Magdalen  College  of  a  copy,  in  a 
contemporary  morocco  binding,  of  the  edition  of 
1755,  in  which  the  original  title-page  has  been 
cut  out,  and  that  of  1757  inserted,  while  the 
'  Annotations '  are  bound  up  in  a  separate  volume 
with  the  '  Part  of  O.  F.'  and  Zappi's  'Sonnets.' 
Moreover,  the  first  volume  contains  two  autograph 
letters,  one  dated  'January  1,  1755,'  and  signed 


'  The  Translator, '  and  the  other  dated  '  Rupert- 
Street,  April  the  2d '  [1755],  addressed  to  the 
President  of  Magdalen  College,  and  signed  '  Tern. 
Hen.  Croker. '  Croker  speaks  of  '  these  Morocco 
Volumes, '  and  proceeds  :  '  Pardon  me  in  sending 
my  Mite  if  such  a  trifle  as  these  Sonnets  are  worth 
your  own  or  your  Library's  Acceptance.  The 
former  I  don' t  doubt  of  your  Goodness  receiving  : 
the  latter,  I  believe,  is  unsuited,  but  it  springs 
from  a  mind,  that  would  do  all  acts  that  could 
show  my  gratitude  to  my  most  worthy  friend,  W. 
Huggins. '  That  the  '  translator '  who  signed 
the  first  letter  was  Huggins,  is  shown  by  some 
verses,  in  the  same  hand,  which  begin 

'  Mansion  Rever'd  accept  with  aspect  mild 
The  toilsome  studies  of  thy  faithful  child ' ; 

and  by  an  inscription,  in  a  different  hand,  which 
runs  : 

'D.  D.  Ariosto  Anglius,  Gulielmus  Huggins  Armig1 
de  Headly  Park  in  agro  Hanton.  Istius  Collegi1  olim 
Socius.' 

The  translator  of  Zappi's  sonnets  seems  thus  far 
to  be  Croker,  though  I  hope  it  will  not  seem  unfair 
to  call  attention  to  his  characteristically  vague  lan- 
guage ;  he  does  not  plainly  say  he  translated  them. 
It  would  be  interesting  to  know  why  the  DNB. 
ascribes  this  translation  to  Huggins. 

The  most  important  evidence,  however,  is  the 
'  Part  of  Orlando  Furioso.  Translated  from  the 
Original  Italian.  By  W.  Huggins,  Esq  ;  1759.' 
After  the  title-page  comes  a  Letter  to  the  Reader, 
as  follows  : 

Candid  Reader, 

Permit  me  to  assure  you,  upon  the  word  of  a 
gentleman,  and  the  faith  of  a  Christian,  I  have 
most  strictly  prohibited  myself  the  inspection  of 
the  copy  of  those  Cantos  in  my  former  book,  which 
another,  through  most  earnest  solicitations,  was, 
too  weakly,  by  me  admitted  to  be  concerned  in  ; 
for  fear  of  being  thrown  into  any  similitude  of 
turn  or  identity  of  rhime. 

But,  it  can  scarcely  be  imagined,  one,  who,  by 
his  immense  labours  in  translation  of  a  most  sub- 
lime and  favorite  poem,  proceeded  to  the  finishing 
forty  Cantos,  could  stand  in  need  of  any  aid  for 
three  whole  ones  and  four  fragments ;  and,  that, 
from  a  person  instructed  by  myself  in  the  ABC 
of  the  language.  So  far  from  such  effect,  it  has 
been  absolutely  the  reverse  ;  for  where  I  have, 
after  comparison,  found  casually  some  resemblance, 
I  have  set  to  making  alterations,  where  it  was 


32 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


feasable,  for  the  better,  but,  when  I  have,  at  last, 
discovered  it  either  impracticable,  or  too  laborious 
to  do  so,  and  might,  possibly,  be  for  the  worse,  I 
have  judged  it  proper  to  desist :  not  conceiving  it 
necessary  to  quit  a  main  path,  which  lay  so  natural, 
it  could  scarce  be  avoided,  to  jump  over  rocks  or 
through  brambles  because  another  had  stepp'd 
thereon  before  me. 

The  motive  for  suffering  another  to  appear  as 
the  editor,  with  the  high  honours  which  were  con- 
ferred upon  him  therefrom,  together  with  an  in- 
finitude of  favours  done,  must  be  as  little  inter- 
esting to  the  publick,  as  is  the  return  which  has 
been  received. 

The  cause,  which  was  productive  of  this  new 
rendering,  will  need  no  Oedipus  for  its  solution, 
on  perusal  of  the  initial  and  final  mottos  *  annexed 
to  the  studies  of 

Your  friend 

and  well-wisher, 

W.  H. 

HeaMey  Park,  Hards 
June  23,  1758. 

The  '  three  whole  ones  and  four  fragments, ' 
which  follow,  are  :  Cauto  xxi,  sts.  1-56  ;  Canto 
xxii ;  Canto  xxv,  sts.  1-67  ;  Canto  xxvi  ;  Canto 
xxvii,  sts.  1-104  ;  Canto  xxxiii,  sts.  1-95  ;  and 
Canto  xl.  Canto  xl  ends  on  p.  56,  where  is  the 
second  of  the  two  mottoes  referred  to  in  the  Letter 
to  the  Reader.  Then  follow  : — Extract  from  the 
Ingenious  Dedication  of  a  Poem ;  Inscriptions 
relating  to  Ariosto  ;  some  translations  of  '  Italian 
Quotations  in  my  Book  of  Annotations ' ;  Errata 
for  Cantos  xxii  and  xxv  ;  and  a  translation  of 
Canto  xxxvii,  sts.  1-96.  Mr.  Wilson  comments  : 
'  Ali  after  p.  56  seems  to  be  a  supplement  to  the 
preceding  portion,  perhaps  first  added  in  1759,  as 
the  "  Part  of  0.  F."  appears  to  have  been  origin- 
ally issued  before  the  end  of  1758  ....  The  new 
rendering  of  part  of  Canto  xxxvii  which  follows 
what  Huggins  calls  the  ' '  final  motto  ' '  may  have 
been  added  to  meet  some  further  claim  on  Croker's 
part,  which  had  been  unknown  to  Huggins  or 
overlooked  by  him  when  he  issued  his  "Part  of 
O.  F."  in  1758.' 

Although  the  question  of  the  authorship  of  this 
translation  of  Ariosto  is  a  relatively  small  one,  it 
has  been  a  real  puzzle,  so  that  it  is  a  satisfaction 
to  know  clearly  and  explicitly  that  Croker's  part 
was  trifling,  and  that  the  honor  both  of  its  con- 

*  These  mottoes  are  (1)  'Simulatum  tollitur  auxilium.' 
(p.  1.  )  (2)  '  Imaginaria  evanuit  gloria.'  (p.  56.) 


ception  and  of  its  execution  belongs  to  William 
Huggins,  Esq.,  of  Headly  Park,  Hants. 


EDWARD  PAYSON  MORTON. 


Indiana  University. 


ALEXANDER  SCOTT'S  A  Rondel  of  Luve. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  :— It  has  not  been  noticed,  I  think,  that 
Alexander  Scott's  A  Rondel  of  Luve  is  practically 
identical  with  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt's  poem  begin- 
ning Lo  !  what  it  is  to  love.  Except  for  its  Scot- 
tish dialect,  a  change  in  the  order  of  stanzas,  the 
omission  of  one  stanza,  and  a  few  slight  differ- 
ences in  phraseology,  Scott's  Rondel  is  word  for 
word  that  of  Wyatt. 

Wyatt's  poem  is  found  in  the  Egerton  MS.  2711. 
It  appears  in  no  other  manuscript,  and  is  not  in 
TotteUs  Miscellany  (1557).  It  can  be  found  in 
Nott's  edition  of  the  poems  of  Surrey  and  Wyatt 
(London,  1815),  Vol.  n,  p.  191  ;  in  the  several 
imprints  of  the  Aldine  Edition  ;  and  in  its  ori- 
ginal form  in  Fliigel's  transcript,  Anglia,  xix, 
pp.  187-188. 

Scott's  Rondel  is  among  the  poems  attributed 
to  him  in  the  Bannatyne  MS.  (1568).  It  has  been 
printed  in  almost  every  collection  of  Scott' s  works. 
For  list  of  occurrences  see  the  Scottish  Text  So- 
ciety's  edition  of  Scott's  poems  (Edinburgh  and 
London,  1896),  p.  169.  To  this  list  should  be 
added  EETS.  Ext.  Ser.  85,  and  J.  H.  Millar's 
Literary  History  of  Scotland  (New  York,  1903), 
p.  211. 

There  is  a  certain  interest  in  the  fact  that  even 
the  limited  selections  of  Hailes,  Sibbald,  Irving, 
Ross,  Eyre-Todd,  and  Millar  include  the  Rondel. 
Irving  finds  it  "not  destitute  of  what  may  be 
termed  prettiness";  Millar  considers  it  "as  fa- 
vourable a  specimen  of  his  (Scott's  !)  quality  as 
any  other." 

All  this  is  tribute  to  Wyatt.  That  the  poem 
is  Wyatt's  no  one  can  doubt  after  he  has  com- 
pared the  two  versions. 


ALBERT  H.  LICKLIDER. 


Johns  Hopkins  University. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES 


VOL.  XXII. 


BALTIMORE,   FEBRUARY,    1907. 


No.  2. 


THE  CONCORDANCE   SOCIETY. 

At  the  recent  session  of  the  Modern  Language 
Association  at  Yale  University,  the  following 
paper  was  read  by  Professor  Albert  S.  Cook.  As 
a  result,  the  Association  gave  its  approval  to  the 
project,  and  a  time  was  appointed  for  a  meeting 
of  those  interested.  The  Society  was  then  organ- 
ized on  the  basis  of  the  proposed  Constitution, 
with  officers  as  follows  : 

President,  ALBERT  8.   Cook,  Yale  University. 

Secretary,  CHARLES  G.  OSGOOD,  JR.,  Princeton 
University. 

Treamrer,  CURTIS  HIDDEN  PAGE,  Columbia 
University. 

A  circular  will  soon  be  issued,  giving  further 
particulars.  Meanwhile,  intending  members  are 
requested  to  send  their  names  to  any  one  of  the 
officers.  About  forty  names  have  already  been 
received. 

ADDRESS. 

The  greatest  impediment  to  literary  research  is 
the  lack  of  means  for  disclosing,  in  detail,  the  sub- 
stance and  form  of  individual  pieces  of  literature. 
It  requires  but  a  glance  of  the  mind  to  see  that 
when  Dr.  McKenzie's  Petrarch  concordance  is 
published,  the  study  of  Elizabethan  lyric  poetry 
will  be  greatly  facilitated.  The  results  of  study 
are  the  formation  of  judgments.  All  judgments 
imply  comparison.  All  comparisons  imply  the 
confrontation  of  at  least  two  facts  or  series  of 
facts,  using  facts  in  a  broad  sense.  All  confronta- 
tion of  facts  implies  either  a  tenacious  memory  on 
the  part  of  the  student,  or  the  means  of  discover- 
ing and  adducing  particular  facts,  or  classes  of 
facts,  at  brief  notice.  Now  none  of  us  have 
memories  tenacious  enough  for  all  the  facts  that 
we  need  to  have  at  disposal.  Hence  the  necessity 
of  catalogues,  indexes,  and  dictionaries.  We  all 
welcome  Littre,  or  Grimm,  or  the  New  English 
Dictionary,  because  they  afford  such  convenient 
means  of  verifying  our  impressions,  of  recalling 


dimly  remembered  knowledge,  and  of  gaining  and 
correlating  new  stores  of  linguistic  and  literary 
phenomena. 

The  student  is  as  powerless  before  a  huge  aggre- 
gate of  conglomerate  facts  as  the  refiner  before  a 
hundred-ton  mass  of  gold  ore.  The  student,  like 
the  refiner,  is  in  search  of  something  which  to  him 
is  precious  ;  but  before  he  can  obtain  it  from  the 
enormous  bulk  before  him,  rich  perhaps  with 
various  metals,  it  must  first  be  broken  up,  and 
eventually  comminuted,  before  the  quicksilver  of 
his  mind  can  lay  hold  on  the  rich  metal,  and  form 
with  it  the  desired  amalgam. 

We  have  all  sorts  of  devices  for  presenting  cer- 
tain classes  or  orders  of  facts  to  the  inquirer. 
Such  a  device  is  a  treatise  on  syntax,  or  a  book 
like  Schultz's  Das  Hofische  Leben  zur  Zeit  der 
Minnesinger,  for  example.  What  we  need  is 
more  works  which  shall  contain,  within  the  com- 
pass of  a  single  volume,  the  ordered  materials 
from  which  the  elements  of  a  score  of  such  sys- 
tematic treatises  can  be  extracted.  In  other 
words,  we  need  more  indexes  and  concordances. 

It  might  be  said  that  the  pieces  of  literature 
themselves  are  the  repositories  of  such  materials  ; 
but  so  is  the  hundred-ton  rock  the  repository  of 
the  gold.  Surely  the  process  of  comminution  has 
its  place  and  its  value  in  the  total  labor.  Perhaps 
indexes  laying  more  stress  on  categories — indexes 
which  requires  a  higher  order  of  ability  to  produce 
them — might  be  regarded  as  of  more  value  than 
mere  concordances,  mere  alphabetical  arrange- 
ments of  words,  and  this  view  does  indeed  deserve 
more  attention  than  it  has  hitherto  received  ;  but 
precisely  because  concordances  require  less  con- 
centration of  thought,  they  are  easier  to  make, 
and  hence  can  be  more  rapidly  multiplied  ;  more- 
over, just  as  the  dictionary  plan,  the  alphabetical 
arrangement  of  book- titles  in  a  single  catalogue, 
seems  to  be  steadily  gaining  converts  among  libra- 
rians, so  there  will  always  be  much  to  say  for  this 
simplest  of  plans  in  cataloguing  the  contents  of 
books. 

Such  cotnpendiums  have  their  value  for  nega- 


34 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[  Vol.  xxii,  No.  2. 


tive  as  well  as  positive  uses.  It  is  sometimes  of 
as  much  importance  to  decide  that  a  certain  thing 
is  not  so,  as  that  something  else  is  so.  Professor 
Gildersleeve  well  illustrates  this  in  his  address, 
The  Spiritual  Rights  of  Minute  Research,  where 
the  following  passage  occurs  : 

'  Many  years  ago  one  eminent  scholar  said  to 
another,  "Such  and  such  a  preposition  does  not 
occur  in  Isocrates."  The  second  eminent  scholar 
said,  in  substance,  ' '  Fudge  !  .  .  .  I  will  find  you 
dozens  before  morning ' '  ;  and  having  edited  Isoc- 
rates, he  thought  he  knew  whereof  he  affirmed. 
But  he  lighted  a  candle,  like  the  good  woman  in 
the  good  book,  and  swept  the  house  of  Isocrates, 
and  sought  diligently,  and  did  not  find  it,  and 
frankly  acknowledged  his  mistake.  Now  an  ex- 
haustive Index  Isocrateus  would  have  settled  the 
matter  in  a  minute,  and  there  would  have  been  an 
end  of  controversy.  It  was  a  thing  well  worth 
knowing,  as  it  turned  out,  though  I  do  not  think 
that  either  the  eminent  scholar,  Bekker,  or  the 
eminent  scholar,  Haupt,  ever  asked  himself  what 
it  meant.  Indeed,  the  meaning  was  not  revealed 
until  many  years  afterwards,  when  it  appeared 
that  the  absence  of  that  preposition  was,  if  I  may 
allow  myself  the  bull,  a  feather  in  the  cap  of  that 
conventional  creature,  Isocrates,  or,  to  be  strictly 
classical,  another  sprig  in  his  wreath  of  dried 
parsley  or  celery,  as  you  choose.  It  is  not  an 
hilarious  task  to  be  sent  on  a  searcli  through  the 
whole  range  of  the  Attic  orators  in  order  to 
verify  the  suspected  non-existence  of  a  certain 
final  particle.' 

If  you  will  pardon  another  quotation,  I  will  end 
this  portion  of  my  remarks  with  a  few  sentences 
from  an  address  of  my  own,  delivered  at  Vassar 
early  in  the  present  year  : : 

'But  isn't  there  a  difference,  after  all,  between 
knowing  and  knowing,  between  knowing  as 
merely  recognizing  and  knowing  as  possessing 
the  inmost  secrets  of  a  word — the  whole  range  of 
its  melody,  the  whole  hideousness  of  its  cacophony, 
the  whole  train  of  shadowy  forms  which  it  evokes, 
stretching  on  and  on  with  various  degrees  of  pal- 
pability and  evanescence,  some  bold  and  distinct, 
and  others  melting,  like  the  faintest  curl  of  a 


1  The  Higher  Study  of  English  (Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. ), 
pp.  95-6. 


summer  cloud,  into  the  viewless  air  ?  But  if  we 
are  to  attain  this — this  sense  not  only  of  the  word 
in  itself,  but  of  its  contrasting  values,  and  what 
we  may  call  its  combining  power — we  must  have 
a  much  more  extensive  and  perfect  apparatus 
than  at  present.  For  this  purpose  we  need  con- 
cordances of  many  more  authors,  and  lexicons  of 
some— the  means  of  confronting,  not  merely 
word  with  word,  but  context  with  context,  pas- 
sage with  passage,  poem  with  poem.  There  is 
before  me  at  this  moment  talent  and  industry 
enough  to  make  priceless  additions,  in  the  course 
of  two  or  three  years,  to  our  resources  for  ex- 
ploring and  evaluating  the  treasures  of  our  tongue, 
and  for  providing  teachers  of  literature  with  in- 
struments for  conveying  to  the  minds  and  hearts 
of  their  students  the  most  delicate,  the  most  pre- 
cious, the  most  vital  products  of  all  civilization. 
The  tasks  are  comparatively  simple  ;  the  most 
that  they  demand  is  industry  and  a  devoted  spirit, 
such  industry  and  devotion  as  have  linked  insep- 
arably, for  all  time,  the  name  of  Bartlett  with 
the  name  of  Shakespeare,  and  the  name  of  Ellis 
with  that  of  Shelley.' 

And  now  to  a  more  immediate  consideration. 
Professor  Palmer,  of  Harvard,  whose  edition  of 
his  namesake,  George  Herbert,  will  make  his 
name  well  known  to  English  philologists,  as  his 
translation  of  the  Odyssey  has  given  him  an  hon- 
orable place  among  Hellenists,  and  whose  pro- 
fession of  philosopher  will  exonerate  him  from  any 
suspicion  of  caring  for  mere  details  irrespective  of 
their  significant  relations,  has,  he  tells  me,  col- 
lected all  the  concordances  to  English  writers  that 
he  can  obtain.  But  those  that  he  has  he  finds  all  too 
few  for  his  purposes,  as  those  that  I  have  been 
able  to  procure  I  find  all  too  few  for  mine.  We 
suppose  that  our  experience  is  a  common  one,  and 
that  many  workers,  not  alone  in  English,  but  in 
the  allied  subjects,  would  be  glad  to  have  Words- 
worth, and  Keats,  and  many  other  English  authors, 
treated  as  Shakespeare  and  Shelley  have  been.  He 
thought  that  probably  many  competent  persons 
would  be  glad  to  compile  such  concordances,  if 
there  were  a  reasonable  chance  of  their  being 
accepted  by  publishers  ;  and  that  publishers  would 
more  often  be  willing  to  undertake  such  works,  if 
there  were  a  reasonable  prospect  of  seeing  the  cost 
of  their  ventures  returned.  He  thought  that  pub- 


February,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


35 


lication  might  be  much  facilitated  if  a  Concordance 
Society  of,  say,  a  hundred  members,  could  be  sure 
of  an  annual  income  of  perhaps  five  hundred 
dollars,  which  might  be  devoted,  under  the  direc- 
tion of  an  Executive  Committee,  to  the  providing 
of  subventions  toward  bringing  out  such  concor- 
dances to  English  writers  as  might  be  deemed 
worthy.  With  this  end  in  view,  the  matter  has 
been  mentioned  to  individuals  of  his  acquaintance 
and  mine,  among  such  as  could  be  easily  reached, 
with  the  result  that  some  thirty  persons  have  signed 
the  following  pledge  : 

'  If  a  hundred  persons  can  be  found  to  subscribe 
an  equal  amount,  1  promise  to  subscribe  five 
dollars  a  year  towards  the  maintenance  of  a  duly 
organized  Concordance  Society,  the  object  of 
which  shall  be  to  assist,  by  means  of  subventions, 
in  the  publication,  but  not  in  the  preparation,  of 
such  concordances  to  English  authors  as  shall 
have  been  approved  by  a  committee  of  such 
Society,  it  being  understood  that  the  first  annual 
payment  shall  not  be  due  until  such  Society  shall 
have  been  organized,  and  that  subscribers  will  be 
under  no  obligation  to  purchase  the  concordances 
which  may  be  issued.' 

Considering  how  few  people  have  been  ap- 
proached, it  seems  not  unreasonable  to  hope  that 
at  least  a  hundred  members  for  a  Concordance 
Society  might  be  found  if  an  organization  could  be 
eifected.  To  this  end  I  would  present  for  discus- 
sion the  following  draft  of  a  constitution  for  such 
a  proposed  Society,  in  the  hope  that  the  project 
will  commend  itself  to  those  who  are  present,  and 
that  an  organization  may  be  brought  to  pass 
before  the  meeting  of  the  Association  is  over  : 

CONSTITUTION. 


This  Society  shall  be  known  as  The  Concord- 
ance Society. 

n. 

Its  purposes  shall  be  to  provide  subventions 
toward  the  publication  of  such  concordances  and 
word-indexes  to  English  writers  as  shall  be  con- 
sidered sufficiently  meritorious  and  necessary  ;  to 
formulate  plans  for  the  compilation  of  such  works  ; 
and  to  assist  intending  compilers  of  such  works 
with  suggestion  and  advice. 


m. 

The  officers  shall  consist  of  a  President,  a  Sec- 
retary, and  a  Treasurer,  to  be  elected  at  an 
annual  meeting  of  the  Society,  which  shall  be 
held  in  conjunction  with  the  meeting  of  the 
Modern  Language  Association  of  America.  The 
three  officers  named,  with  two  additional  members 
also  to  be  elected  annually,  shall  constitute  the 
Executive  Committee  of  the  Society,  whose  duty 
it  shall  be  to  decide  upon  the  concordances  which 
shall  receive  subventions,  the  amount  of  the  sub- 
vention in  each  case,  and  the  terms  upon  which 
the  subvention  shall  be  granted. 

IV. 

Any  person  may  become  a  member  of  the 
Society  upon  payment  of  the  annual  dues,  which 
shall  be  fixed  at  five  dollars,  and  payable  on  May 
1  of  each  year.  From  the  sum  thus  accruing,  the 
necessary  expenses  of  the  Society  shall  be  de- 
frayed, and  the  subventions  provided.  The  ac- 
counts shall  be  submitted  by  the  Treasurer  at  the 
annual  meeting  of  the  Society. 

v. 

This  Constitution  may  be  amended  by  a  two- 
thirds  vote  of  the  members  present  and  voting  at 
any  annual  meeting  of  the  Society,  provided  that 
a  notice  of  the  proposed  amendment  shall  have 
been  mailed  to  members  at  least  one  month  before 
the  date  of  such  annual  meeting. 


MARLOWE,  FAVSTUS  13.  91-2. 

Professor  Tupper's  suggestion,  in  Modern  Lan- 
guage Notes,  for  March,  1906,  that  Marlowe's 
well-known  lines, 

Was  this  the  face  that  lancht  a  thousand  shippes  ? 
And  burnt  the  toplesse  Towres  of  Ilium?1 

with  which  he  compares  2  Tamb.  2.  4  and  Trail, 
and  Cress.  2.  2.  81-2,  bear  a  certain  resemblance 
to  a  passage  in  Lucian's  Eighteenth  Dialogue  of 
the  Dead,  is  worthy  of  consideration,  though  per- 
haps the  resemblance  is  a  little  less  striking  if  one 
compares  the  newer  version  by  the  Fowlers  (Clar- 
endon Press,  1905).  Here  the  passage  stands  ; 

1  So  in  ed.  1604. 


36 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


{Vol.  xxii,  No.  2. 


Her.    This  skull  is  Helen. 

Me.  And  for  this  a  thousand  ships  carried  warriors 
from  every  part  of  Greece ;  Greeks  and  barbarians  were 
slain,  and  cities  made  desolate. 

Her.  Ah,  Menippus,  you  never  saw  the  living  Helen, 
or  you  would  have  said  with  Homer, 

Well  might  they  suffer  grievous  years  of  (oil 
Who  strove  for  such  a  prize.* 

But  the  connection  between  Helen  and  the 
'  thousand  ships '  — the  total  in  Homer  is  1 1 86 — 
might  have  been  derived  by  Marlowe  from  a 
variety  of  sources.  Thus,  for  example,  he  might 
have  found  it  in  Chaucer,  Tr.  and  Cr.  1.  57-63  : 

It  is  wel  wist  how  that  the  Grekes  stronge 
In  armes  with  a  thousand  shippes  wente 
To  Troyewardes,  and  the  citee  longe 
Assegeden  neigh  ten  yeer  er  they  stente, 
And,  in  diverse  wyse  and  oon  entente, 
The  ravisshing  to  wreken  of  Eleyne, 
By  Paris  doon,  they  wroughten  al  hir  peyne. 

Or  it  might  have  come  from  the  Ovidian  imita- 
tions by  the  fifteenth-century  Angelus  Quirinus 
Sabinus  (Ep.  3.  74-77),  an  argument  being  the 
word  fades.  Paris  is  speaking  to  CEnone  : 

Et  magnos,  video,  cogit  mihi  rapta  tumultus, 
Armataeque  petunt  Pergama  mille  rates. 

Non  vereor  belli  ne  non  sit  causa  probanda  : 
Est  illi  facies  digna  movere  duces — 

Si  mihi  nulla  fides,  armatos  respice  Atridas. 

A  possible  source  would  be  Ovid,  Met.  12.  5-7  : 

Postmodo  qui  rapta  cum  conjuge  bellum 
Attulit  in  patriam  ;  conjurataque  sequuntur 
Mille  rates  gentisque  siniul  commune  Pelasgse, 

or   even    Orosius    1.    17.  1  :     '  Raptus    Helenas, 
conjuratio  Grsecorum,  et  concursus  mille  navium.' 
If  we  turn  to  the  Greek,  we  might  think  of  the 
(Pseudo-?)  Euripidean  Rhesus  (260-261): 

Lay  it  in  Helen's  hands — the  head  of  her  kinsman  who 

worked  us  woe, 
Who  sailed  to  the  strand   of  Troy's  fair  land   with   a 

thousand  keels  ; 

but  better  still  is  Euripides,  Androm.  103-6  : 

No  bride  was  the  Helen  with  whom  unto  steep-built 
Ilium  hasted 

Paris ; — nay,  bringing  a  Curse  to  his  bowers  of  espousal 
he  passed, 

For  whose  sake  Troy,  by  the  thousand  galleys  of  Hellas 
wasted , 

With  fire  and  with  sword  destroyed  by  her  fierce  battle- 
spirit  thou  wast. 


'Cf.  II.  3.  156-7. 


As  for  the  '  thousand  ships '  of  the  Grecian 
fleet,  mentioned  without  allusion  to  Helen,  they 
are  found  as  early  as  .^Eschylus  (Agam.  45).  He 
is  followed  by  Euripides,  Iph.  Taur.  9-10,  140  ; 
Iph.  Aul.  172-4  ;  Orest.  352-3.  In  Latin  lit- 
erature there  are  Varro,  K.  R.  2.  1  ;  Virgil,  JEn. 
2.  197-8  ;  9.  148-9  (allusion)  ;  Propertius  2. 
26.  38  ;  Ovid,  Met.  12.  37  ;  13.  93,  182  ;  Her. 
13.  97  ;  Seneca,  Tro.  27.  274,  708-9,  1008  ; 
Agam.  430  ;  Sabinus  (also  above),  Ep.  1.  106. 
And  this  list  is  not  complete. 

Coming  to  the  second  line  of  the  couplet,  we 
might  think  of  Virgil,  JEn.  2.  624-5  (cf.  for  the 
lofty  towers  vv.  460  ff. )  : 

Turn  vero  omne  mihi  visum  considere  in  ignis 
Ilium,  et  ex  imo  verti  Neptunia  Troia, 

with  the  fine  simile  which   follows.     See,    how- 
ever, Spenser,  F.  Q.  3.  9.  34.  3-4  : 

And  stately  towres  of  Ilion  whilome 
Brought  unto  balefull  ruine  .... 

and  35.  1-5  : 

Fayre  Helene,  flowre  of  beautie  excellent, 
And  girlond  of  the  mighty  conquerours, 
That  madest  many  ladies  deare  lament 
The  heavie  losse  of  their  brave  paramours, 
Which  they  far  08  beheld  from  Trojan  toures. 

Shakespeare's  context  for  his  line  is  worth  a 
moment's  consideration.  The  passage  is  (2.  2. 

77-83)  : 

And,  for  an  old  aunt,  whom  the  Greeks  held  captive, 

He  brought  a  Grecian  queen,  whose  youth  and  freshness 

Wrinkles  Apollo's,  and  makes  pale  the  morning. 

Why  keep  we  her  ?  the  Grecians  keep  our  aunt. 

Is  she  worth  keeping  ?  why,  she  is  a  pearl 

Whose  price  hath  launched  above  a  thousand  ships, 

And  turned  crowned  kings  to  merchants. 

This  no  doubt  goes  back,  eventually,  to  Dares, 
chap.  3  fi°.  Hesione,  Priam's  sister,  had  been 
carried  away  by  Telamon.  The  Trojans  demand 
her  return,  but  in  vain.  Thereupon  Paris  is  sent 
with  a  fleet  against  Greece,  but  merely  abducts 
Helen. 

I  subjoin  a  few  scattered  sentences  from  Dares  : 
(3)  Telamon  primus  oppidum  Ilium  intravit  ; 
cui  Hercules  virtutis  causa  Hesionum  Laome- 
dontis  regis  filiam  dono  dedit.  .  .  .  (4)  Telamon 
Hesionam  secum  convexit.  Hoc  ubi  Priamo  nun- 
tiatum  est,  patrem  occisum,  cives  direptos,  prav 
dam  avectam,  Hesionem  sororem  dono  datam, 
graviter  tulit  tarn  contumeliose  Phrygiam  tracta- 


February,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


37 


tarn  esse  a  Graiis.  .  .  .  (5)  Anterior,  ut  Priamus 
imperavit,  navim  conscendit,  et  profectus  venit 
Magnesiam  ad  Peleum.  .  .  .  Antenor  dicit  ea 
quse  a  Priamo  mandata  erant,  graios  postulare  ut 
Hesiona  redderetur.  .  .  .  Peleus  .  .  .  jubet  cum 
de  finibus  suis  discedere.  ...  (9)  Posthaec  Alex- 
ander in  Grseciam  navigavit.  .  .  .  (10)  Fanum 
invaserunt,  Helenam  inviolatam  eripiunt,  in 
navem  deferunt.  .  .  .  Interea  Alexander  ad  pa- 
trem  suum  cum  prseda  pervenit,  et  rei  gestoe 
ordinam  refert.  (11)  Priamus  gavisus  est,  spe- 
rans  Grceeos  causa  recuperationis  Helence  sororem 
Hesionam  reddituros.' 

ALBERT  S.  COOK. 
Yale  University. 


ANCIENT  WORDS  WITH  LIVING 
COGNATES.1 

y 
(1)  Skr.  skonls  :  Latin  humanus. 

This  word,  defined  in  the  smaller  Petersburg 
lexicon  by  (1)  schaar,  menge,  gefolge,  diener- 
schaft  and  (2)  die  erde,  land,  lacks,  according  to 
Uhlenbeck,  a  satisfactory  explanation.  For  its 
second  signification  an  explanation  lies  to  hand. 
Latin  humus  '  ground '  is  now  universally  re- 
garded as  a  cognate  of  Skr.  ksas,  from  a  base 
variously  written  as  (1)  gfthom,  (2)  ghzem,  and 
(3)  ghsmn  \  ghsem  \  gh(s)m by  Uhlenbeck,  Walde 
and  Prellwitz  (s.  v.  \6iav)  m  their  lexica.  For 
ksonis  I  write  a  base  yhsow,  extended  by  a  suffix 
nay  (with  sy  from  ay,  see  Collitz  in  BB.  xxix, 
81  fg. ).  Latin  humanus  comes  from  the  same 
base,  extended  first  by  the  suffix  md(y),  and 
second  by  no.  For  the  suffix  variation  cf.  Skr. 
panis  and  Latin  palma  'palm.'  For  the  late 
literature  and  untenable  theories  regarding  huma- 
nus, see  Brugmann  in  IF.  xvn,  166 fg.,  and 
Prellwitz  in  BB.  xxvm,  318.  The  vowel-color 
of  humus  may  be  due  to  original  u  (from  yhsu- 
mos),  or  be  a  Latin  infection  from  humanus. 

How  are  the  bases  glisem  andghsow  to  be  corre- 
lated ?  Just  as  treme  (Lat.  tremit),  trepe  (Lat. 
trepidus),  trese  (Skr.  tr&sati);  more  nearly  as 

1 1  have  not  thought  it  necessary  to  print  Romance 
forms  of  the  Latin  words  treated. 


dreme  and  drewe  in  Skr.   dramati,   drdvati   (see 
Brugmann,  Kurze  vgl.  Gram.,  §367). 

It  remains  to  account  for  the  sense  of  menge, 
schaar.  Have  we  a  sort  of  collective,  '  human- 
itasl'  or  shall  we  resolve  the  base  yhsow  hi  to  a 
simplex  ghes,  to  which  various  determinatives 
have  been  affixed  ? 

(2)  Skr.  sah&sram,  x«X\ioi,  Latin  mllia. 

The  base  ghes  '  swarm,  multitude '  has  also 
been  found  for  these  words.  The  sa-  of  sah&sram 
has  been  interpreted  as  'one,'  and  I  was  myself 
the  first  to  explain  mllia  as  a  cognate,  from  sm  -\- 
hllia,  with  the  phonetics,  not  of  tantosyllabic 
-mh-  but  of  heterosyllabic  m-h,  with  felt  com- 
position.2 

I  no  longer  believe  that  mllia  certainly  belongs 
with  x'A.iot.  It  might  be  derived  from  sem  '  one ' 
(why  not  sem  'together?')  as  <r/x^os  'swarm' 

2  It  pleased  Sommer  in  IF.  xi,  323,  to  gird  at  this  ex- 
planation, in  favor  of  his  postulated  sml  gzhll,  which  seems 
not  to  have  met  favor  outside  of  his  personal  circle  of 
friends.  At  any  rate,  Prellwitz  and  Kluge  in  their  lexica 
(s.  vv.  x/\ioi  and  tausend)  pass  it  by.  This  manner  of 
speech  seems  the  stranger,  because  ibid,  xi,  8  he  accepted 
Thurneysen's  explanation  of  the  -nf-  of  inferi  as  due  to  an 
analogical  feeling  for  composition,  a  sort  of  'recomposi- 
tion '  by  analogy.  Of  course  we  do  not  know  how  far  the 
Komans  had  a  consciousness  of  sem  '  one,'  but  from  semel, 
simplex  and  the  like  it  is  likely  they  had  some  such  con- 
sciousness. It  is  also  not  impossible  that  primitive  Italic 
had  (h)ilia  and  gem-(h)ilia  in  use  at  the  same  time,  and 
if  diribes  is  for  dis-(h)abes,  sem-(h)ilia  is  a  supposition 
that  might  be  allowed  even  to  those  not  ignorant  of  the 
history  of  the  Italic  dialects.  If  I  now  accepted  the  cor- 
relative of  milia  with  sahdgram,  I  should  still  say  that  we 
cannot  prove  gzhli  from  milia  and  nothing  else ;  and  should 
still  believe  that  sem-(h)ilia  was  liable,  because  of  the  pull 
of  the  historic  Latin  accent,  to  reduction  to  sm-(h)ilia. 
This  I  believe,  because  scuxna  is  old  sacral  Latin  for 
scena,  and  because  the  historic  accent  caused  consonant 
shortening  in  mamilla  alongside  of  mamma,  and  vowel 
shortening  in  conscrlbillo  beside  scrlbo.  [Stolz,  Lat. 
Gram.,3  §  40.  3,  gives  the  pair  miito,  miitoniatus].  In  such 
cases'  recomposition  '  or  '  rederivation '  are  always  active 
forces,  and  the  sporadic  occurrence  of  such  changes  is  due 
to  the  interference  of  the  psycho-phonetic  laws.  In  any  lan- 
guage with  a  stress  accent  there  must  be  some  pull  of  the 
accent,  and  the  "  Schwundstufe  "  of  the  primitive  speech, 
due  to  this  accent,  could  not  be  uniformly  carried  out  to 
suit  the  schematic  gradation  series,  because  words  are 
rarely  so  far  reduced  as  to  lose  touch  with  their  cognates  : 
I  refer  to  such  phenomena  as  Skr.  sannds,  ptc.  to  sad. 


38 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  2. 


(?  cf.  Lat.  manus  'band')  is  said  to  be,  plus  a 
formans  (cf.  tXr;  'troop,'  if  from  wisla);  or  still 
better  from  s(e)m  '  together '  +  i-s-li  (ey-s-K)  : 
then  (s^mille  would  mean  '  a  going  together,' 
whence  'troop,'  and  (s~}milites  would  mean 
'  comites,  troopers. '  Thus  mille  is  cognate  with 
0/i-iA.os  '  company ' :  for  mille  but  milia,  note 
ojuiA.os  but  Aeolic  o/uAAos.  Prellwitz  tentatively 
suggests  that  o/i-iXos,  not  5-ju.iA.os,  may  be  the 
proper  division,  and  compares  Skr.  samayds  '  a 
coming  together ' :  he  might  later  have  explained 
6/totos  '  zusammen-treffend,  encountering,'  with 
hostile  sense,  as  quasi  *  sameyas. 

It  is  not  certain,  either,  that  sah&sram  and 
XeAAioi  belong  together.  Perhaps  sah&sram  means 
'the  big  hundred'  (cf.  Kluge,  Woert.,  s.  v.  tau- 
send,  and  Miss  Stewart  in  BB.  xxx,  242,  note 
2)  and  belongs  with  s&has  'might.'  But  if  we 
maintain  the  correlation  of  x^A-iot  an(l  sahdsram, 
it  may  be  that  we  should  posit  compounds  like 
*  cwe-txfi\oi,  *  Sex-ex"^-01  (f°r  the  retention  of  the 
rough  breathing  cf.  the  phenomena  mentioned  by 
Brugmann,  Gr.  Grammar,  §§  83.  2  ;  105.  1), 
whence,  by  recomposition,  fwta.^(L\.oi,  ScxaxaAot. 
[Assuming  *  ex«^o-  (or  even*exaAo-)  and-xaAot, 
it  would  be  no  wonder  if  the  interpretation  one 
thousand  and  -thousands  became  fixed  in  mind 
and  that  e-  (or  even  «-)  was  then  analogically 
picked  up  by  fKarov  ;  IKUTOV  might,  however, 
come  direct  from  *  IVKO.TOV,  along  the  physiological 
lines  stated  in  Brugmann,  op.  tit.,  §  57,  8,  espe- 
cially if  we  take  into  account  the  phonetics  whereby 
common  phrases  are  greatly  compressed  ;  e.  g., 
French  (ma)msel,  Eng.  bymby  (—by  and  by)]. 

If  we  retain  the  cognation  of  x'AAtoi  and  sahds- 
ram, it  would  seem  desirable  to  establish  a  root 
ghes.  This  may  perhaps  be  inferred  from  the 
following,  in  which  ghes,  with  the  sense  '  ferit  ; 
urget,  premit,'  seems  to  lurk  ;  Skr.  sa-hdsram 
'co-press,  co-swarm,'  xe'^t(H  'press,  throng,' 
Slavic  zesto-  '  durus '  (i.  e.,  stipatus,  pressus). 

(3)  Skr.  hastds  '  hand  ' ;   Lith.  pa-zastls  '  achsel- 
hohle.' 

To  the  base  ghes-  we  might  also  refer  Skr. 
hastas  '  hand, '  d-yocrrds  '  hollow  of  the  hand, 
palm,'  Lith.  pa-zastls  '  achselhohle  ' ;  d-yooros 
would  mean  '  im-pressus, '  or,  if  for  *  d-yooros 
'  compressus, '  i.  e.,  the  solid  part  of  the  hand 


below  the  split  fingers  ;  the  definition  '  impressus ' 
better  suits  pa-zastlis,  but  whether  '  impressus  '  or 
'  compressus  '  be  the  definition,  a  from  m  explains 
why  we  have  y  and  not  X  ;  in  Skr.  h&stas  either  the 
sense  'palma'  has  been  generalized  to  'manus,' 
or  hastas  means  'id  quod  ferit.'  Lat.  hasta 
'  telum  quo  feritur '  and  (glossic)  harit  '  ferit ' 
invite  identification  with  thh  group.  If  so,  we 
must  write  our  root  ghes,  with  a  grade  ghas. 
Then  with  harit  '  ferit,  pavit '  we  may  associate 
the  Slavic  base  zas-  '  facit  ut  paveat.'  Writing 
the  base  as  ghe(y)s  lets  us  bring  together  Gothic 
usgaiyan  '  erschrecken '  and  O.  Bulg.  zasiti 
'  schrecken  ' :  here  also  hceret  '  catches,  is  caught, 
sticks,  lingers  '  (see  for  the  semantic  development 
the  author  in  Am.  J.  Phil,  xxvi,  180  ;  191, 
note  4),  and  Celto- Latin  gcesum  'hasta.'  A 
further  grade-form  gho^w^s  appears  in  Lat. 
haurit  '  strikes  ;  sheds,  spills  '  (see  for  the  mean- 
ing Thurneysen  in  KZ.  xxvm,  157).  He  who 
remembers  that  Lat.  cadit 3  '  strikes,  cuts, '  be- 
longs with  English  sheds  '  spills, '  can  easily 
account  for  the  prevailing  sense  of  haurit.  [For 
the  further  sense  of  'drinks,  quaffs,'  I  think  of 
English  drains  '  empties,  drinks  up ' ;  for  the  al- 
ternation e(y)  |  5(u>)  see  the  author,  op.  tit., 
xxv,  371.] 

I  do  not  connect  Lat.  host  it  glossed  by  '  ferit ' 
with  ghes,  for  the  reason  that  I  shall  undertake 
in  another  connection  to  prove  that  hostit  is  a 
Latin  denominative  to  hostis. 

(4)  Latin  hostis,  ^evos  'guest-friend.' 

I  have  never  believed  any  confidence  could  be 
put  in  the  cognation  of  these  words  until  the 
following  explanation  of  them  suggested  itself  to 


me. 


'When  Walde,  lexicon,  s.  vv.  caedo  and  scindo,  de- 
clares that  both  vocalism  and  meaning  demand  their  sepa- 
ration, I  cannot  follow  him:  cosdere  means  'schlagen,' 
of  course,  but  so  does  Klrn-reiv,  and  yet  both  mean  '  secare,' 
just  as  we  might  expect  from  the  condition  of  the  neo- 
lithic age  (see  this  author,  1.  c.,  xxv,  388).  Granted  that 
scindit  prevailingly  means  'findit'  and  ccedit  'secat,'  yet 
Lucretius's  (1.  533)  findi  in  bina  secando  lets  us  catch 
sight  of  the  primitive  conditions  when  the  neolithic  man 
was  chipping  flints.  As  to  the  conflict  in  vocalism,  when 
Walde  admits  that  scindit  may  be  an  extension  from  the 
base  skhe(y),  he  gives  his  entire  case  away,  for  so  may 
ccedit. 


February,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


39 


If  we  go  a  step  further  than  the  theories  now 
obtaining,  we  may  divine  back  of  the  preposition 
t£,  Latin  ex,  a  form  eghes  (or  eghos)    that  either 
was  or  functioned  as  an  adverb  (gen.  -ablv. ) :  see 
the  lexica  of  Prellwitz  and  Walde,  s.  w. ,  e£,  ex, 
egeo.     I   explain    hostis,    defined  as    '  extraneus, 
peregrinus  '  rather  than  as  '  guest-friend, '  as  from 
eghos-stis   '  out-stander '    (with   -stis  as   in   testis, 
from  ter-stis  '  third-stander, '  see  Class.  Rev.  xx, 
255).     In    £evfos  £   is   all   that   remains  of  the 
doubly  reduced  eghes,*  and  I  divide  f-ev/ros  'extra- 
inhabitaus,'  explaining  -cv/ros  as  from  the  prepo- 
sition tv  +  /ros,   a   root-noun   to  wes  '  to   dwell, ' 
meaning  '  in-habitans.'     The   es-stem  we  should 
expect  in  -tv/^os  has  given  way  to    the   o-stem, 
but  of  this  phenomenon  there  are  many  examples 
in   Sanskrit    compounds    (cf.    Wackernagel,    ai. 
Gram.,  n,  §  41,  b.  a).    The  same  variation  is  found 
in  oyyeAos,  Skr.  dngiras-   '  messenger, '  for  which 
no  very  convincing  etymology  has  been  found. 
I  suggest  that  aiigiras-  is  a  compound  of  on-  (cf. 
dva,  av-~)  +  -griras-,  dissimilated  to  -giras-,  a  de- 
rivative of  jrdyati  '  goes,  rushes. '     This  leaves  us 
in  some  difficulty  with  the  c  of  ayytXos,  unless  we 
should  assume  that  in  an  inflective  stage  dyyiAes- 
t  was  assimilated  to  the  following  c. 

(5)  German  gabel,  Latin  habet. 

A  little  excursion  info  Mexico  this  summer 
brought  to  my  attention  the  word  tenedor  '  gabel ' 
from  tenger  '  tenere,  habere, '  and  made  me  won- 
der if  gabel  and  habet  were  cognates.  The  idea, 
I  find,  is  not  new,  but  the  parallel  of  tenedor  and 
tenger,  so  far  as  I  know,  has  not  been  advanced 
in  this  connection.  I  do  not  think  that  gabel  was 
developed  when  the  meaning  of  the  base  was  '  to 
have, '  nor  even  '  to  hold, '  but  in  the  earlier  stage 
when  the  sense  was  '  to  seize. ' 

(6)  Latin  tenet. 

The  current  examples  in  the  handbooks  for  the 
treatment  of  the  Af-sounds  give  «-  as  the  Latin 
representation  of  k]>-.  None  of  the  examples  is 
convincing,  the  most  so  being  sitis  '  thirst '  and 
situs  'decay,  mould.'  Lat.  tenet  'holds,  has' 
looks  very  like  a  cognate  of  KTOCTCU,  same  mean- 

4  [Pott,  Etym.  Forech.,  n,  1,  363,  also  found  «-  in  # 
Proof -note.] 


ings,  Krrj/M  'possession,'  from  a  base  k/>e(y).  In 
this  case  there  is  no  necessary  conflict  of  t-  with  *-, 
for  in  the  words  sitis  and  situs  the  succession  )>-< 
in  successive  syllables  may  have  worked  a  dis- 
similating  influence  upon  ]>-. 


EDWIN  W.  FAY. 


University  of  Texas. 


SOME  FAUSTUS  NOTES. 

It  has  been  very  truly  said  that  there  is  not,  in 
the  history  of  modern  comparative  literature,  a 
figure  so  well  known  as  that  of  Faust. 

From  the  various  references  to  Faust  in  the 
works  of  his  contemporaries  we  can  trace  the 
career  of  that  remarkable  man  from  1505  to 
1538  with  considerable  accuracy  and  complete- 
ness, while  the  date  of  his  death  is  approximately 
established  by  a  statement  in  the  writings  of 
Johann  Gast  who,  in  1548,  spoke  of  Faust  as 
being  then  dead.  The  1592  Dutch  translation  of 
the  German  Volksbuch  makes  bold  to  give  the 
exact  night  in  which  he  was  snatched  away  by 
the  devil,  viz.,  October  23,  1538.  The  English 
Wagner  Book  (1594)  gives  it  in  the  more  gen- 
eral terms  of  "  An.  1540."  If  to  these  refer- 
ences concerning  the  historical  Faust  we  add  those 
pertaining  to  the  literary  character  of  Faust,  we 
find  that  during  the  period  from  1587  to  1777 
comparative  literature  contains  no  less  than  two 
hundred  and  seventy-eight  references  to  this 
remarkable  personage.1 

Among  the  numerous  problems  connected  with 
the  study  of  the  Faust  story  is  that  which  bears 
upon  the  origin  of  the  name  John  Faustus.  *  With- 
out entering  upon  a  discussion  of  this  question,  the 
writer  would  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  the 
name  by  which  Trithemius,  Abbot  of  Spanheim, 
designates  the  real,  historical  Faust  is  ' '  Magister 
Georgius  Sabellicus  Faustus  Junior,"  and  this 
appellation,  the  learned  Abbot  says,  is  the  one 
which  Faustus  himself  gives  as  his  true  name. 

1  See  Tille,  Die  Faustsplilter  in  der  Litteratur  des  16.  bis 
18.  Jahrh.,  Berlin,  1900. 

2  See  the  able  article,  "  Faust  and  the  Clementine  Recog- 
nition,"   by  Dr.    E.   C.   Richardson   in   vol.   VI  of   The 
American  Society  of  Church  History. 


40 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  2. 


The  next  historical  document  in  point  of  time 
which  contains  a  reference  to  Faust  is  the  account 
book  of  the  Bishop  of  Bamberg  for  the  year 
1519-1520  ;  but  in  this  book  he  is  referred  to 
simply  as  "Doctor  Faustus  ph [ilosoph] o. "  In 
1529,  however,  the  "Protokoll  der  aus  Ingolstadt 
Verwiesenen  "  recorded  him  as  "  der  sich  genannt 
Dr.  Jorg  Faustus  von  Heidelberg."  Camerarius 
(1536),  Begardi  (1539),  Meusel  (1540),  Gast 
(1548),  and  several  other  writers  of  this  period 
mention  Faustus  but  only  by  his  last  name.  The 
name  John  (Joannes)  first  occurs  in  the  "Locoruin 
communium  collectanea  :  A  Johanue  Manlio  per 
multos  Annos,  pleraque  turn  ex  Lectionibus  D. 
Philippi  Melauchthonis,"  etc.  (1563),  in  which 
Melanchthon  states  :  ' '  Noui  quendam  Faustum  de 
Kundling,  quod  est  paruum  oppidum,  patrise 

mese  vicinum Ante  paucos  annos  idem 

loannes  Faustus,"  etc. 

This  passage  is  a  significant  one,  because  the 
author  of  the  English  Wagner  Book  (1594)  aban- 
doned the  statement  in  his  model  text,  the  English 
Faust  Book,  that  John  Faustus  was  ' '  borne  in  the 
town  of  Rhode,  lying  in  the  Prouince  of  Weimer 
in  Germ[anie]," — and  quotes  in  its  stead  the 
words  of  John  Wier,  who  is  repeating  Melanch- 
thon' s  statement  that  the  man  was  "John  Faustus 
born  at  Kundling." 

The  above  mentioned  passage  from  Melanchthon 
is  interesting  for  this  reason  also,  namely,  that  in 
it  occurs  the  first  mention  of  the  dog  which  was 
wont  to  follow  Faustus  about. 

This  new  element  in  the  Faustus  story  was 
undoubtedly  borrowed  from  the  stories  relating  to 
Cornelius  Agrippa.  He  was  always  accompanied 
by  two  black  dogs,  (and  by  1566  it  was  reported 
that  Faust  also  had  ' '  zween  Hund,  die  waren 
Teuffelen  "  ).3  Curiously  enough,  no  dog  appears 
either  in  the  German  Volksbuch,  the  English  Volks- 
buch,  or  in  the  English  Wagner  Book,  although 
in  the  latter  work  one  of  Faust's  attendants 
(Wagner)  is  accompanied  by  an  ape. 

In  1570  the  name  Doctor  George  Faustus  crops 
up  again,  but  that  is  its  last  occurrence.  The  next 
most  interesting  document  is  the  Chronica  von 
Thuringen  und  der  Stadt  Erffurth,  written  in 
1580,  but  describing  the  events  of  the  year 

3  See  Manlin's  Loc.  Com.  Deutsch. 


1550.  The  reader  will  recollect  that  in  both  the 
English  and  the  German  Faust  Books,  Faust 
writes  out  his  compact  with  the  devil  in  his  own 
blood.  It  has  been  supposed  *  that  this  element 
in  the  Faust  story  first  appeared  in  the  1587 
German  Volksbuch  ;  but  in  the  above-mentioned 
Erfurt  chronicle,  the  historian  relates  as  a  matter 
of  fact  how  a  certain  Dr.  Klinge,  who  was  then 
alive  in  Erfurt,  had  once  paid  a  visit  to  Doctor 
Faustus  for  the  purpose  of  turning  him  from  his 
evil  ways  and  converting  him  to  Christianity. 
Doctor  Faustus  answered  him,  however:  "Ich 
hab  mich  aber  so  hoch  verstiegen,  und  mil  meinem 
eigenen  blut  gegen  dem  Teufel  verschrieben,  dz  ich 
mit  leib  und  Seel  ewig  seyn  will  :  wie  kan  ich  denn 
nu  zuriick  ?  oder  wie  kan  mir  beholfen  werden  ? ' ' 

Here,  then,  and  not  in  the  German  Volksbuch 
of  1587,  or  in  the  English  of  1592,  occurs  the  first 
mention  of  the  compact  written  in  blood,  between 
Faust  and  the  devil. 

It  is  a  matter  of  literary  history  that  the  Sta- 
tioner's Register  contains  an  entry  for  February 
30,  1589  (not  1588  as  it  is  often  quoted),  relating 
to  the  licensing  of  a  "  ballad  of  the  life  and  deathe 
of  Doctor  FFaustus,  the  great  Cunngerer,"  and 
this  entry  has  hitherto  been  regarded  as  the  earliest 
reference  in  English  literary  history  to  the  story 
of  Doctor  Faustus.  The  present  writer  would  call 
attention,  however,  to  the  fact  that  as  early  as 
1572,  Ludwig  Lavater's  Von  Gespansten  (1569) 
appeared  in  English,  under  the  title,  "  Of  ghostes 
and  spirites,"  and  on  page  170  of  the  second  part 
are  the  words,  ' '  what  strange  things  are  reported 
of  one  Faustus,  a  German,  which  he  did  in  these, 
our  days,  by  inchauntments  ?  "  This  was  seven- 
teen years  before  the  entry  of  the  Faust  ballad, 
and  twenty  years  before  the  appearance  of  the 
English  Faust  Book. 

Tille 5  records  no  less  than  twenty-two  references 
to  Faust,  in  English  literature  between  the  years 
1594  and  1694.  The  present  writer  would  add 
thereto  the  following  Faustsplitter. 

In   the   Epigrams    by  J.    D.6  occur  two  skits 

*  See  Bichardson,  Faust  and  the  Clementine  Recognitions 
(cp.  above,  p.  39,  note  2). 

5 Tille,  Faustsplitter  (cp.  above,  p.  39,  note  1). 

6  These  epigrams  by  Sir  John  Davies  appeared  in 
manuscript  as  early  as  1596-1598.  See  Malone's  edition 
of  Marlowe's  Works,  page  xxxix. 


February,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


41 


entitled  In  Faustum,  which  refer  to  the  deeds  of 
the  famous  conjuror.  In  Jonson's  Tale  of  a  Tub, 
act  iv,  scene  5,  are  the  following  lines  : 

Puppy.  "My  name's  Ball  Puppy,  I  have  seen 
the  devil  among  the  straw.  0  for  a  cross  !  a 
collop  of  Friar  Bacon,  or  a  conjuring  stick  of 
Doctor  Faustus!  spirits  are  in  the  barn." 

An  interesting  passage  is  found  in  Jonson's  Staple 
of  News,  act  iv,  scene  2,  where  Gossip  Tattle 
remarks  :  ' '  My  husband,  Timothy  Tattle,  God 
rest  his  poor  soul  !  was  wont  to  say,  there  was  no 
play  without  a  fool  and  a  devil  in't,"  an  allusion, 
no  doubt,  to  that  pleasing  episode  in  the  Inter- 
ludes which  always  appealed  to  the  ' '  hobnailed 
spectator, ' '  when  the  fool  used  to  get  up  onto  the 
devil's  back  and  "beate  him  with  his  coxcombe 
till  he  rore."  The  passage  quoted  above  from 
the  Staple  of  News  is  most  suggestive  of  a  scene  in 
the  English  Wagner  Book  (1594)7  where  Faustus, 
after  punishing  a  certain  knight,  "reardhimvp 
vppon  his  feete,  &  then  got  vpon  his  baeke,  and  so 
rid  twice  about  the  Chamber."  In  this  same 
scene  of  the  Staple  of  News  (act  iv.  scene  2)  is 
the  curious  expression,  ' '  would  have  made  a  horse 
laugh, ' '  and  that  phrase  occurs  for  the  first  time, 
so  far  as  is  known,  in  the  English  Wagner  Book, 
chapter  6. 

Another  reference  to  Faust  which  Tille  has 
omitted  is  found  in  ShadwelFs  comedy,  The 
Sullen  Lovers  (1688),  where  Sir  Positive-At-All 
remarks  :  "  Why  I  will  discover  lost  spoons  and 
linen,  resolve  all  horary  questions,  nay,  raise  a 
devil  with  Doctor  Faustus  himself,  if  he  were 
alive."  ' 

The  last  reference  which  the  present  writer 
has  to  add  to  Tille' s  Faustsp litter,  is  found  in 
Punch's  Petition  to  the  Ladies,  where  the  fol- 
lowing lines  occur  *  : 

"  The  Gothic  rage  of  Vander  Hop 

Has  forced  away  our  George  and  Dragon, 
Has  broke  our  wires,  nor  was  he  civil 
To  Doctor  Fauslus  nor  the  Devil." 


1  Chapter  23. 

'  Mountfort's  farce  of  Doctor  Faustus  had  just  then  come 
upon  the  stage,  and  Shad  well' 8  brother-in-law,  Jevon, 
played  one  of  the  leading  parts. 

•See  Hedderwick,  Doctor  Faust,  London,  1887,  page 
zxviii. 


To  record  the  allusions  in  comparative  literature 
during  the  past  two  centuries  to  the  Faust  story 
would  require  more  space  than  this  article  admits. 
The  interest  of  both  scholars  and  lay  readers  in 
the  story  continues  to-day,  however,  to  be  almost 
as  great  as  it  was  in  the  seventeenth  and  eigh- 
teenth centuries.10  The  writer  would  like,  in 
closing,  to  refer  to  the  German  tales  of  Heinrich 
Zschokke  (published  collectively  in  1828),  espe- 
cially to  his  fascinating  story  Der  tote  Gast,  in 
which  is  evident  the  influence  which  the  Faust 
story  had  upon  the  author  of  that  tale.  It  is 
probably  a  mere  coincidence  that  Zschokke  chose 
the  name  "Herbesheim  "  for  the  village  in  which 
the  scene  is  laid,  and  had  no  thought  in  mind  of 
"Herbipolis" — the  place  where  Trithemius  met 
Faustus.  It  is  rather  significant,  however,  that 
the  figure  of  "Der  tote  Gast"  himself,  and  the 
manner  in  which  his  victims  met  their  death  at 
midnight,  "den  Hals  umgedreht,"  corresponds 
exactly  to  the  description  of  Faust  and  the  man- 
ner of  his  death  as  Melanchthon  relates  it.  ' '  Media 
nocte  domus  quassata  est.  Mane,  cum  Faustus 
non  surgeret,  et  iam  esset  fere  meridies,  hospes — 
inueuitque  eum  iacentem  prope  lectum  inuersa 
fade,  sic  a  diabolo  iuterfectus. "  The  last  evi- 
dence of  the  Faust  story's  influence  in  the  tale  of 
Der  tote  Gast  appears  when  the  character  Herr 
von  Hahn  remarks  to  himself  in  surprise  at  the 
terror  which  his  appearance  has  created  in  the 
minds  of  the  common  people  of  Herbesheim, 
"Halt  man  mich  denn  fur  den  zweiten  Doktor 
Faust?" 


ALFRED  E.  RICHARDS. 


Princeton  University. 


ADD.  MS.  34064 

AND  SPENSER'S  Ruins  of  Time  AND  Mother 
Hubberd's  Tale. 

This  MS.  is  described  in  the  Diet,  of  National 
Biography  as  follows  :— "  A  17th  century  manu- 

10  An  illustration  of  this  is  found  in  the  desire  of  Ger- 
man students  at  Heidelberg  in  1903  to  give  a  performance 
of  Marlowe's  Doctor  Faustus,  which  they  did  represent 
most  successfully. 


42 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  2. 


1596 


script  of  verse  by  various  authors  of  the  16th 
and  17th  centuries  (in  the  possession  of  Mr.  F. 
W.  Cosens),  contains  transcripts  of  many  of 
Breton's  poems,  some  of  which  were  printed  in 
England's  Helicon,  others  in  Arbor  of  Amorous 
Devices,  1597,  and  one  Amoris  Lachrimae  for  the 
death  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney  in  Breton's  Boure  of 
Delight,  1591.  There  are  also  some  thirty  short 
pieces  fairly  attributable  to  Breton  which  do  not 
appear  to  have  been  printed  in  the  poet's  life 
time  :  they  were  published  first  by  Dr.  Grosart." 
The  fly-leaf  has  the  following  : 

And  in  the  Strand 
Anthonie  Babingtor 
of  Warrington 

Roger  Wright 

M  [anu]  M  [ea] 

Roger  Wright  me  possidett  ex  douo  Hererice 
frater  meo. 

The  British  Museum  catalogues  the  collection  under 
Nicholas  Breton's  Poems  ;  but  this  is  a  little  mis- 
leading as  there  are  in  addition  to  a  number  of 
poems  known  to  have  been  composed  by  Breton, 
selections  from  two  of  Spenser's  poems,  The  Ruins 
of  Time,  and  The  Mother  Hubberd's  Tale,  besides 
several  whose  authors  so  far  have  not  been  iden- 
tified. 

Of  the  poems  which  this  collection  contains  the 
following  have  been  assigned  by  Dr.  Grosart  to 
Breton.  Those  that  appear  in  England's  Helicon 
or  Arbor  of  Amorous  Devices  are  indicated  by  the 
initials  of  these  two  collections. 

Ff.    2.  a.    To  Elizabeth. 

b.   A  Pastoral.     E.  H. 

3.  a-b.     Three   Sonnets   [two  of    which   are   given 

below], 

4.  a.    "Never  think  upon  anoye." 

5.  a,    "If  beautie  did  not  blinde  the eies." 

5.  b.    "A  discontented  minde."     A.  A.  D. 

6.  a.    "  What  Fate  decreed. ' ' 

6.  b.    "The  fields  are  grene." 

7.  a.    "Oh  eyes,  leave  off  your  weeping." 

7.  b.    A  Sonnet.     A.  A.  D. 

8.  a.    Phittis  and  Corydon. 

8.  b.    "Fair,  fairer,  thou  the  fairest." 

9.  a-b.    Choridon's  Dreame. 
10.  a.    Choridon's  Supplication. 

10.  b.  11.  a.   Sir  Philip  Sidney's  Epitaph. 

11.  b.    A  Shepherd's  Dream.     E.  H. 

12.  a-b.    Lone  Dead. 

13.  a.   Faithful  unto  Death. 


13.  b.    Transitoriness  [so  called  by  Dr.  Grosart]. 

14.  a-b.    An  Epitaph  on  the  Death  of  a  Noble  Gentle- 

woman.    A.  A.  D. 

15.  a-b.    "  Upon  a  daintie  hill  sometime." 

16.  a.    Phillida  and  Coridon.     E.  H. 

16.  b.    "  At  my  heart  there  is  a  paine." 

17.  a.    "A  prettie  Fancie."     A.  A.  D. 

17.  b.    Astrophell  his  song  of  Phillida  and  Coridon.    E.  H. 

18.  a.    Sonnet.     A.  A.  D. 

18.  b.    "  In  time  of  yore  where  Sheppds  dwelt." 

19.  a.    In  praise  of  his  mistress.     A.  A.  D. 

19.  b.    Quatuor  Elementa. 

20.  a.    A  sonnet  upon  this  word  in  truth  spoken  by  a 

lady  to  her  servants. 
20.  a.    Another  upon  the  same  subject. 

20.  b.    Sonnet. 

21.  a.    "Some  men  will  say  there  is  a  kind  of  muse." 

21.  b.    "Oh  that  desire  colde  leave  to  live  that  long 

hath  looked  to  die." 

22.  a.    "If  heaven  and  earth  were  not  bothe  fullie 

bente." 

22.  b.    "  When  authors  wryte  God  knows  what  thinge 

is  true." 

23.  a.    "All  my  senses  stand  amazed." 

23.  b.    "  All  my  witte  hath  well  enwrapped." 

24.  a.    "  Will  it  never  better  be." 

24.  b.    "Pause  awhile  my  prettie  muse." 

25.  a.    "  Look  not  to  longe." 

25.  a.    "Perfeccon  peerless  virtue  without  pride." 
25.  b.    "Poure  downe  poore  eyes  the  teares  of  true 
distress." 

25.  b.    "Choridon  unhappie  swaine." 

26.  a.    The  same  sonnet  as  on  3.  b.,  but  not  as  good 

a  copy. 

There  is  one  poem  in  the  series  that  has  not  been 
ascribed  to  Breton,  the  one  on  fF.  4.  b.  It  is 
signed  Edward  Spencer,  and  the  handwriting  of 
the  signature  differs  from  that  of  the  poem.  It 
can  hardly  be  a  poem  by  Spenser,  but  as  a 
curiosity  I  give  it  entire  : 

Ffrom  the  heavnes  there  hath  descended 

by  the  heavenlie  powres  defended 

of  the  highest  powres  appointed 

wth  most  hollie  oyle  annointed 

Such  an  Angell  suche  a  Queene 

as  the  world  hath  never  seene 

Dulce,  Pura,  cara,  Bella 

farre  above  Astrophills  Stella 

faire  above  all  faire  as  far 

as  the  sonne  a  little  starre 

Oh  what  eyes  can  stande  before  her 

And  their  hartes  doe  not  adore  her 

Oh  that  I  might  once  but  see 

this  sweete  sunne  to  shine  on  me 

fer  wch  sunne  so  sweete  and  faire 

not  the  sunne  amidd  the  aire 

But  on  earthe  that  shineth  here 


February,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


43 


whom  the  heavnes  houlde  so  deare 

praye  with  the  poore  Philosopher 

unto  the  highe  astronomer 

that  guyde  the  sunne,  the  moone  e  starres 

in  welthe,  in  woe,  in  peace  and  warres 

So  to  preserve  her  heavenlie  grace 

that  we  maie  joye  to  see  her  face 

And  all  poore  creatures  woe  begon  them 

May  have  that  sunne  to  shine  upon  them. 

EDWARD  SPENCER. 

After  Ff.  26.  a.  comes  a  blank  page.  The 
handwriting,  which  up  to  this  time  has  been 
similar  in  general  characteristics — probably  that 
of  one  person— now  becomes  much  more  regular. 
At  Ff.  41  we  go  back  to  the  handwriting  of  the 
earlier  part  of  the  book.  From  Ff.  55  on  the 
handwriting  is  of  a  considerably  later  date,  and 
the  subjects  show  that  it  was  written  about  the 
middle  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

The  subjects  of  the  poems  from  Ff.  27-55  are 
as  follows  : 

27.  a.  The  Scyrmish  belwext  Reason  and  Passion.  [A 
Morality  Masque]. 

27.  b.    Sonnet.     "An  old  man  fallen  in  love  with  a 

younge  maiden." 

28.  a.    Another  on  the  same  subject. 

28.  a.  Sonnet.  "  Transformed  in  show  but  more  trans- 
formed in  mynd." 

28.  b.  Sonnet,  "In  vaine  myne  eies  your  laboure  to 
amend." 

28.  a.   Another.     "Over  these  brookes  (thinking  to 

ease  myne  eies)." 

29.  The  answer  to  ye  former  verses. 

29.  "  What  tonge  can  her  perfections  tell." 

31.  a.  Selection  from  Ruins  of  Time. 

33.  a.  Another  from  Ruins  of  Time  (two  stanzas). 

33.  a.  "Another."     A  poem  of  30  lines  beginning — 

"My  heavie  eyes,  still  fixed  on  the  grounde, 
My  tyred  hands  upp  thrown  unto  the  skies. ' ' 

33.  b.  Selection  from  Mother  Hubberd's  Tale,  here 
misnamed  The  Ruins  of  Time. 

35.  b.   Two  poems  on  the  Flour  de  Luce  in  Oxford. 

36.  a.   A  Libel. 

40.  b.    Tandem. 

"At  length  comes  oft  to  late 
And  if  stands  doubtful  ever." 

This  poem  ends  abruptly.     Ff.  41  is  blank. 

41.  b.    Breton's  Amoris  Lachroniae. 
47-55.   Breton's  Divinitie.     A.  A.  D. 

One  point  of  very  great  interest  in  this  collec- 
tion lies  in  the  fact  the  selections  from  Spenser's 
poems  in  places  give  us  readings  that  differ  from 


that  of  the  printed  text.  We  know  that  the  poet 
did  not  superintend  the  publication  of  the  Com- 
plaints, in  1591  (entered  Dec.  29,  1590),  in 
which  the  Ruins  of  Time  and  the  Mother  Hub- 
berd's Tale  appeared.  The  popularity  of  the 
Fairie  Queene  had  made  any  poem  which  bore 
the  Spenser  mark  valuable  for  publication,  and 
hence  we  find  William  Ponsonby  gathering 
together  all  the  shorter  poems  he  could  lay  his 
hands  on,  and  publishing  them  under  the  general 
title,  Complaints.  Many  of  these  poems,  as  we 
know,  and  as  was  the  custom  in  those  days, 
had  long  been  circulating  in  MS.  form  ; 1  for 
example,  of  the  Mother  Hubberd's  Tale,  Spenser 
himself  says  in  his  dedication  of  it  to  Lady 
Compton,  ' '  which  having  long  sithens  composed 
in  the  raw  conceipt  of  my  youth."  The  fact 
that  the  author  did  not  superintend  the  publi- 
cation of  these  poems  makes  any  MS.  version  of 
them  valuable.  And  that  here  we  have  a  copy 
of  a  MS.  version  that  antedates  the  printed  version 
we  can  have  but  little  doubt,  for  the  variances 
from  the  latter  can  hardly  be  explained  upon  any 
other  basis. 

Only  those  portions  of  the  Ruins  of  Time  are 
copied  which  have  to  do  with  the  Dudley  family. 
The  first  quotation  begins  with  line 

"  It  is  not  long  since  these  two  eyes  beheld"  ; 

only  those  lines  will  be  given  that  show  differences 
from  the  reading  of  the  Globe  text,  which  in  the 
main  follows  the  text  of  1591  edition  ;  all  varia- 
tions will  be  found  in  italics. 

The  fourth  and  seventh  lines  of  the  first  stanza 
quoted  read  as  follows  : — 

And  greatest  ones  did  sue  to  gett  his  grace, 
And  right  and  royal  did  his  word  maintaine. 

The  second  line  of  the  next  stanza  reads  : — 
Of  the  people,  and  brought  foorth  on  a  beare. 

The  next  two  stanzas  of  the  poem  are  omitted, 
but  the  succeeding  is  a  peculiar  combination  of 
two  stanzas — 

He  now  is  dead  and  all  hit  glorie  gone 
And  all  his  greatness  vanished  to  nought 
Somewhat  in  heaven  store-house  he  uplayed, 
His  hope  is  faith,  and  come  to  pass  hit  dread 


1  See  the  general  preface  to  the  Complaints,  The  Printer 
to  the  General  Eeader. 


44 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


(Tot  xxii,  No.  2. 


And  evitt  men  now  dead  buryinge  never  [or  new]  layed 
He  now  is  gone,  the  whilest  ye  fox  is  crept 
Into  ye  hole  the  which  the  badger  swept. 

The  next  three  stanzas  are  omitted.  It  begins 
again — 

He  dyed  and  after  his  brother  dyed 
His  brother  prince  his  noble  peare 

The  rest  of  the  stanza  shows  no  variations  ;  in  the 
next  are  these  lines — 

As  living  and  thy  lost  love  dost  deplore, 
So  that  whiles  thou  faire  flower  of  chastitie 

The  first  line  of  the  stanza  that  follows  reads — 
Thy  love  shall  never  die,  ye  whilst  this  verse 

The  fifth  line  of  this  stanza  is  omitted,  the  last 
line  reading- 
Such  grace  the  heavens  unto  thy  virtue  give. 

The  last  two  lines  of  the  stanza  that  follows,  and 
the  whole  of  the  one  succeeding  that  are  omitted. 
It  begins  again — 

Ne  may  I  let  thy  husband's  sister  die, 

That  goodly  ladie,  she  take  did  spring 

Out  of  this  stok,  a  famous  familye 

Whose  praises  I  to  future  age  doo  sing, 

And  out  of  her  happie  womb  did  springe 

The  sacred  broode  of  learninge  and  of  honor 

In  whom  the  heavens  powrde  all  their  gifts  upon  her. 

The  last  two  lines  of  the  next  stanza  show 
variations  : 

With  treasure,  passinge  all  ye  worlds  worth, 
And  heaven  itself,  wch  brought  it  forth. 

In  the  next  stanza  the  last  three  lines  are  omitted  : 
the  third  and  fourth  show  variations  : 

Loathinge  this  earth  and  earthly  slime 
fflie  back  too  soone  unto  his  native  place. 

Only  one  line  in  the  next  stanza  shows  any 
variation,  the  fifth  : 

And  yt  chose,  that  guiltless  hands  of  enemies. 

The  next  stanza  presents  no  variation,  and  the 
three  that  follow  are  omitted.  The  third  line  of 
the  stanza  beginning,  ' '  But  now,  more  happy 
thou,"  reads  as  follows — 

Whilst  thou,  in  the  Elisian  fields  so  free. 

The  whole  of  the  next  stanza  is  omitted.  The 
sixth  line  of  the  succeeding  is  as  follows — 

But  shall  in  rustic  darkness  lie. 

Twelve  stanzas  are  at  this  point  omitted.  There 
follow — 


Therefore  in  this  behalfe  happie  I  do  reade 

Good  Melibae,  that  hath  a  poet  got 

To  singe  his  livinge-praises,  deade 

Deserving  never  here  to  be  forgot, 

In  spite  of  envye  that  his  deed  would  spot. 

Since  his  discease  learninge  lyeth  unregarded 

And  men  of  arms  doo  wander  unrewarded. 

These  two  be  these  two  great  calamities 
That  long  ago  did  grieve  the  noble  spright 
Of  Solomon  with  great  indignities, 
Who  whilom  was  above  the  wisest  wight. 
But  now  his  wisdome  is  disprooved  quite, 
ffor  he  that  welds  now,  all  things  at  his  will, 
Scorns  Ih'on  the  other  in  his  deeper  skill. 

The  next  stanza  closes  with  this  line — 

Ne  live  nor  dead,  be  of  the  muse  adorned, 
ffinis. 

There  now  follows  a  second  quotation  from  the 
Ruins  of  Time,  the  two  stanzas  of  the  sixth 
' '  pageant. ' '  I  shall  give  only  the  lines  that 
differ  from  the  reading  of  the  Globe  text  : 

I  saw  two  beares  as  white  as  anie  snow 

Although  the  compast  world  had  bene  sought  round. 

But  what  can  longe  abide  above  the  grounde 
In  stedfast  bliss  and  happiness 

Was  but  of  earth,  and  with  her  weightiness 
Uppon  them  fell  and  both  unwares  oppress. 

Only  that  portion  of  the  Mother  Hubberd's  Tale 
is  copied  which  is  a  satire  on  the  church,  begin- 
ning on  line  353.  The  following  lines  are  omit- 
ted :  355,  356,  359,  360,  365,  366,  369-374, 
385-389,  395,  399-402,  405-408,  413-414, 
426-430,  437-445,  449-455,  459-478,  491- 
495,  519-520,  526.  Differences  in  reading 
between  that  of  the  MS.  and  the  Globe  Edition 
are  frequent  : 

Line  361.    At  last  they  chaunst  with  a  formall  Priest  to 

meete 
367.    And  askt  license,  or  what  Pas  they  had 

375.  Because  that  you  sir,  shall  not  us  missdeeme 

376.  But,  shall  find  us,  as  honest  as  we  seeme, 
380.    As  if  some  texte  thereon,  he  studyinge  weare, 

382.  For  reade  he  could  not,  either  evidence,  or  will, 

383.  Ne  tell  a  written  word,  nor  yet  a  letter, 

384.  Ne  make  a  little  worse,  ne  make  it  better. 

390.  But  this  good  sir  the  word  did  follow  plaint 

391.  And  meddled  not  with  controversies  vaine — 

392.  All  his  care  was,  his  service  well  to  saye 

393.  And  to  read  homilies  uppon  hollie-dayes. 

394.  When  that  was  done,    he  might   attend   his 

playes. 


February,  1907]. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


45 


398.  Who  noe  good  trade  of  lyfe,  did  entertaine 

403.  Then  said  the  foxe,   who  hath  not  the  world 

tryed 

412.  And  you  shall  for  ever  us  your  bondmen  make 

415.  It  seemes  (saith  the  priest)  yt  you  both  are  clarks 

417.  Is  not  that  name  enough  to  get  a  living 

418.  To  him  that  hath  mil  of  natures  givinge 

421.  To  Deacons,  to  Archdeacons,  to  Commissaries 

424.  Who  ever  envie  them,  (yett  envie  byttes  neare). 

426.  Might  unto  some  of  them  in  tyrne  arise 

432.  To  feed  men's  soules,  he  hath  an  heavie  threat, 

433.  To  feed  mens  soules  (quoth  he)  it  is  not  in 

man 

436.  Eat  they  that  list,  we  need  do  noe  more 

446.  The  paints  is  not  soe  great  but  verie  well  yee  may 

Discharge  yre  Duties,  easlye  everye  day  [not 
in  the  Globe  text]. 

447.  Tis  not  soe  great,  as  it  was  wont  before 

448.  Its  now  a  dayes,  not  halfe  so  straight  and  sore. 
456.  Nowe  once  a  weeke  uppon  the '  Sabbaoth  day 

467.  It  is  enough,  to  doe  our  small  devotion. 

Unto  ye  sillie  people  that  doe  come  to  pray 
[Not  found  in  the  Globe  text]. 

468.  And  then  to  follow  on,  our  merrie  motions. 
484.  Much  5000!  learninge,  one  therout  may  reede, 
490.  Or  to  some  other  great  one  in  the  worldes  eye, 

496.  There  thou  must  talk  in  sober  gravitie, 

497.  And  seeme  as  lowly  as  sainct  Katigunde. 
499.  And  unto  every  man,  doe  curtesie  meeke, 

501.  And  be  sure  not  to  lacke  ere  longe. 

502.  But  if  you  list,  to  the  courte  to  tronge 

504.  Then  must  you  be  disposed,  another  waye, 

505.  For  there  you  must  needs  learn  to  laugh  and 

to  lye. 

506.  To  face  and  to  forge,  and  keepe  companie. 

507.  To  crouch  to  please,  to  be  a  bedle  stocke 

508.  At  thy  great  masters  will,  to  scorn  and  inocke. 

509.  So  mayest  thou  chance  to  mock  out  a  benefice, 

510.  Unless  thou  canske  [canst],  on  cover  by  device, 

511.  Or  cast  a  figure  for  a  byshoppricke 

512.  That  were  a  prettie  kind  of  niggling  tricke, 

513.  These  be  the  wayes,  the  wch  without  reward, 

514.  I/ivinge  in  court  is  gotten  though  full  harde. 

517.  With  a  benevolence,  or  at  least  have  for  a  gage 

518.  The  primitas  of  your/att  personage 

521.  Doe  not  you  therefore  seeke  yor  living  there 

522.  But  of  private  persons  seeke  it,  elsewhere, 

523.  Whereas  thou  mayest  compound  a  better  praye 

528.  That  yf  thy  leiving  chance  for  to  arise 

529.  To  fortie  pound,  that  then  thy  youngest  sonn 

534.  And  therin  thou  mayest  maintained  bee, 

535.  This  is  the  way  of  them  that  are  unlearned. 

538.  For  learnings  sake  to  livings  them  to  raise. 

539.  Yet  manye  of  them  (god  wott)  are  driven, 

540.  To  accept  a  benefice  in  pieces  riven. 

ffinis. 


'See  the  same  confusing  of  Sabbath   and  Sabbaoth  in 
Faerie  Queene,  Book  vu,  Canto  viii. 


After  this  the  transcriber  wrote  "Another," 
and  followed  it  with  the  line, 

Line  659.    The  Ape,  himself  clothed  like  a  gentleman. 

After  the  word  '  gentleman '  there  is  a  mark 
that  may  stand  for  et,  and  in  the  right  hand 
corner  (for  the  bottom  of  the  page  is  reached)  an 
and,  as  though  it  were  the  first  word  of  the  next 
line.  However,  on  the  next  page  is  the  poem, 
' '  Upon  the  flower-de-luce  in  Oxford. ' ' 

Most  of  the  differences  between  the  readings  of 
the  Cozens'  MS.  and  those  of  the  accepted  edi- 
tion are  such  as  are  due  to  the  carelessness  of  the 
copyist,  but  a  few  seem  to  me  to  be  certainly  due 
to  the  fact  that  here  we  have  a  MS.  copied,  not 
from  the  quarto  printed  in  1591,  but  from  one 
of  the  numerous  MS.  editions  of  his  lesser  poems 
mentioned  by  Ponsonby.  This  seems  to  be  made 
doubly  sure  by  the  fact  that  in  many  cases  the 
reading  of  the  MS.  is  really  preferable,  and  further 
by  the  two  lines  found  in  the  MS.  that  are  not 
found  in  the  printed  text. 

The  interesting  question  of  the  date  of  this  MS. 
should  next  attract  us  ;  and  here  I  am  in  much 
uncertainty.  The  book  came  into  the  possession 
of  Roger  Wright  in  1596,  and  all  the  poems  on 
fF.  2-26",  41-55  are  probably  in  the  same  hand- 
writing. At  the  bottom  of  f.  47  there  are  some 
words  in  the  handwriting  of  the  title  page  followed 
by  M.  M.  [manu  mea] .  At  f.  55  begins  a  new 
hand  with  a  poem  on  Mr.  Pim,  probably  a  hand 
contemporary  with  the  famous  Puritan.  Ff.  56 
and  57  are  occupied  with  ' '  An  Elegie  upon  the 
death  of  my  deare  sister  M.  W.  [Margaret  Wise- 
man, as  we  discover] ,  who  died  of  a  feaver  the 
7th  of  January  An.  Do.  1653  A°°  Aet  18." 

Ff.  27-40,  in  which  occur  these  selections  from 
Spenser's  poems,  are  in  a  fourth  handwriting, 
very  regular,  but  not  likely  to  be  of  a  much  later 
date  than  1600.  It  may  even  be  earlier.  It 
looks  much  more  like  that  of  a  professional  copyist 
than  like  that  of  a  man  who  took  down  for  his 
own  entertainment  the  words  of  such  poems  as 
pleased  him.  That  they  were  not  copied  from 
the  printed  edition  of  the  Complaints  appears  cer- 
tain, and  if  from  a  MS.  copy,  it  must  have  been 
from  one  of  those  mentioned  by  Ponsonby. 

There  is  a  further  matter  of  interest  in  this  MS. 
In  the  Gloss  to  the  October  Eclogue  of  the  Shep. 
herd's  Calender  are  quoted  two  lines  from  one  of 


46 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  2. 


Spenser's  lost  sonnets — "as  well  sayth  the  poet 
elsewhere  in  one  of  his  sonnets — 

The  silver  swan  doth  sing  before  her  dying  day 

As  she  that  feels  the  deepe  delight  that  is  in  death." 

Also  in  the  general  preface  to  the  Complaints  we 
have  mentioned  as  one  of  Spenser's  lost  poems 
The  Dying  Pellican.  Now  the  sonnets  on  ff.  3*, ", 
though  they  are  assigned  by  Dr.  Grosart  in  his 
1876  edition  of  Breton's  poems  to  Breton,  on  the 
ground  that,  as  many  of  the  poems  in  the  MS. 
volume  are  undoubtedly  Breton's,  the  remainder 
must  also  be  assigned  to  him,  are  to  me  interesting 
as  they  raise  the  question,  are  they  two  of  Spen- 
ser's lost  sonnets?  In  both  the  dying  pellican  is 
mentioned,  and  in  both  occur  lines  that  are  very 
similar  to  the  lines  above  quoted.  [  quote  the 
sonnets  entire  : 

"The  pretie  Turtle  dove,  that  with  no  little  moane 
When  she  hathe  lost  her  make,  sitts  moorninge  all  alone 
The  Swanne  that  alwaies  sings  an  houre  before  her  deathe 
"Whose  deadlie  gryves  do  give  the  grones  that  drawe  awaie 

her  breathe 

The  Pellican  that  pecks  the  blud  out  of  her  brest 
And  by  her  deathe  doth  onlie  feed  her  younge  ones  in 

the  nest 

The  harte  eraparked  cloase  :  within  a  plott  of  grounde 
Who  dare  not  overlook  the  pale  fer  feare  of  hunters  hounde 
The  hounde  in  kennell  tyed  that  heares  the  chase  goe  by 
And  booties  wishing  foote  abroade,  in  vaine  doth  howle 

and  crye 

The  tree  with  withered  top,  that  hath  his  braunches  deade 
and  hangeth  downe  his  highest  bowes,  while  other  hould 

upp  heade 

Endure  not  half  the  deathe,  the  sorrowe  nor  disgrace 
that  my  poore  wretched  mind  abids,  where  none  can  waile 

my  case. ' ' 

"  Ffor  truth  hath  loste  his  trust,  moredere  than  turtle  dove 
and  what  a  death  to  suche  a  life  ;  that  such  a  paine  doth 

prove 

The  swan  for  sorrow  singes,  to  see  her  deathe  so  nye 
I  die  because  I  see  my  deathe,  and  yet  I  can  not  dye. 
The  Pelican  doth  feed  her  younge  ones  with  her  bludd 
I  bleed  to  death  to  feede  desires  yt  doe  me  never  good 
My  hart  emparked  rounde  within  the  grounde  of  greif 
is  so  besett  with  houndes  of  hate  :  yt  lookes  for  no  relief 
And  swete  desire  my  dogg  is  clogged  so  with  care 
he  cries  and  dies  to  here  delightes  and  come  not  wher 

they  are 

My  tree  of  true  delight,  is  rokde  with  sorrow  soe 
As  but  the  heavenes  do  soon  helpe,  will  be  his  overthrowe 
In  summe  my  dole,  my  deathe,  and  my  disgrace  is  such 
As  never  man  that  ever  lyvde  knewe  ever  halfe  so  muche." 

P.  M.  BUCK,  JR. 

William  McKinley  High  School,  St.  Louis. 


TWO  NOTES  ON   DANTE. 

1.    NOTE  ON  Piers  Plowman,  B  TEXT  in,   190, 
AND  vi,  62. 

Piers  Plowman,  B  Text  in,  190  and  vi,  62 
read  respectively  as  follows  : 

Crope  into  a  Kaban/or  colde  of  f>i  nailles. 

My  cokeres  and  my  coffes/or  colde  of  my  nailles. 

The  line  of  A  Text  (in,  184)  corresponding  to  the 
first  of  these  lines  reads  creptest  for  crops  and 
shows  no  other  essential  difference  ;  and  vn,  56 
of  A  Text,  which  is  the  prototype  of  B.  vi,  62 
has  his  for  my  throughout,  with  no  other  change. 
Neither  line  occurs  in  C  Text. 

This  use  of  the  nails  to  indicate  the  feeling  of 
extreme  cold  is  quite  natural,  but  apparently  just 
as  unusual  ;  for  I  have  found  it  paralleled  in  two 
passages  only.  The  first  is  from  Dante  Inf.  xvn, 
85-86  : 

Qual  e  colui  c'ha  si  presso  il  riprezzo 
Delia  quartana,  c'ha  gia  funghie  smorte. 

(  "  As  one  who  has  the  shivering  of  the  quartan  so 
near,  that  he  has  his  nails  already  pale,"  Car- 
lyle'str.) 

The  second  is  from  Shakespeare,  L.  L.  L.  v, 
ii,  915-916  : 

When  icicles  hang  by  the  wall, 
And  Dick  the  shepherd  blows  his  nail. 

2.    NOTE  ON  DANTE  Purg.  n,  98-99. 

The  passage  reads  as  follows  : 

Veramente  da  tre  mesi  egli  ha  tolto 
Chi  ha  voluto  entrar,  con  tutta  pace. 

( ' '  Truly,  for  three  months  past,  he  hath  taken,  in 
all  peace,  whoso  hath  wished  to  enter,"  Okey's  tr.) 
Whatever  be  the  specific  views  of  the  various 
commentators  as  to  the  date  of  Dante's  entrance 
upon  his  journey  through  Hell,  Purgatory,  and 
Paradise,  all  are  agreed  that  it  should  be  placed 
somewhere  near  Easter,  1300.  The  three  months 
spoken  of  in  the  quotation  above  are  usually  taken 
to  refer  to  the  duration  of  the  Jubilee  of  Boniface 
VIII. '  But  the  decree  establishing  the  Jubilee  is 
dated  Feb.  23,  1300  ;  and  so,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
the  general  period  of  indulgence  was  about  six 
weeks  ;  even  though  the  decree  is  retroactive. 

ALLEN  R.  BENHAM. 
The  University  of  Washington. 

'See  Scartazzini's  notes  on  the  lines. 


February,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


47 


SAMSON  AGONISTES,  1665-6. 

Not  willingly  but  tangled  in  the  fold 
Of  dire  Necessity. 

In  the  March  number  of  Modern  Language 
Notes,  1906,  Professor  Cook  has  compared  these 
lines  with  several  citations  from  the  Greek  tragic 
poets.  Interesting  though  these  parallels  are, 
they  seem  to  me  to  have  little  in  common  with 
Milton's  central  idea.  He  is  writing  not  merely 
of  '  entanglement  in  a  fold, '  but  of  '  entangle- 
ment in  the  fold  of  Necessity.'  Now  while  his 
expression  is  obviously  influenced  by  the  well- 
known  Horatiaii  phrase,  "dira  Necessitas,"  his 
thought  is  dominated  not  by  the  Latin  of  Horace, 
but  by  the  Grecian  conception  of  'AvayK?;,  which 
is  the  leitmotif  of  his  Aeschylean  model  ( compare 
Prometheus,  514  f.  ;  Croiset,  Histoire  de  la  Lit- 
terature  Grecque,  Paris,  1899,  in,  185),  and 
which  is  written  as  large  across  his  own  tragedy 
as  over  Victor  Hugo's  Notre  Dame.  We  must 
seek  then,  among  the  Greek  poets,  a '  specific 
reference  to  '  entanglement  in  the  fold  of  'Avaymj.' 

In  the  Thesaurus  of  Stephanus  I  find  cited  only 
one  passage  similar  to  Milton's,  and  that,  it  is 
interesting  to  note,  is  not  from  the  tragedies,  but 
is  a  tragic  phrase  appearing  in  a  comic  fragment, 
the  Bo-utalion  of  Xenarchus,  preserved  by  Athe- 
naeus  (11,  64).  This  passage,  a\ovs  ftparStv1 
7rA«Tats  dvay<«us,  is  rendered  rather  freely  by 
Yonge  (Bohn  Translation,  i,  p.  105),  "taken  in 
the  net  of  stern  necessity  by  hungry  mortals."  If, 
unlike  Yonge,  we  adopt  the  /3po\<av  reading,  we 
approach,  with  the  added  idea  of  "meshes,"  still 
more  closely  to  Milton.  The  English  poet  may 
have  known  his  Athenaeus  in  Isaac  Casaubon's 
Genevan  edition  of  1597. 

Now  that  I  have  seemingly  made  out  my  case, 
let  me  hasten  to  add  that  I  do  not  believe  that 
Milton  was  indebted  to  the  Greek  serio-comic 
passage,  either  through  conscious  or  unconscious 
cerebration.  Exact  though  the  likeness  is,  it  is 
certainly  accidental.  The  "polypus"  of  Xenar- 

1  The  editors  of  the  fragments  of  Attic  comedy,  Meinecke 
(HI,  614;  compare  his  edition  of  Athenaeus,  1858,  I,  p. 
114)  and  Kock  (II,  647),  accept  Person's  reading,  pptxav 
for  pporuiv  ;  and  the  emended  form  of  the  passage  is  always 
cited  by  lexicographers. 


chus — for  it  is  this  prosaic  creature,  which  is 
'taken  in  the  fold  of  necessity's  net'  and  dished 
for  dinner — was  hardly  in  Milton's  stately  thought. 
All  world-old  ideas  are  not  begged,  borrowed,  or 
stolen  by  their  latest  user.  The  formal  exposition 
of  such  a  parallel  as  this  will  serve  the  purpose, 
if  it  points  that  obvious  moral. 

FREDERICK  TUPPER,  JR. 

University  of  Vermont. 


GRIFON  'GREEK.' 

The  meaning  'Greek'  for  O.  F.  Grifon  (O. 
Prov.  grifo(n),  M.  Eng.  Gri/oun,  Mid.  Lat. 
Gryphonem,  Gryphones~),  has  been  recognized  by 
lexicographers  from  Pierre  Borel  *  to  Godefroy  ; 
and  has  been  revived  by  modern  historians  cer- 
tainly since  F.  Sanford's  "  History  of  England" 
in  1677.  It  will  accordingly  be  unnecessary  to 
reproduce  in  full  the  long  list  of  occurrences  *  in 
Old-French,  Middle-English  and  Middle-Latin 
documents.  A  typical  case  is  found  in  Guil.  de 
Tyr,  x,  23:  "Oil  Gabriel  estoit  d'Ermenie  ; 
d'abit  et  de  langage  se  contenoit  come  Ermins, 
mes  de  foi  et  de  creance  estoit  il  Grifons. ' '  Cf. 
also  Menestrel  de  Reims,  par.  43  ; — "  Et  fu  baus 
de  1' empire  de  Constantinoble  pour  la  joence  de 
son  genre  qui  jeunes  estoit  et  enfaniis  et  qui  mout 
avoit  a  faire  a  Grifons."  Besides  the  sense  of 
'  Byzantine  Greek, '  Gaston  Paris  notes  the  con- 

'See  Roquefort,  Du  Cange,  Halliwell,  Bradley-Strat- 
man,  Langlois  ("Diet,  des  Noms  Propres"),  etc.  Cf. 
also  Bartsch  and  Diez,  "Leb.  u.  Werk.  derTroub.,"  1882, 
p.  244  ;  Mussafia,  'Zeit.  Rom.  Phil.,'  in,  p.  256. 

JCf.  the  following: — Old  French:  "  Guillaume  de  Pa- 
lerme,"  3428,  3704,  8735,  9631;  "Orson  de  Beauvais," 
1778;  Mouskes,  "Chronique,"  29088:  Menes.  de  Reims, 
par.  43;  "Doon  de  Mayence,"  278;  "Chanson  d'Anti- 
oche,"  i,  84,  88;  "Gaidon,"  152,  153;  "Bible  Guyot," 
778.  Villehardouin  and  Guillaume  de  Tyr,  as  is  natural, 
use  the  term  with  great  frequency. — Mid.  English  :  "  King 
Alisaunder,"  3134  ;  "William  of  Palerme,"  1961 ;  "Ri- 
chard Cceur  de  Lion,"  2055,  1881,  1886,  1846  and  passim; 
Robert  de  Brume  (see  Skeat,  notes  to  "Will,  of  Pal."). 
Old  Provencal :  Rambaut  de  Vaqueiras :  Letter  to  Bau- 
douin  (Atti  del  Istituto  Veneto,  May,  1901),  stanza  iii  ; 
Appel,  "Prov.  Chres.",p.  142.— Mid.  Latin:  add  to  cita- 
tions by  Du  Cange,  Richard  of  Devizes,  sect.  64  ;  Geoffrey 
of  Vinsalf,  "Itin.  of  Richard  III,"  Ch.  IV,  and  passim. 


48 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  2. 


fusion  with  'Sarrasin'  in  "  Orson  de  Beauvais, " 
v.  1778  : — "La  barbe  longue  a  guise  de  Grifon"  ; 
a  similar  extension  to  '  Spanish  ' 3  appears  "  Guil. 
de  Palermo,"  9631  : 

Ro'ine  estoit  sa  fille 

D'  Espagne  et  feme  au  roi  grifon. 

Grifon  here  appears  as  an  adjective,  which  has  a 
feminine  grifone,  gent  grifone  (Godefroy).  Lang- 
lois  cites  one  example  of  the  derivative  Griffonie, 
'  Greek  Orient '  *  to  which  add  Mouskes,  v.  11908  : 

Et  doit  on  proiier  pour  aus 
Et  pour  tous  gnus  qui  en  Surie 
S'ont  trespasset  pour  Dieu  de  vie, 
En  Oriffonie  et  en  Espagne 
Et  en  nule  autre  tiere  estragne  ? 

For  the  etymology  of  grifon  '  Greek, '  two  un- 
supported conjectures  have  been  made.  Rohricht5 
suggests  that  it  is  a  Schimpfwort,  "  das  an  die  bei 
den  Tiirken  wohnenden  Griffonen,  Griffen  erin- 
nert. ' '  Roquefort  and  Skeat 6  offer  Grcecum,  which 
is  also  the  idea  of  Murray  ("New  English 
Diet."),  and  of  Wohlfart  (Glossary  to  "Bible 
Guyot' ' )  .T  It  is  our  aim  to  adduce  such  facts  as 
will  show  the  claims  of  each  of  these  positions  to 
acceptance. 

Grifon  in  this  sense  doubtless  implied  contempt. 
Geoffrey  of  Vinsalf 8  Chap,  xii,  says  :  ' '  For  this 
wicked  people,  commonly  called  Griffons,  .... 
hostile  to  our  men,  annoyed  them  by  repeated 
insults."  If  grifon  had  to  him  been  synonymous 
with  griu,  the  expletive  commonly  called  would 
not  have  been  used.  The  deceit  and  thievery  of 
the  Byzantines  is  moreover  the  favorite  theme  of 
contemporary  Occidental  writers.  The  idea  is, 
then,  that  this  quality  suggested  to  the  Crusaders 
the  habits  either  of  the  mythical  griffin,  who  passed 
for  a  rapacious  monster 9  and  as  the  guardian  of 
wealth,  in  Medieval  minds  ;  or  of  the  Thracian 
and  Alpine  eagle,  O.F.  grifon,  Prov.  grifon,  Ital. 
grifone,  Sp.  grifo,  Gr.  grups,  grupos.  Such  a 

'Mussafia,  '  Zeit.  Eom.  Phil.',  in,  p.  256. 

*"  Jourdain  de  Blaives,"  3784. 

5 ' Historische  Zeit.',  Miinchen,  1875  (vol.  34),  p.  52. 

"Ed.  of  "William  of  Palerme,"  Old  Eng.  Text  Soc., 
Glossary. 

7  Ed.  of  "  Bible  Guyot,"  Wolfraum  studies,  Halle,  1861. 

8"Itinery  of  Kichard  III,"  trans,  by  H.  G.,  London, 
1865. 

9  Voyages  of  Sir  J.  de  Mandeville.  Bradley-Stratman, 
8.  v.  griffoun. 


development  appears  in  fact  in  the  Italian  grifone. 
Francesco  Alunno  da  Ferrara  10  says  :  "II  grifone 
6  animale  parte  leone  e  parte  aquilla  rapinoso  e 
inolto  dannoso  ;  e  perd  si  dice  esser  un  grifone 
colui  che  tutto  vuole  per  se."  Grifone  here  means 
'rapacious  thief,'  through  an  analogy  as  easily 
suggested  by  the  Byzantine  character.  St.-Palaye 
cites  from  Clodiere'  s  ' '  Contes ' '  a  griffoner,  '  to 
steal ':"....  Quand  les  peines  et  fatigues  de 
ceux  qui  harpieut  a  griffoner  1'or  seroient  plus 
grandes  que  ne  les  avez  faites."  We  are  here 
dealing  probably  with  griffe,  'claw,'  rather  than 
with  grups  (cf.  griffoner,  'to  scribble,'  i.  e.  'to 
use  the  claw ' )  ;  but  the  word  serves  to  show  the 
facility  with  which,  by  folk  etymology,  grifon, 
'  griffin '  or  '  vulture '  could  be  brought  into  re- 
lation with  griffe,  'claw,'  and  hence  with  the 
idea  of  'steal." 

It  is  certain  thus  that  grifon  connoted  '  thief '  ; 
and  that  the  Greeks  were  robbers  (at  least  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Crusaders).  It  remains  to  show  how 
the  two  became  connected  in  such  a  way  as  to  be 
synonymous.  For  it  is,  at  the  outset,  more  satis- 
factory to  regard  the  development  as  the  extension 
in  meaning  of  an  already  existing  word,  than  to 
consider  grifon  au  epithet  arbitrarily  applied  to 
the  Greeks."  Grifon,  '  Greek '  is  a  humorous 
alteration  of  Griu  «  Grieu  <  Greu  <[  Gracum), 
of  which  grifon  is  felt  to  be  a  sort  of  derivative. 

This  relationship  could  be  established  in  three 
ways  :  grifon  would  seem  either  an  augmentative 
of  Griu ;  or  a  proper  noun  accusative  ;  or  a 
purely  analogical  accusative,  created  after  the 
model  of  the  Provencal.  In  the  first  two  cases, 

10  "Delia  Fabrica  del  Mondo,"  Venezia,  1593,  s.  v. 
grifagno.  Cf.  also  griplms  'convitiosus'  (Du  Cange). 

"We  have  an  interesting  parallel  in  griffon  'spaniel,' 
which  was  applied  in  derision  to  the  Dacphinois  during 
the  religious  wars  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Larousse  says 
the  name  of  the  dog  was  due  "  a  ce  que  ces  chiens  venaient 
du  versant  dauphinois  des  Alpes,  dont  les  habitants  a. 
IMpoque  des  guerres  des  Vaudois  eiaient  appelfe  Griffons, 
tandis  que  ceux  du  versant  pidmontais  portaient  le  surnom 
de  barbels."  The  facts  are  quite  the  opposite;  in  that 
clearly  the  Dauphinois  received  the  epithet  from  the  dog. 
For  the  Valdensian  elders  were  called  barbes,  a  name 
turned  by  the  French  invaders  into  barbels.  In  return  the 
French  sympathizers  of  the  French  slope  were  dubbed 
griffons,  a  synonym  of  barbel.  Here  as  in  grifon,  '  Greek,' 
the  epithet  is  the  turning  and  extension  of  an  already 
established  name. 


February,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


49 


the  normal  development  of  Griu  -\-  on  would 
be  grivon  (cf.  Andrieu,  Andrevon  ;  Mattliieu, 
Matthevon  ;  Pieard  forms  with  reduced  triphthong 
would  result  in  -ivmi).  But  the  'v  '  would  change 
through  analogy  with  grifon.  Of  such  an  influ- 
ence we  have  positive  trace  in  an  interesting  form 
grifois,  'Greek,'  which  appears  in  "Anseis  de 
Cartage,"  v.  3ll6  :— 

L' Anste  a  brandie  dont  li  archers  fu  frois ; 
En  la  grant  prese  va  ferir  un  Grifois. 

Grifois  is  Griu  -j-  ois  (Grsecu  +  ensis,  as  it  were) ; 
the  normal  Grivois  is  replaced  by  the  analogical 
'/.'  "  Note  finally  that  in  Proven9al  the  inflec- 
tion of  the  word  for  griffin  parallels  exactly  that 
proposed  for  Griu.  Raynouard  cites  the  form 
griu  '  griffin ' :  "  Griu  es  animal  quadrupedal  ab 
alas. ' '  This  form  is  further  attested  by  the  Mid. 
Lat.  grio,  grionis  (Du  Cange).13  We  would  have 
accordingly  for  '  griffin, '  griu,  grifon  beside  Griu, 
'  Greek, '  of  which  the  hypothetical  accusative 
grifon  would  seem  most  natural,  in  association 
with  the  actual  grifon." 

Grifon,  'Greek,'  is  thus  a  confusion  between 
gryphus  (Gr.  grups)  and  Grcecus  ;  the  presence 
of  a  third  element,  the  German  grip,  will  be  dis- 
cussed under  grifaigne. 


Haverford  School. 


A.  A.  LIVINGSTON. 


GRIFAIGNE  'GREEK.' 

Langloia  cites  one  example  of  this  acceptation 
of  grifaigne,1  Foulques  de  Candle,  p.  1  37  2  : — 

Venez  avant ;  je  vous  ferai  estraine. 
A  vous  comraant  de  la  terre  Espaigne. 


"Cf.  English  Qrew-hound  <  grifhound  (Murray,  "New 
Eng.  Diet."),  drew  is  Griu. 

"  S.  v.  Grio  :  idem  fortasse  quod  grifalco  ;  merqua  cum 
qua  signentur  tonelli  et  pipse  vinorum.  .  .  .  [est]  ab  una 
parte  de  armis  nostris,  videlicet  medietas  cum  uno  pede 
Grianis,  et  alia  medietas  cum  quadam  turri. 

"The  "New  Eng.  Diet."  cites  griffon,  griffin,  as  an 
epithet  applied  to  a  new  arrival  in  India,  a  '  green-horn.' 
It  is  not  clear  how  'griffin,'  the  mythological  monster, 
could  suggest  the  term.  Is  it  not  more  plausible  to  attri- 
bute the  name  to  French  griffon,  'scribbler,'  referring 
to  the  habitual  position  of  the  younger  men  as  Company 
bookkeepers  and  collectors? 

1  Diet.  de»  noms  propres. 

'  Ed.  of  Herbert  le  Duo. 


Entrer  i  veux  ains  que  part  la  quinzaine, 
E  chalengier  Tiebaut  terre  certaine, 
Bade  et  Koussie  et  la  terre  gryphaine; 
Cuidez  aussi  Palerme  n'li  remaine 

To  this  add  Roman  de  Carite,  xxv,  v.  1 3 :— 

Jou  vi  Hongres  et  gent  grifoigne  * 

Ki  felonie  ne  ressoigne. 

Li  rikes  Constantinoblois 

For  grifaigne,  we  accept  the  etymology  of  Diez,' 
Mackel 8  and  Cohn '  :  from  grifan,  the  noun  grif 
-\-aneum, hence grifain  (masc.)8,  grifaigne  (fern.). 
The  feminine,  however,  through  almost  exclusive 
use  with  feminine  nouns  in  set  phrases, ,  gent  gri- 
faigne, chiere  grifaigne,  place,  terre,  montagne, 
etc.,  has  been  generalized  :  Gaufrey,  v.  10358 *: 

Tant  vont  qu'il  ont  trouve  le  felon  roi  grifaigne. 

For  grifoigne,  Van  Hamel  posits  the  hypothetical 
grifonium  (grif -\- onium,  grifon  -\-  (on)ium  ?) 
which  itself  requires  elucidation.10 

This  is  then  a  problem  of  semantics.  The 
fundamental  meaning  of  grifaigne  is  'clawlike,' 
hence  'craggy,'  'rough'  and  'wild.'  Abrejance 
de  I'ordre  de  chevalerie,  v.  1890  : — 

L'on  ne  les  lessoit  per  les  plaines 
Aler  mes  per  places  grifaignes, 
Per  montagnes  grandes  et  rostes. 

This  is  the  most  common  meaning  of  the  word. 
See  Godefroy,  Du  Cange,  etc.  The  word  is  then 
applied  to  people,  perhaps  owing  to  a  '  claw-like,' 
disheveled  appearance  ";  perhaps  originally  as  an 
epithet  of  wild,  mountain  savages  :  La  Mart 
Aimeri  de  Narbonne,  v.  666  : — 

Li  roi  manda  por  sa  gent  de  montaigne, 
XX  mile  Turs  o  les  chieres  grifaignes 
Qui  n'aiment  Deu  ne  rien  qui  a  lui  tiegne. 


'Ed.  of  Van  Hamel  (Bibl.  Ecole  des  Hautes  Etudes). 
*  MSS.  also  grifaigne  and  grifone. 
6  Elymoloyisches  Worterbuch,  s.  v.  griffe. 
6  Germ.  Elan,  in  Rom.  Sprach.,  'Franz.  Studien,'  vi,  p. 
110. 

''Suffix  Verwandlung,  p.  161. 

8  Established  by  Cohn,  loc.  cit.,  with  references.     Theofil- 
sage,  v.  209,  ('Zeit.  Rom.  Phil.',  I,  p.  532)  : 

Li  Hebreus  li  culvers  grifains  (MS.  gifains,  gurfains) 
Tint  dune  Theofle  par  les  mains. 

9  Godefroy. 

10  The  alternation  between  grifain  and  grifoin,  i.  e.  between 
-aneum  and  -oneum  should  be  added  to  Colin,  loc.  cit,,  pp. 
161-162. 

11  Cf.  Diez,  loc.  cit. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  2. 


Anseis  de  Cartage,  v.  10358  "  : — 

Paien  i  fierent  comme  gent  de  grifaigne  (sc.  place?). 
Hence  the  sense  of  'rough,'    'savage,'  'cruel,' 
'  bosartig ' :  Roman  de  Ron,  v.  1546  : — 

II  troverent  la  gent  mult  fel  et  mult  gnfaigne, 
Qui  confont  e  abat  e  ochit  e  mehaigne. 

Anseis  de  Cartage,  v.  2461  : — 

Le  roi  esclosent  a  une  deforaine  ; 

Ja  le  presissent  la  pute  gent  grifaigne, 

Quand  poignant  viennent  li  sien  home  demaine. 

Chanson  d'Antioche,  v.  953  : — 

E  Jhesus  lor  doinst  vaincre  icele  gent  gnfaigne. 
Anseis  de  Cartage,  v.  10349  : — 

Mort  1'abati ;  n'a  talent  qu'il  se  plaigne ; 
Paiien  le  voient,  ichele  gent  gnfaigne." 

See  also  Godefroy,  Du  Cange,  etc. 

It  is  striking  in  these  illustrations  to  what 
extent  gent  grifaigne  is  applied  to  the  Paiiens. 
The  association  is  so  close  that  the  descriptive 
word  in  the  phrase  is  in  the  following  practically 
equivalent  to  'Sarrasine,'  as  the  gent  grifaigne1* 
par  excellence  :  Li  Nerbonnois,  v.  227  : — 

La  troveroiz  les  barons  d'  Alemaingne, 
De  Normandie,  d'Anjo  et  de  Bretaingne, 
Qui  en  iront  desor  la  gent  yrifaingne, 
Avecques  vos  en  la  terre  d'Espaingne. 

Foulques  de  Candie,  p.  155  : — 

II  sont  bien  XXX  mile  de  la  geste  grifaigne  ; 
Ca  les  a  amenez  li  rois  Tiebaut  d'Espaigne. 

Grifaigne  is   applied  to  the  Greeks  in  the  fol- 
lowing from  Godefroy  :  De  Vespasieu  :  MS.  : 

Li  empereor  a  la  chiere  grifaigne. 

The  development  to  '  Greek  '  more  specifically, 
had  in  its  favor  the  general  confusion  of  the 
Greeks  and  Saracens,  which  reigned  in  Medieval 
minds.15  But  we  think  the  particular  force  here 
operating  was  grifon.  The  adjective16  grifon, 
'  Greek, '  formed  a  feminine  grifone,  which  ap- 


"MS.  D. 

13  It  is  a  question  in  these  last  two  examples  how  far  icde 
has  lost  its  demonstrative  in  favor  of  an  article  force ; 
the  sense  is  in  any  case  closely  allied  with  the  following 
citations. 

"Cf.  Roland,  1932-1934,  for  the  Christian  conception 
of  the  Saracens. 

16  Gaston  Paris,  note  to  Orson  de  Beauvais,  v.  1778. 

uGuillaume  de  Palerme,  v.  9631. 


pears  in  the  set  phrase  gent  grifone,  'Greeks.'  ' 
We  have  then  the  general  epithet  of  the  Saracens, 
gent  grifaigne  by  the  side  of  the  particular  gent 
grifone ;  thence  confusion  of  the  two,  grifaigne 
assuming  the  particular  meaning.  It  is,  we  think, 
this  confusion  that  appears  in  grifoigne,  which  may 
be  regarded  as  grifone  influenced  by  grifaigne,  or 
the  reverse.  The  words  would  actually  stand  in  a 
close  relationship  by  the  very  form  of  the  stems, 
in  each  case  grip-,  of  which  grifaigne  might  seem 
the  adjective  development,  corresponding  to  the 
noun  grifon.  In  this  case  grifon  would  mean 
'  the  clawed  one, '  taking  its  connotation  from 
grifaigne,  of  which  the  original  signification  would 
naturally  not  be  lost. 18 

The  situation  in  this  interesting  meaning  of 
grifaigne  and  grifon  would  seem  therefore  to  be 
as  follows  :  a  confusion  has  taken  place  between 
gryphus  (Vul.  Lat.  of  Greek  grups)  and  the  Ger- 
man grip  in  the  form  grifon,  which  has  been  asso- 
ciated, as  a  derisive  or  humorous  derivative,  with 
Griu  (Grceeum');  grifaigne,  an  epithet  applied 


"  Godefroy. 

18  In  Italian  grifone  and  grifagno  (the  cognate  of  gri- 
faigne) were  synonyms  as  noun  and  adjective,  the  one 
'thief 'or  'rapacious  person,'  the  other  'rapacious'  (see 
article  on  grifon ), — a  correspondence  similar  to  that  pro- 
posed here. 

Modern  French  offers  an  interesting  parallel  to  this 
development  of  grif :  yriffe,  '  Mulatto,'  a  West  Indian  half- 
breed.  This  word,  of  too  late  an  appearance  (Littre'  cites 
xvui  cent. )  to  derive  from  the  Medieval  grifon,  shows  ex- 
actly the  connotation  here  suggested  for  grifon,  'Greek': 
'  the  clawed  one.'  Griffe  in  this  sense  would  be  indicative 
actually  of  personal  appearance  'rough,'  'unkempt'; 
while  in  the  other  case  the  epithet  would  be  a  pure 
'schimpfwort.'  The  parallel  is  made  perfect  in  the  forms 
grifon,  grifone  (fern. )  assumed  by  griffe  in  the  Louisiana 
dialect  (New  Eng.  Diet.). 

Griffon,  'spaniel,'  is  referred  by  the  Diet.  General  to 
gryphus,  'griffin.'  Du  Cange  offers  a  form  griphus  '  pi- 
losus,'  '  superbus,'  '  convitiosus,'  quoting  Juan  de  Janua  : 
"canes  parvos  et  ignobiles  grippes  vocamus  quia  prse 
ceteris  superbi  sunt. "  This  whimsical  etymology  at  least 
points  to  the  truth  ;  for  in  fact  the  griffon's  distinguishing 
mark  is  a  luxuriant  growth  of  hair  on  the  muzzle. 
Griphus,  'pilosus,'  seems  however  more  satisfactorily 
referable  to  German  grip  than  to  Greek  grups ;  grip  had 
assumed  the  sense  of  'grizzly'  in  grifaigne  (cf.  Diez, 
Etymol.  Worterb.,  s.  v.  griffe);  in  which  case  we  would 
have  another  example  of  grifon  felt  as  the  noun  for  gri- 
faigne. The  probability  is  that  griphus  is  a  mingling  of 
grip  and  grups. 


February,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


51 


with  special  frequency  to  the  Saracens  who  were 
confused  generally  with  the  Greeks,  acquires  the 
definite  signification  '  Greek '  through  identifi- 
cation with  grifone  iu  the  set  phrases  gent  gri- 
faigne,  gent  grifone  ;  it  is  this  confusion  which 
explains  the  form  grifoigne. 


Haverford  School. 


A.  A.  LIVINGSTON. 


TWO  CHAUCER  CRUCES. 

The  Chaucer  suggestions  which  I  have  to  pre- 
sent are  both  upon  points  already  surrounded  with 
a  maze  of  annotation  ;  the  one  is  the  often-discussed 
mention  of  Lollius  by  the  poet,  the  other  the  St. 
Loy  of  the  Prioress'  greatest  oath.  This  latter, 
as  permitting  briefer  statement,  may  be  given  first. 

Skeat,  in  the  Oxford  Chaucer  11,  13-14,  makes 
a  less  definite  note  than  usual  upon  St.  Loy.'  He 
cites  as  interesting  Professor  Hales'  interpretation 
of  the  passage  to  mean  that  the  Prioress  never 
swore  at  all,  describes  St.  Eligius  or  Loy  as  the 
patron  saint  of  goldsmiths,  farriers,  smiths,  and 
carters,  and  suggests  that  the  Prioress  perhaps 
invoked  Loy  as  the  protector  of  goldsmiths,  she 
being  a  little  given  to  love  of  gold  and  corals. 

A  passage  from  Lydgate  seems  to  throw  light 
here.  It  is  found  in  his  poem  on  the  Virtue  of  the 
Mass;  I  transcribe  the  stanza  from  M.S.  St.  John's 
Coll.  Oxon.  56,  fol.  83b. 

Heringe  of  masse  clothe  passyng  gret  avayll 
Atte  nede  atte  myse.se  folk  yt  doothe  releue 
Causethe  Seynt  Nycholas  to  yeue  good  cunsayll 
And  seynt  Julian  good  hostell  atte  eue 
To  be  holde  Seynt  Christofere  noon  enemy  schall  greue 
And  Seynt  loye  youre  iournay  schall  preserue 
Hors  nor  cariage  (>at  day  schall  nat  myschene 
Masse  herde  ba  forne  who  dothe  J>ese  sayntrs  serue 

If,  as  Professor  Skeat  has  himself  remarked, 
Lydgate  is  often  our  best  commentator  on  Chaucer, 
we  may  draw  from  this  stanza  enlightenment  both 
as  to  the  Prioress'  St.  Loy  and  the  Yeoman's  St. 
Christopher. 

For  the  other  crux  I  base  my  suggestion  not 
upon  Lydgate  but  upon  possible  manuscript-con- 
ditions. The  name  Lollius  is  mentioned  by  Chau- 
cer in  three  connections.  In  the  House  of  Fame, 


line  1468,  he  appears  as  a  writer  upon  the  Tro- 
jan War.  In  Troilus  and  Cresdda,  v,  1653,  he 
is  cited  as  the  original  from  which  Chaucer  is 
working  ;  this  passage  and  the  poem  as  a  whole 
are  clearly  translated  from  Boccaccio's  Filostrato. 
Again,  in  Book  i,  stanza  57  of  the  Troilus,  where 
the  Cantus  Troili  is  introduced,  translated  from  one 
of  Petrarch's  Sonnets,  the  reference  is  to  Lollius  as 
its  author.  The  question  as  to  the  identity  of 
Lollius,  who  seems  to  be  now  a  Trojan  historian, 
now  Boccaccio,  and  now  Petrarch,1  is  further  com- 
plicated by  the  fact  that  Chaucer  nowhere  alludes 
to  Boccaccio,  and  knows  Petrarch  only  as  author 
of  Latin  prose.  Any  theory  advanced  to  explain 
Lollius  must  explain  how  the  word  can  cover  both 
the  historiographer  and  the  two  Italian  poets, 
whose  name  and  whose  Italian  verse,  respectively, 
are  un  mentioned  by  Chaucer. 

No  suggestion  has  yet  been  made  which  accounts 
for  all  these  sides  of  the  case.  Of  the  two  most 
generally  received  hypotheses,  one  begs  the  ques- 
tion by  supposing  that  Chaucer  here  made  use  of 
a  deliberate  mystification,  and  the  other,  arguing 
a  misunderstanding  of  Horace's  .  .  .  maxime  Lolli, 
succeeds  only  in  accounting  for  the  historiographer, 
not  for  Boccaccio  or  Petrarch  ;  while  Professor 
Bright' s  suggestion,  noted  in  ihePubl.  Mod.  Lang. 
Ass'n  19,  xxii,  accounts  only  for  Boccaccio. 

As  Professor  Lounsbury  has  said,  (Studies,  vol. 
ir,  413-15)  the  critics  who  dispose  of  Lollius  as 

1  But  this  is  just  the  point.  Surely  Boccaccio  is  one  of 
Chaucer's  "  Trojan  historians  ; "  no  argument  is  necessary 
here.  A  second  glance  at  the  text  should  be  sufficient, 
also,  to  discover  that  the  lines  introducing  the  Cantus 
again  call  him  (Boccaccio)  Lollius  (  "  myn  autour  called 
Lollius"),  who  had  brought  the  lover  to  the  state  of  mind 
that  would  break  forth  in  song  : 

"And  on  a  song  anoon-riht  to  beginne  ; " 

he  had,  however,  not  supplied  the  song,  "but  only  the 
sentence,"  that  is,  the  mood,  the  import  of  the  mood,  in 
which  the  lover  sang.  Chaucer,  therefore,  with  a  fine 
sense  for  artistic  fitness,  introduces  a  song  at  this  point. 
He  translates  a  sonnet  from  Petrarch,  and  the  reader  is 
assured  that  the  lover  must  have  sung  in  just  this  fashion  : 

"  I  dar  wel  sayn  in  al  that  Troilus 
Seyde  in  his  song  lo  !  every  word  rilit  thus 
As  I  shal  seyn." 

There  is  a  significance  in  the  expressions  "I  dar  wel 
sayn"  and  "As  I  shal  seyn"  that  makes  the  whole 
matter  plain. — J.  W.  B. 


52 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  2. 


a  mystification  should  offer  more  conclusive  evi- 
dence that  such  a  deception  was  practiced  by 
Chaucer  or  by  the  men  of  his  age.  It  is  possible, 
it  seems  to  me,  to  find  in  manuscript-conditions  a 
solution  more  plausible,  and  which  at  least  covers 
all  aspects  of  the  difficulty. 

The  codices  of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  cen- 
turies frequently  contained  several  or  many  works, 
often  on  kindred  subjects,  such  as  the  volume 
described  by  Chaucer  himself  in  the  Wife  of  Bath's 
Prologue,  but  not  necessarily  in  the  same  forms  or 
the  same  language.  Now,  one  Lollius  (Urbicus  ?), 
of  the  third  century,  wrote  a  history  unknown  to 
us,  but  which  according  to  Chaucer  was  of  Troy. 
If  we  suppose  that  a  composite  volume  in  Chaucer's 
possession  could  contain  this  history  of  Lollius, 
duly  marked,  as  (say)  its  first  entry,  and  contain 
also,  following  this,  the  Filostrato  of  Boccaccio  (a 
romance  of  Troy),  as  well  as  some  of  Petrarch's 
sonnets,  all  unmarked,  the  attribution  of  the  entire 
contents  by  Chaucer  to  Lollius  would  be  quite 
natural.  If  the  student  be  inclined  to  doubt 
the  existence  of  Petrarch's  or  Boccaccio's  verse 
in  MS.  without  the  author's  name,  let  him  rec- 
ollect that  Petrarch  took  no  pride  in  his  youthful 
work  in  the  vulgar  tongue,  believing  that  his 
fame  would  rest  on  his  Latin  odes  and  letters, 
and  that  Boccaccio,  besides  being  an  ardent 
admirer  of  Petrarch's  work  and  opinions,  gave 
the  last  twenty  years  of  his  life  mainly  to  pro- 
duction in  Latin.  And  as  for  Chaucer's  refer- 
ence (Monk's  Tale,  line  335)  to  Petrarch  as  the 
author  of  Boccaccio's  De  Genealogiis  Deorum,  it 
is  no  more  unlikely  that  fourteenth  century  Italian 
scribes  should  attribute  every  elaborate  Latin  work 
they  handled  to  Petrarch,  the  literary  arbiter  of 
his  time,  than  that  fifteenth  century  scribes  and 
sixteenth  century  editors  in  England  should  attri- 
bute every  early  English  poem  they  found  to 
Chaucer  ;  or  that  most  fifteenth  century  poems 
not  plainly  marked  should  now  be  ascribed  to 
Lydgate. 

Even  with  the  sanction  of  Bradshaw,  we  can  no 
longer  believe  that  Chaucer  deliberately  attempted 
to  mystify  his  readers  by  apocryphal  authorities. 
The  Wife  of  Bath's  citations  from  Ptolemy's 
Almagest,  smiled  at  by  Tyrwhitt  and  dismissed 
by  Skeat,  have  been  proved  by  Fliigel  to  be 
genuine  quotations  from  a  text  equipped  with 
medieval  preface  and  comment ;  cp.  also  the  ex- 


planation of  Agaton  by  Paget  Toynbee  in  Mod. 
Lang.  Quart,  i,  5.  As  Lounsbury  declares, 
we  have  no  right  to  suppose  that  because  a  work 
is  lost  or  unknown  to  us,  it  was  a  myth  to  Chau- 
cer. The  gradual  extension  of  our  knowledge  as 
to  his  reading  has  thus  far  shown  him  speaking 
and  citing  each  time  in  good  faith. 

ELEANOR  PEESCOTT  HAMMOND. 

University  of  Chicago. 


A  RARE  COLLECTION   OF  SPANISH 
ENTREMESES. 

The  book  I  am  about  to  describe  I  found  in  a 
book-shop  at  Coimbra.  Its  rarity  may  be  judged 
from  the  fact  that  Barrera  had  never  seen  a  copv, 
nor  has  it  been  described,  as  far  as  I  know,  by 
any  bibliographer.  Barrera1  mentions  the  title 
of  the  book  on  the  authority  of  a  manuscript  list 
of  plays,  made  by  Gallardo,  and  he  hazards  the 
opinion  that  the  book,  Migajas  del  ingenio,  may  be 
the  same  collection  as  the  Libro  de  Entremeses  de 
varios  Autores,  but  a  comparison  of  the  two  books 
shows  that  they  have  not  a  single  play  in  common. 

This  collection,  in  8°,  is  entitled  : 

Migaxas  del  ingenio,  y  apacible  entretenimiento,  en  varios 
entremeses,  bayles,  y  loas,  escogidos  de  los  niejores 
ingenios  de  Espafia.  Dedicados  al  Curioso  Lector. 
Con  licencia.  Irapresso  por  Diego  Dormer  Impressor 
de  la  Ciudad,  y  del  Hospital  Real,  y  General  de 
nuestra  Sefiora  de  Gracia,  de  la  Ciudad  de  Zaragoca. 
A  costa  de  Juan  Martinez  de  Kibera  Martel,  Mer- 
cader  de  Libros. 

The  book  bears  no  date,  but  it  was  probably 
published  about  1675,  when  other  collections  of 
the  same  sort  were  printed  by  Diego  Dormer. 

After  the  title-page  comes  the  uprobacion,  then 
an  index  of  the  twenty-two  loas,  entremeses  and 
bayles  contained  in  the  volume,  a  notice  to  the 
Curioso  y  Amiga  Lector,  and  96  leaves  of  text. 
I  shall  give  the  first  line  of  each  play,  to  aid  in 
its  identification,  and  shall  place  an  asterisk 
before  the  title  of  the  plays  that  are  not  mentioned 
by  Barrera. 

1.  Fol.  1—7  :  *  Loa  a  la  festividad  de  Nuestra 
Sefiora  del  Rosario.  De  Don  Pedro  Francisco 
Lanini  y  Sagredo. 

Mus.     Las  Rosas,  las  Flores. 


1  Catalogo  biblwgr&fico  y  biograjko  del  teatro  antiguo  cspaftol, 
p.  716. 


February,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


53 


2.  Fol.  7b-10  :  *  Baile  de  la  Entrada  de  la 
Comedia.     Por  Don  Pedro  Francisco  Lanini. 

Arren.     Yo  tengo  el  Arrendamiento. 

3.  Fol.  10b-14b:  *  Entremes  de  el  Colegio  de 
Gorrones.     De  Don  Francisco  Lanini. 

Mug.  1.     Siendo  lubees  de  Compadres. 

Not  mentioned  by  Barrera  among  the  works  of 
Lanini.  He  gives  the  first  line  of  this  from  a  MS. 
suelta,  without  name  of  author.  Catalogo,  p.  625. 

4.  Fol.   15-18  :  *  Bayle  de  los  Mesones.     De 
Don  Francisco  Lanini. 

Cant.  Apos.     Aposentador  de  Amor. 

5.  Fol.    18-24  :    Entremes    de    la    Tia.     De 
Monteser. 

Azp.    Sepa  vuesa  merced  sefior  Azcotia. 

Mentioned  by  Barrera  as  the  work  of  Monteser, 
Catalogo,  p.  650.  La  Tia  was  published  in 
Entremeses  varios,  aora  nuevamente  recogidos  de 
los  mejores  ingenios  de  Espana.  En  Zaragoza. 
Por  los  Herederos  de  Diego  Dormer. 

6.  Fol.   24-27b.     *Loa  a  la  Assumption  de 
N.  Senora.     De  D.  Juan  de  Zavaleta. 

Horn.  1.    Noble  Villa  de  Brunete. 

7.  Fol.  27b-29b :  Bayle  de  los  Hilos  de  Flandes. 
De  Don  Pedro  Lanini. 

Homb.   Aunque  han  passado  los  Reyes. 

Mentioned  by  Barrera   as   the  work   of  Lanini, 
Catalogo,  p.  627.     It  was  published  in  Ociosidad 
entretenida   en  varios    entremeses,    bailes,    loos  y 
jacaras,  Madrid,  1668. 

8.  Fol.   30-32  :   *  Bayle  de  Xacara.     De  D. 
Pedro  Francisco  Lanini. 

Cor.     Que  ay  Catuja  ? 

Barrera,  Catalogo,  p.  639,  mentions  a  jacara  by 
Matias  de  Castro  with  the  title,  Pardillo,  the  first 
line  of  which  is  the  same  as  the  first  line  of  the 
above.  There  is  a  manuscript  of  El  Pardillo  in 
the  Biblioteca  Nacional  of  Madrid,  with  the  date 
1677. 

9.  Fol.   32b— 41  :  *  Loa  para  la  Campania  de 
Feliz  Pasqual.     De  D.  Pedro  Francisco  Lanini. 

Cant.     Vaya  de  bayle,  vaya. 

10.  Fol.  41b-48  :  Entremes  de  el  Degollado. 
De  D.  Pedro  Francisco  Lanini. 

Ter.     Justicia,  aqui  de  Dios  cotra  el  Alcalde. 

Barrera,  Catalogo,  p.  617,  attributes  this  entremes 
to  Lope  de  Vega,  with  an  interrogation  mark.  It 


was  published  in  Fiestas  del  Santlssimo  Sacramento, 
repartidas  en  doce  Autos  Sacramentales,  con  sus  Loos 
y  Entremeses.  Zaragoza,  1644-  IQ  this  collection, 
it  is  attributed  to  Lope  de  Vega.  As  Lanini' s 
literary  activity  probably  did  not  date  earlier  than 
1666,  if  these  two  versions  agree,  then  the  entremes 
in  the  Migajas  del  ingenio  was  written  by  Lope, 
and  not  by  Lanini.  El  Degollado  was  also  pub- 
lished in  Entremeses  varios,  aora  nuevamente  recogi- 
dos de  los  mejores  ingenios  de  Espana.  En  Zara- 
goza. Por  los  Herederos  de  Diego  Dormer.  See 
Barrera,  Catalogo,  p.  718. 

11.  Fol.  48-51  :  *  Bayle  del  Herrador.  De  D. 
Pedro  Francisco  Lanini. 

Cant.  Her.    Herrador  soy  del  amor. 

12.  Fol.   51b-59b  :  *  Loa  para  la  Compania 
de  Vallejo.     De  D.  Pedro  Francisco  Lanini. 

Vallejo.    Dexame  Carlos. 

13.  Fol.  59b-64  :  *  Entremes  del  Dia  de  san 
Bias  en  Madrid.     De  D.  Pedro  Francisco  Lanini. 

Mug.  1.    Brauo  dia  de  san  Bias. 

14.  Fol.  64-66b  :  *  Bayle  de  los  Metales.     De 
D.  Pedro  Francisco  Lanini. 

Cont.    Yo  soy  contraste  de  amor. 

15.  Fol.   67-72b  :   *  Loa  general  para  qual- 
quiera  fiesta  de  Comedia.     Name  of  author  not 
given. 

1.    Calla,  que  duerme. 

This  loa  was  used  to  introduce  Calderon' s  La  Vida 
es  Sueno.  We  read  on  fol.  72, 

Pint.     Con  una  comedia  oy 
os  queremos  festejar 
de  Don  Pedro  Calderon 
la  vida  es  sueno  serd. 

16.  Fol.   72b-76b:  *  Entremes  de  la  Tatara- 
tera.    De  D.  Pedro  Francisco  Lanini. 

Hombr.  1.    Ha  monote,  viue  Dios. 

17.  Fol.   77-79:   *  Bayle  cantado  de  los  Be- 
loxes.     De  D.  Pedro  Francisco  Lanini. 

Cant.  Juez.    A  tomar  la  residencia. 

18.  Fol.   79b-83  :    *  Entremes  famoso   de   los 
Escuderos  y  el  Lacayo.     De  Benavente. 

Ag.  Quedese  la  cena,  y  caraa. 

Not  mentioned  by  Barrera,  nor  is  it  included 
in  the  works  of  Luis  Quiiiones  de  Benavente,  pub- 
lished in  two  volumes,  in  the  collection  of  Libros 
de  Antaflo,  Madrid,  1872-1874. 


54 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


{Vol.  xxii,  No.  2. 


19.  Fol.    83-85b  :   Bayle  de   la  Plaza.      De 
Laniui. 

Cant.  Pla$.     La  plapa  soy  de  Madrid. 

This  is  the  same  as  El  Bayle  de  la  Plaza  de  Ma- 
drid, of  Lanini,  published  in  the  Ramillete  de  Say- 
neles  escogidos  de  los  mejores  ingenios  de  Espaila. 
Ympresso  en  Zaragoza,  par  Diego  Dormer.  Ano 
de  1672.  See  Barrera,  Catalogo,  p.  716. 

20.  Fol.  85b-91  :  *  Entremes  de  las  quentas  del 
desengano.     De  Benavente. 

Desd.     Que  este'  v.  m.  sefior  cuidado. 

Not  mentioned  by  Barrera,  nor  is  it  included  in 
the  works  of  Luis  Quinones  de  Benavente,  pub- 
lished in  the  collection  of  Libras  de  antano. 

21.  Fol.  91b-93b:   *  Bayle  del  Cazador.     De 
Lanini. 

Cant.  Seb.     A  cacar  paxaros  salgo. 

22.  Fol.  93b-96b  :  *  Bayle  de  la  Pelota.     De 
Lanini. 

Juez.    A  jugar  a  la  pelota. 

This  bayle  is  probably  the  same  as  Pelota,  men- 
tioned by  Barrera,  Catdlogo,  p.  640,  as  the  work 
of  Jacinto  Alonso  Maluenda.  It  is  found  in  Vol. 
I  of  Bailes  manuscritos  in  the  library  of  Sr  Fer- 
nandez-Guerra. 

It  will  be  seen  that  this  collection  contains  the 
following  works  which  are  not  published  else- 
where :  of  Lanini,  3  loos,  3  entremeses,  8  bayles ; 
of  Benavente,  2  entremeses  ;  of  Zabaleta,  a  loa  ; 
and  a  loa  of  unknown  authorship.  Of  these 
bayles  ascribed  to  Lanini,  perhaps  one  is  the  work 
of  Matfas  de  Castro,  and  another  of  Maluenda. 
It  is  true  that  the  literary  value  of  many  of  these 
pieces  is  not  very  great,  but  they  often  give  us  a 
good  idea  of  the  life  and  manners  of  the  lower 
elements  of  Spanish  society  in  the  latter  part  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  They  are  of  philological 
value,  too,  for  we  find  many  words  used  in  the 
entremeses  and  bayles  which  never  found  their  way 
into  the  more  serious  forms  of  literature.  At  all 
events,  a  description  of  this  collection  serves  to  fill 
a  gap  in  Barrera' s  bibliography  of  Spanish  dra- 
matic literature. 

J.    P.    WlCKERSHAM   CRAWFORD. 
University  of  Pennsylvania. 


THE   DATE   OF  AI  IN  CONNA!TRE  AND 
PARAITRE. 

The  year  1675  is  the  date  now  given  for  the 
change  from  the  earlier  writing  oi  to  the  modern 
ai  of  connaitre  and  paraitre.  It  was  in  that  year 
that  Berain,  an  advocate  of  Rouen,  proposed  such 
a  change  for  the  class  of  words  in  which  the  sound 
written  oi  had  the  pronunciation  of  f,  a  class  to 
which  belonged  the  imperfect  and  conditional 
verbal  endings,  many  adjectives  of  nationality, 
and  a  number  of  other  words,  including  the  two 
verbs  in  question.  Berain' s  proposal  has  been 
quoted  by  Rossmann  l  as  the  date  of  the  introduc- 
tion of  the  modern  spelling  for  all  the  words  in- 
volved. No  one  has  attempted  to  show  that  a 
distinction  is  to  be  made  between  the  various 
members  of  the  class,  and  that  in  connaitre  and 
paraitre,  at  least,  the  eu-writiug  was  freely  em- 
ployed a  hah0  century  before  Berain  proposed  it. 

Thurot,  it  is  true,8  cites  Duval  (1604)  as  writing 
parawtre  by  the  side  of  parestre,  though  employ- 
ing oi  in  the  finite  forms  of  this  verb.  But  Thurot 
is  interested  in  the  pronunciation  only  and  indi- 
cates no  further  occurrence  of  such  writing  at  this 
time.  Unless  other  examples  can  be  cited,  the 
form  must  therefore  be  considered  purely  sporadic. 

Of  greater  importance  is  a  note  by  Paul  Lacroix, 
better  known  as  le  Bibliophile  Jacob,3  in  which 
he  quotes  from  Les  Advantures  Amoureuses  d'  Om- 
phalle,*  by  Grandchamp,  "  fait  paraistre  de  les 
connaistre  moins. ' '  The  quotation  is  from  the  pre- 
face of  this  tragi-comedie.  Jacob's  comment  is  : 
"on  est  surpris  en  effet,  de  trouver  chez  lui 
Porthographe  de  Voltaire,  c'est-a-dire  I'o  rem- 
pla9aut  o,  dans  les  infinitifs  paraitre,  connaitre,  et 
cetera." 

Apparently  Jacob  knew  nothing  of  Berain  and 
considered  the  ai-writing  sporadic  before  Voltaire, 
for  he  makes  no  further  reference  to  its  occurrence. 
Had  he  looked  further,  however,  into  not  only 
this  play,  but  others  of  the  same  period,  he  would 
have  found  the  ai  established  as  a  frequent,  if  not 
preponderant  writing  alongside  the  older  oi-form. 

1  Romanische  Forschimgen,  1883,  page  173. 

*  Prononciation  franfaisc,  Vol.  I,  p.  389. 

3  BiblioMque  dramatique  de  M.  de  Soleinne,  Vol.  I,  p.  226. 

'Paris,  1630,  in  8°. 


February,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


55 


As  a  proof  of  this,  ninety-four  examples  can  be 
cited  from  thirteen  plays,  written  between  1630 
and  1639,  which  show  the  ai  spelling  used  in 
various  forms  of  the  verbs  connaitre,  paraitre  and 
their  compounds.  It  occurs  most  largely  in  the 
infinitive,  but  also  in  the  present  and  future  indic- 
ative, the  present  subjunctive,  and  the  present 
participle.  The  cases  are  sufficiently  numerous  to 
establish  the  fact  that  the  ai  existed  as  a  good 
variant  writing  for  the  oi  in  these  two  verbs  as 
early  as  1630.  The  following  examples  are  illus- 
trative : 

Fait  paraistre  son  lustre  avec  plus  d'avantage. 

Les  Advantures  Amoureusw  d '  Omphalle,  Act  I,  Scene  1. 
Que  s'il  ne  paraist  pas  et  que  je  sois  trompee,  id.,  m,  2. 
Vous  connaistres  trop  tard,  id.,  u,  2. 
Tu  connais  mal,  id.,  iv,  1. 

Examples  of  the  infinitive  occur  in  Pierre  Du 
Ryer's  Argenis  et  Poliarque.1"  Cognaistre  n,  2 
and  iv,  2  ;  recognaistre  iv,  4  and  v,  2  ;  paraistre 
I,  3  and  iv,  4. 

The  same  is  true  of  his  Argenis,  which  serves 
as  the  seconde  journee  of  the  last-named  play  and 
was  published  at  Paris  in  the  following  year. 
Twelve  cases  of  the  ai-spelling  are  to  be  found  in 
I,  2  ;  n,  3  ;  m,  1  and  6  ;  v,  3  and  4,  etc. 

In  a  third  play  by  Du  Ryer,  Lisandre  et  Caliste 6 
four  examples  of  paraistre,  four  of  cognaistre,  and 
one  of  recognaistre  occur  in  i,  1  and  2,  etc. 

Recognaistre  occurs  again  in  i,  3,  of  Du  Ryer's 
Alcimedon.1 

Du  Ryer's  work  in  general  does  not  show  the 
use  of  ai  in  the  finite  forms  of  these  verbs,  but  in 
the  infinitive  it  is  common,  especially  in  his  plays 
published  from  1630  to  1632,  where  there  are 
thirty  cases  of  ai-spelling  to  eight  of  oi.  But  the 
ai  occurs  in  other  authors  of  the  period  :  Auvray 
writes  in  his  Madonte,*  I,  3  : 

Le  couchant  la  fle'trit,  et  la  fait  disparailre. 

Georges  de  Scudery  in  his  Ligdamon  et  Lidias3 
uses  the  ai  for  the  infinitive  and  future  indicative 
of  connaistre  ;  as,  in, 

De  grace,  Ligdamon,  faites  le  moy  Connaistre, 
I,  1  ;   tu  connaintras,  n,  2.     Reconnaistre  occurs 


three  times  in  this  play.     Paraistre  is  found  in 
the  same  author's  Trompeur  puny  iv,  4.10 

A  number  of  examples  can  be  cited  from 
Pichou's  Folies  de  Cardenio  u  : 

Vous  reconnaissez  les  soins  respectueur,  I,  2. 
C'est  ainsi  que  paraist  une  amiti6  fidelle,  I,  3. 
Paraissez  is  found  in  m,  1  ;   eonnaissez  in  n,   3 
and  ill,  5.      Paraistre  occurs  four  times. 

In  1634  two  plays  appeared  that  give  the  di- 
spelling :  La  Clenide,  by  La  Barre,  shows  con- 
naistre i,  3,  iv,  5,  and  v,  3  ;  reconnais  in  iv,  4  ; 
connaut  iv,  2  ;  paraist  n,  2  and  iv,  1  ;  parame 
in  n,  1  and  m,  2.  Luciane  ou  La  Credulite 
blasinable,  by  de  Benesin,  gives  five  cases  of 
paraistre  in  in,  4  ;  iv,  1  ;  v,  2,  4  and  last  scene  : 
and  two  of  paraissant  in  iv,  3  and  v,  last  scene. 

Eleven  examples  of  the  ai  are  found  in  Du 
Rocher's  Indienne  Amoureuse™  :  je  connais  v.  4  ; 
tu  connais  n,  2  and  v,  5  ;  vous  eonnaissez,  twice 
in  n,  5  ;  tu  connaistras  v,  5  ;  vous  connaistrez  v, 
2  ;  connaistre  in,  5,  iv,  3,  v,  4  ;  reconnaistre  v,  5. 

Finally,  in  Beys'  Ospital.  des  Fous,13  a  stage 
direction  to  n,  1,  reads  "Aronte  paraist  pour- 
suivy  de  quelques  soldats. ' '  Paraistre  occurs  in 
in,  1  and  iv,  7.  In  the  latter  case  it  rimes  with 
connaistre. 

These  examples  are  sufficient  to  show  that  the 
ai-writmg  had  now  come  into  good  use.  It  re- 
mains only  to  explain  why  it  is  found  in  connaitre 
and  paraitre  fifty-five  years  before  its  general 
usage  in  such  other  forms  as  the  imperfect  and 
conditional  endings,  or  in  national  adjectives. 
The  reason  is  not  far  to  seek,  when  it  is  remem- 
bered that  the  force  of  analogy  is  particularly 
strong  in  verbs  and  that  we  have  at  this  time  five 
-stre  verbs,  naitre,  paitre,  connaitre,  paraitre, 
croitre,  of  which  the  last  had  frequently,  the 
others  always,  the  pronunciation  g,  while  two 
showed  etymologically  the  ai-spelling,  which  was 
now  used  to  represent  the  g-sound  only.  The  oi, 
on  the  other  hand,  had  become  ambiguous,  since 
in  a  very  large  number  of  cases,  it  was  pronounced 
ua,  as  it  is  to-day.  What  was  more  reasonable 
than  that  the  ai-writing,  already  employed  in  two 
of  the  five  verbs,  should  be  extended  to  the  others, 
thus  making  uniform  the  spelling  of  the  -stre- 


6  Paris,  1630,  in  8°. 

7  Paris,  1636,  in  8°. 
'Paris,  1631,  in  8°. 


6  Paris,  1632,  in  8°. 
8  Paris,  1631,  in  8°. 


10  Paris,  1635,  in  8°. 
12  Paris,  1635,  in  8°. 


11  Paris,  1633,  in  8°. 
"Paris,  1639,  in  8°. 


56 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  2. 


verbs  and  avoiding  the  ambiguity  involved  in  the 
use  of  the  oi  ?  So  we  find  the  ai  used  as  shown 
above  in  connaitre  and  paraitre,  and  even  in 
craistre  of  Les  Advantures  Amoureuses  d'  Omphalle 
ii,  2.  A  similar  working  of  analogy  is  attested 
by  forms  of  croire  that  are  written  with  an  ai  in 
the  same  play  ;  as,  i,  2  ;  iv,  2  and  3  ;  v,  last 
scene.  This  view  is,  moreover,  supported  by  the 
fact  that  Du  Ryer  in  his  Argenis  et  Poliarque, 
one  of  the  two  earliest  plays  quoted  above,  uses 
the  ai-spelling  (except  in  the  case  of  paraistre 
iv,  4)  only  when  paraistre,  cognaistre,  or  recog- 
naistre  are  brought  by  the  rime  into  close  relation 
with  naistre  or  renaiistre.  When  not  so  used,  they 
are  written  oi  as  in  i,  3,  iv,  2,  n,  3,  even  when 
the  infinitives  rime  with  each  other  as  do  paroidre 
and  cognoistre  in  iv,  1.  This  phenomenon  is  not 
observed  in  later  plays,  but  its  occurrence  in  this 
early  work  goes  to  confirm  the  explanation  given 
of  the  analogical  influence  of  nattre,  paitre,  and 
their  compounds,  on  the  early  ai- writing  in  other 
verbs. 

The  following  conclusions  are  accordingly 
reached  : 

That  the  change  by  which  the  present  ai- 
writing  replaced  the  previous  oi- writing  did  not 
occur  in  all  words  at  the  same  time  ;  that  the 
verbs  paraitre  and  connaitre  show  the  later  writing 
as  early  as  1630  ;  and  that  the  change  at  this 
time  is  probably  due  to  analogy  to  naitre,  paitre 
and  their  compounds. 

H.  CARRINGTON  LANCASTER. 
Johns  Hopkins  University. 


FERDINAND   BRUNETIERE  (1849-1906). 

After  Gaston  Paris,  Ferdinand  Brunetiere. 

The  first  devoted  to  minute  research  work,  only 
occasionally  rising  to  synthetic  views,  never  too 
affirmative  and  always  anxious  to  leave  the  door 
open  to  other  explanations  and  interpretations  ; 
the  second  combative  and  dogmatic,  and  always 
desirous  to  subordinate  mere  erudition  to  thought 
and  action. 

It  is  the  pride  of  a  country  to  produce  men  of 
such  different  types,  both  the  honor  of  contem- 
porary criticism  and  scholarship. 


Brunetiere  was  born  in  the  south  of  France,  in 
the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century.  He  came  to 
Paris  for  his  studies,  which  were  for  a  while  inter- 
rupted by  the  Franco-Prussian  war.  He  had  no 
means,  and  no  useful  acquaintances  of  any  sort. 
When  he  was  received  in  the  French  Academy, 
the  new  colleague  who  introduced  him,  recalled 
in  his  speech  how,  with  a  great  desire  to  see  and  to 
learn  but  without  money  to  go  to  the  theater  the 
young  student  enrolled  himself  several  times  in 
the  "  claque."  He  fought  his  way  to  the  top  in  a 
remarkably  short  time.  At  the  age  of  twenty-five 
he  entered  the  Revue  Bleue,  at  twenty-six  the 
Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  and  after  Buloz  he  was 
made  Directeur-gerant. 

His  bitterest  experience  in  life  he  had  at  the 
end  of  his  brilliant  career,  when  he  was  refused 
the  Chaire  de  litterature  fra^aise,  at  the  College 
de  France,  and  when  his  name  was  ignored  at  the 
time  of  the  reorganization  of  the  Ecole  Normale 
Superieure,  where  he  had  formerly  been  a  pro- 
fessor. Finally,  about  two  years  ago,  he  had  the 
great  misfortune  to  lose  his  voice,  and  thus  was 
deprived  of  the  kind  of  activity  which  he  enjoyed 
most  of  all,  lecturing.  His  friends  have  already 
told  us  of  the  stoicism  with  which  he  bore  these 
trials. 

He  worked  until  the  end.  On  the  day  before 
his  death  he  was  still  reading  a  manuscript  for  the 
Revue  des  Deux  Mondes. 


Brunetiere  combined  admirably  the  two  chief 
requirements  of  the  modern  scholar.  His  in- 
formation on  all  subjects,  and  in  French  liter- 
ature in  particular,  was  immense.  But  he  never 
allowed  himself  to  be  absorbed  by  his  erudition. 
It  was  not  enough  for  him  to  know  ;  he  domi- 
nated his  subjects  and  passed  judgment  over  ideas 
and  men.  Possessed  with  a  dialectic  power  which 
at  times  reminded  one  of  Pascal  himself,  he  was 
too  superior  a  man  to  be  satisfied  with  the  ideal 
of  so  many  of  our  contemporaries,  knowledge  for 
the  sake  of  knowledge. 

He  was  one  of  the  most  active  minds  of  our 
generation.  He  never  allowed  an  occasion  to 
pass  without  breaking  a  lance  for  his  convictions 
and  his  ideals.  No  one  has  taken  up  and  treated 
with  more  vigor  the  principal  problems  of  our 
epoch,  and  by  his  straightforwardness  and  his 
eloquence  raised  so  many  passionate  discussions. 


February,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


57 


As  it  has  well  been  said,  one  might  make  up  a 
whole  library  with  works  of  the  polemics  inspired 
by  him.  How  little  he  was  a  dreamer,  although 
he  indulged  in  philosophical  speculation,  is  well 
seen  in  the  characteristic  and  courageous  way  in 
which  he  solved  the  question  of  his  credo  after 
he  had  been  openly  converted  to  Catholicism. 
Theology  and  metaphysics  were  not  in  his  line  of 
thought  ;  therefore  he  said  :  "  Ce  que  je  crois, 
allez  le  demander  a  Rome. ' ' 


It  must  be  admitted  that,  while  all  admired  his 
forceful  argumentation,  few  followed  him.  The 
contention  has  been  made  frequently  that  there 
was  a  contradiction  between  the  two  chief  prin- 
ciples of  his  philosophy,  namely,  evolutionism 
and  traditionalism.  This  objection  has  no  founda- 
tion. Evolution  does  not  always  mean  progress. 
A  nation  may  continue  to  "evolve"  even  after 
it  has  reached  the  climax  of  its  strength  and 
influence.  Then,  it  may  go  backward,  or  it  may 
maintain  itself  on  the  same  level  by  remaining 
true  to  the  traditions  that  made  its  greatness. 
According  to  Brunetiere,  France,  in  the  classical 
period  of  its  literary,  artistic  and  political  prestige, 
had  developed,  under  favorable  circumstances,  the 
genius,  the  originality  of  the  race.  Since  then, 
other  ideals  have  been  proposed  to  the  civilized 
world,  and  France  has  tried  to  imitate  others, 
while  it  would  have  been  more  advantageous  and 
glorious  to  follow  its  own  traditions.  France  was 
pervaded  with  the  English  spirit  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  with  the  German  spirit  during  and  after 
the  Revolution,  by  the  Scandinavian  and  the 
Russian  spirits  later,  and  by  an  altogether  cosmo- 
politan spirit  in  our  own  days.  In  all  these 
attempts  at  adaptation  France  has  lost  its  indi- 
viduality. By  cultivating  this  individuality,  it 
would  conquer  its  former  prestige  among  nations. 

In  this  belief  Brunetiere  was  probably  wrong. 
Modern  nations  seem  to  have  directed  their  as- 
pirations towards  ideals  very  different  from  those 
of  France  at  the  time  of  Louis  XIV  and  Bossuet ; 
they  would  bow  before  another  sort  of  prestige 
than  that  proposed  by  Brunetiere. 

But  was  Brunetiere  wrong  also  when  he  con- 
sidered that  the  modern  ideal  was  not  higher, 
although  it  came  after  the  other  ?  This  is  a  differ- 
ent question.  Many  would  agree  that  the  civiliza- 
tion of  Greece,  from  an  intellectual  standpoint,  was 


superior  to  that  of  the  Romans  ;  and  even  if  later 
the  Roman  ideal  prevailed  over  the  Greek,  we  need 
not  change  on  that  account,  our  ideas  as  to  the 
comparative  value  of  the  two. 

Brunetiere' s  mistake  seems  to  have  been,  after 
all,  that  he  held  up  to  his  countrymen  and  his 
contemporaries,  an  ideal  too  high  to  be  com- 
patible with  the  new  trend  of  civilization. 

May  many  of  us  be  found  guilty  of  the  same 
mistake  ! 

ALBERT  SCHINZ. 

Bi-yn  Maun-  College, 


Deutsches  Lieder  buck  fur  amerikanwche  Studenten. 
Texte  und  Melodieen,  nebst  erklarenden  und 
biographischen  Anmerkungen.  Herausgegeben 
im  Auftrage  der  Germanistischen  Gesellschaft 
der  Staats-Universitat  von  Wisconsin.  Boston  : 
D.  C.  Heath  &  Co.,  1906.  8vo.  vi  and  157  pp. 

The  educational  value  of  songs  for  linguistic 
purposes  has  not  been  fully  appreciated.  Songs 
are  more  easily  memorized  than  poems  without 
musical  setting  and  the  phrases  of  the  song  cling 
more  persistently  to  the  memory.  Accordingly  it 
was  a  wise  plan  of  Professor  Hohlfeld  and  his 
associates  to  prepare  a  collection  of  popular  Ger- 
man songs  for  use  in  high  school  and  college 
classes.  The  selection  of  ninety-five  pieces  was 
based  in  part  on  the  consensus  of  a  large  number 
of  teachers.  While  it  is  inevitable  that  one  who 
is  fond  of  German  songs  should  miss  some  especial 
favorites,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  no  one  will  object 
to  any  of  the  pieces  that  have  been  included. 

In  the  many  popular  collections  current  in  Ger- 
many drinking  songs  occupy  a  larger  space  than 
average  American  taste  would  approve  and  the 
proportion  and  nature  of  the  love  songs  is  not 
always  suited  to  the  character  of  co-educational 
institutions.  Although  on  this  ground  some  other- 
wise charming  songs,  such  as  " 's  giebt  kein 
schoner  Leben  als  Studentenleben, "  are  omitted, 
the  delicate  task  of  the  editors  has  been  judiciously 
performed.  By  a  hasty  classification  there  are  22 
love  songs,  11  songs  of  farewell,  14  patriotic 
songs,  national  or  local,  11  songs  of  various 
moods,  14  student  and  drinking  songs,  6  religious, 
7  wanderers',  4  soldiers',  2  hunters',  4  comic 


58 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  2. 


songs.  Twenty-two  songs  are  arranged  for  solo 
singing,  while  the  rest  are  composed  for  mixed 
quartette.  If  any  unfavorable  criticism  is  to  be 
passed  on  the  book,  it  is  in  connection  with  the 
'  key '  in  which  some  of  the  songs  are  pitched. 
Whether  composed  for  one  voice  or  four,  it  is  to 
be  borne  in  mind  that  the  mass  of  singers  will 
carry  the  melody  in  unison.  Accordingly  songs 
for  use  in  general  congregational  singing  should 
be  so  pitched  as  never  to  carry  the  melody  to 
high  G,  not  even  to  a  sustained  F.  A  few,  but 
only  a  few,  of  the  pieces  in  this  collection  will  be 
less  available  for  not  having  observed  this  limita- 
tion, unless  the  school  using  it  has  some  strong 
high  voices. 

The  book  will  be  a  decided  boon  to  German 
teachers  and  students  all  over  this  country  and 
will  surely  contribute  materially  to  spread  the 
knowledge  of  the  beautiful  German  songs  and 
thus  vitalize  and  inspire  the  work  of  instruction- 
It  is  offered  at  a  moderate  price,  though  well 
printed  and  worthily  bound.  Those  who  avail 
themselves  of  the  excellent  collection  will  have 
the  additional  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  they 
are  contributing  to  the  cause  of  Germanistic  edu- 
cation in  Wisconsin  through  the  Germanistische 
Gesellschaft  of  the  State  University,  to  which  the 
royalties  for  the  book  are  dedicated. 


W.  H.  CAERUTH. 


University  of  Kansas. 


Deutsches  Liederbuch  fur  amerikanuche  Studenten. 
Texte  und  Melodieen  nebst  erklarenden  und 
biographischen  Anmerkungen.  Herausgegeben 
im  Auftrage  der  Germanistischen  Gesellschaft 
der  Staats-Universitiit  von  Wisconsin.  Boston  : 
D.  C.  Heath  and  Co.,  1906.  8vo.,  vi  and 
157  pp. 

Whenever  I  spend  an  evening  in  one  of  the 
attractive  fraternity  houses  here,  and  see  the  fine 
piano  piled  high  with  pieces  of  sheet  music  the 
gaudy  colors  of  which  fairly  pain  the  sensitive  eye  ; 
when  I  hear  the  boys  sing  for  hours  at  a  time  such 
inspiring  sentiments  as:  "If  the  man  in  the 
moon  were  a  coon,  coon,  coon ;  "  "  On  yo'  way, 
babe,  on  yo'  way,  chase  yo'self  down  by  the  bay  ;" 


"  And  their  eyes  went  goo,  goo,  goo,"  and  others 
quite  as  uplifting  and  inspiring  as  these,  set  to 
music  fully  as  inane  as  the  words,  my  mind  goes 
back  to  student  days  in  Leipsic  and  to  the  student 
and  folk  songs  which  we  sang.  What  a  variety 
of  themes  they  touched,  from  the  pathos  of  the 
rustic  lovers'  farewell  to  the  roaring,  triumphant 
song  in  praise  of  the  victorious  Fatherland  ;  from 
the  stately  choral  with  its  religious  sentiment  to  the 
most  rollicking,  boisterous  drinking  song.  Some 
were  extremely  nonsensical,  far  more  so  than  our 
American  favorites,  but  it  was  a  witty  nonsense,  a 
"genialer  Bttdsinn"  and  the  mind  was  not  lulled 
into  dull  inanity  thereby. 

A  "rag-time  coon  song"  might  be  a  pleasing 
bit  of  variation  in  an  evening  devoted  to  music. 
Our  students,  however,  seem  to  have  nothing  else  ; 
they  waste  their  time  with  these  shallow  produc- 
tions, all  of  which  are  alike,  and  not  one  in  one 
hundred  of  which  possesses  any  originality,  any 
real  sentiment,  any  virility,  or  the  slightest  grain  of 
"genialer  Blodsinn."  It  seems  almost  as  if  our 
youth  had  no  "  echte  Jugendpoesie,"  no  appre- 
ciation of  "  echter  gefiihlvoller  Jugendgesang." 
This,  however,  I  do  not  believe  to  be  true.  If  our 
students  could  hear  good  songs  and  hear  them 
often  enough,  they  would  learn  to  appreciate  them, 
and  would  avoid  the  present  worthless  stuff  which 
steals  away  so  much  of  their  time.  Even  if  there 
is  no  great  inherent  impulse  towards  virile  and 
genuinely  pathetic  sentiments,  set  to  worthy  melo- 
dies, a  feeling  can  and  must  be  developed  from 
without.  If  our  students  can  hear  and  sing  good 
foreign  songs  and  learn  to  appreciate  them,  one 
of  the  most  important  steps  in  the  achievement  of 
a  real  culture  will  have  been  taken.  The  actual 
production  of  original,  genuinely  American  songs 
of  sterling  worth  will  follow  then  in  due  time  as  a 
matter  of  course. 

No  other  foreign  nation  has  so  many  splendid 
songs  especially  adapted  to  our  college  youth  as 
Germany,  and  those  who  aid  in  making  our 
students  familiar  with  these  German  songs,  with 
this  vitally  important  element  of  true  culture,  are 
deserving  of  the  heartiest  thanks.  An  important 
contribution  in  this  field  is  the  Deutsches  Lieder- 
buch, complied  by  the  "Germanistische  Gesell- 
schaft" of  the  University  of  Wisconsin,  and 
published  by  D.  C.  Heath  and  Co. 


February,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


59 


It  was  not  an  easy  task  which  the  committee 
imposed  upon  itself  in  undertaking  to  select  from 
the  hundreds  of  German  songs  those  most  charac- 
teristic of  the  different  phases  of  German  life  and 
at  the  same  time  most  worthy  of  assimilation  into 
our  own  ;  but  it  has  nevertheless  succeeded  in 
producing  a  book  admirably  adapted  to  the  needs 
of  American  students.  The  selection  of  songs  is 
most  excellent.  Those  who  have  partaken  of 
German  student  life  will  doubtless  miss  one  or  two 
old  favorites,  but  of  the  eight  hundred  odd 
Kommerslieder  in  Schauenburg,  only  a  limited 
number  could  be  considered  in  a  collection  of  a 
hundred  songs  which  contains,  as  it  properly 
should,  not  only  student  and  folk  songs,  but  also 
other  well  known  songs  of  a  different  character, 
such  as  Luther's  "  Ein'  feste  Burg"  or  the 
Christmas  songs:  "O  du  Selige"  and  "Stille 
Nacht. ' '  In  order  to  give  at  least  an  insight  into 
all  phases  of  German  music,  the  committee  has 
also  introduced  a  number  of  selections  intended  for 
solo  performance.  Here  there  is  a  greater  oppor- 
tunity for  difference  in  taste,  and  the  choice  has 
been  perhaps  less  felicitous  than  in  the  student  and 
folk  songs.  One  may  doubt,  for  example, 
whether  so  much  space  should  have  been  given  to 
the  somewhat  hackneyed  "Das  ist  im  Leben 
hasslich  eingerichtet. ' '  In  general,  however,  the 
committee  has  been  extremely  successful  in  carry- 
ing out  its  purpose  to  provide  a  book  which  should 
be  at  the  same  time  a  Kommersbuch  and  Volks- 
liederbuch,  and  which  should  portray  all  the 
varying  emotions  of  the  German  people  as 
expressed  in  song. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  committee  has 
changed  the  key  of  the  melodies  in  so  many  cases 
and  has  pitched  so  many  of  the  most  popular  ones 
so  high.  A  group  of  young  people,  such  as 
constitutes  the  membership  of  the  German  clubs, 
where  this  book  will  be  most  frequently  used,  has 
difficulty  in  reaching  F,  not  to  mention  F  sharp,  and 
when  it  is  confronted  with  G,  the  result  is  usually 
disastrous.  This  is  especially  true  in  clubs  com- 
posed entirely  of  men.  Nor  can  one  expect  to  find 
often  among  the  students  a  pianist  who  is  skillful 
enough  to  transpose  the  music  to  the  proper  key. 
Of  the  songs  intended  for  general  participation, 
thirteen  contain  this  high  G.  Here  are  included 
such  favorites  as  ' '  Die  Lorelei, "  "  Es  ist  bestimmt 


in  Gottes  Rat,"  "  Wir  hatten  gebauet,"  "Das 
zerbrochene  Ringlein, "  "  Der  Mai  ist  gekommen ' ' 
and  "Ergo  bibamus."  In  each  of  these  cases, 
Erk's  Lieder-Schatz  (Edition  Peters)  and  Fried- 
laender's  100  Commerslieder  (Edition  Peters) 
give  a  decidedly  lower  setting  to  the  same  melodies. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  that  in  a  new  edition  this  serious 
defect  may  be  remedied  by  setting  the  melodies 
in  a  lower  key.  In  some  cases  the  change  of 
key  and  the  new  harmonization  lias  given  quite  a 
different  character  to  the  song,  cf.  the  setting  of 
"Der  Kouig  in  Thule"  (p.  51).  Besides 
being  set  higher,  ' '  Der  Wirtin  Tochterlein ' '  is 
given  with  Silcher's  melody  for  the  even  stanzas 
and  with  a  slight  change  in  the  original  melody. 
This  is  also  unfortunate,  for  such  extremely  well 
known  songs  should  be  set  as  they  are  usually 
sung  in  Germany  ;  the  representative  and  not 
the  unusual  form  is  the  one  which  should  be 
given. 

A  compact  register  of  poets  and.  composers 
adds  value  to  the  book  by  giving  short  chrono- 
logical and  biographical  details.  Moreover,  the 
most  important  songs  are  provided  with  short 
explanatory  notes,  describing  their  origin  and  the 
customs  attending  their  use. 

In  external  appearance  also,  the  book  is  very 
pleasing.  While  not  too  clumsy  to  be  easily 
employed  as  a  text  for  class-room  use,  it  is  still  of 
sufficient  size  to  permit  the  use  of  large  clear  type 
in  words  and  music  so  that  it  will  be  fully  as  satis- 
factory at  the  piano  as  standard  sheet-music. 

Besides  its  worth  as  a  song  book  for  social 
gatherings  and  the  home,  the  Liederbuch  is,  as  the 
compilers  state  in  the  preface,  admirably  adapted 
for  class-room  work  as  an  introduction  to  German 
lyric  poetry. 

On  the  whole  the  committee  is  to  be  congratu- 
lated, upon  the  successful  outcome  of  its  labor  of 
love,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  book  will  find 
its  way  into  all  our  schools  and  colleges,  and  that 
its  use  will  create  a  feeling  among  the  youth  of 
our  land  for  that  which  is  good  in  music  and 
verse,  and  for  the  best  types  of  popular  song. 


PAUL  R.  POPE. 


Cornell  University. 


60 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  2. 


The  Romances  of  Chivalry  in  Italian  Verse.  Selec- 
tions. Edited  with  Introduction  and  Notes,  by 
J.  D.  M.  FORD,  Professor  of  Romance  Lan- 
guages in  Harvard  University,  and  MARY  H. 
FORD,  Instructor  in  the  High  School,  Danbury, 
Conn.  Henry  Holt  &  Co.  New  York,  1906. 
Pp.  xxxvii  -(-  657.  8vo. 

In  the  brief  Preface  to  this  serious  and  adequate 
presentation  of  a  most  important  as  well  as  brilliant 
literary  genre,  the  editors  modestly  hope  that  the 
work  may  be  the  means  of  prompting  students 
"to  acquaint  themselves  more  fully  with  the  works 
of  the  poets  to  whom  they  are  here  introduced." 
Inasmuch  as  almost  no  work  of  the  kind  exists  at 
all  for  English-speaking  students,  certainly  none 
that  either  in  quality  or  quantity  is  comparable 
with  the  present  volume,  it  is  hardly  venturing 
too  much  to  look  forward  with  some  degree  of 
confidence  to  the  fulfilment  of  the  hope  of  the 
editors.  Moreover,  two  important  objects  have 
constantly  been  kept  in  view  :  first,  that  of  pro- 
viding the  best  possible  reading  matter  of  the  kind 
for  students  in  schools  and  colleges  ;  and  second, 
and  of  still  greater  importance,  that  of  furnishing 
material  for  the  student  to  follow  up  and  investi- 
gate for  himself  one  of  the  very  interesting  and 
unique  movements  in  literature. 

All  this  is  certainly  well  worth  doing,  judging 
by  what  has  been  done  during  the  past  twenty-five 
years  on  the  particular  subject  itself  which  forms 
the  basis  of  the  romances  of  chivalry.  Since 
Francisque  Michel  published  in  1837  his  first 
edition  of  the  Oxford  manuscript  of  the  Chanson 
de  Roland,  at  least  eight  different  texts  of  the 
entire  poem,  edited  by  French  and  German  schol- 
ars, have  appeared.  Since  E.  J.  Delecluze  issued 
in  1845  the  first  modern  French  translation  of  the 
poem,  eighteen  French  versions  in  prose  and  verse, 
some  of  the  entire  poem,  others  more  or  less  com- 
plete, have  been  printed.  Of  the  Old-French 
Chanson  de  Roland  itself,  the  corner-stone  of  the 
wonderful  later  literary  inventions,  Theodor  Miil- 
ler  published  in  1878  what  may  be  considered  a 
standard  edition  (the  third)  of  the  celebrated 
Oxford  MS.  known  as  Digby  23.  This  is  said 
with  due  deference  to  the  scholarly  edition  of 
Edmund  Stengel,  the  first  volume  of  which  ap- 
peared in  1900.  L6on  Gautier  in  his  Bibliographic 


des  chansons  de  geste  (Paris,  1897)  gives  313 
numbered  titles  to  the  Roland  material.  Yet 
these  do  not  comprise  all,  by  any  means,  for  the 
student  is  referred  to  Seelmann's  Bibliographic  des 
altfranzosisehen  Rolandsliedes  (Heilbronn,  1888), 
which  down  to  1887  is  practically  as  complete  as 
human  effort  can  make  a  work  of  the  kind. 

The  object  of  the  luminous  Introduction  to  the 
Romances  of  Chivalry  is  to  trace  the  development 
of  the  Roland  material  from  the  early  French 
sources  just  touched  upon  down  through  to  the 
times  of  the  poets  of  whose  works  the  extracts  are 
given.  In  supplying  this  data,  the  very  best 
sources  of  information  have  been  drawn  upon, 
namely  :  Gaston  Paris,  P.  Rajna,  A.  Gaspary,  G. 
Carducci,  and  the  writers  who  treat  this  subject 
in  Grober's  Grundriss  der  romanischen  Philologie. 
Consequently  the  information  is  of  the  most  reliable 
kind. 

The  poems  from  which  extracts  are  given  are 
seven  in  number  following  each  other  in  chrono- 
logical order.  First  come  selections  from  the 
anonymous  poem  Orlando,  discovered  by  Rajna  in 
a  manuscript  of  the  Laurentian  Library  in  1866. 
The  poem  comprises  some  sixty  cantos  and  was 
probably  first  put  into  verse  about  1384,  or  at  any 
rate,  not  much  later.  Nineteen  stanzas  are  given, 
just  enough  to  give  an  idea  of  the  antiquity  of  the 
poem  in  style  and  language  as  compared  with  the 
extracts  from  the  poems  which  follow.  Second, 
comes  :  II  libra  volgar  intitulato  la  Spagna  (Venice 
edition  of  1557),  one  of  the  most  important  of 
the  many  poems  produced  towards  the  end  of 
the  fourteenth  century.  Its  authorship  is  usually 
attributed  to  Sostegno  di  Zanobi,  but,  as  the  editors 
point  out,  that  assumption  is  extremely  dubious. 
About  thirty-one  stanzas  are  given.  The  idea  in 
giving  specimens  from  these  two  old  poems,  which, 
compared  to  those  that  follow  are  comparatively 
unknown,  is  to  show  their  importance  in  the  later 
development  of  the  romances  of  chivalry  in  Italy. 
Third,  Pulci's  Morgante  (G.  Volpe  edition, 
Florence,  1900,  following  the  edition  of  1489). 
About  two  hundred  and  fifty  stanzas  have  been 
selected  from  among  twenty-eight  cantos,  giving 
quite  an  idea  of  the  nature  of  the  poem  as  a  whole. 
Fourth,  Bojardo's  Orlando  innamorato  (Sonzogno 
edition,  compared  with  that  of  A.  Panizzi,  Lon- 
don, 1830-31),  selections  from  various  cantos  of 
parts  one  and  two  of  the  poem,  comprising  in  all 


February,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


61 


about  one  hundred  and  sixty-eight  stanzas.  Fifth, 
Bojardo's  Orlando  innamorato,  rifatto  da  Fran- 
cesco Berni  (cf.  the  Milan  1867  edition),  which 
follows  appropriately  its  predecessor.  About  forty- 
eight  stanzas  are  given,  enough  to  enable  one  to 
contrast  Berni's  effort  with  that  of  Bojardo,  whose 
poem,  it  is  Gaspary's  opinion,  "  Berui  diluted." 
Sixth,  Ariosto' s  Orlando  furioso  (editions  of  P. 
Papini,  Florence;  1903,  H.  Romizi,  Milan,  1901, 
G.  Casella,  Florence,  1877)  followed  by  :  Seventh, 
Tasso's  Gerusalemme  liber ata  (cf.  Sansoni  edition, 
Florence,  1890).  Because  of  their  importance, 
there  can  be  hardly  any  question  in  regard  to  the 
propriety  of  giving  the  greater  part  of  the  space 
comprised  in  this  volume  of  nearly  seven  hundred 
pages  to  these  two  authors.  The  question  is  likely 
to  arise  to  which  to  assign  the  more  space.  The 
editors  have  allotted  224  pages  to  Ariosto,  about 
896  stanzas  ;  to  Tasso,  147  pages,  or  about  588 
stanzas.  In  the  writer's  opinion,  the  editors  have 
made  no  mistake  in  allotting  for  American  stu- 
dents the  larger  share  to  Ariosto.  His  spontaneity, 
fecundity  of  invention,  and  easy  style  make  him  a 
favorite  in  the  class-room.  Be  the  excellence  of 
the  Gerusalemme  liberata  what  it  may,  it  is,  indeed, 
very  great,  its  artificiality  compared  with  the  natu- 
ralness of  Ariosto' s  poem  produces  a  no  uncertain 
effect  in  forming  the  opinion  of  the  average  student 
as  to  which  of  the  two  poems  is  the  more  readable. 

The  Notes  which  follow  these  well-chosen  selec- 
tions from  the  Italian  poets  comprise  121  pages. 
Besides  elucidating  the  difficulties  met  with  in 
translating,  they  have  the  particular  merit  of 
emphasizing  the  human  side  of  the  poems  by 
bringing  out  what  most  has  interested  scholars 
with  regard  to  them.  Allusions  to  Scripture,  to 
Classical  and  modern  authors  abound  and  enable 
the  student  to  carry  out  successfully  the  purpose 
announced  by  the  editors  in  the  Preface. 

Last  of  all,  in  this  very  considerable  work  of 
intrinsic  merit  throughout,  comes  a  well-arranged 
and  quite  adequate  Bibliography  of  general  works 
and  of  special  works  covering  all  of  the  poems  of 
which  selections  are  given.  More  than  one  hun- 
dred works  are  mentioned,  in  itself  a  valuable 
contribution  to  the  entire  subject. 

In  giving  simply  a  notice  of  a  volume  that  of 
necessity  must  have  taken  a  great  amount  of  time 
and  labor  to  compile,  the  most  noticeable  factor  of 
all  should  not  be  allowed  to  remain  uncommented, 


that  is  the  amount  of  self-sacrifice  and  devotion  to 
the  subject  that  has  made  such  a  book^the  only 
one  of  its  kind  now  before  the  school  public — a 
reality.  Recent  statistics  show  that  there  are  only 
about  eight  colleges  in  the  United  States  and 
Canada  where  there  are  more  than  fifteen  students 
beginning  Italian.  The  total  number  of  students 
pursuing  the  subject  amounts  to  but  a  little  more 
than  600.  There  is  no  data  at  hand  regarding 
the  number  of  students  pursuing  Italian  in  second 
or  third  year  courses.  The  above  facts,  however, 
indicate  clearly  how  few  such  students  are.  Con- 
sequently, all  the  more  disinterested  and  admirable 
in  every  way  must  be  the  enterprise  of  both  editors 
and  publisher  that  have  made  possible  the  appear- 
ance of  so  valuable  a  work. 

J.  GEDDES,  JR. 

Boston  University. 


Selections  from  Standard  French  Authors.     By  O. 
G.  GUEELAC.     Boston,  Ginn  &  Company. 

The  idea  of  this  book  is  a  good  one.  Where  a 
French  class  in  college  can  devote  only  a  short 
time  to  the  language,  to  give  them  some  extracts 
from  the  great  writers  cannot  but  be  useful.  In 
the  present  instance,  however,  the  idea  has  not 
been  well  carried  out,  as  I  think  the  following  will 
show. 

In  the  first  place,  the  selection  of  authors  seems 
capricious.  It  is  hard  to  see  why,  in  making  se- 
lections from  a  limited  number  of  "standard" 
French  authors,  we  should  include  such  names  as 
Brueys  and  Palaprat  (of  whom  the  editor  himself 
says  that  they  are  almost  forgotten),  Boursault, 
Rivarol,  and  Vauvenargues,  and  omit  such  names 
as  About,  Dumas,  Lamartine,  de  Musset,  and 
Sand,  not  to  speak  of  Corueille  and  Racine. 

In  the  second  place,  the  selections  are  not 
representative.  From  Bernardin  de  Saint-Pierre 
we  have  a  little  anecdote  of  nineteen  lines  con- 
taining nothing  that  is  characteristic  of  Saint- 
Pierre.  Moliere  is  represented  by  an  extract 
from  Don  Juan,  one  of  his  less  important  plays 
and  the  extract  is,  moreover,  so  short  as  to  be 
almost  unintelligible,  breaking  off  as  it  does  in 
the  middle  of  a  scene. 

Some  of  the  details,  too,  need  revision.  For 
example  : 


62 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  2. 


6.  4.    en  trousse  cannot  mean  "in  the  saddle- 

y,"  but  "in  a  bundle." 

52.19.  Sergent  is  not  "sergeant."  The  mod- 
ern word  here  would  be  huissier,  which  may  be 
rendered  "constable." 

56.  18.  habit  does  not  mean  "coat,"  but 
"  suit,"  as  the  context  clearly  shows. 
.  60.  15.  chantre  is  defined  as  "chanter,"  a  word 
that  does  not  mean  anything  here.  It  should  be 
"clerk"  or  "precentor."  In  the  next  line  habit- 
veste  is  explained  as  being  ' '  a  garment,  half  coat, 
half  jacket,"  which  is  rather  confusing  ;  "jacket" 
or  "waist-coat,"  would  have  been  the  proper  defi- 
nition and  it  should  have  been  in  the  vocabulary, 
not  in  the  notes.  Note  6  on  this  page  also  is  worse 
than  useless.  ' '  II  £couta  de  toutes  ses  oreilles ' ' 
might  well  be  translated  literally,  but  to  say  ' '  he 
listened  with  intentness ' '  is  scarcely  English. 

70.4.  passa  condamnation  does  not  mean  "he 
didn't  press  his  point,"  but  "he  confessed  judg- 
ment, "  "he  acknowledged  his  error. ' ' 

77.  9.  Chaise  roulanie  is  not  a  "  rolling  chair, " 
but  a  kind  of  coach,  as  the  context  shows. 

88.  5.    bdbord  is   defined   by  "larboard"   in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  this  is  an  obsolete  word, 
sailors  always  using   "port"  instead. 

89.  5.    The  note  on  "Sheerness"  should  have 
been  on  page  87,  where  the  word  first  occurs. 

89.  31.  passerelle  is  not  "gangway,"  but 
"bridge." 

95.  1.  According  to  this  book  "un  petit  vin" 
must  mean  "a  little  wine,"  which  is  altogether 
wrong.  At  line  15  on  the  same  page,  tiede  does 
not  mean  "cool,"  but  "warm." 

98.  23.  Luneville is  said  to  be  "a little  town, ' ' 
although  it  has  nearly  twenty-five  thousand  in- 
habitants. 

102.  12.  ne  plaignant  pas  ma  peine  is  said  to 
mean  ' '  not  regretting  my  work. ' '  It  really  means 
' '  not  sparing  my  work, "  "  working  very  hard. ' ' 

113.  24.  &?  in  "bachelier  es  lettres"  should 
have  been  explained. 

129.  2.  aller  sur  les  brisees  is  defined  as  "to 
follow  in  the  footsteps,"  whereas  it  really  means 
"to  enter  into  competition  with,"  "to  poach  on 
another's  preserves." 

143.  2.  Boursault  is  spoken  of  as  the  author 
of  the  "Mercure  galant  and  two  or  three  other 
comedies, ' '  as  though  the  ' '  Mercure  galant ' '  was 
the  name  of  a  comedy. 


148.  7.    un  conte  a  dormir  debout  is  said  to  be 
"a  tale  to  send  one  to  sleep,"  which  makes  no 
sense  here.     According  to  Littre,  this  means   "a 
nonsensical  or  absurd  story,"  and  the  whole  line, 
as  shown  by  the  context,  means  "to  impose  on." 

149.  4.     Argent   comptant,    according    to   the 
vocabulary,  must  mean  "  counting  money, "  which 
is  nonsense  here. 

O.  B.  SUPER. 
Dickinson  College. 


CORRESPONDENCE. 

HENEYSON,  Testament  of  Cresseld  8-14. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes : 
SIRS  :— Skeat  reads  (Chaucer,  Works  1.  326)  : 

Yit  nevertheles,  within  myn  orature 

I  stude,  quhen  Tytan  had  his  beruis  bricht 

Withdrawin  doun  and  sylit  under  cure  ; 

And  fair  Venus,  the  bewty  of  the  nicht, 

Uprais,  and  set  unto  the  west  full  richt 

Hir  goldin  face,  in  oppositioun 

Of  god  Phebus  direct  discending  doun. 

This  is  one  of  those  astonishing  astronomical 
situations  to  which  novelists  sometimes  treat  us. 
It  is  well  known  that  the  elongation  of  Venus  is 
never  more  than  47°  ;  yet  here  we  have  Venus 
rising  as  the  sun  has  just  set.  Skeat  seems  to 
be  innocent  of  wonder  at  this  phenomenon,  for  he 
comments  on  line  12  :  '  unto,  i.  e.  over  against. 
The  planet  Venus,  rising  in  the  east,  set  her  face 
over  against  the  west,  where  the  sun  had  set. ' 


ALBERT  S.  COOK. 


Yale  University. 


CYNEWULF'S  Chrust,  11.  173b-176a. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — These  lines  contain  two  sentences  the 
meaning  and  significance  of  which  have  caused 
much  discussion,  but  which  may  be  made  clear 
by  a  slight  textual  emendation  and  redistribution 
of  parts  in  the  dialogue.  I  follow  Thorpe  and 
Cook  in  their  assignment  of  parts,  save  that  11. 
173b-175a,  I  would  assign  to  Mary,  changing 
mlnre  to  ftlnre.  This  passage  is  manifestly  inap- 
propriate as  coming  from  Joseph,  whose  whole 


February,  1907]. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


63 


spirit  throughout  this  passage  is  one  of  despair. 
Even  Whitman's  translation:  "God  alone  can 
easily  heal  the  sorrow  of  my  heart"  (in  which 
he  supplies  the  alone),  helps  but  little.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  would  be  a  most  natural  remark 
for  the  holy  Mary  to  interrupt  her  husband  with. 
Moreover  by  assigning  it  to  Mary  the  difficulty 
about  "  Eala  fffimne  geong  "  (1.  175b)  is  removed. 
Commentators  have  always  objected  to  this  ex- 
clamation at  the  close  of  the  speech.  Under 
the  suggested  arrangement  it  becomes  merely  an 
exclamation  of  despair,  mingled  perhaps  with 
reproach  to  his  supposedly  erring  wife,  for  calling 
on  God,  whose  laws  she  has  broken.  She,  not 
understanding  what  this  sorrow,  which  God  can- 
not comfort,  may  be,  proceeds  :  "Why  mournest 
thou?"  etc. 

SAMUEL  B.  HEMINGWAY. 

Yale  University. 


' '  THE  WIDDOWES  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  GLENNE.  ' ' 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIES  : — In  the  Shepheards  Calender,  '  April ' 
(1.  26),  Hobbinol  is  made  to  describe  "  fayre 
Rosalind"  as  "the  Widdowes  daughter  of  the 
glenne."  "  E.  K."  glosses  the  word  "glenne" 
as  meaning  ' '  a  country  Hamlet  or  borough  ' ' ; 
and  proceeds  to  say  that  the  description  of  Rosa- 
lind's station  in  life  is  purely  poetical,  that  really 
"shee  is  a  Gentlewoman  of  no  meane  house," 
and  deserves  to  be  "  commended  "  no  less  than, 
among  others,  ' '  Lauretta,  the  divine  Petrarches 
Goddesse. ' ' 

According  to  the  Oxford  Dictionary,  the  word 
' '  glenne  ' '  is  here  used  for  the  first  known  time 
in  English  literature,  although  previously  current 
in  Scotch  and  Irish.  It  occurs  later  in  the  Faerie 
Queene  (in,  vii,  6)  as  "glen,"  and  in  the  View 
of  the  Present  State  of  Ireland  (Globe  ed.,  p.  615, 
col.  1)  as  "glinne,"  in  both  places  having  the 
right  meaning  of  "a  wild  valley."  In  1579, 
"E.  K."  certainly  misunderstood  the  new  word  : 
did  Spenser  himself,  who  apparently  imported  it, 
also  misunderstand  it  ? 

There  are  reasons  for  believing  that  Spenser  had 
a  share  iu  the  literary  apparatus  of  the  Calender,1 

1  Cf.  my  article  ' '  Spenser  and  '  E.  K.'  ",  in  Mod.  Lang. 
Notes,  XV,  p.  332  (June,  1900). 


even  if  we  do  not  go  the  length  of  identifying 
"E.  K."  with  Spenser  himself.  Now  if,  as 
seems  altogether  likely,  Spenser  was  celebrating 
merely  "poetically,"  under  the  amorous  conven- 
tions of  the  time  and  the  genre,  ' '  a  Gentlewoman 
of  no  meane  house,"  he  might  well  gloss — or  have 
"  E.  K. "  gloss — a  line  that  appeared  to  proclaim 
her  seeming-opposite  estate, — incidentally  also 
taking  the  opportunity  to  pay  her  further  pretty 
compliments. 

Moreover,  there  appears  to  be  a  precise  prece- 
dent for  Spenser's  "daughter  of  the  glenne,"  — 
in  the  sense  of  "  country  hamlet  or  borough,— 
as  an  appropriate  fiction  to  "  coloure  and  con- 
cele"  his  high-born  'poetical'  mistress.  In 
Sonnet  iv,  in  vita  di  M.  Laura,  the  "divine 
Petrarch  ' '  himself  so  describes  his  ' '  Goddesse ' ' : 

Ed  or  di  picciol  borgo  un  Sol  n'ha  dato 
Tal,  che  Natura  e'l  luogo  si  ringrazia 
Onde  si  bella  donna  al  mondo  nacque. 

Whether  by  coincidence  or  not,  "  E.  K. '  s " 
"borough"  exactly  renders  Petrarch' s  "borgo." 
In  so  far,  the  identification  of  Rosalind  with  a 
"hamlet  or  borough,"  agrees  with  Spenser's 
statement  in  '  January '  (11.  49-52)  : 

A  thousand  sithes  I  curse  that  carefull  hower 
Wherein  I  longd  the  neighbour  Imime  to  see, 

And  eke  tenne  thousand  sithes  I  blesse  the  stoure 
Wherein  I  sawe  so  fayre  a  sight  as  shee.  .   .  . 

This  sentiment  itself,  stereotyped  by  many  imita- 
tors, harks  back  ultimately  again  to  Petrarch's 
Sonnet  xxxix,  in  vita  di  M.  L., — "Benedetto 
sia'l  giorno  e'l  mese  e  1'anno." 


JEFFERSON  B.  FLETCHER. 


Columbia  University. 


AN  ARCHAISM  IN  The  Ancient  Mariner. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — It  used  to  be  supposed  that  Coleridge, 
in  using  uprist  as  a  preterite  (Anc.  Mar.  98), 
was  guilty  of  a  blunder  in  word-coinage.  This 
view  was  expressed  by  C.  P.  Mason  in  The 
Athenaeum  for  June  30,  1883.  As  Mr.  Hutch- 
inson  has  indicated,  however  (in  his  edition  of 
the  fyrical  Ballads,  etc.,  London,  1898,  pp. 
213,  214),  Coleridge  was  indebted  for  this  and 
several  other  archaic  words  to  Chaucer,  who  uses 
both  the  noun  uprist  (once,  C.  T.  A  1051  ;  the 
metrical  stress  falls  on  -ride)  and  the  verb  (3d 


64 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[  Vol.  xxii,  No.  2. 


sing,  pres.,  contracted  from  uprisetli).  The 
question  still  remains,  was  Coleridge  wrong  in 
using  uprist  as  a  preterite,  and  what  led  him  to 
do  this  ? 

Chaucer  uses  the  verb  form  uprist  at  least  five 
times.  In  L.  G.  W.  1188,  G  T.  A  3688,  Compl, 
of  Mars  4,  T.  and  C.  iv.  1443,  it  occurs  with  a 
context  of  present  tenses  and  is  unmistakably 
present ;  cp.  also  rist  up,  C.  T.  B  864,  L.  G.  W. 
2680,  2687.  But  in  the  fifth  instance  (G  T. 
A  4249),  it  is  found  with  a  context  of  past  tenses 
(cp.  also  rist  up  with  a  similar  context  in  G  T. 
A  4193,  L.  G.  W.  810,  887,  2208,  T.  and  C.  ii. 
812,  iv.  232,  1163)  ;  and  while  it  may  be  re- 
garded as  a  historical  present,  obviously  Coleridge 
would  have  some  ground  for  taking  it  as  a  pre- 
terite. Cp.  the  pret.  wiste  and  the  common  late 
M.  E.  transformation  of  gewis  into  I  wis  (I wist, 
Anc.  Mar.  152,  153).  Such  a  rime  as  this  in 
L.  G.  W.  2208, 

And  up  she  rist,  and  kiste,  in  al  her  care, 
The  steppes  of  his  feet 

would  also  strengthen  Coleridge's  supposition  that 
rist  was  a  preterite.  Cp.  rysed,  3d  sing,  with  a 
context  of  pret.  tenses,  Cleanness  1778  ;  ryse%  up, 
with  a  similar  context,  Pearl  191  (the  e  must  be 
syncopated). 

One  other  remark.  Mr.  Hutchinson  observes  : 
"These  loan-words  are  interesting  if  only  as 
showing  what  parts  of  Chaucer  had  been  studied 
by  Coleridge  before  1798.  The  Legend  of  Dido 
(Legend  of  Good  Women)  furnished  uprist,"  etc. 
From  the  above  it  will  appear  that  so  far  as  uprist 
is  concerned  this  inference  is  unwarranted. 


Cornell  University. 


CLARK  S.  NORTHUP. 


MUMMIA  IN  Pure  has  his  Pilgrimage. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — In  connection  with  Professor  Cook's 
interesting  note  on  mummia  (Mod.  Lang.  Notes, 
December,  1906),  the  following  passages  in  Pur- 
chas  his  Pilgrimage  might  be  recorded.  Unfor- 
tunately, I  can  not  cite  the  earliest  (1613)  edition. 

'  They  travelled  five  dayes  and  nights  through 
the  sandie  Sea,  which  is  a  great  plaine  Cham- 
paine,  full  of  a  small  white  sand  like  meale  : 
where  if,  by  some  disaster,  the  winde  blow  from 
the  South,  they  are  all  dead  men.  .  .  .  Hee  sup- 
posed that  Mummia  was  made  of  such  as  the  sands 
had  surprised  and  buried  quicke  :  but  the  truer 
Mummia  is  made  of  embalmed  bodies  of  men,  as 


they  use  to  doe  in  Egypt,  and  other  places.  For 
I  have  read,  not  onely  of  Women,  but  Infants 
also,  (which  were  not  likely  to  take  such  dan- 
gerous journeyes)  whose  bodies  have  beene  thus 
used  to  Mummia.'  Purchas  hig  Pilgrimage,  3  ed., 
1617,  p.  258—9,  in  a  condensed  account  of  the 
journey  of  'Ludovieus  Vertomannus,  or  Barthema 
(as  Ramusius  nameth  him)  .  .  .  through  all  this 
threefold  Arabia.'  By  'I  have  read'  Purchas 
seems  to  refer  chiefly  to  Julius  Scaliger. 

'  For  they  would  not  interre  their  dead  bodies, 
because  of  the  wormes  ;  nor  burn  them,  because 
they  esteemed  Fire,  a  living  creature,  which 
feeding  thereon,  must  together  with  it  perish. 
They  therefore  with  Nitre  and  Cedar,  or  with 
compositions  of  Myrrhe,  Cassia,  and  other  odours 
thus  preserve  them.  .  .  .  Some  also  report,  That 
the  poorer  sort  used  hereunto  the  slimie  Bitumen 
of  the  Dead  Sea,  which  had  preserved  an  infinite 
number  of  Carcasses  in  a  dreadfull  Cave  (not  farre 
from  these  Pyrainides)  yet  to  be  scene  with  their 
flesh  and  members  whole,  after  so  many  thousand 
yeares,  and  some  with  their  haire  and  teeth  :  of 
these  is  the  true  Mummia. '  Of  Egypt,  etc. ,  Pil- 
grimage, p.  716. 

"...  the  Ethiopians  give  great  respect  to  their 
Physicians,  which  are  onely  of  their  Gentry,  and 
that  not  all  that  will,  but  onely  such  as  certaine  Offi- 
cers shall  chuse,  of  every  Citie  to  be  sent  to  their 
gcnerall  Universities  (of  which  there  are  seven  in 
Ethiopia)  there  to  be  taught  naturall  Philosophie 
(Logicke,  and  other  arts  they  know  not)  together 
with  Phisicke,  and  the  Arts  of  the  Apothecary 
and  Chirurgian.  .  .  .  They  are  great  Herbarists. 
They  make  Mummia  otherwise  then  in  other 
parts,  where  it  is  either  made  out  of  bodies  buried 
in  the  Sands,  or  taken  out  of  ancient  Sepulchres, 
where  they  had  beene  layd,  being  imbalmed  with 
Spices  :  For  they  take  a  Captive  Moore,  of  the 
best  complexion  ;  and  after  long  dieting  and 
medicining  of  him,  cut  off"  his  head  in  his  sleepe, 
and  gashing  his  bodie  full  of  wounds,  put  therein 
all  the  best  Spices,  and  then  wrap  him  up  in  Hay, 
being  before  covered  with  a  Seare-cloth  ;  after 
which  they  burie  him  in  a  moist  place,  covering 
the  bodie  with  earth.  Five  dayes  being  passed, 
they  take  him  up  againe,  and  removing  the  Seare- 
cloth  and  Hay,  hang  him  up  in  the  Sunne, 
whereby  the  body  resolveth  and  droppeth  a  sub- 
stance like  pure  Balme,  which  liquor  is  of  great 
price  :  The  fragrant  sent  is  such,  while  it  hangeth 
in  the  Sunne,  that  it  may  be  smelt  (he  saith)  a 
league  off.'  Pilgrimage,  p.  849.  'He  saith '  = 
'  Frier  Luys. ' 


Cornell  University. 


LANE  COOPER. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES 


VOL.  XXII. 


BALTIMORE,    MARCH,    1907. 


No.  3. 


BROWNING'S  DRAMAS. 
I. 

The  word  drama  means  action.  The  play, 
according  to  Aristotle,  is  an  imitation  of  action 
presented  artificially  upon  the  stage  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  an  audience.  It  must  consist  of  action, 
then,  which  will  rouse  the  interest  and  hold  the 
attention  of  the  onlookers  for  a  given  length  of 
time.  It  is  the  presence  of  an  audience  which 
has  forced  the  unities  upon  the  drama.  The 
lesser  unities  of  time  and  place  are  a  natural  out- 
growth of  conditions  ;  any  variation  from  them 
(though  required  often  by  the  all-important  unity 
of  action)  puts  more  or  less  of  a  burden  on  the 
ingenuity  of  the  playwright  and  the  imagination 
of  the  playgoer.  The  unity  of  action — rise,  crisis, 
fall — is  even  more  vitally  connected  with  the  psy- 
chology of  the  audience.  Thus,  since  the  interest 
of  the  spectator  might  flag,  the  interest  deepens  ; 
the  plot  "rises  "  to  hold  his  attention  ;  and  when 
the  crisis  is  reached  his  mind  has  become  so  fixed 
upon  the  human  interest,  so  complete  has  become 
his  identification  with  the  hero,  that  he  joys  and 
sorrows  with  him,  shares  in  his  intensest  life.  In 
the  "rise,"  therefore,  we  are  chiefly  concerned 
with  "  What  is  going  to  happen?  "  :  in  the  fall, 
with  how  these  happenings  affect  the  main  char- 
acters. Thus  we  pass  in  imagination  from  an 
onlooker  at  events  to  a  participator  in  the  inward 
life  of  the  actors.  Through  the  deeds  we  have 
come  to  know  the  doers  of  them.  But,  just  as 
our  acquaintance  with  the  man  begins  with  the 
first  page  of  the  play — or  the  rise  of  the  curtain — 
and  gives  a  distinct  character  interest  to  the 
"rise,"  so  our  interest  in  the  man's  fate  gives  a 
"plot"  interest  to  the  end.  Each  interest  is 
always  present  ;  but  first  one  and  then  the  other 
is  in  the  ascendant.  In  the  main,  the  first  half  of 
the  play  appeals  to  the  curiosity,  which  is  Intel-  • 
lectual  ;  and  the  other  half  to  the  sympathy, 
which  is  emotional.  Each  play  contains  both 
elements  ;  but  in  comedy  the  stress  is  laid  through- 


out upon  the  former  element ;  while  in  tragedy 
the  latter  dominates. 

The  definition  of  drama  as  ' '  Action  humanly 
considered, ' '  seems  to  contain  the  gist  of  the  whole 
matter  ;  it  is  one  in  which  all  critics  have  agreed. 
But  as  soon  as  the  pronouncements  become  more 
elaborate,  we  find  the  critics  dividing  into  two 
schools  ;  according  to  the  predominance  they  give 
to  plot  or  character,  and  the  right  of  way  they 
claim  for  each.  Thus  one  critic  defines  drama  as  : 
"-A  course  of  connected  acts  involving  motive, 
procedure,  purpose,  and  by  a  sequence  of  events 
leading  up  to  a  catastrophe."  While  Stevenson 
counters  in  a  decided  :  "  It  is  sometimes  supposed 
that  the  drama  consists  of  incident.  It  consists  of 
passion  (which  gives  the  actor  his  opportunity), 
and  the  passion  must  increase  progressively  to 
carry  the  audience  with  him  to  a  higher  pitch  of 
interest  and  emotion."  Thus,  in  the  opinion  of 
one,  the  deed  should  be  presented  objectively,  and 
the  inner  life  be  used  only  to  show  the  significance 
of  it  ;  while  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  other, 
the  deed  is  presented  not  for  its  own  sake,  but 
because  only  so  can  one  find  a  raison  d'etre  for 
the  passion  of  the  man. 

The  two  points  are  by  no  means  irreconcilable, 
practically  ;  for,  though  the  plot  interest  be  con- 
sidered the  most  important,  yet  the  question 
"What  made  it  happen?"  involves,  by  the 
critics'  own  showing,  "  motive,  procedure,  pur- 
pose ; ' '  while  if  the  passion  of  the  man  be  the 
playwright's  business,  yet  the  question  "What 
made  him  feel  so?"  brings  the  playwright  una- 
voidably to  the  consideration  of  those  events  which 
produced  this  state  of  mind,  and  to  those  acts  in 
which,  to  some  extent  at  least,  they  find  expres- 
sion. Practically,  the  two  often  coincide  in  a 
single  play.  Thus  a  great  dramatist  may  present 
a  deed,  or  series  of  deeds,  so  significant  of  the 
doer's  nature  that  it  might  be  said  to  interpret  it ; 
and  at  the  same  time  so  transforming  to  the  nature 
of  the  doer  that  the  act  would  mould  him  more 
completely  to  its  nature  ;  thu-  at  once  presenting 
and  determining  character  ;  while,  on  the  other 


66 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[  Vol.  xxii,  No.  3. 


hand,  the  deed  has  been  plainly  an  outgrowth 
from  the  circumstances  of  his  outer  life,  and  has 
such  positive  results  in  the  actual  world,  both  in 
its  bearings  on  the  lives  of  men  and  its  influence 
on  their  minds  and  hearts,  that  it  is  decisive  of 
that  course  of  events  which  we  call  plot.  The 
interaction  of  the  elements — each  on  the  other — 
gives  us  that  subtle  blending  of  circumstances  and 
character  which  we  call  Fate.  It  is  the  binding 
force  of  circumstance,  once  a  course  of  action  is 
chosen  ;  and  the  cumulative  effect  on  character 
of  a  series  of  choices  ; — these  are  the  two  things 
which  drive  the  man  from  the  climax  to  the 
catastrophe. 

In  Anthony  and  Cleopatra,  it  is  impossible  to 
separate  the  character  of  Anthony  from  his  career. 
We  see  his  undisciplined  nature  in  his  ungoverned 
passion  for  Cleopatra  ;  we  see  too  how  this  passion 
unmoors  him  from  the  duties  of  his  position.  This 
reckless  abandon  of  his  duties  as  husband,  states- 
man, and  ' '  triple  pillar  of  the  world, ' '  estranges 
Caesar  ;  and  though  Actium  might  be  called  the 
"  plot  result  "  merely  of  these  forces,  yet  the  out- 
ward manifestation  of  failure  has  a  distinctly  dis- 
integrating effect  on  his  character. 

In  Macbeth  the  temptation  comes  from  without 
as  well  as  within.  Macbeth  is  at  once  opportunist 
and  villain.  He  is  not  at  first  merely  a  sinful 
man,  acting  out  his  evil  nature  ;  but  an  imperfect 
mortal,  strongly  tempted  by  opportunity,  who 
yields,  and  is  dragged  down  to  spiritual  degra- 
dation and  worldly  defeat.  The  murder  of  Dun- 
can not  only  makes  Macbeth,  by  force  of  crime 
enacted,  a  murderer  capable  of  far  worse  atroci- 
ties ;  but  actually  forces  him  into  them  by  need 
of  concealment,  and  by  the  desire  to  keep  what 
he  has  gained.  Thus  human  life  and  human 
nature  lie  beneath  the  presentment  of  action. 
The  deed  is  at  once  the  crux  of  plot  and  char- 
acter ;  it  presents  and  determines  both.  It  is 
when  we  consider  the  deed  as  representative  that 
we  have  the  unity  of  plot  and  character  at  once 
preserved,  and  the  whole  problem  of  stage  pre- 
sentation simplified  :  nullify  the  significance  of 
the  deed — as  Browning  does — and  the  whole  art 
structure  is  destroyed,  and  a  new  arrangement, 
elaborate,  complex,  must  be  built  up. 

When  we  come  to  consider  Browning  in  the 
light  of  these  formulae — we  find  that  it  is  just 


here — in  his  attitude  toward  the  deed — that  he 
parts  company  with  the  other  great  dramatists. 
As  a  psychologist  he  is  concerned  primarily  with 
the  mind  and  heart  of  man  ;  and  it  would  seem, 
therefore,  that  in  him  character  interest  would 
predominate  over  plot.  But  hi  him  there  can  be 
no  such  fortunate  blending  as  we  have  noted  ; 
the  question  ' '  What  made  him  feel  so  ?  "  leads 
him  into  a  consideration  of  the  subjective  state  of 
man.  The  more  this  is  studied  the  more  complex 
and  subtle  it  becomes,  until  it  becomes  evident  to 
the  psychologist  that  events — even  the  acts  of  a  life 
— are  inadequate  to  express  it.  He  aims,  there- 
fore, not  to  show  character  by  acts,  but  so  to 
present  the  character  that  through  our  knowledge 
of  it  we  may  interpret  rightly  the  act  which  in 
itself  would  be  but  an  imperfect  expression  of  the 
man. 

How  would  it  be  possible,  for  instance,  to  rightly 
interpret  the  murder  of  the  Praefect,  in  The 
Return  of  the  Druses,  had  Browning  not  pre- 
viously made  known  to  us  Anael's  struggle 
between  faith  and  doubt  ;  the  confusion  which 
existed  in  her  mind  between  her  faith  in  Djabal 
as  God,  and  love  for  him  as  man,  complicated 
by  her  loyalty  to  him  as  Leader  of  the  people  ? 
Woman,  worshipper,  and  patriot  struggled  within 
her  until,  unable  to  disentangle  the  complexity  of 
her  feelings,  she  forces  herself  to  a  great  objective 
test.  The  act  is  an  effort  to  pass  from  uncertainty 
to  certainty  ;  to  prove  her  loyalty,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  kill  her  doubt.  The  motives  which  spur 
her  on  bear  no  relation  to  the  horrible  deed  :  for 
horrible  it  is,  aesthetically  if  not  morally.  The 
subjective  state  could  easily  have  found,  we  fancy, 
other  and  truer  expression  in  entirely  different 
acts.  A  comparison  between  the  relation  of  Lady 
Macbeth  to  the  murder  of  Duncan,  and  that  of 
Anael  to  the  murder  of  the  Praefect,  is  very 
illuminating  as  to  the  relative  value  that  the  two 
dramatists  put  upon  the  deed  as  an  interpreter  of 
character. 

It  is  just  here,  in  his  conception  of  the  deed, 
that  Browning,  as  we  began  by  saying,  parts 
company  with  other  dramatists  ;  indeed,  with  the 
accepted  form  of  drama  itself.  We  have  seen 
that  when  the  deed  is  considered  representative 
the  unities  of  plot  and  character  are  preserved, 
and  the  whole  problem  of  presentation  simplified. 


March,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


67 


'  The  drama  is  in  the  deed  poised  upon  the  point 
of  interaction  between  the  objective  and  subjective 
worlds."  Nullify  the  significance  of  the  deed — 
as  Browning  does — and  we  destroy  instantly  the 
fitness  of  the  old  art  form  ;  and  a  new  organiza- 
tion— elaborate,  complex — must  be  built  up  within 
the  old  form.  Thus,  since  the  deed  is  not  repre- 
sentative, one  cannot  get  to  man  through  the  act, 
but  must  know  the  doer  before  one  can  understand 
the  deed.  This  leads  to  a  more  or  less  complete 
interchange  of  the  position  which  the  plot  and 
character  interest  have  been  accustomed  to  hold. 
Thus  in  Strafford,  the  first  half  of  the  play  is 
taken  up  with  the  subjective  life  of  Strafford,  the 
psychology  of  his  choice  between  "  The  People  or 
the  King  ?  and  that  King,  Charles  ! "  ;  and  the 
last  half  in  showing  the  results  of  that  choice  in 
actual  events.  In  the  Return  of  the  Druses  we  are 
first  absorbed  in  understanding — getting  at — the 
psychology  of  Anael  and  Djabal ;  at  the  end,  in 
knowing  what  they  will  do.  Thus,  instead  of 
learning  to  know  a  man  through  his  acts — as  in 
the  majority  of  plays — we  are  first  required  to 
enter  the  inner  life  of  the  man  to  know  him  ;  and 
then,  in  the  last  half  of  the  play,  our  interest 
may  honestly  be  centred  in  what  happens  to  him, 
for  only  then  can  we  know  how  it  affects  him,  or 
what  he  will  do  in  an  emergency,  for  only  so  are 
we  capable  of  interpreting  aright  his  acts.  Thus 
it  is  we  often  find  in  Browning  that  the  moments 
of  our  most  complete  identification  with  the  char- 
acter fall  somewhere  about  the  centre  of  the 
drama,  where  the  plot  crisis  usually  falls.  In 
Strafford,  it  is  at  the  end  of  the  second  act ;  in 
Luria,  at  the  end  of  the  third — (though  in  both 
instances  this  might  be  disputed) ;  while  the  end 
of  the  play  gives  us  not  infrequently  a  great 
situation,  or  climax,  answering  to  the  crisis  of  the 
plot — which  usually  comes  in  the  older  order  of 
things  in  the  heart  of  the  play.  It  is,  of  course, 
a  psychological  crisis,  in  which  our  interest  lies 
hi  what  the  man  will  think,  and  which  derives  its 
significance,  its  special  thrill,  from  our  conscious- 
ness of  his  subjective  state — but  still  a  situation — 
in  which  the  elements  of  surprise  and  uncertainty 
are  not  unlike  those  we  see  frequently  in  comedy, 
deepened  by  the  gravity  of  the  issue  into  the  tone 
of  tragedy. 

This  interchange  complicates,  too,  the  business 
of  the  drama.     Although  the  business  of  Brown- 


ing's first  act  is  to  take  us  straight  to  the  heart  of 
the  man,  and  let  him  reveal  himself, — yet  there 
must  be  a  certain  amount  of  setting  given,  for  the 
men  cannot  float  loosely  in  chronology  and  space. 
Now  these  details  of  time  and  place  fit  far  less 
easily  into  the  presentation  of  character  than  into 
the  development  of  plot.  They  are  frequently 
slurred  over,  condensed  into  some  chance  phrase 
of  the  speaker  who  is  pouring  out  his  soul  to  us. 
We  must  catch  at  the  situation  anyhow  ;  and  this 
is  far  less  easy  a  task  than  the  old  way  of  getting 
acquainted  with  the  man  in  the  unfolding  of  the 
plot.  Again,  however  much  Browning  underrates 
the  interpretative  power  of  the  deed,  the  character 
must  as  a  matter  of  fact  be  doing  something  all  the 
time  he  is  being  presented,  or  is  revealing  himself 
to  us  ;  while  in  leading  up  to  the  situation  at  the 
end — which  is  not  only  a  supreme  psychological 
moment,  but  is  also  a  plot  crisis — some  sort  of 
sequence  in  the  course  of  events  must  be  pre- 
served. This  leads  to  a  new  complexity  of  struc- 
ture. First,  as  an  excuse  for  the  ' '  passion  ' '  of 
the  character  ;  then,  to  develop  the  situation  in 
which  he  finds  himself,  there  is  built  up  an  objec- 
tive drama — forming  a  sort  of  overplot — more  or 
less  closely  related  to  the  main  interests.  It 
touches  them,  now  here,  now  there  ;  only  cer- 
tainly in  the  end  of  the  play,  where  the  supreme 
psychological  moment,  the  crisis  of  his  life,  and 
the  decisive  epoch  in  the  course  of  events,  all 
coincide.  In  the  main,  it  is  just  a  shell  of 
circumstance  under  cover  of  which  the  real  drama 
is  in  the  progress  before  mentioned.  This  inter- 
change of  the  usual  relation  of  plot  and  character 
interest,  and  the  readjustment  necessary  to  it, 
gives  the  clew  to  the  complexities  of  Browning's 
structure. 

What  Browning  loses  in  dramatic  clearness  by 
this  view  of  the  deed,  — by  the  complexity  of  struc- 
ture and  the  subversion  of  the  unities  into  which 
it  leads  him,— he  gains  in  psychological  interest. 
And  Browning  is  first  and  last  a  student  of  the 
soul.  Let  us  see  what  light  his  own  words  throw 
upon  his  purpose.  In  Rabbi  Sen  Ezra  Browning 
has  given  us  his  view  of  life  in  terms  which  will 
serve  as  a  direct  statement  of  his  dramatic  pur- 
pose— of  what  he  wishes  to  present  in  his  drama  : 

"  But  all,  the  world's  coarse  thumb 

And  finger  failed  to  plumb, 
So  passed  in  making  up  the  main  account ; 


68 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  3. 


All  instincts  immature, 
All  purposes  unsure, 

That  weighed  not  as  his  work,  yet  swelled  the  man's 
amount. 

"Thoughts  hardly  to  be  packed 

Into  a  narrow  act, 
Fancies  that  broke  through  language  and  escaped  ; 

All  I  could  never  be, 

All  men  ignored  in  me, 
This  I  was  worth  to  God,  whose  wheel  the  pitcher  shaped." 

Since  Browning  aims  to  show  the  man,  not  as 
he  appears  to  his  fellows,  but  as  he  appears  to 
God  ;  since  he  wishes  to  body  forth 

All  instincts  immature, 
All  purposes  unsure, 

and  brushes  aside  "things  done  which  took  the 
eye  and  had  the  price, "  it  is  evident  that  he  must 
present  not  the  character  of  a  man  only,  which  is 
graven  by  things  done,  but  the  soul  of  him,  wherein 
dwell  those 

Thoughts  hardly  to  be  packed 

Into  a  narrow  act, 

Fancies  that  broke  through  language  and  escaped. 

He  must  be,  in  short,  a  dramatist  of  the  subjective. 

Now  this  presentation,  of  the  inner  life  of  the 
man,  which  Browning  expressly  says  cannot  be 
presented  by  action,  is  ringed  about  with  difficul- 
ties. It  is  the  work,  at  once  of  the  dramatist  and 
of  the  psychologist.  From  one  point  of  view  incon- 
sequent action  is  made  intelligible  by  explanation, 
and  from  the  other  subtle  analysis  becomes  illus- 
trated by  concrete  example.  The  author  must  at 
once  be  presenting  a  bit  of  life,  and  at  the  same 
time  interpreting  it  to  reader  or  audience.  Some- 
times, when  the  deeds  are  conceived  by  Browning 
as  being  merely  inexpressive,  we  have  him  pre- 
senting an  action,  and  then  supplementing  it  with 
comment,  either  his  own  or  the  narrator's,  ex- 
plaining away  an  act  here,  giving  new  meaning 
there,  until  the  whole  drama  or  incident  is  propped 
into  significance. 

Again,  when  the  act  is  considered  as  in  itself 
misleading,  he  presents  us  first  a  drama  of  the 
objective,  and  then  requires  us  to  look  through  it 
into  another  absolutely  different  one  below.  Thus 
it  appears  to  the  world,  he  says  ;  thus  it  really  is. 
This  is  well  illustrated  by  his  treatment  of  an  old 
story  in  the  dramatic  fragment  entitled  The  Glove. 


Here  he  refuses  to  let  us  interpret  the  action  in 
the  old  way  ;  but  by  giving  the  inner  workings  of 
the  lady's  mind — explaining  her  motives — he 
changes  for  us  the  whole  dramatic  value  of  the 
deed.  Instead  of  an  act  of  overweening  vanity, 
for  which  she  is  justly  punished,  it  becomes  a  test 
of  De  Lorgne's  sincerity,  in  which  he  is  found 
wanting.  In  one  aspect  the  incident  reveals  the 
weakness  of  the  lady,  in  the  other  the  baseness 
of  the  man.  The  plot  relations,  too,  are  altered. 
In  the  old  story,  the  chief  actor  is  De  Lorgne, 
the  one  acted  upon  is  the  lady.  In  the  Browning 
rendition  the  positions  are  exactly  reversed.  This 
is  accomplished  by  a  page  of  interpretation.  Peter 
Ronsard,  the  narrator,  a  clear-eyed  spectator  of 
the  little  comedy,  divines  shrewdly  the  lady's 
state  of  mind,  and  sets  it  before  us.  Thus  it  is 
by  interpretation  we  are  able  to  see  through  the 
enactor  to  the  act.  We  comprehend  its  signifi- 
cance only  after  we  understand  the  feeling  which 
produced  it,  the  act  itself  being  open  to  misinter- 
pretation. Practically,  the  order  followed  here  is 
first  the  incident,  then  the  interpretation  of  it ; 
but  so  closely  does  the  explanation  travel  on  the 
heels  of  the  story  that  one  reads  back  the  later 
into  the  earlier  impression,  and  seems  at  the  end 
to  have  had  throughout  a  consciousness  of  a 
double  presentation  ;  one  played  to  the  court, 
and  the  other  to  oneself  ;  one  objective,  the  other 
subjective.  The  act  of  throwing  the  glove  to  the 
lion  begins  the  action  ;  De  Lorgne  striking  the 
glove  in  the  lady's  face  is  the  result  and  completion 
of  it.  But  in  one  the  act,  conceived  in  vanity, 
ends  in  the  shame  and  humiliation  of  the  lady 
before  the  court  ;  while  in  the  other  the  act,  con- 
ceived in  proud  intolerance  of  sham,  ends  in  the 
shame  and  humiliation  before  us  of  her  protago- 
nist. Thus  the  two  dramas  part  company.  One 
is  played  for  her  contemporaries,  and  ends  in  one 
fashion  ;  the  other,  played  for  us,  ends  in  quite 
another.  We  see  the  lady,  passing  out,  proud 
and  patient,  amid  the  contumely  and  derision  of 
the  court — we  see  and  understand.  She  who,  for 
ages,  has  been  misnamed  in  song  and  story  is 
comprehended  at  last.  Browning's  attitude  toward 
his  characters  in  this  fragment  is  eminently  char- 
acteristic. Throughout  his  plays  he  is  an  ardent 
champion,  and  constantly  at  war  with  contem- 
porary judgment. 


March,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


69 


Hamlet  says,  dying  : 

O  good  Horatio — what  a  wounded  name, 

Things  standing  thus  unknown  shall  live  behind  me  ! 

If  thou  didst  ever  hold  me  in  thy  heart, 

Absent  thee  from  felicity  awhile 

And  in  this  harsh  world  draw  thy  breath  in  pain 

To  tell  my  story. 

It  is  as  if  this  cry  of  Hamlet's  had  reached 
Browning  as  a  great  appeal  from  all  wronged, 
thwarted,  misrepresented  human  lives,  and  he 
had  taken  up  the  burden  of  interpreting  them 
aright.  This  purpose  of  necessity  moulds  the 
form  of  drama  to  it ;  but  how  ?  In  a  dramatic 
monologue,  or  in  any  dramatic  lyric  where  a  nar- 
rative of  action  is  given,  the  blending  of  present- 
ment and  comment  can  be  shrewdly  done  as  above 
by  the  narrator,  and  the  technique  is  fairly  simple  ; 
but  when  we  come  to  consider  not  a  mere  incident 
as  The  Glove,  but  a  whole  play  constructed  to 
show  two  dramas,  one  objective  and  the  other  sub- 
jective, the  question  instantly  arises  as  to  their 
plot  relations.  Do  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  two 
coincide?  If  not,  what  is  the  connection  in  a 
five  act  drama  between  the  two  movements  ?  In 
rebelling  against  the  judgment  of  contemporaries, 
for  instance,  he  must  perforce  throw  some  weight 
in  the  dramatic  construction  upon  such  judgment, 
let  it  affect  in  some  vital  way  the  character  ;  and 
if  this  is  done,  the  subjective  drama,  which  usually 
consists,  as  we  have  noted,  of  the  presentment  of 
a  man,  and  then  his  deeds,  must  have  come — in 
some  place,  in  some  plays — in  close  and  vital  con- 
nection with  that  shell  of  circumstance  which  in 
the  beginning  fits  so  lightly  around  the  real  inter- 
ests. Often,  as  we  have  seen,  this  connection  is 
established  in  the  last  half  of  the  play  ;  almost 
always  at  the  situation  in  the  end  there  is  the 
blending  of  the  great  psychological  moment  with 
the  crisis  in  his  career.  But  the  matter  of  place- 
combination,  is  decided  entirely  by  the  exigencies 
of  each  play,  and  can  scarcely  be  generalized  on 
successfully. 

This  rebellion  against  contemporary  judgment 
can  be  considered  merely  as  a  logical  outcome  of 
his  view  of  the  deed.  How  could  Browning  trust 
the  general  consensus  of  opinion  when  he  discredits 
the  representative  value  of  the  acts  on  which 
those  opinions  are  based  ?  However  we  regard  it, 
whether  as  partisanship  or  psychological  accuracy, 


this  discrediting  of  appearances,  and  so  of  opinion, 
forms  a  distinct  element  to  be  reckoned  on  in  the 
structure.  It  forces  him  to  present  that  very 
appearance  of  things  against  which  he  is  in  rebel- 
lion. Sometimes  it  is  done  in  a  mere  phrase  :  In 
Pippa  Passes,  he  gives  a  quick  ironic  glance  at 
the  fair  surface  of  things  before  he  rends  it.  He 
speaks  of  Asolo'  s  four  happiest  ones,  and  then  the 
phrase  is  torn  asunder,  and  we  see  four  human 
beings  in  the  agonies  of  soul  birth  and  soul  death  ; 
always  in  crucial  suffering.  The  whole  of  The 
Ring  and  the  Book  moves  in  great  concentric 
circles  from  false  appearances  and  opinions  to  the 
heart  of  truth.  It  moves  first  from  the  consider- 
ation of  the  views  of  half  Rome  to  those  of  Pom- 
pilia  ;  from  those  who  heard,  past  those  who  acted, 
to  the  one  who  suffered.  Then  it  passes  from  the 
superficial  dicta  of  the  lawyers  to  the  deep  heart 
of  the  matter  in  the  speech  of  the  Pope  ;  then  last 
from  Guido's  false  presentment  of  himself  as  an 
injured  husband,  through  tortuous  windings  of 
evil  nature  to  the  gradual  revelation  of  himself, 
disclosing  at  last  a  moral  consciousness,  a  percep- 
tion of  that  truth  which  he  has  set  himself  against, 
in  his  one  sincere  utterance,  that  cry  of  mortal 
terror  :  "Pompilia,  will  you  let  them  murder  me  f  " 
So,  in  the  first  and  last  chapters  in  which  Brown- 
ing speaks  for  himself,  he  moves  from  discussion 
of  matters  of  mere  external  interest  to  an  explan- 
ation of  his  great  art  purpose. 

This  contrast  between  the  ' '  fair  seeming  show ' ' 
and  the  reality  is  too  characteristic  a  habit  of 
thought  in  Browning  to  be  ever  quite  absent  from 
his  works.  Sometimes  it  is  the  main  motif,  mould- 
ing the  drama  or  dramatic  incident  to  it ;  again, 
it  is  the  informing  idea  of  an  act  or  scene  develop- 
ing it  to  itself,  and  away  from  the  main  thought, 
and  so  twisting  the  structure  ;  again,  it  is  put  in  a 
phrase,  throwing  a  search  light  back  or  forward 
into  the  play  :  always  and  everywhere  the  contrast : 
thus  it  seems  ;  thus  it  really  is. 

Thus  from  another  point  of  approach,  one  sees 
how  the  dramatist  and  the  psychologist  mingle 
oddly  in  the  works  of  Browning.  Not  only  must 
action  be  made  intelligible  by  the  revelation  of 
motives,  but  the  appearance  of  things  must  be 
given  the  lie  by  the  presentation  of  realities.  The 
opposite  order  of  development  which  these  present 
indicate  the  two  types  of  &'<-.-ucture  he  follows. 


70 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  3. 


Their  blending  in  a  single  play  gives  the  clue  to 
many  of  his  complexities  ;  generally  the  first  is  the 
order  of  the  play,  while  the  second  produces  vari- 
ants from  it  by  informing  an  act  or  scene. 

When  we  remember  that  the  aim  of  Browning 
is  to  present  those 

Thoughts  that  could  not  be  packed, 

Into  a  narrow  act, 

Fancies  that  broke  through  language  and  escaped  : 

we  find  that  in  this  discussion  of  construction  we 
have  only  touched  the  outer  rim  of  the  difficulty. 
How  is  the  life  of  the  human  soul  to  be  presented 
in  a  drama  ?  Practical  difficulties  arise  at  every 
step.  How,  for  instance,  is  the  "explanation" 
we  found  necessary  to  be  made  ?  The  Greek 
chorus,  which  could  have  been  developed  into  a 
fit  interpreter,  is  eliminated.  Browning's  charac- 
ters must  either  interpret  themselves — enquire  into 
their  own  mental  processes,  and  then  speak  them 
forth  with  the  most  full-voiced  self -consciousness — 
or  else  be  explained,  in  a  similar  fashion,  by  their 
fellows.  In  either  case  we  have  analysis,  which 
violates  at  once  dramatic  method  and  essential 
dramatic  truth  :  analysis  violates  method  in  that 
it  stops  the  movement  to  explain  ;  and  violates 
truth  since  it  presents  the  characters  as  doing  what 
in  real  life  would  be  unnatural.  Obviously  his 
necessity  to  make  the  characters  interpret  them- 
selves is  destructive  to  natural  dialogue.  For  his 
characters  to  reveal  their  inmost  selves  in  the  lan- 
guage of  every  day  life  would  be  to  violate  the 
decency  and  dignity  of  reticence  which  alone  makes 
human  intercourse  possible,  and  by  so  doing  they 
forfeit  that  respect  which  is  necessary  to  the  fullest 
sympathy.  As  dramatist,  then,  he  must  let  his 
characters  speak  each  to  other,  keeping  fast  hold 
of  all  the  reserves  and  silences  of  daily  life  ;  while, 
as  interpreter,  he  must  speak  through  them  directly 
to  the  audience ;  must  vocalize  for  us  all  the 
dumb  content  of  the  human  soul.  He  shows  us 
Pippa  weaving  holiday  fancies  in  her  bed-chamber  ; 
again,  singing  in  the  streets  of  Asolo,  cleaving 
with  sunshine  and  song  the  dark  recesses  of  crime, 
lighting  doubt  to  sure  faith  ;  hesitation  to  forth- 
rightness,  and  temptation  to  right  abhorrence  ;  and 
last,  musing  child  thoughts  and  praying  child 
prayers  at  nightfall.  But  it  is  Browning  who 
gives  to  her  unconsciousness  conscious  speech  ;  it 
is  not  Pippa  we  hear,  but  Browning's  vocalization 


of  her  soul.  So  Pompilia,  in  The  Ring  and 
The  Book,  speaks  no  peasant  language.  There 
is  nothing  peasant  in  her  save,  perhaps,  her  sim- 
plicity ;  and  that  is  more  the  simplicity  of  purity 
and  elemental  womanhood  than  of  the  peasant. 
The  thought,  one  can  see,  is  in  character  ;  but  the 
vocabulary,  the  images,  are  Browning's  own. 

Sometimes  in  the  drama  the  characters  interpret 
themselves,  speak  the  language  of  the  underplot ; 
and  again,  as  the  exigencies  of  the  objective  plot 
demand  it,  they  speak  the  language  of  every-day 
life.  A  strange  blending  of  these  in  a  single  scene 
occurs  in  the  third  act,  third  scene  of  Strafford. 
The  scene  occurs  in  the  ante-room  to  the  House  of 
Commons.  Strafford  has  just  been  denounced  by 
Pym  as  traitor,  and  is  now  being  arrested  for 
treason  ;  it  is  a  crisis  in  his  career  as  statesman  ; 
it  is  also  a  moment  of  poignant  anguish.  As 
leader,  he  must  front  the  situation  manfully  ;  as  a 
tortured  soul  upon  the  rack  of  loyalty,  he  must 
reveal  to  us  his  agony.  We  hear  two  voices  ;  one 
Strafford' s  the  man,  speaking  to  men  ;  the  other, 
Browning's  vocalization  of  the  dumb  content  of 
his  soul.  One  moment  Strafford  rises  to  the 
critical  historical  crisis — and  speaks  so  : 

Let  us  go  forth  :  follow  me,  gentlemen, 

Draw  your  swords,  too  :  cut  any  down  that  bar  us, 

On  the  King's  service  1  Maxwell,  clear  the  way. 

A  moment  later  to  his  own  men  his  heart  finds 
utterance  : 

Slingsby,  I've  loved  you  at  least :  make  haste  ! 
Stab  me  !     I  have  not  time  to  tell  you  why. 
You,  then,  my  Bryan  !  Mainwaring,  you  then  ! 

Again  we  hear  two  voices  :  one  speaks  in  pride 
and  scorn  directly  to  the  situation. 

The  king  is  sure  to  have  your  heads,  you  know. 

Then  follows  the  anguished  cry  of  his  inner 
consciousness  : 

But  what  if  I  can't  live  this  moment  through. 
Pym  who  is  there  with  his  pursuing  smile. 

We  must  carry  throughout  a  double  conscious- 
ness. The  scene  must  shift  with  lightning-like 
rapidity  from  the  ante-room  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons to  the  secret  chambers  of  Stratford's  soul. 
Any  failure  on  the  reader's  part  to  do  this  is  dis- 
astrous to  the  artistic  effect.  Now  we  hear  a  soul 
in  deep  distress,  and  the  words  carry  conviction  : 


March,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


71 


We  like  a  cry  of  agony 
Because  we  know  it's  true. 

Then  there  rises  before  us  a  real  scene — a  world 
of  actuality  ;  we  see  not  a  soul  pressed  by  throng- 
ing emotions,  but  a  man  girt  with  hostile  soldiers, 
and  the  words  ring  false.  Maxwell  and  the  Puri- 
tans— men  who  are  to  be  the  Ironsides — what  do 
they  make  of  these  wild  and  whirling  words? 
Again,  the  utter  anguish  of  them  takes  possession 
of  us,  the  world  fades — we  are  alone  with  the 
naked  soul  of  a  man.  Thus,  as  our  consciousness 
of  the  soul  or  the  circumstances  comes  uppermost, 
the  values  shift.  One  can  easily  see  that  such  a 
blending  of  the  critical  historical  moment  and  the 
critical  psychological  moment  might  prove  mutu- 
ally thwarting. 

(  To  be  continued. ) 


CAROLINE  L.  SPARROW. 


Richmond,  Fa. 


EDGAR  FOE  ET  ALFRED  DE  MUSSET. 

II  ne  s'agit  pas  d'un  rapprochement  litte'raire 
entre  ces  deux  poetes,  tout  au  moins  d'un  rap- 
prochement complet.  Ni  1'objet  de  leurs  chants 
ni  leur  maniere  n'appellent  une  comparaison. 
Pourtant  ils  ont  un  trait  commun.  Dans  William 
Wilson,1  conte  aux  fantastiques  6v6nements,  mais 
image  plus  ou  moins  reelle  de  sa  vie,  Edgar  Poe', 
apres  avoir  decrit  de  fa9on  charmante  l'6cole  an- 
glaise  ou  s'ecoulerent  ses  jeunes  ann6es,  parle  d'un 
enfant  de  genie,  violent,  passionn6,  c'est  lui-rndme. 
Son  influence  s'exerce  sur  tous  ses  camarades,  un 
seul  except^,  parfaitement  semblable  a  lui  de 
taille,  de  visage,  meme  de  nom.  Signe  distinctif : 
sa  voix  n'est  qu'un  murmure,  un  chuchotement, 
mais  toujours,  dit  Poe,  "le  parfait  Scno  de  la 
mienne."  '  De  son  cote,  Alfred  de  Musset  ecrit 
dans  la  Nuit  de  Decembre : 3 

Du  temps  que  j'&ais  ecolier, 
Je  restais  un  soir  i  veiller 
Dans  notre  salle  solitaire. 


1  Tales  of  Conscience.     Edition  Stedman  et  Woodberry, 
1894. 

'Pp.  1  let  14. 
» Pomes  nouvclles,  Edit.  Charpentier,  1896. 


Devant  ma  table  vint  s'assaoir 
Un  pauvre  enfant  v£tu  de  noir 
Qui  me  ressemblait  comme  un  fr£re. 

Poe  voyait  done  un  double  de  lui-me'me  ;  Musset 
aussi.  Je  voudrais  analyser  ici  cette  singulie're 
et  commune  vision, — fiction  ou  hallucination,  il 
n'importe,  —  signaler  sous  quelle  influence  elle 
apparut  aux  deux  poetes,  preciser  enfin  sa  signi- 
fication morale. 

Ainsi  William  Wilson,  le  jumeau  de  Poe,   r£- 
sistait  a  son  despotisme  pr6coce.     Bien  plus,   il 
intervenait  dans  sa  conduite,  tantot  par  un  avis 
discret,  tantot  par  un  conseil  imperieux,  jamais 
decourage   par   les  rebuffades  de  son  ami.     Na- 
turellement  ses  bons  offices  lui  devinrent  odieux, 
sans  qu'il  parvint  a  les  detourner.     II   a   beau 
quitter  la  pension  Bransby,  aller  a  Eton,  le  double 
1'y  suit.     Un  jour,  avec  quelques  camarades  aussi 
fous  que  lui,  dans  une  chambre  du  college,  il  se 
livre  a  une  debauche  effrene'e  de  boisson  et  de  jeu. 
Soudain,  on  1'appelle  au-dehors  ;    il  se  trouve  en 
face  de  son  inseparable  compagnon,  qui  chuchote 
tres-bas  son  nom  seulement,  puis  disparait.     Un 
autrejour,  tandis  qu'il  joue  malhonnetement  aux 
cartes,  William  Wilson — le  Double — fait  irruption 
au  milieu  de  la  compagnie,  et  d6nonce  publique- 
ment  sa  faute.     Exasp6r6,    Poe    fuit   dans   une 
agonie  d'  horreur  et  de  honte.     II  fuyait  en  vain. 
' '  Ma  destinee  maudite  m'  a  poursuivi,  triomphante, 
et  me  prouvant  que  sou  myste'rieux  pouvoir  n'avait 
fait  jusqu'alors  que  de  commencer.     A  peine  eus-je 
mis   le   pied   dans   Paris,    que  j'eus  une  preuve 
nouvelle  du  detestable  inte'ret  que  le  Wilson  prenait 
a  mes  affaires.    Les  ann6es  s'ecoulerent  et  je  n'eus 
point  de  re'pit.      Miserable  !  A  Rome,  avec  quelle 
importune  obsequiosite',  avec  quelle  tendresse  de 
spectre,  il  s'interposa  entre  moi  et  mon  ambition  I 
Et  si  Vienne  !  et  a  Berlin  !  et  a  Moscou  !     Ou 
done  ne  trouvai-je  pas  quelque  am£re  raison  de  le 
maudire  du  fond  de  mon  coeur  !     Frapp6  d'une 
panique,  je  pris  enfin  la  fuite  devant  son  impene- 
trable tyrannic,   comme  devant  une  peste,  et  jus- 
qu'au  bout  du  monde,  j'ai  fui,  j'ai  fui  en  vain."  * 
L' 616 vation  de  caractere,  lamajestueuse  sagesse, 
I'omnipr6sence  de  Wilson  inspiraient  a  Poe  une 
sorte  de  terreur,  sans  conteuir  helas  !  sa  passion 

*  William,  Wilson,  p.  28.    Traduction  Baudelaire.    Tonics 
nos  citations  sont  ernpruntees  a  cette  traduction. 


72 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  3. 


de  Palcool.  Sous  son  influence,  son  temperament 
he>6ditaire  s'exaspfere  et  supporte  impatiemment 
le  controle.  II  commence  a  murmurer,  a  hesiter, 
a  register  ;  il  se  sent  plus  ferme  devant  son  tyran  ; 
il  concoit  1'espoir  de  secouer  son  esclavage.  Un 
soir,  a  Rome,  dans  une  nuit  de  fete,  au  moment 
oil  il  se  prepare  a  une  poursuite  amoureuse,  il  sent 
sur  son  epaule  une  main  legere,  et  a  son  oreille  il 
entend  I'afFreux  chuchotement.  Alors,  dans  une 
rage  freneiique,  il  saisit  1'importun,  1'entraine 
dans  une  antichambre,  le  force  a  degainer,  et, 
apres  un  court  duel  furieux,  il  1"  assassine.  ' '  Quelle 
langue  humaine  peut  rendre  sufHsamment  cet  6ton- 
nement,  cette  horreur  qui  s'emparerent  de  moi  au 
spectacle  que  virent  alors  mes  yeux.  .  .  .  Une 
vaste  glace  se  dressait  la  ou  je  n'en  avais  pas  vu 
trace  auparavant,  et  comme  je  marchais,  frappS 
de  terreur,  vers  ce  miroir,  ma  propre  image,  mais 
avec  une  face  pale  et  barbouillde  de  sang,  s'  avan9a 
a  ma  rencontre  d'un  pas  faible  et  vacillant." 

**  * 

Maintenant,  6coutons  Musset.  Le  pauvre  en- 
fant qui  lui  ressemblait  comme  un  frere,  le  suit  pas 
a  pas  dans  la  vie.  Parmi  ses  r£  ves  d'  adolescent, 
il  lui  apparait,  un  luth  d'une  main,  a  1'autre  un 
bouquet  d' eglantine,  et,  du  doigt,  il  lui  montre  la 
colline  des  Muses.  Quand  la  jeunesse  emporte  le 
poete  dans  ses  ardeurs,  1'etranger  ve"tu  de  noir 
s'asseoit  au  coin  de  son  feu,  triste,  un  soupir  aux 
levres,  et  ainsi,  a  mesure  que  les  jours  s'toulent 
charges  de  fautes,  de  plaisirs  et  de  douleurs,  par- 
tout  ou  Musset  traine  la  fatigue  d'une  vie  agit<je, 
partout,  a  cot6  de  lui,  il  voit  le  myste'rieux  Stran- 
ger v6tu  de  noir  qui  lui  ressemble  comme  un  frere. 
Ce  n'est  ici  qu'un  doux  et  melancolique  fantome. 
Ailleurs,  1' aspect  change.  Dans  la  Coupe  et  les 
to/ores*  Frank,  le  libertin,  le  debauche,  se  tient 
aupres  de  Deidamia,  la  pure  jeune  fille.  II  sent 
soname  s'ouvrir  au  veritable  amour,  et  s'eriivre  a 
cette  source  qui  rafraichit  son  pauvre  coeur  des- 
Soudain,  DSidamia  s'Scrie  : 

Qui  done  est  la,  debout,  derriere  la  fenetre, 
Avec  ces  deux  grands  yeux  et  cet  air  etonn6  ? 

Frank. 
Oil  done  ?  je  ne  vois  rien. 


6 Ibid.,  p.  31. 

"Premieres  Poesies,  pp.  292,  296. 


Deidamia. 

Si,  quelqu'un  nous  e'coute, 
Qui  vient  de  s'en  aller,  quand  tu  t'es  retourne'. 

Frank  chasse  les  terreurs  de  1'iunocente  enfant,  et 
la  berce  de  tendres  discours.  Mais  elle  1'inter- 
rompt  une  seconde  fois  : 

Qui  done  est  encor  la?  Je  te  dis  qu'on  nous  guette. 
Tu  ne  vois  pas  la-bas  remuer  une  tele, 
La,  dans  1' ombre  du  mur  .  .  .  .  ? 

Frank  n'a  rien  ape^u  ;  il  multiplie  ses  caresses  ; 
Deidamia  s'abandoune  entre  ses  bras.  Mais, 
brusquement,  il  se  leve  :  quelqu'un  est  la,  c'est 
vrai.  Maintenant,  il  a  vu  ;  et,  d'un  bond,  il 
franchit  la  fenetre  de  la  petite  chambre,  a  la 
poursuite  du  spectre.  II  fait  la  tour  de  la  maison 
pour  1'atteindre.  Le  spectre  se  d6robe  a  1'inte1- 
rieur  ;  Frank  revient,  et,  sur  le  seuil,  il  trouve 
Deidamia,  morte,  un  stylet  au  coeur. 

Meme  aventure,  sous  uue  autre  forme,  dans  les 
Caprices  de  Marianne.'1  Coelio  et  Octave  sont 
deux  jeunes  amis.  Coelio,  pur,  delicat,  aime 
Marianne  qui  reste  indifierente.  Octave  tache  a 
favoriser  les  amours  de  Coelio.  Octave  est  un 
libertin.  Or,  sentiment  bizarre,  c'est  lui  qu'aime 
la  capricieuse  Marianne.  Enfin,  a  un  rendez- 
vous, par  une  fatale  confusion,  Coelio  est  tu6  a 
la  place  de  son  ami.  Coelio  et  Octave  represen- 
tent  Musset,  1'un,  ce  qu'il  y  avait  de  meilleur  en 
lui,  1'autre,  le  vice  triomphant.  Octave  tue  ou 
fait  tuer  Coelio.  II  ne  serait  pas  malaise1  de  trou- 
ver  en  d'autres  ceuvres  du  poete  (dans  Lorenzaccio 
par  exemple)  cette  espece  de  d6doublement  ou 
symbolique  ou  hallucin6.  Foe  nous  offre  le  sien 
en  un  conte  suivi  ;  Musset,  en  des  poemes  divers. 
Mais,  ils  se  ressemblent  en  ce  point  :  tous  deux, 
chacun  a  sa  maniere,  voient  leur  double. 

Aussi  bien,  d'autres  analogies  existent  entre 
eux.  Et  ici,  peut-e"tre  n'est-il  pas  hors  depropos 
de  geter  un  coup-d'ceil  sur  leur  vie.8  Edgar  Allan 
Foe  descendait  d'une  famille  anglaise.  Son  ar- 
riere-grand-pere  emigra  en  AmSrique  vers  le 
milieu  du  18"  siecle.  Son  graud-pere,  simple 
charron  a  Baltimore  quand  eclata  la  guerre  de 

7  Comedies  et  Prmerbes,  I. 

8Cf.  Arv&de  Barine,  Essais  de  litterature  pathologique. 
Eevue  des  Deux-Mondes,  15  Juillet,  1897.  Nous  devons 
a  cet  e'crivain  plusieurs  details  int^ressants  snr  Edgar  Poe 
et  d'importantes  citations. 


March,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


73 


1'independance,  quitta  son  enclume,  prit  les  armes 
et  gagna  dans  cette  lutte  nationale  le  titre  de  ge- 
ne>al  Poe.  C'etait  un  homme  rude,  sain  et  vi- 
goureux.  Aucun  fait  precis  ne  revele  qu'il  aimat 
la  boisson.  II  eut  plusieurs  enfants.  L'aine 
s'appelait  David  ;  ce  fut  le  pere  d' Edgar.  Seul, 
il  merite  notre  attention.  Comment  le  fils  de 
Fftiergique  general  deviut-il  un  pauvre  etre  n6- 
vrose,  alcoolique,  phthisique,  par  quel  atavisrae 
obscur?  Je  1' ignore.  Mais  il  fut  tout  cela,  et  de 
bonne  heure.  Rebelle  aux  remontrances  de  sa 
famille,  aux  expedients  qu'elle  employa  pour 
refrener  sa  triste  nature,  il  s'enfuit  de  la  maison 
paternelle  pour  courir  le  monde  avec  une  troupe 
ambulante  de  comediens,  vivant  leur  vie  mise'- 
rable,  adonne  aux  vices  de  sa  condition.  Deja  use1 
par  la  boisson  et  la  maladie,  il  epouse  une  actrice 
aussi  malade,  aussi  degeneree  que  lui,  et  il  en  eut 
trois  enfauts  :  William,  Edgar  (19  Janvier,  1809) 
Rosalie.  L'aine  mourutjeune,  a  demifou.  Rosa- 
lie, presque  idiote,  e'choua  dans  un  hospice.  Edgar 
survecut.  La  mort  de  ses  parents  le  laisse  or- 
phelin  a  deux  ans  sans  autre  heritage,  helas  ! 
qu'un  sang  vicie,  de  tristes  habitudes  encore  som- 
meillantes,  mais  qui  ne  tarderont  pas  a  s'eveiller. 
Abandonne  par  son  grand-pe're,  il  est  recueilli  par 
un  riche  uegociant  en  tabac,  John  Allan,  que 
seduisit  la  figure  Strange  de  ce  petit  garcon  aux 
yeux  brillants,  remplis  de  lueurs  pre'coces.  II 
s'en  arnusa  ;  il  ne  I'Sleva  point.  Rien  ne  vint 
contrarier  les  germes  de  passions  que  lui  avait 
leguees  une  he"redite"  funeste.  A  la  suite  d'un 
voyage  en  Augleterre,  ses  parents  adoptifs  se 
contenterent  de  le  mettre  ea  pension  dans  une 
ecole  aux  environs  de  Londres,  sous  la  fe'rule  du 
docteur  Bransby.  Le  maitre  n'eut  aucune  influ- 
ence sur  1'eleve.  Celui-ci  resta  et  devint  de  plus 
en  plus  un  impulsif,  un  volontaire  et  un  passionne'. 
Revenu  en  Ame'rique  a  1'age  de  douze  ans,  il 
entre  dans  une  6cole  de  Richmond  ;  puis,  a  dix- 
sept  ans,  a  1' University  de  Virginie.  Ce  fut 
pour  son  malheur.  Les  etudiants  de  cette  Uni- 
versite  aimaient  a  boire  et  a  jouer.  Parmi  eux, 
Poe  sentit  s'allumer  les  flammes  qui  dormaient  en 
lui.  II  but  "en  gourmand,  en  barbare,"  en- 
gloutissant  force  breuvages,  sans  les  gouter  ;  ou 
plutdt,  il  but  en  malade,  par  acces,  pour  Steindre 
un  besoin  aigu  et  cruel.  II  jouait  aussi,  il  fit  des 
dettea,  si  bien  que  M.  Allan,  pour  couper  court 


&  ses  incartades,  le  rappela.  II  1' employa  dans 
ses  bureaux  ;  mais  ce  genre  de  vie  de'plut  tout  de 
suite  au  caractere  bouillonnant  du  jeune  Poe.  II 
s'enfuit,  s'engage  dans  1'arme'e  americaine  (26 
Mai,  1827),  passe  a  P£cole  militaire  de  West 
Point,  s'en  fait  chasser,  se  voit  alors  rejet6  parM. 
Allan,  et  commence  une  vie  de  boheme,  partag6e 
entre  la  litte'rature,  les  luttes  pour  le  pain  quoti- 
dien  et  les  acces  d'alcoolisme.  Je  n'ai  pas  1' in- 
tention de  le  suivre  dans  sa  carritire  douloureuse- 
ment  accidentSe.  Pour  ne  1'envisager  que  du 
point  de  vue  qui  nous  occupe,  disons  qu'  aprSs  une 
slrie  de  relevements  ephemeres,  de  rechutes  la- 
mentables,  E.  Poe  aboutit  au  delirium  trem.ens 9  qui 
1'emporta  le  7  octobre  1849. 

Alfred  de  Musset  ne  tomba  jamais  a  cette  misere 
profonde.  Aucune  h4r6dite  fatale  ne  pesa  sur  son 
existence.  Sans  doute,  au  declin  premature  de  sa 
vie,  il  demande  a  1' absinthe  1' inspiration  qui  s'est 
enfuie  avec  1' amour,  1'oubli  et  1'abrutissement. 
Mais,  dans  sa  jeunesse,  eu  pleine  maturit6  de  sa 
force,  s'il  aime  les  festins,  le  jeu,  les  plaisirs,  il  n'y 
laisse  pas  sombrer  sa  volonte  ni  son  genie.  C'est 
d' une  autre  ivresse  qu'il  est  question.  Jeune,  beau, 
aimable,  il  v€cut  pour  1' amour,  pour  lui  seul. 
Toute  sa  vie,  toute  sa  religion  est  la.  Poe  buvait, 
mais  avec  honte  et  remords.  Musset  aime  avec 
orgueil  et  esperanoe  triomphante.  Bientot  cet 
amour  devient  obsession.  ' '  Ce  sentiment  redouta- 
ble  et  doux  s'est  abattu  sur  le  poete  comme  une 
fievre  qui  resiste  a  tous  les  remedes,  comme  un 
sortilege  centre  lequel  maledictions  et  prieres  ne 
peuvent  rien.  Y  arreter  sa  pensSe  est  une  tristesse 
quand  ce  n'est  pas  une  souffrance,  et  cependant, 
s'en  d<5tourner  est  une  impossibility.  Le  fantome 
obstin6  est  toujours  la  qui  fixe  le  poete,  tantot 
souriant,  tantot  menayant ;  repousse1  par  une  im- 
pr^cation,  il  revient  avec  un  sarcasme."  10  Enfin, 
c'est  un  gout  d' ivresse  analogue,  par  certains  c6tes, 
a  celui  qui  entrainait  le  malheureux  Poe.  Musset 
a  poursuivi  1' amour  sous  toutes  ses  formes.  Jeune, 

'C'estdu  moins  1'opinion  commune,  d'ailleurscombattue 
par  un  des  derniera  biographes  de  Poe,  James  A.  Harrison, 
et  quelques  autres  rares  critiques.  Un  meclecin  specialiste 
double  d'un  litterateur  pourrait  seul  trancher  la  question. 
II  semblera  toujours  Strange  qu'un  alcoolique  ait  pu,  dans 
les  intervalles  de  son  ivresse,  composer  d'aussi  nombreux 
et  beaux  pooraes. 

10  Cf.  femile  Mont%ut,  Nos  Marts  Uontemporains,  p.  247. 


74 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  3. 


c'est  1' amour libertin,  fringant  ettapageur  (Contes 
d'Espagne  et  d' Italic,  don  Paez,  les  Marrons 
du  feu,  Namouna,  Mardoche. )  II  joue  avec  le 
poison  divin  ou  mortel.  Plus  tard,  c'est  1'heure 
de  la  passion  dont  il  s'enivre  avec  de  douloureux 
transports.  (Let  Nuits,  I'Espoir  en  Diev,  Lettre 
a  Lamartine,  Souvenir. )  Mais,  depuis  longtemps 
deja,  1'ivresse  avait  commence1  son  oeuvre  d6mora- 
lisatrice  (la  Coupe  et  les  Llvres,  Rolla,  Lorenzaceio, 
Confession  d'un  enfant  du  siecle.*)  Et  des  lors, 
comme  par  1'autre  ivresse,  c'est  la  d6cheance,  la 
chute  dans  les  experiences  vilaines,  la  d^bauche 
en  un  mot.  Le  pauvre  poete  essaie  parfois  de  se 
relever  ;  mais  il  retombe  un  peu  plus  bas,  toujours 
insatiable,  toujours  inassouvi.  Ainsi  se  rapprochent 
Poe'  et  Musset  dans  une  passion,  differente  sans 
doute,  mais  non  sans  quelque  analogic  peut-6tre, 
au  moins  dans  les  effets  moraux. 

*  *  * 

Que  signifie  le  spectre  pale  et  sanglant  qui 
s'avance  vers  Poe,  apres  le  meurtrede  son  double  ? 
Wilson  nous  1'explique  avant  de  mourir ;  il 
adresse  a  1'  assassin  ces  paroles  :  "  Tu  as  vaincu  et 
je  succombe.  Mais,  dorenavant,  tu  es  mort  aussi, 
mort  au  monde,  au  Ciel  et  a  l'Esp6rance.  En 
moi,  tu  existais,  et  vois  dans  ma  mort,  vois  dans 
cette  image  qui  est  la  tienne,  comme  tu  t'es  radi- 
calement  assassin^  toi-m&ne."  n  Le  fantome,  le 
double,  c'etait  sa  conscience.  Le  sens  du  conte, 
c'est  que  Poe,  au  milieu  de  ses  erreurs,  de  ses 
de'cheances,  n'a  jamais  pu  ni  voulu  <3teindre  cette 
voix.  II  avoue  ses  fautes,  il  implore  la  pitiS  : 
"Je  soupire  apres  la  sympathie  de  mes  sembla- 
bles.  Je  voudrais  leur  persuader  que  j'ai  etc  en 
quelque  sorte  1'esclave  de  circonstances  qui  d^fiaient 
toutcontrole  humain.  Je  d6sirerais  qu'ils  d£cou- 
vrissent  pour  moi,  dans  les  details  que  je  vais  leur 
donner,  quelque  petite  oasis  de  fatalite  dans  un 
Sahara  d'erreur."  u  Non,  il  n'a  jamais  pu  etouffer 
sa  conscience.  Lisez  le  Coeur  revelateur  (The  Tell- 
Tale  Heart. )  1J  A  la  fin,  un  homme  tue,  il  enterre 
le  cadavre  dans  sa  chambre.  Devant  les  juges, 
accourus  pour  les  constatations,  il  sourit,  lorsque, 
tout  a  coup,  il  entend  le  coeur  de  la  victime  palpiter 
sous  le  plancher  :  "C'etait  un  bruit  sourd,  6touffe, 
frequent,  ressemblant  beaucoup  a  celui  que  ferait 


une  montre  dans  du  coton."  Personne  n' entend 
ce  bruit,  sauf  le  criminel.  Pour  s'en  distraire, 
il  remue  les  chaises  ;  mais  le  bruit  monte,  monte 
toujours,  plus  fort,  toujours  plus  fort.  Alors  le 
malheureux  crie ;  le  bruit  redouble,  jusqu'a  ce 
que,  vaincu,  le  meurtrier  s'  6crie  :  "  J'  avoue  la 
chose  !  arracher  ces  planches  !  ...  c'est  la  !  c'est 
la  !  c'est  le  battement  de  son  affreux  coeur  ! "  "  Et 
cela  veut  dire  que  lui  aussi,  malgre'  des  assauts 
re'ite'res  pour  la  couvrir,  il  entendit  toujours  la  voix 
de  son  coeur. 

Apres  des  exces  de  boisson,  funestes  non  seule- 
meiit  a  sa  sant£  mais  encore  aux  situations  qu'il 
conquerait  peniblement,  chass6  des  Revues  oil  il 
gagnait  son  pain,  il  courbait  la  tete,  non  sans 
quelque  grandeur,  sous  les  reproches  m^rites. 
La  correspondance  abonde  en  aveux,  repentirs, 
promesses.  II  les  oublie  vite,  c'est  vrai ;  du 
moins  prouvent-ils  que  Poe  gardait  la  conscience 
de  sa  degradation  morale.  Je  ne  citerai  plus 
qu'un  exemple,  un  poeme,  ou,  en  termes  d'une 
beaut6  sinistre,  il  ddcrit  les  ruines  arnoncelees  en 
son  ame  par  la  terrible  passion  de  1'alcool.  II 
s'agit  du  Palais  hante  (The  Haunted  Palace): 

"Dans  la  plus  verte  de  nos  valises,  ou  n'habitent  que 
de  bons  anges,  un  vaste  et  beau  palais  dressait  jadis  sou 
front.  C'e'tait  dans  les  Etats  du  monarque  Pensee,  c'etait 
la  qu'il  s'elevait.  Jamais  seraphin  ne  deploya  ses  ailes 
sur  un  Edifice  a  moiti£  aussi  splendide. 

Des  bannieres  eclatantes,  jaunes  comme  1'or,  flottaient 
et  ondoyaient  sur  le  faite.  (Cela,  tout  cela,  c'etait  dans 
des  temps  anciens,  tres  lointaius. )  Et  &  chaque  brise 
caressante  qui  se  jouait  dans  la  douceur  du  jour,  tout  le 
long  des  blanches  murailles  pavoise'es  s'envolaient  des 
parfums  ailes. 

Les  voyageurs  passant  par  I'heureuse  vallee,  aperce- 
vaient  a  travers  deux  fenetres  lumineuses  des  esprits  se 
mouvant  harmonieusement,  au  rythme  d'un  luth  bien 
accorde,  tout  autour  d'un  tr&ne  ou  se  laissait  voir  dans 
tout  1'^clat  de  sa  gloire,  assis  comme  un  Porphyrogenete, 
le  souverain  de  ce  royaume. 

Eclatante  partout  de  perles  et  de  rubis  rayonnait  la 
porte  du  beau  palais,  par  laquelle  s'e'coulait  a  flots  presses, 
toujours  e'tincelante,  une  troupe  d'Echos,  dont  la  douce 
fonction  n'^tait  que  de  chanter,  avec  des  voix  d'une 
beautd  exquise,  1' esprit  et  la  sagesse  du  roi. 

Mais  des  6tres  funestes,  en  vetements  sinistres,  vinrent 
donner  assaut  8,  la  puissance  du  monarque  (Ah !  gemis- 
sons  !  car  1'aube  d'aucun  lendemain  ne  luira  pour  lui,  le 
desespe're')  et  la  splendeur  qui  rayonnait  et  s'epanouissait 


11  William  Wilson,  p.  32. 
13  Tales  of  Conscience. 


"Ibid.,  p.  2. 


14  The  Tell-Tde  Heart,  p.  61. 


March,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


75 


tout  autour  de  son  palais  n'est  plus  qu'une  legende,  un 
souvenir  obscur  de  1'ancien  temps  enseveli. 

Et  maintenant,  les  voyageurs  passant  par  la  valise 
n'apercoivent  plus,  a  travers  les  fenfitres  enflamme'es  de 
Ineurs  rouges,  que  des  formes  monstrueuses  s'agitant  de 
fapon  fantastique  au  bruit  d'une  discordante  m^lodie, 
tandis  que  pareille  a  un  flot  rapide  et  spectral,  3,  travers  la 
porte  pale,  line  foule  .hideuse  se  precipite  sans  relache  et 
rit,  mais  ne  sail  plus  sourire."  15 

On  a  beaucoup  reproche  a  Poe  le  gout  des  his- 
toires  lugtibres.  Je  ne  pretends  pas  Fexpliquer 
ici.  Toutefois,  je  me  demande  si,  autant  que  les 
jeux  d'un  mystificateur  ou  les  hallucinations  d'un 
malade,  elles  ne  cachent  pas  souvent  les  troubles 
d'une  conscience  aux  abois  ;  si  leur  beaute  Strange 
ne  decoule  pas  peut-etre  de  cette  lutte  sourde  et 
tragique,  enfin  si,  consideree  de  ce  point  de  vue, 
Poeuvre  deconcertante  de  ce  malheureux  poete 
n'en  serait  pas  mieux  eclairee.16  En  exprimant 
cette  idee,  j'ouvre  probablement  une  voie  deja 
battue  ;  je  1' ignore.  Mais  je  voudrais  avoir  le 
loisir  de  m'y  engager,  fut-ce  apres  d'autres. 

*** 

L' attitude  de  Musset  fut  tout  autre.  Dans  ses 
Premieres  Poesies,  il  a  P  allure  cavaliere,  un  dan- 
dysme  impertinent.  De  honte  ou  de  remords,  il 
n'en  ressent  pas.  Cela  s'explique  :  P  amour  est 
entoure  par  P  opinion  mondaine  d'une  aureole 
se'duisante.  Loin  d'en  rougir,  on  est  fierde  Pin- 
spirer  ou  de  Pe'prouver.  C'est  pourquoi  Musset 
en  tire  un  orgueil  na'if ;  il  Petale  avec  un  cynisme 
tapageur  qui  nous  fait  un  peu  sourire.  II  s'eiance 
en  conquerant  dans  la  vie,  la  bouche  en  fleur  ;  et, 
a  cette  periode,  il  ne  parle  pas  de  P  Stranger,  vetu 
de  noir,  qui  lui  ressemble  comme  un  frere.  Mais 
bientxH  les  deceptions  accoiu-ent,  a  mesure  que  les 
experiences  se  multiplient.  II  a  cru  que  P  amour 
suffisait  a  remplir  son  coeur.  Au  vide  qu'il  a 
creuse,  Musset  s'apercoit  de  son  erreur.  Bien 

16  The  Haunted  Palace,  vol.  x,  edit.  Stedman  and  Wood- 
berry. 

"Ily  en  a  une  explication  plus  ais^e  :  1' influence  des 
ballades  alleraandes  et  anglaises.  Ce  qu'il  serait  inte'res- 
sant  d'etudier,  c'est  la  part  qui  revient  &  nos  roraantiques, 
Charles  Nodier,  Gerard  de  Nerval,  et  ge'ne'ralement  a 
cette  HtteVature  fantastique  qui  s'e'panouit  chez  nous  entre 
1820  et  1830,  surtout  apres  1'apparition  des  Conies  de  Hoff- 
mann. Poe  connaissait  peu  1'allemand.  Le  francais  au 
contraire  lui  e'tait  familier.  Au  contact  des  oeuvres  et  des 
traductions  franpaises  de  cette  ^poque  peut-etre  a-t-il 
de'veloppe'  ses  tendances  4 1' Strange  et  1 1' horrible. 


plus  ;  un  fantome  s'est  dressS  a  c6t6  de  lui ;  lumi- 
neux,  quand  lui-meme  etait  jeune,  parce  que  sa 
folle  jeunesse  le  dorait  de  ses  rayons,  puis,  en- 
veloppe  d' ombre  et  de  tristesse,  comme  sa  con- 
science. Car,  c'est  elle  qui  s'est  levee  du  som- 
meil  ou  il  la  ten  ait  plonge'e.  Elle  s'est  reveiliee 
dans  la  Solitude  ;  c'est  le  double  v6tu  de  noir  qui 
lui  ressemble  ;  et  desormais,  elle  ne  s'endormira 
plus.  Ecoutez-la  dans  ces  beaux  vers  si  juste- 
ment  fameux  : " 

J'ai  perdu  ma  force  et  ma  vie, 
Et  mes  amis  et  ma  galt£  ; 
J'ai  perdu  jusqu'a  la  fiert^ 
Qui  faisait  croire  &  mon  gdnie. 

Quand  j'ai  connu  la  Ve'rite', 
J'ai  cru  que  c'^tait  une  amie  ; 
Quand  je  1'ai  comprise  et  sentie, 
J'en  e^ais  deja  d^gout^. 

Et  pourtant  elle  est  fternelle, 
Et  ceux  qui  se  sont  passes  d'elle 
Ici-bas  ont  tout  ignore. 

Dieu  parle,  il  faut  qu'on  lui  rdponde. 
Le  seul  bien  qui  me  reste  au  monde 
Est  d' avoir  quelquefois  pleurd. 

Musset  fut  le  chantre  de  la  tristesse  autant  que 
de  la  joie  amoureuse.  La  Coupe  et  les  Llvres, 
Holla,  Lorenzaceio,  la  Confession  d'un  enfant  du 
siecle,  sont  des  oeuvres  irnpregn^es  d'  un  pessimisme 
douloureux.  Pourquoi  ?  Entre  les  causes  diverses, 
voici  peut-6tre  la  principale.  Jadis,  il  croyait  a 
P  amour  absolu.  Pour  Patteindre,  il  s'est  jete" 
dans  les  plaisirs  sans  tre've.  L' amour  lui  a 
echappe,  ne  lui  laissant  que  souillures.  Dans  sa 
poursuite  infatigable,  il  rencontre  un  jour  la 
passion ;  il  s'arrete  pour  la  saisir ;  mais  elle 
e'chappe  aussi  ne  laissant  apres  elle  que  ruines  et 
que  cendres.  Alors,  il  a  recours  a  toutes  les  ex- 
p6riences  libertines,  et  il  aboutit  a  1'effondrement 
de  son  id^al.  Ce  qu'il  voit  clairement,  a  cette 
heure,  c'est  sa  deche'ance  profonde,  c'est  la 
debauche,  collie  a  son  ame,  comme  la  robe  du 
Nessus  antique.  Mais,  cette  degradation,  il  ne 
Paccepte  pas  dans  une  indifference  stupide  ;  il 
pleure,  il  sanglotte,  il  maudit.  Ce  spectre  sinistre 
que  le  poete  apergoit  a  tous  les  coins  de  son 
existence,  derriere  tous  les  plaisirs,  c'est  le  spectre 
de  la  debauche  ;  et  ses  imprecations  sont  le  cri  de 

17  Pomes  Nvuvdlei,  Tristesse. 


76 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  3. 


sa  conscience,  une  conscience  trouble,  si  Ton  veut, 
singulierement  complaisante,  mais  sincere  dans  ses 
revoltes.  En  vain  la  croit-il  morte,  avec  Coelio. 
' '  Coelio  6tait  la  bonne  partie  de  moi-meme.  Elle 
est  remontee  au  Ciel  avec  lui.  Je  ne  sais  point 
aimer.  Coelio  seul  le  savait.  Lui  seul  savait 
verser  dans  une  autre  ame  toutes  les  sources  de 
bonheur  qui  reposaient  dans  la  sienne.  ...  Je 
ne  suis  qu'un  debauchS  sans  cceur.  ...  Je  ne 
sais  pas  les  secrets  qu'il  savait.  ..."  Non  ; 
quoique  cruellement  blesse,  Coelio  n'etait  pas  mort. 
Et  par  ce  trait  s'affirme  un  peu  plus  la  ressem- 
blance  avec  Poe. 

C'est  pourquoi  je  reunis  les  deux  poetes  dans 
une  meme  conclusion.  Malgre  leurs  fautes  et  leurs 
folies,  tous  deux  m'attachent  et  m'emeuvent,  parce 
qu'ils  souffrent,  parce  qu'ils  pleurent,  en  un  mot, 
parce  que  leur  conscience  n'est  pas  morte.  Je 
n'essaie  pas  de  les  justifier,  pas  meme  de  les 
excuser,  et  ceci,  je  le  pourrais  peut-etre. 

Mais,  je  ne  me  d6fends  pas  de  ressentir  beau- 
coup  de  pitiS,  voire  cette  sympathie  qu' Edgar 
Poe  mendie  si  humblement  aux  premieres  pages 
de  William  Wilson.  Et,  quand  je  parle  de  pitiS 
a  propos  de  Musset,  qu'on  m'entende  bien.  Je 
sais  qu'il  est  le  poete  de  la  jeunesse,  de  la  passion, 
uii  admirable  poete  ;  et,  qu'a  ce  titre,  parler  de 
pitie,  c'est  lui  faire  injure,  etre  surabondamment 
ridicule.  Je  ne  mets  pas  davantage  en  question 
le  sujet  perpetuel  de  ses  chants,  1' amour  ;  je  ne 
proteste  pas,  malgr6  mes  reserves  intimes,  centre 
cet  ideal  exclusif  qu'il  avait  donne  a  sa  vie 
d'homme  et  de  poete.  C'est  par  la  qu'il  est 
Musset.  J'ai  song6  seulement  au  poete  malheu- 
reux,  desillusionne.  Le  conte  symbolique  de  Poe 
m'a  rappe!6  la  Nuit  de  Decembre  et  d'autres 
poemes  analogues.  Un  rapprochement  est  n6 
dans  mon  esprit ;  et,  voila  pourquoi,  apres  avoir 
lu  leurs  souffrances,  leurs  luttes  de  conscience,  je 
les  reunis  dans  une  sympathie  commune. 

E.    J.    DUBEDOUT. 

[This  brief  essay,  which  displays  the  author's  charitable 
spirit  as  well  as  his  remarkable  gift  in  the  analysis  of  the 
human  heart,  is  the  last  work  to  which  he  put  his  hand. 
Ernest-Jean-Baptiste  Dubedout  died  in  Paris,  October  16, 
1906,  at  the  age  of  forty-four,  of  pulmonary  consumption. 
In  1901  he  had  been  received  Dacteur-es-LettresenSorbonne. 


His  Latin  thesis  is  a  study  of  the  poems  of  Gregory  of 
Nazianze  :  De  D.  Oregorii  Nazianzeni  Carminibua,  Parisiis, 
1901.  His  French  thesis,  Le  Sentiment  Chretien  dans  la 
Poesie  Romantique,  shows  him  faithful  to  the  traditions  of 
the  Paris  Faculty  of  Letters,  for,  as  he  says,  he  preferred 
to  write  "  un  livre  d' analyse  religieuse,  morale  et  litte'- 
raire,"  rather  than. "unlivrederecherches  documentaires." 
Besides  a  large  number  of  miscellaneous  articles,  Dr.  Dube- 
dout was  the  author  of  several  studies  published  in  Modern 
Philology:  Ramantisme et  Protestantisme  (Vol.  I,  1903),  Les 
Discours  de  Ronsard  (ibid. ),  Shakespeare  et  Voltaire:  Othetto 
et  Zaire  (Vol.  Ill,  1906).  Beginning  in  October,  1902, 
he  had  been  Instructor  in  French  Literature  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Chicago.— T.  A.  JENKINS,  Univ.  of  Chicago.'} 


18  Caprices  de  Marianne. 


BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER  AND  THE 

MIEROVR  OF  KNIGHTHOOD. 

In  my  paper  on  Shakespeare's  Tempest  (Clark 
University  Press,  Worcester,  Mass.),  I  suggested 
the  Mirrour  of  Knighthood  as   a  source  of  the 
plot.     At  present  I  shall  attempt  to  show  Beau- 
mont  and   Fletcher's   indebtedness   to  the  same 
Spanish  romance  of  chivalry.     For  the  latter  I 
shall  quote  the  French  translation  published  under 
the  title  of  Le  Chevalier  du  Soliel  in  eight  volumes, 
and  for  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  the  Folio  of  1679. 
My  allusions  to  the  Mirrour  of  Knighthood  will  be 
easily  understood,  however,  by  a  reference  to  the 
paper  previously  mentioned.     I  begin  with  Phil- 
aster,  where  the  concluding  scenes  are  founded  on 
a  story  in  the  Mirrour  of  Knighthood,  viz.  :  the 
Reconciliation  Scene  at  the  beginning  of  the  third 
volume  of  Le  Chevalier  du  Soleil.     Rosicler  loves 
Olivia,  daughter  of  Oliver,  King  of  England,  but 
is   refused  by  the   father  on  account  of  an    old 
feud.     Olivia  is  to  be  married  to  the  Prince  of 
Portugal,  but  Rosicler  elopes  with  her.     Later  on 
he  delivers  Oliver  and  the   Prince   of  Portugal 
from  death,  provides  another  princess  for  the  lat- 
ter and  settles  the  old  feud  by  his   impassioned 
pleading  for  mercy.     The  King  in  the  Philaster 
corresponds   to   Oliver,  Arethusa   to   Oliva,   and 
Pharamond  to  the  Prince  of  Portugal.     It  is  also 
possible  that  Euphrasia  has  been   derived  from 
Eufronisa   (Le   Chevalier  du  Soleil,    vn,    159), 
but  her  rdle  modified  under  the  influence  of  Mon- 
temayor.    The  authors  indicate  their  source  in  the 
phrase,  "My  Royal  Rosiclear  "   (Act  v,  p.  38). 
There  seems  to  be  a  borrowing  in  the   Tempest 


March,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


77 


from  Philaster,  viz.,  the  reason  why  Prospero  has 
not  been  put  to  death.  I  may  also  call  attention 
to  a  common  hispanicism  in  Philaster,  consisting 
in  the  use  of  the  verb  to  leave  with  an  infinitive  in 
the  meaning  of  to  cease.  This  hispanicism  occurs 
only  once  in  Shakespeare  and  that  in  a  play  bor- 
rowed from  Montemayor.  The  allusion  in  Philas- 
ter to  the  Mirrour  of  Knighthood  is  full  of  sym- 
pathy and  enthusiasm.  But  the  feeling  changes 
in  the  plays  written  after  Cervantes'  immortal 
satire  had  reached  the  authors.  Such  is,  for  in- 
stance, the  Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle,  where 
we  find  the  following  passage  (Act  i,  p.  50) : 

' '  I  wonder  why  the  Kings  do  not  raise  an 
Army  of  fourteen  or  fifteen  hundred  thousand 
men,  as  big  as  the  Army  that  the  Prince  of 
Portigo  brought  against  Rocicler." 

Here  we  find  Rosicler  and  the  Prince  of  Portugal. 
The  passage  preceding  the  one  just  quoted  is  from 
Palmerin  of  England,  and  alludes  to  Palmerin  de 
Oliva  (grandfather  of  Palmerin  of  England)  and 
Trineo  of  Germany  rescuing  the  Princess  Agriola 
from  the  hands  of  the  giant  Farnaque.  The 
Mirrour  of  Knighthood  itself  is  alluded  to  Act  n, 
p.  53.  Rosiclere  is  mentioned  again  Act  n,  p. 
58.  The  hispanicism  occurs  here  too.  In  the 
Wild- Goose  Chase  the  Knight  o'  th'  Sun  is  men- 
tioned (Act  i, .p.  448).  In  the  Faithful  Shep- 
herdess where  the  hispanicism  occurs  again,  the 
passage,  Act  n,  p.  219  : 

"  I'll  swear  she  met  me  'mongst 
the  shady  Sycamores  ....  Hobinall" 

is  a  reminiscence  from  the  Mirrour  of  Knighthood 
(p.  210  of  my  pamphlet).  Both  Hobinall  in  the 
Faithful  Shepherdess  and  Anibardo  in  the  Mirrour 
of  Knighthood  are  corruptions  of  Hannibal,  a  very 
common  method  of  coining  names  in  the  romances 
of  chivalry.  The  Knight  o'  th'  Sun  is  mentioned 
again  in  the  Scornful  Lady,  Act  in,  p.  71.  In 
the  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  the  combat  between 
Palamon  and  Arcite,  each  accompanied  by  three 
knights,  is  a  reminiscence  from  the  Mirrour  of 
Knighthood  (p.  210  of  my  pamphlet).  In  the 
drowning  scene,  the  authors  may  have  used  besides 
Hamlet,  a  similar  scene  in  the  Mirrour  of  Knight- 
hood (Le  Chevalier  du  Soleil,  vol.  i,  p.  423), 
where  the  young  lady  is  rescued.  The  plum 
broth,  Act  in,  p.  437,  is  Fletcher's  dish  (The 


Honest  Man's  Fortune,  Actv,  p.  527),  unknown  to 
Shakespeare.  We  find  again  "Cavellero  Knight 
o'  th'  Sun ' '  in  the  Little  French  Lawyer,  Act  II, 
p.  343.  In  the  Women  Pleas' d,  the  following 
phrase  : 

' '  old  knight's  adventures,  full  of  in  chanted 
flames,  and  dangerous  "  — 

is  a  reference  to  the  Mirrour  of  Knighthood  (p. 
212  of  my  pamphlet).  Finally,  in  the  Widow, 
which  is  not  in  the  Folio,  the  scheme  to  entrap 
Valeria  seems  to  be  a  borrowing  from  the  Mirrour 
of  Knighthood  (p.  212  of  my  pamphlet). 

As  far  back  as  January  31,  1885,  the  well- 
known  German  poet,  Edmund  Dorer,  published 
in  the  Magazin  fur  die  Litteratur  des  In-  und 
Auslandes,  an  article  suggesting  Antonio  de  Esla- 
va's  Noches  de  Invierno,  Pamplona,  1609,  as  the 
source  of  the  Tempest.  The  authorities  of  the 
Royal  Library  of  Berlin  having  been  kind  enough 
to  send  here  a  copy  of  the  Brussels  edition  of  the 
Noches  de  Invierno — which  I  had  the  opportunity 
of  studying, — I  can  add  two  additional  proofs  of 
Shakespeare's  indebtedness  to  Antonio  de  Eslava. 
On  page  27  of  the  Noches  de  Invierno,  we  have 
two  sailors  making  their  escape  in  a  storm  on  two 
butts  of  malmsey,  and  on  page  335  the  speech  of 
the  serpent  has  a  great  resemblance  to  what  is  said 
of  Caliban  (Tempest,  Act  I,  sc.  2).  Eslava's  own 
source  was  partly  the  Mirrour  of  Knighthood  and 
partly  the  story  of  Leone  in  Ariosto,  where,  as  has 
been  already  suggested,  Leone  takes  the  place  of 
a  princess,  say,  Florippes  in  Leu  Conquetes  de 
Charlemagne.  I  found  also  evidences  of  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher's  indebtedness  to  Antonio  de 
Eslava  ;  for  example,  the  combat  in  the  Knight  of 
Malta,  Act  n,  p.  149,  which  is  borrowed  from  a 
similar  combat  between  Mauricio  and  Gaulo  Casio 
in  Antonio  de  Eslava,  p.  228.  The  chief  point  is 
that  the  villain  engages  another  man  to  fight  for 
him  and  the  combatants  thus  happen  to  be  two 
brothers  or  two  friends.  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's 
indebtedness  to  another  source — La  Enemiga  Fa- 
vorable, by  Francisco  Tdrraga — may  be  also 
mentioned  en  passant. 

In  Women  Pleas' d,  we  find  a  borrowing  from 
the  Story  of  Roland  in  Antonio  de  Eslava,  Silvio 
corresponding  to  Milon  de  Anglante,  and  Belvidere 
to  Berta  and  the  Serpent.  The  cave  where  Bel- 


78 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  3. 


videre  dwells  indicates  clearly  the  borrowing,  and 
also  the  city  of  Siena,  which  Eslava  substituted  for 
Sutri.  Child  Rowland  is  also  alluded  to  else- 
where (The  Tamer  Tamed,  Act  n,  p.  253),  but 
that  need  not  be  a  reference  to  Eslava. 

As  to  the  story  in  The  Mirrour  of  Knighthood 
which  I  take  to  be  the  source  of  the  Tempest,  it 
seems  to  be  borrowed  from  Palmerin  de  Oliva, 
where  it  amounts  to  this.  The  king  finds  his 
brother  Netrido  sitting  on  his  throne  and  in  anger 
exiles  him  from  his  dominions.  The  feud  is  set- 
tled by  Netrido' s  son  Frisolo  marrying  Armida,  a 
daughter  of  the  king's  son.  A  marriage  between 
first  cousins,  objection  to  which  is  expressly  stated 
in  Palmerin  de  Oliva,  is  thus  avoided  in  a  way 
different  from  that  used  by  Shakespeare.  I  am 
now  inclined  to  think  that  Shakespeare  borrowed 
the  name  Prospero  from  Prospero  Colonna,  who 
is  mentioned  with  great  praise  in  Antonio  de  Es- 
lava, while  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  borrowed  the 
surname  for  the  Knight  of  Malta,  just  as  they  bor- 
rowed the  Admiral  Norandino,  from  Francisco 
Tarraga's  La  Enemiga  Favorable. 

The  indebtedness  of  the  Mirrour  of  Knighthood 
to  Palmerin  de  Oliva  seems  in  fact  to  be  very  great 
besides  the  name  of  the  chief  hero  in  the  Mirrour 
— the  Knight  of  the  Sun.  So,  for  instance,  the 
story  of  Luciano  and  Policena,  retold  on  page  210 
of  my  pamphlet  on  the  Tempest,  appears  to  be  a 
combination  of  the  Story  of  Ariodanto  and  Ginevra 
in  Ariosto  with  the  story  of  Duardo  and  Gardenia 
in  Palmerin  de  Oliva.  As  the  last  borrower  from 
the  Mirrour  of  Knighthood,  I  should  quote  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  where  Cedric  in  the  eighth  chapter 
of  Ivanhoe  is  an  imitation  of  Adriano  in  Le  Chev- 
alier du  Soleil,  vol.  n,  f.  221. 

Finally,  the  plot  of  the  Double  Marriage  seems 
to  be  borrowed  from  the  story  of  Bernardo  and 
the  Mooress  in  Antonio  de  Eslava,  but,  not  having 
the  Spanish  book  at  hand,  I  cannot  enter  into 
further  details. 


JOSEPH  DE  PEROTT. 


Clark  University. 


ON  THE  INFLECTION  OF  THE  OLD 

ENGLISH   LONG-STEMMED 

ADJECTIVE. 

The  following  study  aims  to  show  definitely  the 
norm  for  the  neuter  nom.  -ace.  plural  form,  strong, 
of  the  long-stemmed  adjective  in  Old  English. 
Hitherto,  the  student,  following,  for  example, 
the  paradigm  in  the  Sievers-Cook  Grammar,  p. 
217,  has  expected  in  his  texts  only  the  uninflected 
form,  god,  eald,  etc.  Or,  following,  for  example, 
Baskervill  and  Harrison' s  Outlines  of  Anglo-Saxon 
Grammar,  p.  30,  he  has  been  led  to  regard  the 
uninflected  god  as  the  norm  and  the  inflected 
gode  as  the  exception. 

This  study  will  perhaps  suggest  that  our  para- 
digms should  show  gode,  with  -e  analogous  to 
the  corresponding  masculine  form,  standing  first 
as  the  norm,  and  god  appended  as  the  compara- 
tively rare  exception.  The  following  citations  in 
support  of  this  were  collected  incidentally  by  me, 
while  reading  through  the  texts  for  a  different 
purpose  ;  however,  they  include  practically  every 
occurrence  of  this  form  in  the  eleven  prose  texts 
given  below,  which  fairly  constitute  the  corpus  of 
the  Alfredian  prose  period.  Citation  from  the 
later  prose  1  omit,  since  it  is  agreed  that  by  the 
time  of  JElfric  the  analogic  inflected  form  in  -e 
had  become  the  rule.  The  poetic  texts,  save  for 
a  few  examples  incorporated  from  the  Psalms  and 
from  Boethius,  I  exclude,  since  the  exigencies  of 
metre  might  tend  to  make  the  poetry  an  uncertain 
witness  in  the  case. 

Therefore,  the  following  early  prose  writings, 
from  the  Alfredian  cycle,  have  been  chosen  as  a 
fair  field  in  which  to  test  the  ratio  of  frequency 
between  the  inflected  and  the  uninflected  neuter 
plural,  between  god  and  gode.  I  have  aimed  to 
list  every  occurrence  in  these  texts  :  The  Parker 
MS.  of  the  Chronicle  (  =  Chron.~),  Earl  and  Plum- 
mer,  Oxford,  1892  ;  Libri  Psalmorum  (=Pa.)» 
Thorpe,  Oxon.,  1835;  Orosius  (=  0.),  Sweet, 
London,  1883  ;  Bede  (=Bede),  Miller,  London, 
1890  ;  Boethius  (=  Bo. ),  Sedgefield,  Oxford, 
1899  ;  Augustine' $  Soliloquies  (=Sol.),  Hargrove, 
Boston,  1902  ;  Pastoral  Care  (=P.  (7.),  Sweet, 
London,  1871;  Gregory's  Dialogs  (=  Dial.), 
Hecht,  Leipzig,  1900  ;  Gospels  (=  Gos. ),  Skeat, 
Cambridge,  1871-87  ;  Guthlac  (=Gwth.'),  Good- 


March,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


79 


win,    London,    1848  ;    Martyrology    (=  Mart.), 
Herzfeld,  London,  1900. 

In  these  eleven  texts  401  examples  of  the  form 
in  question  were  found  :  292  =  inflected  ;  109  = 
uninflected — a  ratio  of  3  : 1  in  favor  of  gode. 

In  the  individual  works  contributing  to  the 
above  total,  the  ratios  of  inflexion  to  non-inflexion 
will  appear  from  the  following  figures  denoting  the 
actual  occurrences  :  Ps.  =  78  inflected  :  27  unin- 
flected ;  0.  =  10  :  4  ;  Bo.=  13:6;  Sol.  =  9  : 1  ; 
Dial.  =  39  :  4  ;  Gos.  =  108  :  3  ;  Guth.  =11:3; 
Mart.  =6:3.  Chron.  shows  a  balance,  3:3; 
while  only  Bede  and  P.  C.  show  reverse  ratios  ; 
viz.,  13  :  28  and  2  :  27,  respectively. 

Classification  of  these  401  instances  according 
to  the  grammatical  function  or  position  of  the 
adjective  corroborates  the  above  ratio  of  3  : 1  in 
favor  of  the  inflected  norm.  In  the  attributive 
position  are  229  inflected  :  86  uninflected  ;  in  the 
appositive,  the  numbers  are  21  :  6.  In  the  predi- 
cate function  are  39  inflected  :  13  uninflected  ;  in 
the  objective  predicate  function  alone  is  the  ratio 
reversed,  2  : 4 — where  the  numbers  are  so  small 
as  not  to  merit  consideration. 

Finally,  a  grouping  of  these  401  examples  with 
reference  to  the  words  exemplified  is  interesting. 
For  brevity's  sake  let  this  appear  as  follows  : 

Most  frequent  is  eall,  132  : 52  in  favor  of  in- 
flexion ;  then  min  and  tSwt,  96  : 25,  likewise. 
These  three  words,  it  will  be  noted,  yield  305  of 
the  401  examples.  The  remaining  96  consist  of 
"stems  long  by  position,"  24  inflected  :  6  unin- 
flected ;  and  of  "stems  long  by  nature,"  40  :  26, 
respectively.  In  addition  to  the  frequent  eall, 
the  remaining  words  of  the  former  class  are  : 
<KJed,  arfull,  beorht,  betst,  ceald,  earm,  full, 
geseald,  geworht,  healf,  hwilc,  lang,  leoht,  manig- 
feald,  sff&foBst,  mvilc,  toweard,  wearm,  (ttn-)weorS, 
mid,  ymbseald  ;  to  the  second  "long  by  nature  " 
class  belong,  in  addition  to  the  frequent  min  and 
tin,  (un-)cwf>,  dead,  gedon,  gelic,  god,  (un-)hal, 
hat,  heah,  hwit,  leaf,  #iS,  soS,  wid. 

Why,  then,  not  make  our  paradigm  of  the 
neuter  plural1  strong,  not  god,  nor  god(e),  but 
gode,  god  ? 

'Interesting  examples  of  adjective  agreement  with 
diverse  genders  are  :  Mart.  152.  7  se  beard  ond  ticef  feax 
him  wscron  oS  $a  fet  /Me  ;  Bede,  158.  1  tSa  gemette  he  his 
earm  ond  his  hand  swa  hale  ond  swa  gesunde  ;  id.  422.  11  he 
monig  mynster  ond  ciricean  in  ftsem  londe  getimbrede. 


The 
details 


table  below  will  make  clear  the  minuter 
of  the  statements  above. 


™ 

? 

CO           CO           CO           ^ 

00                            rH 

ai        <fi        a>        <^t 

C*-1            C*i            CO 

g 

rH 
(M 

*» 

„ 

CO           O           O           O 
US             rH             O             O 

CO 
CD 

<p» 

? 

<N             O              O            rH 
l>             rH             CO             O 

CO 
rH 

-80O 

•u 

O           0           CO           0 
1C             rH             <N             O 

Oi                               rH 

CO 

§ 

rH 

Wff 

w 

•*             O             O             O 

00             CO             00             O 
tH 

CO 

Dtf 

V 

CO             O             rH             O 
<M             O             O             O 

<M 

IM 

•jotf 

w 

rH               O               O               O 
CO             O             CM             rH 

rH 
OS 

'Off 

V 

•^             O             rH             rH 
1^             O             *O             rH 

O 
rH 

•apag- 

? 

00           tM           eO           <M 
OS^     (M            IM            O 

cow 

rH 

•o 

V 

1 

•*           0           0           0 
l~           O           CO           O 

O 

rH 

V 

T. 

CO            C-1            (M            O 

eg 

CM            CM            Tf            O 
CO            rH 

00 

M 

f 

r-*             <M             O             O 
rH               (M               O               O 

CO 

CO 

?                 V      |           V                 ?      | 

^      :          1 
«     «          p^ 

•-         .S          fl!          « 

3       S       a       .5 

?  1 

O 

H 

Full  citations,  which  may  be  used  in  verification 
of  the  above  statements,  are  appended. 

I.    INFLECTED  FORMS  =  (292). 

1.  Attributive  :  Chron.  92.  8  =  (1).  Ps.  6.  6  ; 
8.  7;  9.  1;  12.  4  ;  16.  2  ;  17.  27;  24.  13;" 
30.  2,  10  ;  32.  4  ;  44.  2  ;  55.  5,  11  ;  73.  16  ; 
79.  13  ;  88.  16,  27,  28  ;  89.  1  ;  91.  4  ;  95.  5  ; 
103.  19,  23  ;  104.  1  ;  105.  7  ;  108.  13  ;  118,  4, 
6,  16,  18,  19,  21,  23,  37,  40,  48,  60,  63,  73, 
78,  83,  86,  98,  101,  134,  143,  146,  166,  173  ; 
120.  1  ;  122.  1,  2  ;  127.  4  ;  130.  1  ;  137.  1  ; 


80 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  3. 


138.  7  ;  140.  8  ;  141.  2  ;  142.  5  ;  144.  10  ;  147. 
1,  3  =  (62).  0.  19.  7  ;  108.  25  ;  110.  17  ; 
216.  4  ;  224.  27  ;  226.  4  ;  264.  19  =  (7). 
Bede  30.  2  ;  40.  29  ;  128.  29  ;  342. 12  ;  402.  14 ; 
410.  5,  12  ;  428.  16  ;  438.  25  =  (9).  Bo.  41. 
28  ;  79.  25,  28  ;  82.  10  ;  89.  16  ;  121.  4,  9  = 
(7).  Sol.  28.  8  ;  35.  2  ;  43.  20  ;  45,  3,  5  ; 
48.  12  =  (6).  P.  C.  60.  7;  303.  9  =  (2). 
Dial.  4.  16  ;  57.  27,  28  ;  58.  8  ;  98.  15  ;  119. 
19  ;  127.  18  ;  132.  25  ;  141.  2  ;  148.  6  ;  163.  4  ; 
171.  2  ;  182.  9  ;  214.  3  ;  228.  7  ;  230.  22  ;  234. 
19,  26,  27  ;  251.  7  ;  252.  6  ;  268.  18  ;  293.  6, 
9  ;  311.  25  ;  315.  2  ;  327.  9  ;  333.  4  =  (28). 
Gos. :  Matt.  2.  16  ;  4.  8 ;  5.  18  ;  6.  32,  33  ;  7. 
12  ;  24.  26  ;  8.  33  ;  13.  34,  51,  56  ;  17.  11  ; 
19.  26,  27  ;  22.  4  ;  23,  5,  36,  37  ;  24.  8,  34  ; 
27.  35  ;  28.  11,  20  ;  Mark  4.  11  ;  6.  2  ;  7.  23, 
37  ;  8.  38  ;  9.  12,  23  ;  10.  28  ;  11.  11  ;  13.  4  ; 
23.  30  ;  14.  36  ;  Luke  2.  19,  30,  39,  51  ;  4.  5  ; 
5.  28  ;  7.  1  ;  9.  7  ;  11.  22,  41  ;  12.  18,  30  ;  13. 
34  ;  14.  17  ;  15.  13,  31  ;  18.  28,  31  ;  19.  44  ; 
21.  29,  32  ;  24.  44  ;  John  1.  3  ;  3.  25  ;  4.  25, 

29.  39,  45  ;  5.  20  ;  9.  10,  11,  15,  17,  26,  30  ; 
10.  14,  27,  32,  41  ;  12.  32,  47,  48  ;  13.  3  ;  14. 

15,  21,  26  ;  15.  7, 15,  21  ;  16.  30  ;  17.  7  ;  18.  4  ; 
19.  24,  28  ;  21.  15,  16,  17,  25  =  (95).     Guih. 
44.  25  ;  50.  28  ;  52.  19  ;  54.  13  ;  62.  16  ;  78.  11  ; 
90.  2  =  (7).     Mart.    28.    21  ;    80.   6  ;    94.    1  ; 
146.  1  ;  212.  19  =  (5).     Totals  =  (229). 

2.  Appositive  :   Chron.  78.  18  ;  89.  20  =  (2). 
Ps.  76.  4,  5  ;    83.  1  ;    87.  12  ;    100.  6  ;    110.  5  ; 
114.  8  ;  118.  123,  136,  148  ;  138.  14  ;  141.  2  = 
(12).      Bede  164.   10;   430.   29  =  (2).     Dial. 
81.  15;   141.  24;   237.  4  =  (3).     Go*.:  Luke 

16.  14  =  (1).     Gwth.  14.  9  =  (1).    Mart.  158. 
24  =(1).     Totals  =(22). 

3.  Predicate  :  Ps.  25.  9  ;  83.  1  ;  87.  9  ;  108. 
24  =  (4).     0.  10.  24  ;  42.  14  ;   110.  2  =  (3). 
Bede  60.  3  ;  388.  3  =  (2).  Bo.  16.  11 ;  24.  11  ; 

30.  31  ;   87.  25  ;   90.  17  =  (5).      Sol.  27.   19  ; 

31.  8  =  (2).     Dial.  41.  21  ;    76.  3  ;    134.  3  ; 
182.  25  ;  244.  18  ;  297.  4  ;  318.  14  ;   348.  7  = 
(8).      Gos.:  Matt.   11.  20,   21,   23,  27  ;    17.  2; 
Luke  4.  7  ;    6.  30  ;    10.  13,  22  ;    John   10.  41  ; 
16.  15  ;  17.  10  =  (12).     Guth.  6.  10  ;  12.  25  ; 
62.  16  =  (3).     Totals  =  (39). 

4.  Objective   Predicate  :    Bo.  79.   28  =  (1). 
Sol.  28.  10  =  (1).     Totals  =  (2). 


II.   UNINFLECTED  FORMS  =  (109). 

1.  Attributive:    Chron.   10.   16  =(1).      Ps. 
6.  2  ;  15.  1  ;  16.  6  ;  21.  15  ;  25.  7  ;  27.  6  ;  30. 
11,  12  ;  31.  3  ;  32.  6  ;  33.  20 ;  34.  11  ;  41.  12  ; 
53.  2  ;  58.  10  ;   66.  6  ;   74,  2  ;   91,  4  ;   101.  4  ; 
118.   172  ;    129.   2  ;    138.  12  ;    144.  5  =  (23). 
0.  138.  31  ;    146.  23  ;  264.  25  ;   290.  4  =  (4). 
Bede  26.  13  ;  28.  8  ;  60.  25  ;   64.  25  ;  102.  15  ; 
114.  31  ;   116.  30  ;   120.  2  ;   160.  13  ;   200.  8  ; 
216.  33  ;   352.  24  ;   356.  5  ;   368.  20  ;    424.  9  ; 
440.  3  ;  454.  6  ;  466.  31  =  (18).     Bo.  32.  15  ; 
90.  17  ;    xi.  61  ;    xx.  44  =  (4).      Sol.  35.  4  = 
(1).      P.  C.  4.  5  ;   8.  20  ;    42.  5  ;    54.  19,  22  ; 
86.  4  ;    110.  22  ;    128.  8  ;    222.  10  ;    230.  11  ; 
272.  10  ;  286.  12  ;  310.  16  ;  324.  24  ;  338.  11  ; 
372.  12,  23  ;  391.  15  ;  395.  18  ;  405.  25  ;  413. 
17  ;  421.  10  ;  443.  36  ;  445.  16,  21,  26  =-  (26). 
Dial.   3.  21;    4i   15;    32.  27;    331.  26  =(4). 
Guth.   20.   16  ;    88.  21  ==  (2).     Mart.  82.  11  ; 
142.  16  ;  212.  15  =  (3).     Totals  =  (86). 

2.  Appositive  :   Chron.  86.  24  ;  91.  3  =  (2). 
Ps.  74.  2  ;  104.  1  =  (2).     Bede  66.  14  ;  88.  32 
=  (2).     Totals  =  (6). 

3.  Predicate  :  Ps.  11.  7  ;  49.  11  =  (2).   Bede 
62.  12  ;    178.  15  ;    376.  2  ;    386.  24  ;   426.  12  ; 
476.  1  =  (6).     Bo.  ii.  18  =  (1).     P.  C.  128.  8 
=  (1).    Gos.:  Matt.  11.  20  ;  Mark  11.  21  ;  John 
16.  13  =  (3).     Totals  =  (13). 

4.  Objective   predicate  :   Bede   60.  6  ;    74.  21 
=  (2).  Bo.  xx.  44  =  (1).    Guth.  54.  13  =  (1). 
Totals  =  (4). 


H.  G.  SHEARIN. 


Kentucky  University. 


NOTES  ON  THE  "NEW  ENGLAND 
SHORT  0." 

The  so-called  New  England  short  o  (o) '  is  a 
phenomenon  frequently  remarked  by  the  casual 
traveler  and  commonly  noted  by  the  orthoepist  : 
— the  subject  of  much  amusement  and  of  some 
sober-minded  approval ;  but  by  scholars  generally 

1  Throughout  this  article  the  symbol  5  is  used  to  desig- 
nate the  ordinary  English  long  o,  long  close  o,  with  the 
vanish  ;  o,  the  New  England  short  o;  and  S,  the  recog- 
nized "  short  o,"  as  in  hat. 


March,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


81 


thrust,  often  regretfully,  into  the  limbo  of  pro- 
vincialisms. It  occurs  iii  the  form  of  pronuncia- 
tion, once  almost  universal  in  New  England  and 
still  common  there,  of  long  o  (5)  in  a  number  of 
words,  chiefly  popular  (as  opposed  to  learned),  and 
varying  somewhat  with  individuals  and  localities. 
These  words  range  from  downright  dialectic  forms, 
such  as  ston,  cot,  tod  (for  stone,  coat,  toad),  to 
forms  persisting  in  the  speech  of  many  discrimi- 
nating and  well-educated  men  and  by  them  stoutly 
maintained,  as  in  whole,  holster,  poultry  (contrast 
with  hole,  hole  stir,  pole-ax).  Webster's  In- 
ternational Dictionary  calls  it  a  pronunciation 
"which  does  not  give  the  vanish,  and  takes 
a  wider  form  than  o  (old),  and  the  same  as  o 
(obey)  brought  under  the  accent  :"  *  and  note 
has  several  times  been  made  that  there  is  in 
English  no  other  short  o  corresponding  closely  in 
quality  to  the  regular  long  o  (o).' 

I  should  like  to  call  attention  to  the  following 
points  :  — 

1.  The  New  England  short  o  (5)  is  not  long  o 
(o)  minus  the  vanish.  It  is  not  only  a  little 
"wider"  in  character;  it  is  sufficiently  wider  so 
that,  although  in  sound  quality  it  is  much  nearer 
our  long  close  o  (o)  than  to  long  open  o  (o  as  in 
broad),  if  we  imagine  a  vanish  sound,  it  is  the 
vanish  sound  of  the  latter — i.  e.,  the  sound  ap- 
proximating ~e  in  her  or  »  in  urn  minus  the  r,  on 
the  one  hand,  and  u  (as  in  cut),  on  the  other, 
which  we  shall  designate  e,  as  the  closest  approxi- 
mation,— rather  than  the  oo  type  of  vanish  that 
we  get  from  the  long  close  o  (o).  Indeed, 
the  writer  would  not  agree  with  those  who 
dismiss  the  o  as  having  no  vanish.  He  would 
grant,  to  be  sure,  that  it  has  no  such  distinct 
vanish  as  has  the  5,  that  whatever  vanish  there 
be  is  very  much  syncopated  ;  but  he  would  main- 
tain that  the  e  vanish  would  be  as  distinct  as  that 
after  long  open  o  (ou  in  brought,  au  in  caught),— 
itself  sometimes  treated  as  though  possessing  no 
vanish,  — did  not  the  greater  change  of  pitch  that 
comes  with  the  pronunciation  of  a  long  syllable 
because  it  is  long  accentuate  in  the  latter  case 
the  effect  of  the  vanish.  Still,  it  must  be  admitted 

8  P.  Ixiii. 

*  Vid.  Century  Dictionary,  O  ;  Ellis's  Early  English  Pro- 
nuncialion,  p.  57  ;  Whitney's  Oriental  and  Linguistic  Stu- 
dies, u,  216. 


that  this  inchoate  vanish  of  o  is  due  rather  to  the 
dying  away  of  the  breath  pressure  and  to  the 
change  in  the  resonant  properties  of  the  buccal 
cavity  as  the  tongue  is  proponed  than  to  any  re- 
shaping of  the  mouth  organs  in  vocalic  sequence.4 

2.  The  5  bears  the  same  relation  to  o  that  oo 
(ou)  does  to  oo  (ou):  (foot,  would;  food,  icooed). 
In  each  correspondence  the  long  sound  has  short- 
ened as  to  time,  has  become  slightly  more  open, 
and   glides   on  to   the   succeeding    consonant   as 
though  it  had  the  vanish,  very  much  syncopated, 
of  the  full   open   form  (i.  e.,  the  e,  u  vanish). 
Cp.  cooed  and  could. 

3.  Certain  homonyms  receiving   the  o  in  one 
sense  keep  the  o,  even  in  New  England,  in  the 
other,  the  distinction  thus  serving,  though  prob- 
ably only  incidentally,  as  a   means   of  discrimi- 
nation.    Thus    load,    loived  •   road,    rowed    (rode 
doubtful  ;  in  some  cases  rode   (vid.  Professor  E. 
S.  Sheldon' s  comment  on  the  word  on  p.  xx  of  the 
Proceedings  of  the  American  Philological  Associa- 
tion for  1883).     It  has  been  pointed  out  that  the 
words  pronounced  with  the  o  are  most  of  them 
(they  are   not  all)  popular  rather  than  learned 
words  ;   and  the  exemption  of  goat,  in  which  the 
sound  is  always  o,  from  the  sound  change  that 
befell  so  many  of  its  fellows  (coat,  boat  (?),  etc.), 
has  been  accounted  for  on  the  ground  that  to  the 
New  Englander,  by  the  circumstances  of  his  life, 
goat  was  a  learned  word.     In  the  case   of  the 
homonyms  mentioned  above,  it  will  be  noted  that 
all  are  popular  words,  but  that  those  having  the 
o  would  be   to  the  New  Englander  probably  a 
little  the  commoner.     The  forms  in  od,  too,  are 
both  preterits  whose  presents  end  in  the  vowel  b, 
hence  would  be  held  somewhat  by  analogy.5   Eng- 

*  It  is  interesting  to  note,  in  passing,  that  our  oo  sound, 
itself  the  vanisli  of  o  and  often  treated  as  terminal,  tends 
to  give  an  indistinct  vanish  in  e  in  those  words  of  which  it 
is  the  final  and  accented  sound.  This  too  is  due  to  the 
dying  away  of  the  breath,  and  to  the  retraction  of  the  lips 
from  the  characteristic  oo  shape  before  the  voicing  is  abso- 
lutely complete.  If  we  exaggerate  this  final  element 
greatly,  we  get  an  intrusive  w  sound  :  e.  g.,  do  <  doo-we 
(or  doS^wii).  e^>  <^&  is,  in  fact,  the  sound  produced  by 
voicing,  with  the  vocal  organs  at  the  position  of  rest. 

5  Bellow,  which  has  a  dialectic  preterit  sounding  some- 
thing like  one  with  an  r>,  gets  it,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  not  in 
this  way,  but  from  the  corruption  "heller"  <  "  bellered," 
in  which  the  r-sound,  according  to  oistic  New  England 
custom,  becomes  almost  inaudible. 


82 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[VoL  xxii,  No.  3. 


lish,  indeed,  seems  to  find  it  difficult  to  end  mono- 
syllables with  a  short  vowel,  unless  in  interjec- 
tions ;  so  also  with  the  o,  this  therein  differen- 
tiating itself  from  the  semi-open  o  in  Italian, 
which  in  quality  it  very  closely  resembles. 

4.  Practically  all  words  in  the  language — the 
writer  cannot  recall  a  single  instance  to  the  con- 
trary— ending  in  olt  receive  the  New  England 
shortening.  Even  revolt,  generally,  and  correctly, 
pronounced  by  the  New  Englander  re-volt,  is  some- 
times rendered  re-volt  by  those  who  are  evidently 
thinking  of  the  preferred  pronunciation  revolt. 
This  termination,  if  such  we  consider  it,  gives  us, 
indeed,  our  largest  single  class  of  words  subject  to 
the  New  England  shortening:  e.g.,  bolt,  colt  and 
Colt  (proper  name),  dolt,  Holt  (proper  name), 
and  holt  (a  learned  word),  jolt,  molt  (moult"), 
volt ;  note  also  molten,  poultice  and  poultry. 

The  o  in  such  words  might  be  speciously  attri- 
buted to  the  absorption  of  a  part  of  the  vowel 
length  because  of  the  necessity  for  dwelling  on 
the  neighboring  liquid.  This,  however,  would 
bring  us  face  to  face  with  an  astonishing  anomaly. 
Words  ending  in  old  (or  the  old  sound),  many  of 
them  popular,  are  as  uniform  in  their  preservation 
of  the  full  o  quality.  Contrast  bold  and  bolt  ;  cold 
and  colt ;  doled  and  dolt  ;  hold6  and  Holt  ;  (ca)- 
joled  and  jolt ;  mo(u)ld  and  mo(u)U  (cp.  molden 
and  molten).  Nor  can  the  retention  of  5  in  old 
words  be  due  simply  to  the  existence  of  some 
corresponding  word  in  olt;  for  fold,  gold,  sold,  and 
the  like  keep  equally  the  long  sound.  Possibly 
the  "voicing"  of  the  d,  giving  a  less  violent 

6  Professor  Sheldon,  in  the  article  already  referred  to, 
goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  the  5  never  occurs  to  his  knowl- 
edge in  "hold."  Very  rarely,  however,  in  the  expression 
"  Hold  on !  "  we  do  get  the  d  ;  but  this  occurs  only  when 
the  enunciation  is  very  slovenly  and  the  d  is  thrown  over 
to  the  following  word,  making  the  pronunciation  "h61 
don"  <  "Now  w6l  don!"  Note,  too,  the  distinction 
between  the  syllable  division  of  the  archaic  participle 
holden  (hold-'n)  and  that  of  the  place  name  Holden 
(practically  always  divided,  in  pronunciation  at  least, 
Hoi-den,  and  as  such  often  receiving  the  5). 

"  Old,"  loo,  if  when  rapidly  following  "  the  "  it  erer  be 
given  the  o,  as  to  which  I  am  skeptical  but  not  disposed 
to  dogmatise,  receives  it  with  the  most  extreme  infre- 
quency  ;  and  the  result  would  be  felt  to  be  individual  and 
slovenly  by  those  who  would  pass  by  tiad  and  stone  as 
matters  of  course. 


stop  than  the  comparatively  abrupt  termination 
of  t,  may  accommodate  a  dwelling  on  a  preceding 
vowel  and  the  rounding  of  it  with  a  vanish.  Yet 
this  fact,  by  itself,  seems  hardly  adequate  as  ex- 
planation. In  words  like  bold,  motion  of  the  lips, 
due  in  part  to  their  rounding  in  the  vanish,  in  part 
to  their  subsequent  withdrawal,  accompanies,  and 
even  follows,  the  proponing  of  the  tongue  to  form 
the  liquid  and  dental.  This  is  not  the  case,  at 
least  to  any  such  extent,  in  words  like  bolt. 

That  there  is,  however,  something  that,  in  this 
domain,  approaches  being  a  phonetic  law  seems 
to  be  indicated  by  the  concomitant  change  that 
comes  with  the  single  apparent  exception  to  uni- 
formity. The  noun  hold  is  sometimes  corrupted 
to  a  form  with  o  ;  but  when  this  is  the  case,  it 
gets  also  the  t terminal  sound, — as  in  the  "  holts" 
(for  "holds")  of  rustic  wrestlers.  This  form 
"holt,"  be  it  noted,  is  not  exclusively  New 
England.  It  is  mentioned,  for  instance,  in  dia- 
lect in  a  novel  of  which  the  scene  of  action  is  laid 
in  the  cattle  ranges  of  West  Virginia.' 

5.  Now  and  then,  in  an  accented  syllable,8  the 
5  is  used  as  a  substitute  for  6  as  well  as  for  o.  I 
have  heard  a  brakeman  call  "Boston,"  though 
this  pronunciation  is  certainly  not  widespread. 
Hospitable,  hostage,  and  hostile,9  though  not  com- 
mon, are  so  often  met  with  as  to  be  not  unfa- 
miliar. This  pronunciation  is  generally  uttered 
with  a  certain  unction,  not  necessarily  offensive 
but  perfectly  palpable,  as  though  the  speaker  were 
pluming  himself  upon  a  purer  enunciation.  Its 
use  is  no  doubt  often  due  more  to  idiosyncrasy 
than  to  unconscious  compliance  with  phonetic 
tendencies,  — is  substitution,  for  whimsical  reasons, 
of  one  sound  with  which  the  speakers  are  already 
familiar  for  another  ;  yet  it  is  certainly  charac- 
teristic, and  may  be  significant,  that  in  all  four 

''Dwellers  in  the  Hills,  by  M.  D.  Post,  1901,  p.  51. 

8  In  unaccented  syllables  there  is  a  recognized  inter- 
mediate form  of  o,  occurring  in  words  like  obey,  omit. 

'Revolt  possesses  sanctioned  pronunciation  both  as  revolt 
and  as  revdlt.  Revolt  is  probably  from  the  former.  Vid. 
supra.  So  probably  extol  from  the  pronunciation  extol,  to 
which  the  Century  Dictionary  has  given  its  sanction,  rather 
than  from  the  somewhat  commoner  extol.  Extol  is  very  rare ; 
extolled  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  heard.  This,  in 
its  slight  way,  is  confirmatory  of  the  point  made  above  as  to 
the  unmodified  character  of  the  o  sound  in  old  (sound)  words. 


March,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


83 


cases  the  o  metamorphosed  occurs  after  the  aspi- 
rate, and  in  Boston  as  well  before  s.w 

6.  One  reason  why  the  New  England  shorten- 
ing did  not  take  place  in  more  of  the  popular 
words  is  very  likely  the  alternative  New  England 
practice  of  nasalization.  Nasalize  5,  and  the  vowel 
itself  tends  to  break  into  e-oo,  still  tolerably  like 
its  prototype  ;  nasalize  5,  and  it  tends  to  broaden 
into  the  obviously  different,  though  bordering, 
sound  of  long  open  o  (ou  as  in  brought,  au  as  in 
fraught).  Wrote,  for  example,  is  frequently  nasal- 
ized into  reboot ;  croak,  into  cre^ook  ;  and  road 
is  almost  as  often  reload,  as  rod. 

CLINTON  H.  COLLESTER. 

Massachusetts  Institute  of  Technology. 


A  GLANCE  AT  WORDSWORTH'S 
READING.1 

I. 

To  his  average  acquaintance  Wordsworth  is  a 
comforting  type  of  poet :  in  order  to  appreciate 
him,  so  it  seems,  one  does  not  need  to  know  very 
much.  Whatever  he  may  be  to  a  learned  inti- 
mate like  M.  Legouis  or  Mr.  Hutchinson,  to  the 
labor  shunning  dilettante — and  even  to  many  a 
serious  student  of  English  literature — the  poet  of 
Rydal  is  a  great  non-reading  seer  of  nature,  unin- 
fluenced by  books  and  neglectful  of  bookish  lore, 
a  genius  who  in  a  peculiar  sense  may  be  contem- 
plated apart  and  fully  understood  without  recourse 
to  conventional  and  irksome  scholarly  helps.  In- 
sisting very  properly  upon  accurate  first-hand 
observation  of  the  outer  world  as  a  basis,  though 
not  the  only  basis,  for  poetical  imagery,  he  owes, 
if  we  accept  the  prevalent  view,  no  literary  debts 
such  as  Shakespeare  and  Milton  patently  display, 

10 There  is  much  greater  probability  of  significance  in 
the  apparently  unvarying  succession  of  s  than  in  the  occa- 
sional precedence  of  h.  To  the  examples  mentioned  above 
add  ostracise,  Osborne  and  Osgood  (the  hissing  s  giving 
place  to  the  buzzing  s  before  voiced  sonants),  Oscar,  Yost, 
and  (fostigan.  And  oddly  enough  the  words  in  5  followed 
by  i  do  not  get  the  o.  Note  boast,  coast,  ghost,  host,  roast, 
toast  and  post ;  posthumous,  pSstulate,  and  pdsture  waver  occa- 
sionally toward  the  o, — not  so  postman  and  postscript. 

'This  article  is  based  on  a  paper  delivered  before  the 
Modern  Longua<*e  Association  of  America,  at  Haverford, 
Pa.,  December  28,  1905. 


and  Tennyson,  for  all  his  occasional  reluctance, 
may  be  forced  to  acknowledge.  ' '  He  had, ' ' 
affirms  Mr.  John  Morley,  echoing  Emerson,  "no 
teachers  nor  inspirers  save  nature  and  solitude." 
Could  anything  be  more  explicit  ?  Professor 
Dowden,  it  is  true,  a  well  schooled  Words- 
worthiau,  puts  the  case  more  gently  :  "He  read 
what  pleased  him  and  what  he  considered  best, 
but  he  had  not  the  wide  ranging  passion  for  books 
of  a  literary  student";3  the  veteran  critic  of 
Dublin  would  be  far  from  seconding  Mr.  Mor- 
ley's  surprising  dictum  as  it  stands,  yet  here  at  least 
he  seems  not  unbiased  by  traditional  opinion.  Dr. 
Braudes,  of  course,  acquires  his  ideas  about  the 
' '  Lake  School ' '  largely  from  popular  authorities, 
and  utters  nothing  new  when  he  asserts  that 
"Wordsworth  would  never  describe  anything 
with  which  he  was  not  perfectly  familiar " ;  *  a 
statement  that  seems  to  be  corroborated  by  the 
poet's  latest  hierophant,  Professor  Raleigh,  whose 
oracle  speaks  thus  : 

"  It  is  the  interest  of  Wordsworth's  career,  studied 
as  an  episode  in  literary  history,  that  it  takes  us 
at  once  to  the  root  of  the  matter,  and  shows  us 
the  genesis  of  poetry  from  its  living  material, 
without  literary  intermediary.  .  .  .  The  dominant 
passion  of  Wordsworth's  life  owed  nothing  to 
books."5 

He  had  no  teachers,  no  inspirers,  save  nature 
and  solitude.  The  dominant  impulse  of  his  life, 
the  poetical  impulse,  owed  nothing  to  books.  Is 
it  profitable  to  trace  the  growth  of  so  untenable  a 
paradox,  a  paradox  which  Wordsworth,  most  sen- 
sible and  straightforward  of  men,  would  have  been 
the  first  to  refute  ?  In  the  main  its  causes  have 
been  three.  First,  an  every  day  reluctance  among 
the  uninitiated  to  credit  any  genius  with  the  need 
of  external  assistance  in  his  work,  and  an  allied 
indolent  reluctance  among  half  initiated  criticasters 
to  grant  that  studying  his  "sources," — the  books 
that  he  "  devoured,  or  studiously  perused," — will 
ever  aid  us  in  understanding  a  seer  ; — as  if  we  did 
not  want  a  poet's  education  in  order  to  look  with 

2  Studies  in  Literature  by   John   Morley,    1904,   p.    5. 
Compare  Emerson,  English  Traits,  p.  243  :   "He  had  no 
master  but  nature  and  solitude."     (Emerson's  Complete 
Works,  Kiverside  Edition,  1896,  Vol.  v. ) 

3  Poems  of  Wordsworth,  ed.  Dowden,  1898,  p.  xxxvii. 

4  Main,  Currents,  Vol.  iv. 

*Wordtni">rth,  by  Walter  Raleigh,  1903,  pp.  44,  45. 


84 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  JVo.  3. 


a  poet's  eyes.  Second,  specifically,  a  persistent 
misinterpretation  of  two  of  Wordsworth's  minor 
pieces,  namely,  ' '  Expostulation  and  Reply ' '  and 
"The  Tables  Turned,"  in  which  hasty  brains 
have  fancied  that  the  poet  records  permanent,  not 
transient,  moods  ;  that  he  is  wholly  in  earnest,  not 
half  playful  ;  that  he  is  speaking  in  his  own  char- 
acter, not  in  two  imaginatively  assumed  voices  ; 
that  he  here  seriously  and  finally  rejects  all  in- 
spiration from  the  great  nature  that  exists  in 
established  art  and  science.  In  "The  Prelude," 
where  he  is  writing  strict  autobiography,  Words- 
worth may  be  relied  on  to  give  us  a  true  account 
of  his  usual  attitude  toward  the  world  of  books, 
and  in  that  poem,  if  we  listen  with  care,  he  tells 
us  a  story  of  deep  indebtedness  to  literary  influ- 
ence,— of  the  constant  relation  between  a  great 
and  happy  poet  and  the  best  and  happiest  hours 
of  the  past. 

The  third  cause  of  widespread  misapprehension 
about  Wordsworth  as  a  student  of  both  poetry  and 
science  is  this  :  the  popular  conception  of  the  man 
neglects  his  earlier  life,  when  he  read  much,  for 
his  later,  when  he  necessarily  read  less.  Brandes's 
picture,6  which  is  conventional  enough,  is  a  cari- 
cature of  Wordsworth's  personality  in  after  years 
when  most  of  his  work  was  done,  when  he  had 
become  a  well  known  literary  figure  and  was 
sought  out  by  the  lion-hunters.  Undoubtedly  as 
he  grew  older  Wordsworth  became  less  and  less  of 
a  reader.  Increasing  social  demands,  repeated 
prostrations  by  bereavement,  occasional  visits  in 
London  and  various  tours  on  the  Continent  must 
latterly  have  made  substantial  inroads  upon  such 
leisure  time  as  he  might  otherwise,  perhaps,  have 
devoted  to  study.  However,  as  the  years  went 
by,  a  vital  hindrance  to  protracted  scholarly  pur- 
suits arose  in  his  failing  eyesight.  The  weakness 
of  his  eyes  had  indeed  helped  to  deter  Words- 
worth as  a  young  man,  uncertain  of  his  future, 
from  ' '  taking  orders ' '  or  entering  a  learned  pro- 
fession like  the  law.  If  his  vision  was  any 
stronger  later  on  when  he  began  definitely  to 
prepare  himself  for  the  career  of  a  poet,  it  was 
overtaxed,  in  all  probability,  by  the  arduous 
scholarly  side  of  that  preparation.  Wordsworth 
must  have  suffered  from  some  sort  of  ophthalmic 

'Main  Currents,  Vol.  IV,  pp.  43,  44,  etc. 


defect  nearly  all  his  life.1  By  the  time  he  was 
fifty  or  sixty  years  old,  though  his  general  health 
was  robust,  his  eyes  were  ruined, — and  ruined  not 
wholly  by  the  clerical  tasks  incidental  to  his  own 
composition,  since  members  of  his  family  had 
always  relieved  him  of  a  certain  amount  of  his 
copying.  In  the  Atlantic  Monthly  for  February, 
1906,  Mr.  W.  C.  Hazlitt  printed  a  letter  from 
Wordsworth  to  Lamb  (dated  "Sunday,  Jany. 
10th,  1830"),  an  extract  from  which  offers  elo- 
quent reason  why  the  poet  of  Rydal  Mount  could 
not  indulge  ' '  the  wide  ranging  passion  for  books 
of  a  literary  student "  : 

"My  dear  Lamb,  .  .  .  Your  present  of 
Hone's  Book  was  very  acceptable  ...  I 
wished  to  enter  a  little  minutely  into  notice 
of  the  Dramatic  Extracts,  and  on  account 
of  the  smallness  of  the  print  deferred  doing 
so  till  longer  days  would  allow  one  to  read 
without  candle  light  which  I  have  long  since 
given  up.  But  alas  when  the  days  length- 
ened my  eyesight  departed,  and  for  many 
months  I  could  not  read  three  minutes  at  a 
time.  You  will  be  sorry  to  hear  that  this 
infirmity  still  hangs  about  me,  and  almost 
cuts  me  off  from  reading  altogether." 

' '  His  eyes  alas  ! ' '  adds  his  sister  in  a  post- 
script, "are  very  weak  and  so  will  I  fear 
remain  through  life  ;  but  with  proper  care  he 
does  not  suffer  much. ' '  8 

For  this  reason  alone  it  may  be  grossly  unfair, 
then,  to  intimate,  as  F.  W.  H.  Myers  and  Mr. 
Morley  have  done,  that  Wordsworth  regarded 
the  literary  work  of  his  later  contemporaries  with 
indifference  :  ' '  Byron  and  Shelley  he  seems  scarcely 
to  have  read  ;  and  he  failed  altogether  to  appre- 
ciate Keats."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  all  three  of 

7  Here  is  a  case  for  that  literary  eye-specialist,  Dr.  Geo. 
M.  Gould,  M.  D.,  of  Philadelphia  ;   cf.    his  address  on 
Eyestrain  and  the  Literary  Life  in  The   Canada   Lancet, 
October,  1903.     Dr.  Gould  apparently  goes  so  far  as  to 
think  that  all  the  unfortunate  aspects  in  the  lives  of  De 
Quincey,  Carlyle,  Herbert  Spencer,  etc.,  are  attributable 
to  unusual  burdens  laid  upon  defective  vision. 

8  Atlantic  Monthly,  Vol.  97,  p.  255. 

9  Wordsworth,  Poetical  Works,  with  an  Introduction  by 
John  Morley,  p.  lii.     In  his  Studies  in  Literature,  where 
Mr.  Morley  has  reprinted  this  Introduction  as  a  separate 
essay,  the  objectionable  sentence  from  Myers  is  now  omitted. 


March,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE    NOTES. 


85 


these  authors  were  on  Wordsworth's  book-shelves 
when  he  died  ;  two  of  them  certainly,  Byron  and 
Shelley,  he  had  read  in  one  form  or  another  with 
care,  Shelley,  as  the  Life  of  Gladstone  shows,  with 
distinct  admiration.10  Under  the  circumstances, 
little  discredit  might  attach  to  Wordsworth  had 
he  not  read  them  at  all,  but,  when  he  considered 
how  his  light  was  spent,  given  his  whole  attention 
to  what  pleased  him  more  and  what  he  considered 
best,  — Chaucer,  Spenser,  Shakespeare  and  Milton. 
In  reality,  the  astonishing  thing  is  how  well  he 
kept  up  with  current  poetry  even  late  in  his 
career  ;  and  the  unfortunate,  how  strangely  he 
has  been  misrepresented  as  apathetic  toward  the 
literary  productions  of  others,  not  to  mention 
science,  all  his  life, — the  cause  being  chiefly, 
perhaps,  that  his  eyesight  was  much  impaired 
during  the  last  thirty  or  forty  years  of  it.  No 
estimate  of  Wordsworth  have  I  ever  discovered 
•  wherein  his  infirmity  of  vision  is  properly  empha- 
sized. His  critics  seem  to  have  tacitly  assumed 
that  a  man  who  ' '  would  never  describe  anything 
with  which  he  was  not  perfectly  familiar ' '  must 
necessarily  have  been  blest  with  abundant  eyesight. 
Other  circumstances  have  doubtless  had  their 
share  in  fostering  the  comfortable  paradox  of  Mr. 
Raleigh.  For  example,  the  irregularity  of  Words- 
worth's studies  at  Cambridge,  though  it  disquieted 
him  at  the  time  and  though  he  afterwards  con- 
demned and  lamented  it,  has  apparently  been 
taken  as  a  fair  measure  of  his  subsequent  attain- 
ments. Yet  his  attainments  at  Cambridge  were 
at  once  more  solid  and  more  extensive  than  his 
followers  have  ordinarily  realized.  Just  after  he 
received  his  bachelor' s  degree  his  sister  wrote  : 
"William  lost  the  chance,  indeed  the  certainty 
of  a  fellowship,  by  not  combating  his  inclinations. 
He  gave  way  to  his  natural  dislike  to  studies  so 
dry  as  many  parts  of  the  Mathematics,  conse- 
quently could  not  succeed  in  Cambridge.  He 
reads  Italian,  Spanish,  French,  Greek,  Latin, 
and  English  ;  but  never  opens  a  mathematical 
book."  "  Accordingly,  any  criticism  of  this  period 

'"Morley's  Life  of  Gladstone,  Vol.  I,  p.  136;  for  other 
valuable  references  on  Wordsworth's  reading,  see  Index, 
Vol.  ni. 

11  Letter  of  June  26,  1791,  to  Miss  Pollard,  Knight, 
Life  of  William  Wordsworth,  Vol.  I,  p.  57  ;  my  punctuation 
follows  that  of  a  note  in  Worsfold's  edition  of  The  Prelude, 
pp.  391-392. 


in  his  life  comes  less  appropriately  from  some  of 
those  who  have  written  about  him  than  from  the 
poet  himself ;  referring  to  the  earlier  part  of  his 
residence  at  college,  he  says  : 

Not  that  I  slighted  books, — that  were  to  lack 
All  sense, — but  other  passions  in  me  ruled, 
Passions  more  fervent,  making  me  less  prompt 
To  in-door  study  than  was  wise  or  well, 
Or  suited  to  those  years. 12 

And  again,  referring  to  the  latter  part : 

The  bonds  of  indolent  society 
Relaxing  in  their  hold,  henceforth  I  lived 
More  to  myself.     Two  winters  may  be  passed 
Without  a  separate  notice  :  many  books 
Were  skimmed,  devoured,  or  studiously  perused 
But  with  no  settled  plan. ls 

Between  those  winters  at  Cambridge  and  the 
time  when  he  penned  such  lines  as  these,  Words- 
worth must  have  undergone  some  change  of  heart 
toward  "in-door  study"  after  a  "  settled  plan. ! ' 
In  the  present  article  it  is  the  interest  of  Words- 
worth's career,  taken  as  a  crucial  instance  of  the 
relation  between  poetry  and  scholarship,  that  it 
shows  us  a  definite  attempt  by  the  great  English 
poet  of  nature  to  supply  during  his  earlier  prime 
what  he  considered  a  defect  in  his  literary  training 
hitherto,  in  order  to  fit  himself  for  success  in  the 
world  of  letters.  It  is  true  (unless  he  is  himself 
mistaken),  even  at  Cambridge  he  had  been  granted 
imaginative  glimpses  of  the  training  that  he  needed: 

Yet  I,  though  used 
In  magisterial  liberty  to  rove 
Culling  such  flowers  of  learning  as  might  tempt 
A  random  choice,  could  shadow  forth  a  place 
(If  now  I  yield  not  to  a  flattering  dream; 
Whose  studious  aspect  should  have  bent  me  down 
To  instantaneous  service  ;  should  at  once 
Have  made  me  pay  to  science  and  to  arts 
And  written  lore,  acknowledged  my  liege  lord, 
A  homage  frankly  offered  up,  like  that 
Which  I  had  paid  to  Nature." 

However,  it  was  not,  I  think,  during  the  years 
of  unrest  immediately  succeeding  the  ' '  deep  va- 
cation ' '  of  his  residence  at  the  university  that 
Wordsworth's  intellectual  conversion,  if  we  may 
style  it  so,  was  finally  accomplished  ;  not  until 

11  The  Prelude,  Book  in,  11.  364  ff. 
13  The  Prelude,  Book  VI,  11.  20  ff. 
"  The  Prelude,  Book  in,  11.  368  ff. 


86 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  3. 


after  his  settlement  at  Racedown  ;  not,  perhaps, 
until  his  friendship  with  the  polymath  Coleridge 
had  been  cemented.  We  may  assume  that  this 
conversion  was  not  unrelated  to  the  "moral 
crisis ' '  which  he  passed  through  after  his  return 
from  France  and  to  the  attendant  change  in  his 
general  attitude  toward  life,  which  has  been 
described  with  so  much  penetration  by  Professor 
Legouis.15  On  the  other  hand,  that  Wordsworth, 
whether  rapidly  or  gradually,  had  learned  the 
spirit  and  practice  of  a  more  regulated  toil  among 
books  by  the  time  he  began  to  write  The  Prelude 
is,  I  am  convinced,  unquestionable.  Five  years 
later,  when  he  was  bringing  that  poem  to  a  close 
and  when  he  felt  himself  competent  to  pass  judg- 
ment on  the  motive  forces  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution, he  was  well  aware  from  what  sort  of 
literary  investigation  true  insight  into  history 
must  be  won.  At  a  prior  stage  of  development, 
so  he  says, 

Like  others,  I  had  skimmed,  and  sometimes  read, 
With  care,  the  master  pamphlets  of  the  day  ; 
Nor  wanted  such  half-insight  as  grew  wild 
Upon  that  meager  soil,  helped  out  by  talk 
And  public  news.16 

But  it  is  not  with  any  of  his  special  historical 
studies,  of  whatever  time,  that  we  have  here  to 
do.  For  the  moment  our  inquiry  concerns  his 
more  general  literary  activities  subsequent  to  his 
establishment  at  Racedown. 

Briefly,  the  case  seems  to  be  this.  Sometime 
after  Cal vert's  legacy  had  put  within  actual  reach 
Wordsworth's  ideal  of  a  life  devoted  to  poetry, 
and  yet,  as  we  have  hinted  above,  possibly  not 
until  his  intimacy  with  the  erudite  Coleridge 
began,  Wordsworth  came  to  realize  that  his  pre- 
vious literary  and  scientific  schooling  had  been 
inadequate,  and  he  shortly  bent  himself  to  the 
Miltonic  task  of  "  industrious  and  select  read- 
ing," in  conscious  preparation  for  his  chosen  and 
impending  career.  Face  to  face  with  the  project 
of  an  ample  philosophic  poem  upon  nature,  man, 
and  human  life,  though  undecided  on  its  exact 
subject-matter,  he  felt  the  need  of  supplementing 
and  enriching  his  individual  experience ;  hence, 

""The  Early  Life   of   William    Wordsworth,   by    Emile 
Legouis,  pp.  253  ff. 
uThe  Prelude,  Book  ix,  11.  96  ;  cf.  11.  92-95. 


being  a  genius  of  eminent  good  sense,  he  disdained 
none  of  the  obvious  means  to  culture.  The  domi- 
nant impulse  of  Wordsworth' s  life  owed  the  normal 
debt  of  poetry  to  books. 

One  recalls  his  mature  advice  to  his  nephew  : 
"Remember,  first  read  the  ancient  classical  au- 
thors ;  then  come  to  us  ;  and  you  will  be  able  to 
judge  for  yourself  which  of  us  is  worth  reading."  " 
But  more  significant  still  is  his  remark  to  Crabb 
Robinson  :  ' '  When  I  began  to  give  myself  up  to 
the  profession  of  a  poet  for  life,  I  was  impressed 
with  a  conviction,  that  there  were  four  English 
poets  whom  I  must  have  continually  before  me  as 
examples — Chaucer,  Shakespeare,  Spenser,  and 
Milton.  These  I  must  study,  and  equal  if  I 
could  ;  and  I  need  not  think  of  the  rest."18  If 
we  had  no  other  way  of  gauging  Wordsworth's 
attention  to  ' '  these, ' '  we  might  measure  it  by  the 
evidences  of  his  actual  attention  to  "the  rest." 
' '  I  have  been  charged  by  some, ' '  he  observed, 
"with  disparaging  Pope  and  Dryden.  This  is 
not  so.  I  have  committed  much  of  both  to 
memory."  And  when  Hazlitt  wrote  in  his 
Spirit  of  the  Age  :  "  It  is  mortifying  to  hear  him 
speak  of  Pope  and  Dryden  ;  whom  because  they 
have  been  supposed  to  have  all  the  possible  excel- 
lencies of  poetry,  he  will  allow  to  have  none."- 
Wordsworth  rejoined,  privately  :  ' '  Monstrous  .  .  . 
I  have  ten  times  [more]  knowledge  of  Pope's 
writings,  and  of  Dryden' s  also,  than  this  writer 
ever  had.  To  this  day  [1836]  I  believe  I  could 
repeat,  with  a  little  rummaging  of  my  memory, 
several  thousand  lines  of  Pope. ' ' 20  When  the 
question  is  looked  into,  Wordsworth's  familiarity 
with  the  lesser  English  poets  becomes  simply 
astounding  ;  for  neither  the  breadth  of  his  ac- 
quaintance among  them,  as  indicated,  for  example, 
by  his  "Prefaces,"  etc.,  nor  the  strength  of  his 
verbal  memory,  just  noted,  has  been  commonly 
recognized.  In  some  minds  there  seems  to  be  an 
impression  that  his  sole  and  guiding  star  was 
Anne  Countess  of  Winchelsea. 

But  it  is  not  within  the  scope  of  the  present 

17  Memoirs  of  Wordsworth,  by  Christopher  Wordsworth, 
D.  D.,  Vol.  n,  p.  477. 

KIbid.,  pp.  479,  480. 

"Ibid.,  p.  480. 

m  Wordsworth  and  Ban-on  Field,  I,  by  William  Knight, 
Academy,  Dec.  23,  1905  (p.  1334). 


March,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


87 


study  to  consider  the  possible  influence  of  Chaucer, 
or  Spenser,  or  Shakespeare,  or  Milton  on  Words- 
worth, not  to  mention  that  of  men  like  Drayton, 
or  Herbert,  or  Thomson,  or  Bowles  ;   or  to  stir 
the  problem  of  his  indebtedness  as  a  didactic  poet 
to   his   favorite    in   Latin    literature,    the   moral 
Horace  ;  or  to  look  into  his  observance  as  a  rural 
poet  of  models  among  the  pastoral  writers  includ- 
ing and  preceding  Spenser,  although,  as  we  have 
seen,  Wordsworth's  own  advice  is  to  consult  "the 
ancient  classical  authors  ' '  — in  this  case  Theocritus 
and  Virgil — as   a   preliminary  to  understanding 
him.     Suffice  to  say  that  for  every  type  of  pro- 
duction that  he  essayed  Wordsworth  had  the  best 
examples  continually  before  him  as  guides.     Nor, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  it  possible  here  to  take  gen- 
eral account  of  his  devotion  to  science,  which  grew 
strong  after  his   removal   to    Racedown,  and   of 
which  we  have  striking  evidences  for  the  period 
of  his  residence  at  Alfoxden.     We  know  that  he 
now   betook   himself    to   mathematics,   which   at 
Cambridge   he  had   neglected  ;    that   he   became 
familiar  with  works  like  those  of  Linnaeus  ;  that 
he  was  interested  in  treatises  such   as  Erasmus 
Darwin's   Zoonomia.     And   we   gather  that   the 
beautiful  severity  of  "geometric  truth,"  pursued 
after   the   example   of  Milton,   was   reflected   in 
course  of  time  in  that  marvel  of  rigorous  har- 
'mony,    the    "Ode   to    Duty";    that   the   poet's 
amateur   study   of  flowers    was   fortified   by   an 
acquaintance  with  systematic  botany  ;    and  that 
from  sources  of  medical  lore  like  the  Zoonomia  he 
drew  information  on  abnormal  psychology  which 
he  presently  used  to   advantage  in  problem-bal- 
lads like  "Goody  Blake"  and  "The  Idiot  Boy." 
Wordsworth's  formula  in  the  "  Preface"  of  1800 
has  become  classic  :   ' '  Poetry  is  the  breath  and 
finer  spirit  of  all  knowledge  ;  it  is  the  impassioned 
expression   which   is  in   the   countenance   of  all 
Science."     Can  any  one   really  suppose   that  a 
man   of   Wordsworth's   sincerity,  believing   this, 
would  have  tried  to  write  poetry,  if  he  had  no 
science  ?     Nor,    furthermore,    dare    we    grapple 
with   the   problem   of  Wordsworth's   avidity   for 
modern  languages, — French,    which    he   handled 
much  more  easily  than  the  learned  Coleridge,  or 
German,   which   he    could   hardly   have   spoken 
much  worse.     We  may  note,  as  a  symptom,  that 
by  the  time  he  visited  Goslar  to  practise  German 


Wordsworth  was  ready  to  take  up  ' '  Norse ' '  as 
well.21  On  the  whole,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  in 
linguistic  accomplishments  he  was  by  no  means  so 
inferior  to  the  translator  of  "  Wallenstein  "  as 
Coleridgeans  may  have  silently  assumed  ;  and 
perhaps  the  day  is  coming  when  specialists  will 
discover  that  not  merely  in  this,  but  in  more  than 
one  other  direction,  the  author  of  the  "Ode  to 
Duty,"  who  often  depreciates  his  own  acquire- 
ments, was  a  more  systematic  student  than  the 
"myriad  minded,"  but  desultory  Coleridge.  As 
M.  Aynard  judiciously  observes,  the  habit  of  pre- 
tending to  an  encyclopedic  knowledge  was  one  of 
the  maladies  of  the  romantic  spirit.22  From  this 
malady  Wordsworth  was  exempt. 

In  any  case,  our  poet's  reading  after  1795  and, 
more  particularly,  about  1797-1798  was  various 
and  extensive, — so  extensive  as  to  call  for  industry 
on  the  part  of  any  one  who  tries  to  duplicate  it, — 
and  was  chosen  largely  as  an  aid,  direct  or  indi- 
rect, to  literary  composition.  The  present  article 
can  but  touch  upon  a  single  aspect  of  that  various 
debt,  using  this  aspect  as  a  type,  and  must  in  any 
case  be  considered  a  preliminary  rather  than  a 
finished  study.  However,  any  new  ray  of  light 
upon  Wordsworth's  private  history  shortly  before 
the  publication  of  the  Lyrical  Ballads  is  likely  in 
some  quarters  to  prove  welcome. 

In  recounting  the  origin  of  the  ballad  now 
known  as  Coleridge's  "Rime  of  the  Ancient 
Mariner,"  Wordsworth  tells  us  that  the  fateful 
death  of  the  Albatross  was  a  direct  suggestion 
from  him.  He  had  been  reading  about  this 
ominous  bird  in  Shelvock's  Voyages,  a  book,  he 
adds  significantly  "which  probably  Coleridge 
never  saw." 23  Now  Coleridge's  acquaintance 
with  exactly  this  sort  of  literature,  the  literature 
of  travel,  may  be  set  down  as  reasonably  wide  ; 

21  Cf.  the  poem  commencing 

A  plague  on  your  languages,  German  and  Norse  1 
This  reference  (Wordsworth,  Poetical  Works,  Macmillan 
ed.,  p.  124)   is  unnoticed  in  Dr.  R.  E.  Farley's  Scandi-  -- 
navian  Influences  in  the  English  Romantic  Movement,  Har- 
vard Studies  and  Notes  in  Philology  and  Literature,  No.  IX. 
In  fact,  Dr.  Farley's  admirable  work  is  painfully  lacking 
with  respect  to  Scandinavian  influence  in  Wordsworth  ; 
there  was  a  good  deal  of  this.     It  came  largely,  I  think, 
through  Wordsworth's  acquaintance  with  itineraries. 

22 Revue,  Qermanique,  Vol.  I,  p.  If"!. 

23  Coleridge,  Poetical  Works,  ed.  Campbell,  p.  594. 


88 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  3. 


at  all  events  not  merely  "casual,"  as  M.  Legouis 
denominates  it. "  Was  Wordsworth' s  acquaintance 
•wider  ?  Yet  observe  something  even  more  strange  : 
here  is  Wordsworth,  who  ' '  would  never  describe 
anything  with  which  he  was  not  perfectly  fa- 
miliar," caught  in  the  act  of  imaging  for  Cole- 
ridge, and  for  a  poem  in  which  the  two  were  to 
be  joint  authors,  a  creature  which  neither  of  the 
ballad-makers  could  in  all  probability  have  seen 
in  the  flesh,  sucking  inspiration,  not  from  "na- 
ture" or  "solitude,"  but  from  a  stirring  nar- 
rative of  adventure,  and,  in  a  capital  instance, 
cruelly  exhibiting  the  "  genesis  of  poetry  "  out  of 
dead(?)  "material,"  with  an  eighteenth-century 
sea-captain  for  "  literary  intermediary. " 

George  Shelvocke's  Voyage  round  the  World  by 
the  Way  of  the  Great  South  Sea  (London,  1726) 
was  Performed,  as  the  title-page  records,  in  the 
Years  1719,  20,  21,  22,  in  the  Speedwell  of 
London,  of  24.  Guns  and  100  Men,  (  Under  His 
Majesty's  Command  to  cruize  on  the  Spaniards  in 
the  late  War  with  the  Spanish  Crown)  till  she  was 
cast  away  on  the  Island  of  Juan  Fernandes,  in 
May,  1720;  and  afterivards  continu'd  in  the 
Recovery,  the  Jesus  Maria  and  Sacra  Familia,  &c. 
The  book  illustrates  one  main  direction  in  Words- 
worth's studies  during  his  outwardly  quiet  life  at 
Alfoxden.  Prior  to  his  departure  for  Germany  in 
1798,  he  had  probably  worked  through  dozens  of 
similar  narratives,  whether  of  wanderings  by  sea 
or  of  adventures  in  distant  lands  ;  for,  aside  from 
the  fact  that  they  were  congenial  to  his  roving 
and  impetuous  imagination,  such  accounts  de- 
scribed for  him  in  "the  language  of  real  men  " — 
men  who  were  first-hand  and  excited  observers  of 
nature — regions  which  the  poet  could  never  him- 
self hope  to  traverse,  but  which,  for  specific  pur- 
poses, he  wished  to  be  acquainted.  ' '  Of  the 
amassing  of  knowledge,"  remarks  Mr.  Raleigh, 
".  .  .he  had  always  thought  lightly."  The 
dates  are  for  the  most  part,  of  course,  impossible 
to  fix,  but  within  a  very  few  years  Wordsworth 
read  accounts  of  Dalecarlia,  Lapland,  and  northern 
Siberia  ;  he  studied  in  some  form  the  physical 
geography  of  portions  of  south-eastern  Europe  ; 
he  made  acquaintance,  it  seems,  with  Wilson's 
Pelew  Islands  K  ;  he  read  Hearne's  Hudson's  Bay 

14  Early  Life  of  Wordsworth,  p.  422. 
25  Cf.  Athenceum,  1905,  Vol.  I,  p.  498. 


"with   deep   interest,"26   and   knew    the   Great 
Lakes  through  the  Travels  of  Jonathan  Carver." 
If  he  did  not  carry  Bartram's  Travels  in  Georgia, 
Florida,  etc.,  with  him  to  Germany,  he  must  have 
had   that   entertaining  journal   almost   by   heart 
before  he  started.28     In  this  book,  of  course,  his 
interest  in  travel  was  reinforced  by  his  interest  in 
botany.     It  is  clear  that  he  was  acquainted  also 
with  the  much  earlier  and  more  fiery  expedition 
to  Florida  of  Dominique  de  Gourgnes  w ;  and,  if 
so,  he  had  access  less  probably  to  the  original  of 
Basanier   than   to   the   translation   in   Hakluyt's 
Principal  Navigations.     In  that  case  it  would  be 
hard   to   say   where   his    delvings   in   itineraries 
ceased.     In  the  meantime  his  friend  and  teacher. 
Coleridge,  was  busy  with  tomes  like  the  Pilgrimage 
of  Samuel   Purchas,  Hakluyt's   industrious   suc- 
cessor, and  the  Strange  and  Dangerous  Voyage  of 
Captain   James,   not   to   speak  of  Bartram   and 
others.     Sixty  years  afterward,  in  the  catalogue 
made  up  for  a  posthumous  sale  of  Wordsworth' s 
library  at  Rydal,  there  appear  not  merely  Pur- 
chas, Hearne  and  Shelvocke,  but,  besides  a  very 
considerable  array  of  travels  published  after  the 
year    1800,    more    than    twenty    such    titles    as 
the  following  :  Bianchi's  Account  of  Switzerland 
(1710)  ;    Buchanan,   Rev.  J.  L.,    Travels  in  the 
Western  Hebrides  (1793)  ;  Burnet,  Gilbert,  Trav- 
els in  France,  Italy,   Germany,  and  Switzerland 
(1762)  ;  Busequius'  Travels  into  Turkey  (1744); 
An  Account  of  Denmark  as  it  was  in  1692  (1694) ; 
Howell's  Instructions  for  Forreine  Travell  (1650) ; 
Account   of  the   Kingdom   of  Hungary   (1717); 
Mavor,  Rev.   W.,  Collection  of  Voyages,  Travels, 
and  Discoveries,  from  the  time  of  Columbus  to  the 
present  (1796,  etc.),  twenty -one  volumes  ;  Account 
of  Voyages  to  the  South  and  North,  by  Sir  John 
Narborough  and    others    (1694)  ;   Voyages    and 
Travels,    Some   now  first  printed  from    Original 
Manuscripts,  others  now  first  published  in  English, 
with  Introductory  Discourse  supposed  to  be  written 
by  the  celebrated  Mr.  Locke  (1744),  five  volumes  ; 
Psalmanazar's   Description   of  Formosa    (1794); 

26  Wordsworth,  Poetical  Works,  Macmillan  ed.,  p.  85. 

27  See  Poems  by  Wordsworth,  ed.  Dowden,  1898,  pp.  418, 
419  ;  and  compare  Wordsworth's  Ouide  to  the  Lakes,  ed.  E. 
de  Selincourt,  1906,  pp.  39,  176-177. 

23  Cf.  Athenmim,  1905,  Vol.  I,  pp.  498-500. 
29  Cf.  The  Prelude,  Book  I,  11.  206  ff. 


March,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


89 


Ray,  John,  F.  R.  S.,  Observations  made  in  a 
Journey  in  the  Low  Countries,  Germany  and 
France  (1673)  ;  Travels  in  Divers  Parts  of 
Europe,  &c. ,  &c. ,  with  Observations  on  the  Gold, 
Silver,  Copper,  Quicksilver  and  Other  Mines  [efc.] 
(1687)  ;  Vocabulary  of  Sea  Phrases,  &c.  (1799). 
It  is  reasonable  to  assume  that  if  Wordsworth 
knew  Shelvocke  and  Hearne  before  1800,  he 
knew  at  least  a  few  of  these  works  too.  It  is 
clear  also  that  not  all  of  his  collection  of  travels 
and  voyages  can  be  found  in  the  catalogue  of  sale 
for  1859.'°  For  example,  Bruce' s  Travels  to  Dis- 
cover the  Sourcei  of  the  Nile  (1790)  is  wanting 
there  ;  yet  Wordsworth  certainly  owned  a  copy  of 
this  book,  since  in  the  memoranda  that  he  was 
careful  to  keep  at  Rydal  of  all  volumes  borrowed 
from  his  shelves,  there  is  an  entry  recording  the 
loan  of  Bruce.31  Further,  no  one  can  say  to  what 
limit  the  poet's  own  borrowing  may  not  have  gone 
before  he  had  the  money  to  buy  books  with  any 
degree  of  freedom.  Unfortunately  I  have  been 
unable  to  consult  all  of  the  works  that  I  am 
aware  he  knew  even  prior  to  1799. 

(  To  be  continued. ) 


LANE  COOPER. 


Cornell  University. 


Laurence  Sterne  in  Germany.  A  Contribution  to 
the  Study  of  the  Literary  Relations  of  England 
and  Germany  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,  by 
WILLIAM  WATERMAN  THAYER.  (Columbia 
University  Germanic  Studies,  Vol.  n,  No.  1.) 
New  York,  1905. 

The  author  of  this  monograph  has  selected  a 
subject,  the  importance  of  which  has  been  recog- 
nized for  a  long  time,  but  which,  for  a  number  of 
reasons,  has  failed  to  find  exhaustive  treatment. 
In  the  first  place  the  nature  of  Sterne's  influence 
upon  German  literature  is  so  elusive  that  the 
investigator  is  at  a  loss  to  know  how  to  define  its 
limits.  Furthermore,  the  sources  for  the  investi- 

80  This  Catalogue  of  Wordsworth's  library  has  been  re- 
printed in  the  Transaction*  of  the  Wordsworth  Society,  No.  6, 
pp.  197-257. 

31  The  MS.  is  now  in  the  possession  of  Dr.  A.  S.  W. 
Bosenbach,  of  Philadelphia. 


gation  are,  certainly  for  an  American  student, 
extremely  difficult  to  reach.  Finally,  Sterne's 
influence  in  Germany  went  beyond  the  limits  of 
literature.  The  whole  manner  of  life  of  the  period 
of  Sterne's  popularity  seems  to  have  been  affected 
by  the  characteristics  of  the  English  author. 

The  greatest  recommendation  that  Thayer's  book 
has,  consists  in  the  fact  that  its  author  has  based 
his  study  largely  upon  German  periodical  litera- 
ture. Histories  of  literature  could  have  revealed 
but  little.  The  examination  of  the  writings  of 
certain  authors  whose  names  are  usually  connected 
with  Sterne's  vogue,  would  have  furnished  no 
guarantee  that  the  subject  had  been  studied  in  all 
its  phases.  A  search  through  the  files  of  the 
contemporary  journals  has,  however,  suggested 
a  method  of  work  which  has  made  it  possible  for 
the  author  to  give  a  fairly  connected  review  of 
Sterne's  influence  upon  German  literature.  Un- 
fortunately, in  this  monograph  the  discussion  is 
limited  to  the  eighteenth  century. 

Thayer's  book  is  by  no  means  unpretentious. 
It  goes  beyond  the  scope  of  a  dissertation — not 
farther,  however,  than  the  subject  warrants.  In 
fact  there  are  few  themes  which  offer  greater 
attractions  to  the  worker  in  the  field  of  literature 
than  does  this.  It,  however,  demands  and  merits 
a  more  genial  treatment  than  is  frequently  accor- 
ded to  similar  subjects.  After  all  "Sterne's  in- 
fluence ' '  seems  to  be  something  very  incongruous. 

Yorick  stands  forth  as  one  of  the  most  notable 
examples  of  an  enfant  g&te  in  the  history  of  litera- 
ture. His  personal  and  literary  success  during 
his  lifetime  must  be  considered  as  a  whim  of 
the  time.  His  popularity  was  a  part  of  the 
widespread  protest  against  formalism  which  the 
eighteenth  century  recorded.  He  exceeded  his 
predecessors  in  his  disregard  of  literary  conven- 
tions, hence  he  was  elevated  to  a  lofty  pinnacle  of 
fame — so  high  that  the  lightheaded  parson  became 
giddy.  Still  he  was  never  taken  altogether  ser- 
iously by  his  fellow  countrymen.  They  read  his 
works,  praised  and  flattered  their  author,  feted 
and  lionized  him,  but  it  may  be  questioned 
whether  in  England,  he  was  regarded  as  anything 
more  than  a  clever  individual  whose  charm  con- 
sisted largely  in  his  formlessness  and  his  effrontery. 

But  across  the  Channel  in  continental  Europe 
he  was  looked  at  in  a  different  light.  The  spoilt 


90 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  3. 


child  in  England  was  furnished  with  the  power  of 
a  literary  authority  in  Germany  and  in  France. 
His  meaningless  disquisitions  were  studied  intently 
in  the  hope  that  new  canons  of  art  might  be 
deduced  from  them.  His  incoherent  mutterings 
were  eagerly  caught  up  and  regarded  as  seriously 
as  though  they  were  inspired  by  deep  philosophical 
meditation.  The  naughty,  the  irregular,  the  flip- 
pant and  trifling  Yorick  masquerades  as  a  literary 
sage — the  picture  is  one  that  could  have  been  made 
possible  only  by  the  irony  of  an  illogical  fate. 

Nevertheless,  although  Sterne  may  not  have 
merited  his  authority,  he  had  it,  and  the  study  of 
its  nature  and  extent  deserves  investigation  in  the 
most  careful  manner.  However,  the  investigator 
ought  not  to  make  the  panoply  of  philological 
method  too  formidable. 

The  important  questions  in  the  study  of  Sterne's 
popularity  in  Germany  are  not,  whether  there  is 
a  connection  between  Corporal  Trim  and  Just  in 
Minna  von  Barnhelm,  or  between  two  characters  in 
Lessing's  Die  Witzlinge  and  Trim  and  Eugenius,  or 
between  Martin  in  Gotz  and  some  one  of  Sterne's 
characters.  It  is  hard  to  resist  the  temptation  to 
look  for  just  such  "influences."  Thayer  has  been 
quite  self-contained  in  this  respect  and  has  pre- 
ferred to  give  his  attention  to  the  larger  although 
far  more  intangible  questions. 

The  author  has  brought  out  clearly  that  Sterne's 
fame  in  Germany  was  due  almost  solely  to  the 
Sentimental  Journey.  This  fact  has  been  fre- 
quently stated,  but  Thayer' s  intelligent  discussion 
of  the  several  editions  shows  definitely  that  but 
for  the  ' '  sentimentalism ' '  of  Sterne,  he  would 
have  had  a  very  brief  and  unimportant  career  in 
Germany.  The  interest  in  Tristram  Shandy  and 
Yorick' s  sermons  and  letters  was  only  aroused 
after  the  author  of  the  Sentimental  Journey'  had 
become  a  celebrity.  A  few  men  of  note  had 
enjoyed  Tristram  before  the  later  book  was  pub- 
lished— Herder,  Hamann  and  Wieland — but  the 
number  of  its  admirers  was  very  small. 

The  first  six  parts  of  Tristram  Shandy  appeared 
in  a  German  version  by  Zu'ckert  in  1763.  Ziickert 
was  a  physician  and  was  especially  attracted  by 
the  mock-scientific  manner  of  Walter  Shandy.  No 
mention  of  the  author's  name  was  made  until  the 
appearance  of  the  seventh  and  eight  parts  in 
1765.  In  1767  part  nine  was  added—this  was 


nothing  more  than  the  translation  of  a  spurious 
original.  There  were  in  all,  three  editions  of  the 
Zu'ckert  translations  which  differ,  however,  very 
slightly  from  each  other. 

It  is  suggestive  that  Sterne's  sermons  were  pub- 
lished in  German  in  Switzerland  as  early  as  1766. 
As  was  the  case  with  many  of  the  earlier  versions 
of  English  books,  the  translator  quite  missed  the 
spirit  of  the  original  and  failed  to  grasp  its  real 
significance.  The  devotion  to  things  English  led 
the  translators  into  strange  errors.  Even  the 
authors  of  the  Discourse  der  Mahler  committed 
some  inexplicable  mistakes,  but  the  gravity  with 
which  this  volume  of  Yorick' s  sermons  was  re- 
garded is  more  than  remarkable. 

Bode's  translation  of  Tristram  did  not  appear 
until  1774,  six  years  after  his  version  of  the 
Sentimental  Journey  had  been  given  to  the  public. 
Johann  Joachim  Christoph  Bode  is  the  man  most 
intimately  associated  with  Sterne's  fame  in  Ger- 
many. He  had  so  fully  worked  himself  into  the 
spirit  of  Yorick' s  writings  that  everything  he 
attempted  in  a  literary  way  has  the  stamp  of  his 
favorite  author. 

Jordens  says  (Lexicon  i,  page  117)  :  "Die 
Ubersetzung  dieses  Fieldingschen,  in  seiner  Art 
einzigen  und  unerreichbaren,  Charaktergemiildes 
wirklicher  Menschen  (Tom  Jones)  verfertigte  Bode 
in  groszer  Eile  uud  unter  ungiiustigen  Umstanden. 
Sie  ist  ihm  daher  auch  weniger  gelungen.  Beson- 
ders  ist  ihr  der  Vorwurf  gemacht  worden,  dasz 
Bode  seinem  Autor  einen  ihm  ganz  fremden 
Anstrich  von  Sternischer  Laune  gegeben  habe. 
Doch  bleibt  sie  bei  alien  ihren  Mangeln  noch  im- 
mer  ein  sehr  schatzbares  Denkmal  seines  Geistes. ' ' 

Bode's  conception  of  Sterne  was  not  the 
English  Sterne.  He  constructed  an  ideal  of  the 
whimsical  Englishman  which  was  founded  alto- 
gether upon  the  Sentimental  Journey.  It  is  there- 
fore not  surprising  that  in  attempting  to  render 
Tristram  into  German,  he  should  weave  into  it 
some  of  the  ideas  which  were  obtained  from  the 
book  by  which  Sterne  was  especially  known  in 
Germany. 

Bode's  translation  of  the  Sentimental  Journey 
appeared  in  September  or  October,  1768.  Pre- 
vious to  this,  he  had  published  several  excerpts. 
Lessing's  share  in  this  work  of  Bode  has  been  a 
subject  about  which  there  has  been  a  good  deal 


March,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


91 


of  uncertainty  and  Thayer  has  accomplished  an 
important  task  in  defining  Lessing's  part  in  the 
undertaking.  A  good  deal  of  the  obscurity  about 
Bode's  relation  to  Lessing  was  caused  by  the 
translator  himself  who  allowed  a  greater  depend- 
ence upon  his  distinguished  friend  to  be  presumed 
than  the  facts  warrant.  Bode's  preface  states 
that  Lessing  had  taken  the  trouble  to  go  through 
the  whole  translation.  It  is  of  little  consequence 
whether  Lessing  suggested  the  idea  of  translating 
the  book  to  Bode  or  not,  as  there  can  be  no  doubt 
of  Lessing's  genuine  enthusiasm  for  the  English 
writer. 

The  second  edition  of  the  Sentimental  Journey 
was  published  in  May,  1769.  It  was  identical 
with  the  first  except  that  it  contained  certain 
additions  to  the  first  version.  Thayer  considers 
it  of  importance  that  Ebert's  name  is  mentioned 
along  with  Lessing's.  Bode  acknowledges  that 
the  excellence  of  his  work  is  due  to  Ebert  and 
Lessing  and  this  statement  makes  it  probable  that 
Ebert's  influence  has  been  much  greater  than  is 
usually  stated.  Lessing's  name  has  predominated 
in  all  discussions  of  the  book  because  of  his  fortu- 
nate suggestion  of  the  word  empfindsam  as  a  trans- 
lation for  sentimental.  As  we  look  back  upon 
the  period,  it  seems  the  absence  of  a  word  so 
frequently  employed  as  empfindsam  would  have 
left  a  gap.  Such  a  rendering  as  sittlich  which 
was  proposed  by  Bode  could  never  have  adequately 
taken  the  place  of  Lessing's  invention. 

Another  translation  of  the  Sentimental  Journey 
which  appeared  almost  simultaneously  with  Bode's 
was  Pastor  Mittelstedt' s  with  the  title  Versuch 
uber  die  menschliche  Natur  in  Herren  Yoricks,  Ver- 
fasser  des  Tristram  Shandy,  Reisen  durch  Frank- 
reich  und  Italien.  Aus  dem  Englischen.  This 
author  had  proposed  Gefuhlvolle  Reisen,  Reisen 
furs  Herz,  Philosophische  Reisen,  but  rejected  them 
all  in  favor  of  the  title  as  given  above.  Mittel- 
stedt's  version  was  originally  offered  to  the  public 
anonymously.  The  respective  merits  of  the  two 
German  renderings  is  shown  very  clearly  by  the 
fact  that  Bode  owes  his  reputation  almost  exclu- 
sively to  this  book,  while  Pastor  Mittelstedt  is 
relatively  unknown. 

A  very  interesting  chapter  is  Thayer' s  treatment 
of  the  career  in  Germany  of  the  spurious  volumes 
of  the  Sentimental  Journey  which  had  been  pub- 


lished in  England  in  1769.  Bode  translated  these 
and  gave  them  to  the  public  with  no  explanation 
whatever  which  led  to  almost  endless  confusion, 
especially  as  the  translation  was  more  of  an  adap- 
tation than  a  copy  of  the  original.  It  was  filled 
with  allusions  to  German  conditions.  Thayer  says 
(p.  51)  :  "In  all,  Bode's  direct  additions  amount 
in  this  first  volume  to  about  thirty-three  pages  out 
of  one  hundred  and  forty-two.  The  divergencies 
from  the  original  are  in  the  second  volume  (the 
fourth  as  numbered  from  Sterne' s  genuine  Journey) 
more  marked  and  extensive  :  about  fifty  pages  are 
entirely  Bode's  own,  and  the  individual  alterations 
in  word,  phrase,  allusion  and  sentiment  are  more 
numerous  and  unwarranted."  Bode's  changes 
are  intended  to  portray  the  Yorick  as  he  was 
known  in  Germany,  not  in  England.  In  some 
cases,  Eugenius'  original  has  been  modified  in 
order  to  avoid  its  grossness,  while  elsewhere  the 
change  is  made  in  order  to  give  an  additional  bit 
of  delectable  sentimentality. 

In  dealing  with  Bode's  rendering  of  Shandy, 
Thayer  says  (p.  59)  :  "Bode's  work  was  unfor- 
tunately not  free  from  errors  in  spite  of  its  general 
excellence,  yet  it  brought  the  book  within  reach 
of  those  who  were  unable  to  read  it  in  English, 
and  preserved,  in  general  with  fidelity,  the  spirit 
of  the  original.  The  reviews  were  prodigal  of 
praise."  Some  years  later,  however,  a  very  bitter 
attack  was  made  upon  this  work  by  J.  L.  Benzler, 
the  librarian  of  Graf  Stolberg  at  Wernigerode. 
Benzler  claims  that  Bode  never  made  a  trans- 
lation that  was  not  full  of  mistakes,  but  the 
improvements  in  his  own  version  are  hardly 
commensurate  with  his  large  pretensions.  He, 
however,  did  some  good  in  that  he  had  the  courage 
to  call  attention  to  some  of  the  deficiencies  of  the 
popular  idol  Bode.  In  a  very  brief  note  on  page 
61  Thayer  says:  "The  following  may  serve  as 
examples  of  Bode's  errors,"  and  then  enumerates 
only  three  samples  of  poor  translations.  One 
might  reasonably  expect  from  such  a  complete 
study  as  the  writer  has  undertaken,  a  more 
thorough  examination  of  Bode's  stylistic  and  lin- 
guistic shortcomings. 

The  treatment  of  Sterne's  letters  and  sermons, 
while  adequate,  is  of  no  great  consequence.  It 
is,  however,  interesting  to  note  that  in  this  age 
especially  famous  for  its  letter  writing,  a  volume 


92 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  3. 


could  be  published  (1780)  with  the  title  Brief e 
von  Yorick  und  Elisen,  wie  sie  zwischen  ihnen 
konnten  gesehrieben  werden.  The  letters  were,  of 
course,  spurious.  In  fact  the  great  amount  of 
ungenuine  publications  that  have  assembled  around 
the  name  of  Sterne  shows  how  large  a  place  in  the 
public  mind  was  filled  by  the  English  writer. 

' '  The  Koran,  or  the  Life,  Character  and  Senti- 
ments of  Tria  Juncta  in  lino,  M.  N.  A. ,  Master 
of  No  Arts,"  had  an  interesting  career  in  Ger- 
many and  is  important  because  of  the  interest  that 
Goethe  showed  in  it  and  his  belief  in  its  authenti- 
city. This  book  was  published  in  the  first  collected 
edition  of  Sterne's  works,  Dublin,  1779,  and  was 
probably  written  by  Richard  Griffith.  There  is 
some  doubt  about  the  author  of  the  German  trans- 
lation published,  Hamburg,  1778,  under  the  title 
Der  Koran,  oder  Leben  und  Meinungen  des  Tria 
Juncta  in  Uno,  M.  N.  A.  Ein  hinterlasgenes  Werk 
von  dem  Verfasser  des  Tristram  Shandy.  It  was, 
however,  probably  Bode. 

Thayer  condemns  Robert  Springer's  1st  Goethe 
ein  Plagiarius  Lor  em  Sterne's  f  contained  in  Essays 
zur  Kritik  und  zur  Goethe- Liter  atnr.  Thayer 
thinks  that  Springer  is  interested  in  making  a  case 
for  the  Koran  and  finds  his  chief  argument  in  the 
fact  that  both  Goethe  and  Jean  Paul  accepted  it. 

Johann  Gottfried  Gellius  had  also  published  a 
version  of  it  in  1771  under  the  title  Yorick' s 
Nachgelassene  Werke.  The  reviews  of  these  vol- 
umes are  generally  favorable  and  they  were  usually 
accepted  as  having  been  written  by  Sterne. 

Thayer  points  out  that  Schink's  Empfindsame 
Reisen  durch  Italien,  die  Schweiz  und  Frankreich, 
ein  Nachtrag  zu  den  Yorickschen.  Aus  und  nach 
dem  Englischen,  Hamburg,  1794,  had  as  its  source 
"Sentimental  Journey,  Intended  as  a  Sequel  to 
Mr.  Sterne's,  through  Italy,  Switzerland  and 
France,  by  Mr.  Shandy,"  1793.  Schink  says  in 
his  introduction  with  regard  to  the  statement  in 
the  title  '  'Aus  und  nach  dem  Englischen  " — "  aus, 
so  lange  wie  Treue  fur  den  Leser  Gewinn  schien 
und  nach,  wenn  Abweichung  fur  die  deutsche 
Darstellung  notwendig  war. ' '  Schiiik  published  in 
1801  also  Launen,  Phantasien  und  Schilderungen 
aus  dem  Tagebuche  eines  reisenden  Englanders. 

With  regard  to  the  Lorenzo  order  and  the  re- 
markable history  of  the  Lorenzodose  idea,  Thayer 
has  very  little  to  add  to  what  is  contained  in 


Longo's  monograph,  Laurence  Sterne  und  Johann 
Georg  Jacobi  and  RansohofF's  dissertation. 

Through  this  order  Jacobi  became  a  celebrity 
in  a  very  short  time.  His  idea  had  met  with 
universal  approval  and  everybody  wanted  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  the  amiable  Jacobi. 
So  many  desired  to  obtain  the  snuff-boxes  that  they 
became  the  subject  of  speculation  on  the  part  of 
the  shop-keepers.  The  material  employed  was 
usually  metal,  but  there  are  frequent  references 
to  boxes  which  were  made  of  horn.  The  name 
Jacobi  was  often  engraved  on  the  inside  of  the 
case.  Although  they  were  scattered  all  over 
middle  and  northern  Germany  as  far  as  Sweden 
and  Lapland,  at  the  present  time  it  seems  impos- 
sible to  find  a  single  example  of  the  famous 
Lorenzo  snuff-box.  The  interest  in  the  association 
was  not  confined  to  any  one  class — clergymen, 
literary  men,  students  and  business  men,  were 
eager  applicants  for  membership. 

The  plan  was  viewed  with  so  much  pleasure 
that  efforts  were  made  to  found  other  societies 
of  a  similar  nature.  One  was  the  order  of 
Empfindsamkeit  undertaken  by  Leuchsenring, 
another  had  the  curious  title  order  of  Sanftmuth 
und  Versohnung. 

Pankraz,  one  of  the  characters  in  Timme's 
Fragmente  zur  Geschichte  der  Zartlickeit,  attempts 
to  found  a  new  order  of  the  garter.  The  garter 
was  to  have  upon  it  Elisa's  (one  of  the  characters 
in  the  book)  silhouette  and  the  device  Or  den  vom 
Strumpfband  der  empfindsamen  Liebe. 

Thayer' s  study  of  Wieland's  relation  to  Sterne, 
which  would  naturally  form  a  not  unimportant 
part  of  such  an  investigation,  has  been  based 
largely  upon  Laurence  Sterne  und  C.  M.  Wieland, 
by  K.  A.  Behmer.  However,  Thayer  finds  that 
the  value  of  Behmer' s  work  is  lessened  by  his 
acceptance  of  the  Eugenius  volumes  of  the  Senti- 
mental Journey  and  the  Koran  as  genuine. 

Herder's  importance  in  this  connection  centers 
largely  in  the  fact  that  probably  through  him 
Goethe  first  made  the  acquaintance  of  Sterne. 

Thayer  has  done  little  more  in  connection  with 
Goethe's  relation  to  Sterne  than  to  discuss  the 
well-known  passages  in  his  writings  and  in  his 
conversations  that  deal  with  the  English  author. 
It  would  seem  that  the  writer  had  the  opportunity 
for  a  less  cursory  examination  of  this  relationship, 


March,  1907]. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


93 


although  he  says,  page  107  :  "A  thorough  con- 
sideration of  these  problems,  especially  as  con- 
cerns the  cultural  indebtedness  of  Goethe  to  the 
English  master  would  be  a  task  demanding  a 
separate  work." 

In  concluding  his  investigation  of  the  borrow- 
ings of  minor  literary  men  from  Sterne,  Thayer 
says,  page  151  :  "The  pursuit  of  references  to 
Yorick  and  direct  appeals  to  his  writings  in  the 
German  literary  world  of  the  century  succeeding 
the  era  of  his  great  popularity  would  be  a  mon- 
strous and  fruitless  task.  Such  references  in 
books,  letters  and  periodicals  multiply  beyond 
possibility  of  systematic  study." 

Apart  from  the  general  influence  of  Sterne, 
which  arose  from  the  direct  effect  of  his  books 
upon  special  writers,  there  are  three  ideas  under 
which  his  contributions  to  German  literature  may 
be  grouped.  In  the  first  place,  he  precipitated 
the  sentimental  malady.  This  may  have  been 
intensified  by  the  apt  coining  of  the  word  emp- 
findsam.1  Second,  the  hobby  horse  idea.  As 
exemplified  by  Sterne,  this  suggestion  had  consid- 
erable sway.  Third,  the  journey  motif.  A  book 
which  had  such  great  popularity  as  the  Sentimental 
Journey  would  inevitably  cause  a  great  number  of 
imitations,  but  there  is  danger  in  emphasizing  the 
journey  idea  too  strongly.  There  had  been  Reisen  * 
before  the  appearance  of  Yorick' s  wanderings  and 
there  would  have  been  such  undertakings  if  Sterne 
had  never  written  the  Sentimental  Journey.  The 
original  feature  was  the  sentimental  quality  which 
was  given  to  books  of  travel,  or  to  imaginary 
travels. 

Thayer  gives  the  following  very  apt  quotation 
from  Timme's  Der Empfindsame,  p.  169  :  "  Kaum 
war  der  liebenswiirdige  Sterne  auf  sein  Stecken- 
pferd  gestiegen,  und  hatte  es  uns  vorgeritten  ;  so 
versammelten  sich  wie  gewohnlich  in  Teutschland 
alle  Jungen  um  ihn  herum,  hingen  sich  an  ihn, 
oder  Bchnitzten  sich  sein  Steckenpferd  in  der  Ge- 
scbwindigkeit  nach,  oder  brachen  Stecken  vom 
nachsten  Zaun  oder  rissen  aus  einem  Reissigbiindel 

1  Thayer  has  failed  to  note  a  publication  which  was  in- 
tended to  combat  sentimentalism  and  some  of  its  conse- 
quences— Anhiv  der  Schwiirmerei  und  Aufkldrung,  hreg.  v. 
Schulz,  1788,  Altona  (3  vols.). 

"Ransohoff  thinks  Ronsard's  Voyage  de  Tours  ou  lea 
Amvureux  is  the  first  example  in  modern  French  literature. 


den  ersten  besten  Priigel,  setzen  sich  darauf  und 
ritten  mit  einer  solchen  Wut  hinter  ihm  drein, 
dass  sie  einen  Luftwirbel  veranlassten,  der  alles, 
was  ihm  zu  nahe  kam,  wie  em  reissender  Strom 
mit  sich  fortriss.  War  es  nur  unter  den  Jungen 
geblieben,  so  hatte  es  noch  sein  mogen  ;  aber 
unglucklicherweise  fandeu  auch  Manner  Ge- 
schmack  an  dem  artigen  Spielchen,  sprangen 
vom  ihrem  Weg  ab  und  ritten  mit  Stock  und 
Degen  und  Amtsperuken  unter  den  Knaben 
einher.  Freilich  erreichte  keiner  seinen  Meister, 
den  sie  sehr  bald  aus  dem  Gesicht  verloren,  und 
nun  die  possirlichsten  Spriinge  von  der  Welt 
machen  und  doch  bildet  sich  jeder  der  Aflen  ein, 
er  reite  so  schon  wie  der  Yorick." 

Thayer  mentions  other  ideas  which  are  derived 
from  the  author  under  consideration — stylistic 
peculiarities,  extravagant  methods  of  punctuation, 
the  exaltation  of  the  eccentric,  the  mock  scientific 
style. 

The  author  of  the  monograph  has  not  exhausted 
the  journalistic  material  that  deals  directly  or  in- 
directly with  Sterne.  This  would  bo  too  much  to 
expect,  although  the  results  of  his  investigation  give 
a  connected,  if  not  thoroughly  complete  study  of 
the  subject  he  is  treating.  The  periodical  publi- 
cations of  this  time  are  so  multifariou? — the  letters 
from  England  which  deal  with  literature,  with  art, 
the  theatre,  the  proceedings  of  learned  societies, 
etc.,  are  so  manifold  that  the  author  would  have 
been  too  heavily  taxed  to  attempt  to  make  com- 
plete examinations  of  them. 

Thayer  has  adopted  a  method  which  seems 
rather  hazardous.  He  says,  page  12  :  "The first 
mention  of  Sterne's  name  in  Germany  may  well 
be  the  brief  word  in  the  Hamburg 'ischer  unpar- 
theyiseher  Correspondent  for  January  4,  1762  "  ; 
again,  page  15  :  "This  Ziickert  translation  is  first 
reviewed  by  the  above  mentioned  Hambnrgischer 
unpartheyiseher  Correspondent  in  the  issue  for 
January  4,  1764";  again,  page  32  :  "Theirs* 
notice  of  Sterne's  death  is  probably  that  in  the 
Adress-Comptoir-Nachrichten  of  Hamburg  in  the 
issue  of  April  6,  1768."  Again,  page  18  :  "A 
little  more  than  a  year  after  the  review  in  the 
Hamburgischer  unpartheyincher  Correspondent, 
which  has  been  cited,  the  JenaiscJie  Zeitungen  von 
gelehrten  Sachen  in  the  number  dated  March  1, 
1765,  treats  Sterne's  masterpiece  in  its  German 


94 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  3. 


disguise.  This  is  the  first  mention  of  Sterne's 
book  in  the  distinctly  literary  journals."  A 
number  of  other  similar  references  could  be  added, 
but  these  are  sufficient  to  show  the  danger  of  such 
statements,  although  they  are  in  some  instances 
qualified. 

The  contemporary  reviews  of  Sterne's  several 
books  quoted  by  Thayer,  form  a  valuable  feature 
of  his  study — such  expressions  as  ' '  The  reviewer 
in  the  Allegemeine  deutschn  Bibliothek,"  page  128, 
"The  reviewer  in  the  Deutsche  Eibliothek  der 
schonen  Wusenschaften,"  page  131,  the  "Alma- 
nack der  deutschen  Musen,  1771,  calls  the  book," 
etc.  They  are  found  on  nearly  every  page,  and 
while  these  quotations  may  be  at  times  pedantic 
and  frequently  distracting,  they  give  an  idea  of 
the  extent  of  the  author' s  reading. 

The  writer's  style  is  by  no  means  above  criti- 
cism. Dealing  as  he  does  with  a  subject  whose 
ramifications  run  into  many  questions  of  wide 
interest,  Thayer  has  allowed  himself  to  write  in  a 
manner  that  may  be  described  as  being  too  large. 
The  bigness  of  his  method  of  expression  has  carried 
him  into  some  stylistic  vagaries  which  are  remark- 
able. The  following  serve  as  illustrations  (page 
40)  :  "The  translator's  preface  occupies  twenty 
pages  and  is  an  important  document  in  the  story 
of  Sterne's  popularity  in  Germany,  since  it  repre- 
sents the  introductory  battle-cry  of  the  Sterne  cult, 
and  illustrates  the  attitude  of  cultured  Germany 
toward  the  new  star."  And  (page  51)  :  "But 
there  is  lacking  here  the  inevitable  concomitant 
of  Sterne's  relation  of  a  sentimental  situation,  the 
whimsicality  of  the  narrator  in  his  attitude  at  the 
time  of  the  adventure,  or  reflective  whimsicality 
in  the  narration.  Sterne  is  always  whimsically 
quizzical  in  his  conduct  toward  a  sentimental  con- 
dition, or  toward  himself  in  the  analysis  of  his 
conduct."  (Page  42)  :  "Its  source  is  one  of 
the  facts  involved  in  Sterne's  German  vogue 
which  seem  to  have  fastened  themselves  on 
the  memory  of  literature."  Also  (page  112)  : 
"  The  intelligence  is  afforded  that  he  himself  is 
working  on  a  journey." 

On  page  37  occurs  the  following  passage  : 
"  Brockes  had  prepared  the  way  for  a  senti- 
mental view  of  nature,  Klopstock's  poetry  had 
fostered  the  display  of  emotion,  the  analysis 
of  human  feeling.  Gellert  had  spread  his  own 
sort  of  religious  and  ethical  sentimentalism  among 


the  multitudes  of  his  devotees.  Stirred  by, 
and  contemporaneous  with  Gallic  feeling,  Ger- 
many was  turning  with  longing  toward  the  natural 
man,  that  is,  man  unhampered  by  convention  and 
free  to  follow  the  dictates  of  the  primal  emotions. 
The  exercise  of  human  sympathy  was  a  goal  of 
this  movement.  In  this  vague,  uncertain  awak- 
ening, this  dangerous  freeing  of  human  feelings, 
Yorick's  practical  illustration  of  the  sentimental 
life  could  not  but  prove  an  incentive,  an  organ- 
izer, a  relief  for  pent-up  emotion."  In  this 
connection  it  would  seem  that  a  more  precise 
and  extensive  reference  to  Rousseau  would  be 
desirable. 

No  scientific  work  can  take  up  into  solution 
more  than  a  certain  number  of  quotations  and 
references  to  other  books  without  becoming  satu- 
rated. The  style  becomes  surcharged  with  undi- 
gested facts.  Thayer' s  book  suffers  somewhat  on 
this  account — it  does  not  read  as  well  as  might  be 
expected  from  the  exceedingly  interesting  data 
which  he  has  gathered  together. 

The  number  of  misprints  is  not  large.  Page  43 
seems  to  have  suffered  the  worst.  Page  22,  hy- 
pochrondia  for  hypochondria  ;  page  51,  divergences 
for  divergencies  ;  page  169,  Stok  for  Stock  are  also 
to  be  noted. 

THOMAS  STOCKHAM  BAKER. 


CORRESPONDENCE. 
A  NOTE  FROM  DR.  SOMMER. 
To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — Until  I  read  Professor  Nitze's  letter  in 
the  January  Notes,  I  was  honestly  under  the 
impression  that  I  was  the  first,  although  acci- 
dentally, to  identify  the  manuscript  and  to  notice 
the  fact  that  the  prose-Perceval  is  printed  in  the 
editions  of  1516  and  1523.  (When  I  stated  that 
there  are  two  editions  at  the  British  Museum,  I 
did  not  imply  by  any  means  that  these  were  the 
only  copies.)  Had  I  seen,  or  remembered  to 
have  seen,  any  of  the  references  given  by  Professor 
Nitze,  I  should  naturally  not  have  written  at  all. 

As  extenuating  circumstances  I  might  plead  : 
First,  that  I  had  discussed  the  contents  of  the 
article  with  several  people  in  Paris  and  in  London, 
two  of  whom,  at  least,  had  as  little  excuse  as 
myself  not  to  have  seen  those  references,  but 
neither  said  a  word  to  the  effect  that  he  had  ; 
second,  that  as  to  periodicals  and  Zeitschriften,  I 


March,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


95 


am  here  in  London  worse  off  than  most  of  my 
American  confreres,  for,  being  unable  to  subscribe 
to  them  all,  I  am  dependent  on  the  British 
Museum,  where,  as  is  well  known,  the  numbers 
are  not  obtainable  immediately  after  their  appear- 
ance, but  often  as  much  as  five  or  six  months 
later.  As  an  instance,  I  might  mention  that 
when  I  asked  last  July  for  the  January  and  Feb- 
ruary numbers  of  your  Notes,  the  last  number  on 
the  shelves  was  June,  1905. 

When  I  was  in  Paris  in  December  last,  I  col- 
lated the  MS.  1428  with  Potvin's  text.  I  also 
found  the  first  branch  of  the  prose-Perceval  in  a 
late  fourteenth  century  manuscript,  viz.,  No.  119 
(anc.  6790),  ff.  520a-522d,  where  it  forms  a  sort 
of  introduction  to  the  vulgate  queste,  occupying 
ff.  522a-564d. 

H.    OSKAK   SOMMER. 


was  never  published,  mainly  because  of  Wieland' s 
objections  to  any  translation  of  the  poem  into  a 
foreign  language.  Wieland  expressed  himself 
very  favorably,  however,  in  regard  to  the  stanzas 
which  he  had  seen  of  Six' s  English  version  of  the 
Oberon. 

In  a  letter  to  Eschenburg  of  the  25th  of  March 
and  another  of  the  7th  of  May,  1784  (given  in 
Schnorr's  Archiv,  xm,  pp.  503-6),  Wieland 
explains  his  reasons  for  not  wishing  the  Oberon 
translated. 

W.  A.  COLWELL. 

Harvard  University. 


THE  FIRST  ENGLISH  TRANSLATOR  OF 
WIELAND'S  Oberon. 

To  tJie  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — In  an  article  in  the  December  number 
of  Modern  Language  Note*  on  "Graf  Friedrich 
von  Stolberg  in  England, ' '  Mr.  George  M.  Baker 
suggests  the  possibility  that  the  James  Six  who 
translated  two  odes  of  Stolberg' s  was  also  the 
author  of  a  pamphlet  entitled  "The  Construction 
and  Use  of  a  Thermometer.  By  James  Six,  Esq. , 
F.  R.  S."  The  author  of  this  pamphlet  and  the 
translator  of  the  odes  were  father  and  son,  as  the 
introduction  to  the  former's  essay  shows.  James 
Six,  senior,  died  in  1793,  and  in  the  following 
year  a  friend  published  the  article  on  the  ther- 
mometer. To  a  brief  account,  in  the  preface,  of 
the  life  of  Six,  Sr.,  he  appended  the  following 
extract  from  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  in  regard 
to  Six,  Jr.,  who  died  at  Rome  in  1786  at  the  age 
of  twenty -nine. 

"  He  was  a  young  man  of  great  natural  abili- 
ties, and  of  extensive  learning.  He  understood 
the  Hebrew,  Greek,  Latin,  Italian,  French,  and 
German  languages,  and  in  most,  if  not  all  of 
them,  had  a  well-grounded  and  accurate  knowl- 
edge ; Two  beautiful  odes  .  .  translated 

from  the  German,  give  no  mean  idea  of  his  poetical 
powers  ;  .  .  .  He  was  the  son  of  Mr.  James  Six, 
of  Canterbury,  to  whose  ingenious  observations 
and  experiments  in  natural  philosophy,  &c.,  the 
public  have  been  much  indebted.  (Gentleman's 
Magazine  for  January,  1787.") 

Besides  the  two  odes  already  mentioned,  James 
Six,  Jr.,  also  translated  Wieland's  Oberon,  but 
only  a  few  stanzas  of  this  appeared  in  the  Deutsches 
Museum  for  1784  (Vol.  n,  pp.  232-47)  ;  the  rest 


THE  NORTH-ENGLISH  HOMILY  COLLECTION. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — I  should  like  to  call  the  attention  of 
your  readers  to  a  connection  which  I  have  just 
discovered  between  the  Anglo-French  poem  en- 
titled the  Miroir  or  Le«  evangiles  do-)  domees  and 
the  North-English  Homily  Collection.  The  French 
work  was  written  by  Robert  of  Grctham,  about 
1250  (see  P.  Meyer,  Romania,  xv,  296  ff. ),  and 
contained  a  series  of  metrical  homilies  for  every 
Sunday  in  the  year.  Five  manuscripts  of  the 
complete  poem  or  of  the  illustrative  narratives 
have  been  described  (see  Varnhagen,  Zts.  f.  rom. 
Phil,  i,  541-545  ;  Bonnard,  Les  traductions  de  la 
bible  en  vers  francais,  1884,  pp.  194  f. ;  P.  Meyer, 
Romania,  vn,  345,  xv,  296-305),  but  all  are  in 
a  more  or  less  fragmentary  state.  The  same 
author  probably  wrote  another  homiletic  poem 
called  the  Corset,  preserved  in  MS.  Douce  210. 
What  is  perhaps  a  fragment  of  the  Miroir  in  some 
redaction  has  recently  been  printed  in  Romania, 
xxxv,  63-67,  by  M.  Meyer. 

The  Northern  cycle  of  Middle- English  homilies 
has  hitherto  been  considered  an  independent  com- 
pilation. It  was  written  in  the  early  part  of  the 
fourteenth  century  and  exists  in  numerous  manu- 
scripts (see  Horstmann,  Altenglische  Legenden, 
Neue  Folge,  1881,  LVII-LXXXIX,  and  my  North- 
English  Homily  Collection,  1902),  of  which  only 
the  Edinburgh  MS.  has  as  yet  been  published 
(Small,  English  Metrical  Homilies,  1862).  In 
the  progress  of  preparing  an  edition  of  the 
work  for  the  E.  E.  T.  S.  I  have  for  some 
years  been  inclined  to  believe  that  an  Old 
French  original  for  at  least  part  of  the  collec- 
tion must  have  existed  ;  but  until  recently  I 
had  no  proof.  By  a  study  of  the  fragments  of 
Robert  of  Gretham's  poem,  which  have  been 
printed  by  the  gentlemen  who  have  described  the 
still  unpublished  manuscripts  of  that  work,  I  have 
now  made  up  my  mind  that  it  is  the  source  of  at 
least  a  considerable  portion  of  the  English  collec- 


96 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[  Vol.  xxii,  No.  3. 


tion.  A  measure  of  originality  will  nevertheless 
be  left,  I  believe,  to  the  Northern  writer.  The 
evidence  of  relationship,  the  details  of  which  I 
must  beg  to  be  excused  from  giving  till  I  make  a 
personal  study  of  Robert's  entire  poem  next  sum- 
mer, rests  upon  similarity  of  arrangement,  upon 
translation  of  certain  passages  almost  line  by  line, 
and  upon  what  seems  to  be  an  allusion  of  the 
translator  to  his  original.  It  is  needless  to  add 
that  this  relationship,  if  I  succeed  in  establishing 
it,  will  place  the  interesting  Northern  cycle  in  a 
somewhat  different  position  from  that  which  it  has 
hitherto  occupied.  For  the  present,  I  merely  wish 
to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  all  available 
evidence  points  in  one  direction. 


Princeton  University. 


G.  H.  GEROULD. 


A  RECIPE  FOR  EPILEPSY. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  :  —  The  following  interesting  recipe  for 
epilepsy  is  found  in  a  breviary  of  the  thirteenth 
century  in  the  library  of  Vendome.  After  having 
copied  it,  I  discovered  that  attention  had  already 
been  called  to  it  in  the  catalogue  of  manuscripts 
under  the  No.  17.  However,  it  is  worth  repeat- 
ing as  a  curiosity  : 

Jaspar  fert  aurum,  thus  Hfelchior,  Saltasar  (con.  Astrapa) 

mirram  ; 

Bee  quicumque  trium  secumfert  nomina  retjum 
Solvitur  a  morbo  Christi  pietate  caduco. 


Columbia  University. 


J.  L.  GERIG. 


Beowulf  62. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — Though  deeply  conscious  that  Professor 
Klaeber  and  I  have  cruelly  overworked  1.  62  of 
Beowulf — and  through  it  probably  our  friends  as 
well — I  am  not  yet  content  to  remain  quiet.  It 
is  Professor  Klaeber' s  extended  letter  in  the 
December  Modern  Language  Notes  that  now 
moves  me,  and  I  beg  the  space  for  a  few  words 
in  reply.  I  am  not  seeking  here  to  add  new 
arguments,  nor  to  restate  old  ones,  nor  even  to 
bolster  up  any  of  those  I  have  put  forward  in  the 
past.  Nothing  of  the  sort  seems  to  me  necessary. 
It  may  be  I  am  like  the  battered  youngster  who 
gets  up  protesting  he  is  unhurt.  At  least,  in 
spite  of  all  the  articles  and  learning  Professor 
Klaeber  has  marshalled  against  me,  I  cannot  see 
that  a  single  one  of  my  conclusions  has  been 
seriously  damaged.  Only  once,  I  believe,  has  he 
even  touched  upon  my  chief  line  of  argument, 


when  he  cites  against  me  a  few  parallel  cases  of 
a  genitive  in  -as  and  a  nominative  feminine  sin- 
gular in  -«  ;  but  surely  a  half  dozen  such  cases 
drawn  from  all  Old  English  literature  does  not 
prove  the  forms  to  be  normal,  nor  disprove  my 
statement  that  "after  the  word  cwen  everything 
is  peculiar."  He  has  not  shown  that  there  was 
any  mistake  before  elan,  nor  has  he  proved  that 
there  was  any  real  correction  made  after  cwen. 

I  might  very  well  stop  with  this  self-confident 
protestation  that  I  feel  entirely  uninjured,  if  Pro- 
fessor Klaeber  had  not  used  against  me  some 
questionable  tactics  (I  hope  the  phrase  is  not 
offensive).  That  is,  in  the  first  place,  Professor 
Klaeber  has  persisted  in  seeing  things  in  the 
autotype  that  surely  are  not  there.  In  one  article 
he  thought  the  erasure  might  have  been  for  a  blot 
of  ink.  I  showed  that  conjecture  to  be  very  ill- 
founded  1  and  then  turned  the  argument  against 
him, — for  his  hypothesis  was  really  favoring  my 
position. '  Now  he  thinks  the  erased  word  may  • 
have  been  fiaivces,  but  anyone  who  looks  at  a  good 
copy  of  the  autotype  can  see  that  this  second  con- 
jecture is  equally  untenable.  There  is  not  the 
slightest  trace  of  a  />  or  a  w.  And  I  may  add, 
again  his  hypothesis  favors  my  position.  Now  I 
must  confess  that  I  think  it  unkind  of  Professor 
Klaeber  to  entice  me  with  phantoms  that  for  my 
side  have  such  fair  seeming  show. 

Another  point  on  which  I  feel  I  have  cause  to 
be  aggrieved — though  I  am  not,  of  course — is  Pro- 
fessor Klaeber' s  treatment  of  the  hyrde  case  in 
Fat.  Ap.  70.  The  first  time  he  referred  to  the 
passage  he  gave  the  wrong  line-number  and  now, 
alas,  he  has  misquoted  the  line  itself,  making 
things  look  very  dark  for  me.  It  is  not  hyrde  ic, 
as  Professor  Klaeber  states,  but  hyrde  we,  and  the 
parallelism  to  Beowulf  is  accordingly  not  nearly 
so  close  as  the  misquotation  would  seem  to  show. 
In  fact,  I  cannot  see  that  the  line  contains  a  par- 
allel at  all. 

There  are  other  points  in  Professor  Klaeber' s 
letter  that  might  be  discussed,  but  no  matter. 
The  subject  is  evidently  too  small  for  either  of  us 
to  distinguish  himself  in,  and  I  for  one  shall  be 
glad  to  drop  it.  In  closing,  however,  may  I  add 
that  I  do  not  think  Professor  Klaeber  has  done 
full  justice  to  the  brilliancy  and  ingenuity  of 
Professor  Abbott's  proposed  emendation  Hroftulfes 
wees.  I  am  not  championing  the  emendation, 
nevertheless  I  think  it  has  several  strong  points 
in  its  favor,  and  that  these  have  been  put  forward 
with  great  skill.  The  explanation  offered  as  to 
how  the  error  arose  seems  to  me  especially  bril- 
liant, and  very  much  better  than  Professor  Klae- 
ber's  similar  treatment. 


University  of  Kansas. 


FRANK  E.  BRYANT. 


>Cf.  Mod.  Lang.  Notes,  Vol.  xxi,  p.  145. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES 


VOL.  XXII. 


BALTIMORE,    APEIL,    1907. 


No.  4. 


BROWNING'S   DRAMAS. 
II. 

Another  accepted  dogma  of  the  tragic  drama  is 
that  it  presents  a  struggle  :  a  struggle  in  which  at 
the  crisis  the  combatants  are  about  evenly  matched, 
and  which  at  the  catastrophe  ends  in  the  final 
overthrow  of  one  of  them.  What  is  the  nature  of 
the  "struggle"  in  Browning's  dramas?  Mrs. 
Browning  has  said  that  Browning  has  taken  for  a 
nobler  stage  the  soul  itself.  At  first  sight  the 
words  seem  tremendously  illuminating.  Freed 
from  the  necessity  of  presenting  the  drama  on  the 
stage,  we  can  see  how  there  might  be  a  purely 
subjective  drama.  The  cosmos  would  be  contained 
within  the  walls  of  the '  soul ;  the  action  move, 
round  on  round,  within  that  fine  inner  circle  ;  a 
mood  and  its  impulse  would  correspond  to  the 
deed  and  the  doing  of  it.  The  passion,  increasing 
progressively  as  Stevenson  demanded,  might  rise, 
pause  a  breathless  instant,  fall,  pause,  and  fall 
again — all  in  the  psychological  world.  But,  illu- 
minating as  Mrs.  Browning's  definition  at  first 
appears,  we  find  ourselves  .face  to  face  with  new 
difficulties.  Is  this  drama  contained  within  the 
walls  of  a  single  soul  ?  are  the  warring  passions 
the  dramaiis  personae  t  Or,  if  not,  what  relation 
do  the  several  souls  bear  to  the  struggle  ?  how  do 
they  reach  out  and  touch  each  other?  If  the 
mood  and  its  impulses  respond  to  the  deed  and 
the  doing  of  it,  what  answers  to  plot?  For 
answer,  let  us  look  at  the  plays. 

At  times,  as  in  Paracelsus,  Browning  does  seem 
to  have  "taken  for  a  nobler  stage  the  soul  itself." 
The  shell  of  circumstance  crumbles  away  ;  we  see 
the  "rise"  and  "fall"  in  the  aspirations,  strug- 
gles, attainments,  and  defeats  of  a  soul  at  war  with 
its  own  ideals.  Again,  Browning's  people  seem 
at  times  little  more  than  personified  moods.  Pippa 
herself  is  an  embodiment  of  that  rare  and  excellent 
moment  when  the  world  of  stubborn  facts  and 
hard,  integral  personalities  lies  plastic  to  the 
world  of  imagination  and  feeling.  While  when 


Browning  wishes  to  show  human  relations — plot 
interest — he  seems  to  disintegrate  life  not  so  much 
into  men  and  women  as  into  its  component  aspects  ; 
so  in  the  struggle  we  see  not  two  strong  men 
standing  face  to  face,  but  two  souls  possessed  by 
opposing  moods  and  hurried  along  by  them. 
When  the  issue  is  joined,  it  is  the  crash  of 
opposing  convictions  ;  we  can  see,  as  it  were,  the 
flicker  of  two  points  of  view  crossing  swords. 
The  catastrophe  is  not  infrequently  an  overthrown 
ideal,  resting  upon  some  conception  of  life  either 
false,  or  inconceivable  by  his  fellows,  and  so  im- 
possible to  live  by.  Thus  from  the  point  of  view 
of  plot  and  character  the  struggle  resolved  itself 
into  opposing  aspects  and  opposing  points  of  view. 

We  can  see  how  closely  this  is  connected,  to 
hark  back,  with  Browning's  indifference  to  the 
act.  Shakespeare  in  Othello  shows  us  lago  pour- 
ing suspicion  drop  by  drop  into  his  victim's  ears  ; 
but  his  motives  are  barely  touched  upon.  Brown- 
ing's care  is  not  for  what  men  do,  but  for  how 
they  came  to  do  it.  Hence  in  Luria  we  hear 
much  of  purposes,  of  the  wide  sweep  of  the 
various  plots ;  Bracchio,  Puccio,  Domizia — we 
get  every  turn  of  their  thoughts.  The  cynicism 
of  Puccio  and  his  devotion  to  Florence  have  been 
wrought  into  a  system,  a  terrible  engine  of 
destruction.  Domizia,  her  wrongs,  and  her  pur- 
pose to  make  of  Luria  a  tool  for  the  overthrow  of 
this  system — she,  too,  is  scarcely  human,  but  an 
agent  of  rebellion.  The  issue  of  the  battle  Against 
the  Pisans  is  a  matter  of  indifference  to  us  ;  we 
are  never  really  anxious  as  to  the  result  ;  but  we 
await  breathless  the  shock  when  these  opposing 
purposes  join  battle. 

In  King  Victor  and  King  Charles,  the  struggle 
is  not  really  for  the  crown,  — that  is  the  shell  of 
circumstance  ;  nor  is  it  merely  between  Victor's 
love  of  rule  and  Charles'  love  of  rectitude,  though 
these  are  elements,  but  in  their  utterly  different 
conceptions  of  Victor's  act  of  resignation,  and 
their  respective  duties  to  each  other  and  to  the 
crown.  While,  on  the  other  hand,  the  grim 
irony  qf  th§  contrast  between  the  painstaking 


98 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  4. 


simplicity  of  Charles,  pondering  over  his  divided 
duty,  and  the  facile  convictions  of  D'Ormea,  the 
staple  of  whose  life  is  guile,  may  be  resolved  into 
a  highly  wrought,  sensitive  nature,  seized  by  a 
noble  conception  of  duty — a  poet  rather  than  a 
statesman— being  judged  and  jockeyed  by  a  keen- 
witted politician,  who  judges  him  by  the  standards 
of  common  life  and  caters  to  its  temptations. 

In  In  a  Balcony  we  are  plunged  instantly  into 
a  conflict  in  point  of  view.  Two  lovers  slip  from 
the  court  into  a  balcony.  From  behind  comes 
the  ripple  and  tinkle  of  dance  music  ;  in  front 
lies  the  far  horizon  ;  beneath,  the  trees  ;  above, 
the  stars.  One  is  conscious  of  the  court,  its  arti- 
ficial standards,  throbbingly  conscious,  too,  of 
the  human  life  ;  the  other  is  in  touch  with 
Nature,  its  sincerity  to  itself,  its  merciless  un- 
sympathy  with  others.  The  question  at  issue  is 
whether  Norbert,  the  lover,  shall  ask  the  Queen 
now  for  the  hand  of  her  Court  lady,  Constance. 

"Now,"  (says  Norbert)  "Let  it  be  now, 
Love!" 

"Not  now!"  (says  Constance),  and  this  is 
the  text  of  an  argument,  a  conflict  in  words  of 
opposing  points  of  view. 

"Let  me  go  now,  Love,"  (says  Norbert)  "  and 
ask  the  Queen,  whom  I  have  served  a  year,  for 
my  reward,  your  hand  !  " 

"Do,  and  ruin  us!"  (says  Constance)  "Will 
the  Queen  be  pleased  to  know  that  your  service 
was  not  loyalty  to  her,  but  love  for  me? " 

Norbert  brushes  aside  with  rough  masculine 
scorn  this  view  of  the  Queen : 

"She  thinks  there  was  more  cause  in  love  of 
power  ;  high  cause — pure  loyalty?  " 

' '  Perhaps  she  fancies  men  wear  out  their  lives, 
chasing  such  shadows  ? ' ' 

So  the  argument  goes  back  and  forth  !  But  it 
is  never  mere  exposition  ;  we  never  quite  forget 
the  personal  human  interest  in  the  abstract  points. 

The  love-making  enters  the  consciousness  of  the 
reader  without  breaking  the  discussion.  There  is 
cogent  argument  in  her  pretty  scorn  : 

"This  kiss,  because  you  have  a  name  at  court." 

And  again,  for  fear  her  lover's  attention  will 
wander  from  the  speech  to  the  speaker,  she  says 
(and  the  touch  is  very  pretty)  : 


"Now  take  this  rose,  and  look  at  it, 
Listening  to  me." 

She  will  have  him  weigh  her  words,  undisturbed 
by  any  witchery  of  eyes  and  lips.  It  is  a  lover's 
"Now  !",  and  a  gay  mistress's  "Not  now  !"  we 
feel  in  such  passages.  Again  : 

' '  Now  listen,  Norbert,  or  I  take  away  my  hands." 

The  earnestness  of  her  gives  her  coquetry  the 
divine  touch  of  unconsciousness.  Her  femininity 
is  pervasive  like  a  faint  odour  ;  her  constant, 
petulant  waiving  of  it  femininity  itself.  We  catch 
a  glimpse  of  a  pretty  piece  of  by-play  iu  another 
eager  illustration  : 

"  You  love  a  rose  ;  no  harm  in  that : 
But  was  it  for  the  rose's  sake  or  mine 
You  put  it  in  your  bosom ?    Mine,  you  said." 

And  all  the  argument  turns  upon  the  different 
view  these  two  lovers  take  of  the  Queen  ;  for  on 
her  the  issue  of  it  all  depends.     To  Norbert  she 
is  just  his  royal  mistress,    on  whose  justice  and 
generosity  to  a  faithful  servant   he   may  count. 
Constance  sees  in  her  one  ' '  sitting  aloof  from  the 
world  where  hearts  beat  high,    and   brains  hot- 
blooded  tick,"  living  in  a  dim,  unreal  world  of 
court  sentiment  and  lip  loyalty  ;  to  her  the  "  wan 
dictatress  of  all  that  royal  show"   is  a  woman 
hungry  for  sympathy  and  love.     Constance's  point 
of  view  prevails  ;  Norbert  follows  the  path  Con- 
stance  suggests.     He   is   not  to   tell   the  Queen 
honestly  that  all  his  service  was  for  love  of  Con- 
stance ;  but  goes  to  ask,  in  courtier  fashion,   as 
Constance  bade  him,  for  the  Queen's  poor  cousin, 
as  a  piece  of  her.    The  interview  between  Norbert 
and  the  Queen  is  put  between  the  acts  ;  when  we 
see  them  next  Norbert  thinks  all  is  done  success- 
fully ;  but  the  Queen  has  misunderstood,   thinks 
he  loves  her,  and  pours  out  her  soul  to  Constance  : 
Love   and   loveliness,    the   power   and    grace   of 
loving — these  are  the  Queen's  ;  every  chamber  of 
her  soul  flashes  into  beauty.     Constance,  shaken 
by  her  passion  and  the  pathos  of  it,   resolves  to 
make  it  true  ;  she  will  give  Norbert  up.     Next, 
Norbert,   Constance,   and  the  Queen  are  brought 
face  to  face  ;  let  us  look  at  the  psychology  of  the 
situation  :  Norbert  sees  in  Constance  his  mistress, 
beloved  and  loving  ;  and  in  the  Queen  a  gracious 
sovereign  who  has  just  granted  him  the  hand  of 


April,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


99 


her  cousin.  He  thinks  he  is,  in  the  eyes  of  both, 
the  accepted  lover  of  Constance.  The  Queen  sees 
in  Norbert  her  lover  just  declared,  whom  she 
intends  to  raise  to  the  throne  ;  and  in  Constance 
her  confidante.  While  Constance,  seeing  both 
points  of  view,  tries  to  bring  Norbert  to  the 
Queen's  by  showing  him  in  whirling  words  the 
situation — trying  to  get  him  to  accept  it  without 
revealing  to  the  Queen  her  error.  These  are 
comedy  forces,  raised  by  the  intensity  of  feeling 
and  the  gravity  of  the  issue  to  the  power  of 
tragedy.  It  is  a  drama  of  psychological  cross- 
purposes.  When  the  misunderstanding  crashes 
through  there  can  be  no  happy  clearing  up  for  all 
of  them.  One,  who  fancies  herself  rich,  waked 
to  find  herself  poor  :  herein  is  the  tragedy. 

We  have  already  noted  Anael's  murder  of  the 
Praefect,  in  considering  Browning's  treatment  of 
an  act  ;  but  now,  from  this  new  point  of  view, 
observe  how  she  is  rent  by  her  opposing  beliefs 
as  to  the  true  nature  of  Djabal ;  how  Hakeem 
scarcely  knows  what  to  believe  himself,  and  fan- 
cies himself  now  a  God,  now  a  charlatan,  as  the 
enthusiast  or  the  man  of  affairs  comes  uppermost 
(the  lover  in  him  confusing  the  issue).  In  the 
conception  of  himself  as  God-given  leader  and 
statesman,  meant  to  rule  a  simple  people,  and  let 
them  (in  his  wisdom)  keep  their  illusion,  even 
about  himself,  we  see  an  effort  toward  reconcile- 
ment of  the  two.  Anael's  struggle  also — as  we 
have  seen — is  between  two  points  of  view  ;  but 
with  her  there  can  be  no  such  sophistical  recon- 
cilement. The  shades  of  feeling  that  exist  side  by 
side  in  Djabal  she  cannot  understand.  There  is  a 
fierce  moral  revulsion,  which  results  in  her  de- 
nouncement of  him  to  the  Praefect.  Here  the 
act  is  expressive  of  the  mood  ;  but  for  the  first 
time  her  mood  is  simple,  not  complex.  The 
youth,  Loys,  serves  as  a  sort  of  standard  to  the 
others,  an  outside  influence  by  which  to  test  the 
true  value  in  a  world  of  men  of  the  uncertain 
elements  in  their  souls.  He  has,  however,  his 
own  special  character  interest  and  problem  ;  he, 
too,  is  divided  between  love  for  Anael  and  loyalty 
to  his  order.  Thus  here,  though  their  fates  are 
seemingly  inwoven,  yet  the  "struggle"  takes 
place  separately  in  the  several  souls.  The  con- 
flict does  not  gather  into  one  tremendous  issue — 
each  soul  is  the  centre  of  a  drama ;  rise,  crisis, 


catastrophe.  Now  in  all  great  drama  there  must 
be  some  supreme  centre  of  interest  and  emotion  ; 
some  person  with  him,  through  our  great  interest 
and  sympathy,  we  may  identify  ourselves.  In. 
Hamlet,  for  instance,  our  interest  is  excited  in  a 
more  or  less  casual  way  for  all  the  characters  ; 
but  our  identification  is  with  him  alone.  But 
suppose  we  had  the  subjective  life  of  Hamlet's 
mother  unrolled  before  us  ;  could  read  all  her 
struggles  between  foul  love  and  pure  wifehood 
and  motherhood,  our  knowledge  of  human  rela- 
tions would  be  thereby  widened,  but  the  play  as  a 
whole  tremendously  weakened,  for  we  would  be 
distracted  from  the  supreme  dramatic  identifica- 
tion. We  would  lose  in  knowledge  of  Hamlet 
what  we  gained  in  that  of  his  mother.  Now  in 
The  Return  of  the  Druses,  we  are  required  to  carry 
the  consciousness  of  Loys,  Anael,  and  Djabal.  It 
is  great  genius,  this  placing  us  behind  each  in 
turn,  and  giving  us  his  outlook  on  the  situation  ; 
yet  in  a  great  moment  we  must  identify  ourselves 
with  one.  We  cannot  be  three  at  a  time.  So  we 
find  in  the  last  act  that  we  lose  hold  of  Anael. 
(In  what  spirit  does  she  meet  her  death — who 
knows  ?)  Of  Loys  we  have  but  a  fitful  conscious- 
ness, and  our  identification  with  Hakeem  himself 
is  troubled  by  our  puzzling  about  these  others. 
This  is  in  the  great  moment  at  the  end  ;  yet,  all 
through,  we  are  changing  from  one  to  the  other, 
and  the  adjustment  is  a  weary  strain  upon  the 
imagination. 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  in  such  a  play  the  inter- 
pretation must  be  out  of  all  proportion  to  the 
presentation  ;  the  characters  cannot  even  reveal 
themselves  to  each  other  ;  the  struggle  is  locked 
up  in  each  breast.  Such  a  situation  is  the 
destruction  of  dialogue.  Djabal  appears  first  in 
Act  ii.  In  that  he  speaks  178  lines  ;  of  these  76 
are  soliloquy,  75  in  aside,  and  27  only  in  direct 
address.  In  the  second  part  of  Act  11,  the  two 
lovers  are  alone  together  for  the  first  time  in  the 
play.  Anael  speaks  28  lines  in  all ;  11  to  her 
lover,  27  to  herself ;  while  Djabal  addresses  only 
two  lines  to  his  mistress,  and  29  to  space  !  There 
are  no  instances  quite  so  extreme  as  this  ;  but  the 
whole  play  reads  like  &  mosaic  of  the  dramatic 
monologues,  with  this  important  difference,  that 
the  imputed  questions  and  comments  in  the  mono- 
logues stand  for  real  ones,  while  the  imputed 


100 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  JVb.  4. 


thoughts  in  the  drama  are  usually  imputed  incor- 
rectly :  hence  the  misunderstandings  which  form 
the  basis  of  the  plot. 

We  have  noticed  how  Browning's  attitude  to- 
ward the  deed  causes  a  reversal  of  the  interests  of 
character  and  plot.     This  throws  a  tremendous 
amount  of  ' '  business ' '  into  the  first  act.    There  is 
a  necessity  of  putting  you  en  rapport  at  once  ;  to 
tell  what  is  happening,  and  how  this  makes  your 
character  feel  ;  and  last  and  most  important,  to 
reveal  to  us  his   soul.     There   is,    therefore,    no 
gradual  unfolding  of  the  plot  or  character.     We 
are  plunged  in.     On  first  opening  the  volume  one 
is  conscious  of  a  certain  discourtesy  on  the  part  of 
the  author,  and  bewilderment  on  our  own.     We 
are   ushered   into   a  world   of   people,   speaking, 
acting,    disputing.     We   understand    but   imper- 
fectly, and  no  one  turns  to  explain.     We  listen  : 
here  and  there  we  catch  the  import  of  the  words  ; 
the  scene  acquires  significance.     We  follow  with 
quickening  interest  through  the  woven  meshes  of 
emotion  to  the  climax,  and  down  in  a  sickening 
sweep  to  the  tragedy  ;  but  the  rest  is  not  silence 
in  Browning,  but  full  of  multifarious  voices  clam- 
ouring  for   utterance   across    an    artificial  finis. 
Properly  speaking  there  is  no  ending,  as  there  is 
no  beginning.     It  is  like  the  sudden  flashing  of  a 
train  across  a  bit  of  open  country  between  two 
tunnels.    It  is  a  section  of  life  we  see  ;  significant, 
but  incomplete.     Browning  himself  seemed  con- 
scious of  this,   and  made  it  his  business  to  end 
with  a  catch  phrase,   sometimes  effective,   some- 
times stilted,   always  final,  giving  one  a  sense  of 
dismissal,  like  the  "Gentlemen,  I  thank  you  for 
your  attention  "  of  a  speaker.     Perhaps  the  most 
successful  use  of  this  is  when  King  Victor,  dying, 
gathers  up  all  his  strength  to  launch  denial  at 
D'Ormea's  ever-recurring  sneer  at  his  instability, 
which  runs  the  whole  length  of  the  play  : 

"  Thou  liest,  D'Ormea  ;  I  do  not  repent." 

Or,  in  The  Soul's  Tragedy,  where  Ogniben  has 
one  answer  of  sagacious  pessimism  to  all  the 
vapourers  of  reform  :  "I  have  known  three  and 
twenty  leaders  of  revolts ' ' ;  and  who,  when  the 
soul's  tragedy  is  complete,  takes  the  keys  of  the 
Provost's  palace  with  the  comment:  "I  have 
known  four  and  twenty  leaders  of  revolts." 

Perhaps  the  worst  instance  is  in  The  Slot  in  the 
'Scutcheon,  when  Thorold  dies  crying  : 


"  Vengeance  is  God's,  not  man's  :  remember  me  !  " 
and  Gwendolen  echoes  sentimentally  : 

"  Ah  Thorold  !  we  can  but — remember  you  !  " 

The  phrase  is  tryingly  insincere  and  shallow,  after 
the  genuine  passion  and  beauty  of  Browning's 
most  human  play.  The  last  words  in  Luria, 
though  somewhat  melodramatic,  at  least  are  not 
excrescent,  and  end  the  play  finally,  if  too  sud- 
denly ;  while  the  "And  this  was  Paracelsus," 
if  somewhat  meaningless,  if  closely  considered, 
still  has  the  effect  of  an  Amen. 

In  considering  the  end  of  the  play  it  is  inter- 
esting to  note  the  place  death  takes  in  the  plot, 
and  the  attitude  of  the  people  toward  it.  It  is 
perhaps  because  of  the  psychological  world  in 
which  they  live  that  they  can  treat  death  with 
such  a  noble  carelessness.  It  is  not  for  them  a 
terrible  physical  reality.  Browning's  creatures  do 
not  move  so  much  in  time  and  place  as  in  eternity 
and  among  the  eternal  verities.  So  death  is  not 
death  in  the  final  human  sense  ;  it  is  a  living  act 
corresponding  to  a  sudden  change  of  mood.  Luria 
steps  lightly,  with  a  smile  upon  his  lips,  from  the 
throng  of  little  haters  to  the  great  calm  of  angels. 
Thorold,  in  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon,  drops  life 
wearily  from  him  like  a  mantle,  and  ' '  the  heart 
weary  player  of  this  pageant  world  passes  out  of 
sight. ' '  Even  Strafford  acquiesces  in  the  decree 
of  death  without  a  mortal  shrinking ;  his  last 
agony  .is  for  his  helplessness  to  save  his  master 
from  the  doom  that  he  foreknows,  rather  than  hi 
dread  of  his  own  death.  He  goes  to  plead  and 
pray  for  Charles  in  Heaven.  In  general,  the 
soul  sits  lightly  in  the  body,  and  readily  fares 
forth  to  try  If  the  unknown  be  not  kinder  than 
the  known. 

Of  course  this  is  the  direct  outcome  of  Brown- 
ing's whole  conception  ;  it  is  the  life  of  the  soul, 
rather  than  the  life  of  the  man.  Take,  for  ex- 
ample, the  "seven  ages,"  and  try  to  fancy  how 
Browning  would  have  approached  the  round  of 
man's  life  :  something  we  would  have  had  of 
mother  youngness  ;  of  joyous  animal  growth  and 
the  wild  joy  of  living  ;  of  sturm  und  drang  ;  of 
achievement,  more  or  less  perfect  ;  and  then, 
instead  of  the  "lean  and  slippered  pantaloon," 
we  would  have  had  ' '  the  last  of  life  for  which  the 
first  is  made."  So,  instead  of  mortal  shrinking 
from  the  agony  of  death,  we  have  : 


April,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


101 


"  I  was  ever  a  fighter,  so — one  fight  more, 
The  best  and  the  last!" 

Instead  of  death  itself,  it  is  life — fuller  and 
more  abundant — just  across  the  finis. 

It  is  in  the  relation  of  the  two  plots  that  death 
holds  such  a  unique  position.  When  by  force  of 
circumstances  the  plot  works  out  into  the  catas- 
trophe, and  death  comes,  the  soul  slips  away, 
escaping  the  tragedy.  In  Hamlet,  the 

"  Good  night,  sweet  Prince, 
And  flights  of  angels  sing  thee  to  thy  rest." 

The  words  come  like  the  closing  chords  of  an 
anthem.  But  in  Browning,  when  the  cruelty,  the 
misunderstanding  of  a  blundering  world  have  har- 
ried the  soul  from  life,  there  seems  no  quenching 
of  the  fire.  He  leaves  the  world  of  men  as  Luria 
did,  and  it  is  they  who  are  the  victims.  When 
the  repentant  Florentines  speak  of  the  revenge 
Luria  has  vowed  on  Florence,  the  friend  points  to 

the  dead  body  : 

"  That  is  done." 

Thus  the  tragedy  of  death,  the  catastrophe,  misses 
fire  ;  the  tables  are  turned  ;  the  fallen  triumph. 
In  the  consciousness  of  the  reader,  heartache  and 
exultation  are  strangely  mingled.  In  A  Blot  in 
the  'Scutcheon,  the  mortal  cry  of  Tresham  to 
Thorold— 

"  What  right  had  you  to  set  your  careless  foot 
Upon  her  life  and  mine?" 

finds  its  echo  in  our  hearts  as  surely  as, 

.  .  .   .  "  Leave  the  world  to  them,  Mildred, 
For  God — we're  good  enough." 

Thus  the  soul  is  scarcely  confined  enough  for 
dramatic  purposes.  Death,  the  end  of  all  things, 
fails  to  set  a  limit.  Even  in  the  love  stories,  such 
as  In  a  Balcony,  it  makes  little  more  than  a  great 
break  ;  for  the  deathlessness  of  love  is  an  accepted 
axiom.  The  lovers,  locked  in  each  other's  arms, 
await  their  doom. 

Norbert.        ' '  Sweet,  never  fear  what  she  can  do  ! 

We  are  past  harm  now. 
Qmstance.        On  the  breast  of  God. 
Norbert.  Oh,  some  death 

Will  run  its  sudden  finger  round  this  spark 

And  sever  us  from  the  rest ! ' ' 
Constance.        And  so  do  well. 

It  is  in  this  death  scene  that  the  intriguante  in 


Constance  dies  ;  the  fitful  vision,  the  blind-alley 
sacrifices  are  done  with  ;  she  passes  into  perfect 
womanhood.  There  is  glory  and  abandon  in  the 
moment.  ' '  This  is  life' s  height, ' '  cries  Norbert. 
It  is  not  the  death  of  the  lovers  that  is  the  tragedy 
here,  but  the  quenched  life  of  the  Queen.  She 
died  ' '  Not  willingly,  but  tangled  in  the  fold  of 
dire  necessity,"  tricked  into  hope,  mocked  by 
disillusion,  seizing  vengeance.  Truly  the  death 
of  love  and  hope  is  terrible  ;  it  is  that  that  wrings 
our  heart. 

In  one  drama  only  is  there  perfect  balance 
between  the  world  of  the  soul  and  the  world  of 
the  senses,  where  soul  life  grows  and  blossoms 
in  human  life,  where  the  external  world  folds 
closely  around  the  world  of  thought,  and  souls 
are  embodied  in  living  men  and  women.  It  is 
The  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon.  Mildred  speaks  her 
own  girl  language  in  the  touching  plea  : 

"  I  was  so  young,  I  loved  him  so — I  had 
No  mother — God  forgot  me — so  I  fell." 

Tresham,  too,  ' '  the  boy "  as  he  is  called  so  ten- 
derly, speaks  in  the  awful  wisdom  of  approaching 
death,  wistful  boy  words  to  his  judge  : 

"  We've  sinned  and  die. 
Never  you  sin,  Lord  Thorold,  or  you'll  die, 
And  God  will  judge  you  !  " 

and  again  : 

"  Say  that  I  love  her  ;  say  that  loving  her 
Lowers  me  down  the  bloody  slope  to  death 
With  memories." 

The  words  are  almost  Shakesperian  in  their  turn. 

It  is  a  play  without  a  villain  ;  a  play  of  such 
passion  and  delicacy,  of  such  high  soul-breeding, 
that  the  sense  of  remoteness  to  the  outside  world 
passes.  Here  are  living  men  and  women. 

Indeed,  I  do  not  think  Browning  ever  seems 
anything  else  than  human  ;  for  analyst  and  psy- 
chologist as  he  is,  and  remote  as  are  the  spiritual 
cruxes  with  which  he  loves  to  treat,  he  never  for 
an  instant  passes  into  the  abstract.  He  deals 
with  guilt,  not  sin  ;  convictions,  not  principles  ; 
the  individual,  not  human  nature  in  general. 
Each  man  is  analyzed  back  into  his  component 
parts,  and  not  into  common  psychological  ele- 
ments. Browning's  characters,  therefore,  never 
lack  reality  because  they  lack  externality.  On 


102 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  4. 


the  contrary,  they  have,  I  think,  a  peculiar  near- 
ness to  us.  This  is  due,  in  part,  to  the  specific- 
ness  above  mentioned,  and  partly  to  the  necessity 
under  which  Browning  puts  us,  to  read  him  with 
our  imaginations  rather  than  our  intellects,  and 
constructively  rather  than  critically.  As  a  result, 
his  people  are,  to  some  extent,  re-created  by  our- 
selves, become  adopted  children  of  our  own  brain. 
They  have  entered  into  our  spiritual  consciousness, 
exchanged  greetings  with  our  fancies,  supped  with 
our  moods,  held  high  converse  with  our  secret 
hopes  and  fears — these  men  and  women  who 
have  such  unrivalled  spiritual  intimacy  with  us — 
how  can  they  but  be  real  ? 

Nor  does  Browning  so  absolutely  neglect  to 
present  the  outer  man.  When  externality  is 
necessary  to  his  art  he  evokes  it,  — hurriedly  and 
impatiently,  it  is  true,  but  so  vividly  that  one 
cannot  doubt  his  potency  to  have  created  it  for 
us  perfectly,  had  he  so  desired.  There  is  one  of 
those  rare,  sudden  glimpses  of  the  face  of  things 
in  Jjiiria.  Braccio,  sun-blind  to  the  radiance  of 
Luria's  simplicity,  has  been  holding  up  a  tiny 
candle  flame  of  inspection  to  the  Moors'  motives, 
endeavouring  to  translate  his  forthrightness  into 
terms  of  his  own  duplicity.  Suddenly  the  boy 
secretary  turns  sharply  away  from  analysis,  smit- 
ten, as  it  were,  with  a  vision  of  the  real  Luria, 
and  draws  for  us  a  picture  : 

"Here  I  sit,  your  scribe, 
And  in  and  out  goes  Luria  days  and  nights. 
He  speaks — (I  would  not  listen  if  I  could) 
Heads,  orders,  counsels — but  he  rests  sometimes  ; 
I  see  him  stand  and  eat,  sleep  stretched  an  hour 
On  the  lynx  skins  yonder  ;  holds  his  bared  black  arms 
Into  the  sun  from  the  tent  opening — laugh 
When  the  horse  drops  his  fodder  from  his  teeth 
And  neighs  to  hear  him  sing  his  Moorish  songs. 
That  man  believes  in  Florence  as  the  Saint 
Tied  to  the  wheel,  believes  in  God." 

Illogical  as  the  conclusion  is,  there  is  cogency 
in  the  picture  argument.  It  has  convinced  the 
speaker.  Braccio  himself  is  shaken  in  his  belief  in 

"  The  one  thing  plain  and  positive, 
Man  seeks  his  own  good  at  the  whole  world's  cost." 

The  touch  is  made,  the  effect  gained  ;  we  have 
seen  Luria,  the  incarnated  simplicity.  We  go 
back  to  mazes  of  analysis,  but  it  is  with  a  differ- 
ence. Luria  is  embodied  now. 


So,  though  as  a  general  rule,  Browning  creates 
enough  world  for  his  people  to  live  in — no  more — 
and  so  troubles  himself  little  with  setting,  no  one 
has  used  environment  more  marvellously.  Mark, 
how  God's  sunshine  follows  Pippa  ;  even  before 
she  leaves  her  door  it  comes,  flooding  the  room 
with  glory.  In  Strafford  we  have  the  close, 
vitiated  palace  air,  in  which  a  ' '  breed  of  silken 
creatures  live  and  thrive,"  and  which  he  only 
changes  for  prison.  A  touch  of  Nature  accentu- 
ates the  dreariness.  Strafford,  in  the  midst  of  his 
trial  before  the  Parliament,  worn  in  body  and 
soul,  bids  his  secretary,  who  brings  table,  chair, 
and  papers,  set  them  down  : 

"Here,  anywhere — or,  'tis  freshest  here — 
(To  spend  one's  April  here  !  the  Blossom  Month  !). 
Set  it  down  here  I" 

The  setting  of  Pippa  Passes  reflects  the  meaning 
of  the  scene — the  purity  or  guilt  of  the  soul. 
Contrast  Pippa' s  sunshine  : 

"  Gold,  pure  gold  o'er  the  cloud  up-brimmed," 

with  that  which  the  guilty  pair  sees  : 

"  This  blood-red  beam  through  the  shutter's  chink  ;" 

or  even  plainer,  note  Pippa' s  glad  song  when 
there  is  morning  in  her  soul  : 

"But  let  the  sun  shine  !     Wherefore  repine? 
— With  thee  to  lead  me,  O  Day  of  mine, 
Down  the  grass  path  gray  with  dew, 
Under  the  pine  wood,  blind  with  boughs, 
Where  the  swallow  never  flew 
Nor  yet  cicala  dared  carouse — 
No,  dared  carouse !  "     (She  enters  the  street. ) 

And  the  words  of  Ottima  : 

"How  these  tall 

Naked  geraniums  straggle !     Push  the  lattice 
Behind  that  frame !  .  .  .  .  Sebald, 
It  shakes  the  dust  down  on  me  .... 
....  Is' t  full  morning?" 

Sebald.       "It  seems  to  me  a  night  with  a  sun  added. 

Where' s  dew,  where' s  freshness  ?  That  bruised 

plant, 
I  bruised 

In  getting  it  through  the  lattice  yestereve, 
Droops  as  it  did.     See  here's  my  elbow  mark 
I'  the  dust  of  the  sill." 

Mark  the  unkempt  desolation  and  disorder  of  it 
it  all.  Nature  is  sapless.  Happiness  has  been 
plucked  from  its  roots  by  these  lovers,  and  is 


April,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


103 


ugly  and  faded,  with  sin  dust  for  morning  dew. 
So  Nature  and  the  soul — re-acting  each  on  the 
other — bring  us  in  the  end  to  a  fuller  consciousness 
of  each  ;  and  at  length,  in  a  more  subtle  blending, 
to  a  fuller  consciousness  of  human  life  and  the 
world  it  lives  in. 

Thus  it  is  by  strange  devices — descriptions,  pre- 
sentations, explanations,  by  the  subtle  connota- 
tions and  subtle  interactions,  — we  come  at  last  to 
the  familiar  consciousnesss  of  a  fair  world,  peopled 
as  of  old  with  living  men  and  women,  and  sounding 
with  the  world  old  voices  "eternal  passion — 
eternal  pain. ' '  And  since  these  souls  have  been 
embodied  in  living  men  and  women,  the  question 
comes  to  us,  who  have  yet  to  demonstrate  the 
"liveability  of  life,"  what  message  do  they  bring 
to  us  of  its  wise  conduct  ?  Through  the  "thousand 
blended  notes"  of  their  many  voices,  there  rises 
clear  and  strong  an  overtone  of  Browning's  own 
soul.  It  is  a  trumpet  call  to  life.  It  is  Life  he 
sings.  Life  in  its  gamut,  sounding  through 
every  experience  high  and  low.  Experience — to 
forge  one's  soul  sword-fashion,  by  conscious  living 
— that  is  the  great  desideratum.  The  act,  how- 
ever mean,  in  which  one's  soul  leaps  highest — 
that  is  "life  height."  The  intensest  moment  is 
the  greatest.  There  is  a  wide  field  for  action. 
Browning  has  set  back  the  boundaries  of  life  that 
the  soul  may  run  full  course.  Liberally  he  has 
endowed  his  creations  ;  and  then  in  his  generosity, 
he  has  made  the  one  unpardonable  sin  niggard- 
liness of  spirit.  Prudence  is  with  him  high 
crime.  So,  if  one  must  condense  his  message 
into  a  single  sentence,  one  can  do  no  better  than 
make  use  of  Stevenson's  motto  : 

"  Acts  may  be  forgiven  a  man  ;  but  God  him- 
self cannot  forgive  the  hanger  back. ' ' 

In  summing  up  the  points  of  this  chapter,  we 
see  that  Browning  is  a  dramatist  of  the  subject. 
His  task,  the  portrayal  of  the  soul,  forces  him  to 
interpret  as  well  as  present  the  man  and  his  acts, 
and  it  is  to  this  that  the  peculiarities  of  his  style 
and  structure  are  directly  traceable.  To  this  also 
is  due  the  material  of  which  his  drama  is  made. 
The  mood  and  its  impulse  corresponds  to  the  deed 
and  the  doing  of  it ;  for  struggle  we  have  opposing 
points  of  view.  Lastly,  we  see  that  in  his  hands 
the  drama,  as  an  art  form,  suffers  strain  ;  and 
though  his  interpretation  of  the  soul  is  cramped 


by  the  exigencies  of  the  drama,  yet  in  one  way  or 
another  his  end— and  the  end  of  all  drama — is 
attained.  By  highways  and  byways,  these  souls 
slide  into  the  consciousness  of  the  reader,  and 
become  for  him  living  personalities. 


Richmond,  Va. 


CAROLINE  L.  SPARROW. 


AN  EAELY  ENGLISH  TRANSLATION  OF 

Miss  SABA  SAMPSON. 

A  superficial  examination  of  English  criticism 
in  the  early  period  of  the  importation  of  the 
German  drama  into  England  yields  the  impression 
that  Lessing  was  regarded  as  the  greatest  of  Ger- 
man dramatic  authors.  Henry  McKenzie,  ' '  The 
Man  of  Feeling,"  allotted  him  a  position  of 
prominence  in  a  "  Critical  Account  of  the  German 
Theater,"  read  before  the  Royal  Society  of  Edin- 
burgh in  1790,  while  contemporary  magazines 
and  reviews  persistently  honored  him  with  the 
distinction  of  being  the  Sophocles  or  Shakespeare 
of  Germany. 

A  more  careful  examination  of  these  encomiums 
reveals  the  fact  that  they  were  but  the  hasty  and 
slavish  repetition  of  contemporary  German  criti- 
cism. The  name  Shakespeare  in  this  connection 
is  undeniably  only  the  belated  echo  of  the  similar 
use  in  Germany.  The  German  dramatist  was 
commonly  called  Shakespeare-Lessing  after  the 
first  production  of  Emilia  Galotti.  We  must  also 
bear  in  mind  that  the  term  Shakespeare  applied 
to  German  authors  by  English  critics  does  not 
signify  much ;  Lessing,  Schiller,  Goethe,  and 
Kotzebue  were  successively  hailed  as  the  Shakes- 
peare of  Germany. 

The  fate  of  Lessing' s  dramas  on  the  English 
stage  does  not  attest  any  unusual  popularity.  To 
be  sure  Minna  von  Barn  helm  has  the  distinction  of 
being  the  first  German  drama  to  be  produced  in 
England.  Fifteen  performances  at  the  Haymarket 
Theater  in  1786,  however,  are  not  indicative  of  a 
due  appreciation  of  Germany's  masterpiece  of 
comedy  by  London  theater-goers.  The  fate  of 
Emilia  Galotti  at  Drury  Lane  in  1794  is  even 
more  pathetic.  In  spite  of  elaborate  mise-en-scbne 
and  the  heroic  efforts  of  Mrs.  Siddons  and  Kemble, 


104 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  JVb.  4. 


the  adaptation  perished  after  a  run  of  four  nights 
and  was  never  resuscitated.  Easpe's  translation 
of  Nathan  der  Weise  in  1781  met  with  undeserved 
ridicule,  while  Taylor's  masterful  rendition  in 
1805  passed  practically  unnoticed. 

It  has  hitherto  been  supposed  that  Miss  Sara 
Sampson,  Germany's  first  "  Mrgerliches  Trauer- 
spiel,"  for  which  so  many  English  sources  have 
been  suggested,  was  not  translated  in  England. 
It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  an  American  version 
appeared  in  1789.  William  Barton  in  his  Memoirs 
of  David  Rittenhouse,  cites,  as  an  evidence  of  the 
American  philosopher's  familiarity  with  German, 
that  he  translated  from  the  German  of  Lessing  a 
tragedy  called  Lucia  Sampson.  It  may  be  of  some 
interest  to  know  that  an  early  English  version 
does  exist,  although  not  in  book  form.  The 
Lady's  Magazine  or  Entertaining  Companion  for  the 
Fair  Sex  published  in  1799  and  1800,  in  monthly 
instalments,  a  complete  translation  with  the  title 
of  The  Fatal  Elopement.  The  contributor  was  a 
certain  Eleanor  H  ....  of  Twickenham,  whose 
identity  the  writer  has  been  unable  to  establish. 
Her  only  other  claim  to  literary  distinction  is  a 
translation  of  Kotzebue's  Die  Corsen,  published 
in  1800. 

It  is  easily  seen  why  Miss  H.  transformed  the 
title.  The  Fatal  Elopement  was  likely  to  prove 
far  more  interesting  to  the  fair  sex,  to  whose  use 
and  amusement  this  magazine  was  ' '  solely  appro- 
priated ' '  than  the  unsuggestive  Miss  Sara  Samp- 
son. It  is  not  so  clear,  however,  why  she  took  the 
same  liberty  with  the  dramatis  personce.  Melle- 
font  and  Marwood  alone  are  preserved  as  in  the^ 
German  version.  Miss  H.'s  freedom  with  the 
original  is  not  confined  to  the  title  and  the  dra- 
matis personce.  The  text  is  materially  abridged. 
The  division  into  speeches  is  followed  faithfully, 
but  the  dialogue  is  curtailed  by  paraphrasing, 
especially  in  the  longer  passages.  The  translation 
is  accurate  and  idiomatic  in  the  easy  colloquial 
parts,  but  where  Lessiug  rises  above  the  mediocrity 
of  commonplace  dialogue  to  impassioned  and  poetic 
diction,  the  translator  fails  utterly  to  reproduce  the 
style  of  the  original.  Some  errors  in  translation 
are  apparent,  but  the  English  is  uniformly  smooth 
and,  to  say  the  least,  grammatical. 

It  is  of  course  impossible  to  state  whether  The 
Fatal  Elopement  was  favorably  received  by  the 


subscribers  to  the  Lady's  Magazine.  There  are 
no  means  at  our  disposal  of  ascertaining  whether 
or  not  the  circulation  of  the  magazine  was  increased 
by  the  publication  of  this  tragedy.  At  any  rate 
the  succeeding  numbers  contain  no  communica- 
tions from  approving  or  disapproving  readers.  The 
only  possible  indication  of  an  interest  in  Lessing 
awakened  by  this  tragedy  was  the  publication  of 
a  few  of  Lessing' s  epigrams  in  the  December 
number  1799. 

GEORGE  M.  BAKER. 

Yale  University. 


STUDIES  IN  MIDDLE  FRENCH. 

Returning  to  Darmesteter  and  Hatzfeld's  Ta- 
bleau de  la  Langue  francaise  au  xvie  sticle  in 
"  Le  Seizieme  Siecle  en  France"  (7th  edition, 
' '  revue  et  corrig6e ' ' )  after  a  study  of  the  lan- 
guage of  earlier  centuries,  some  statements  therein 
struck  me  as  manifestly  misleading.  It  seems 
worth  while  to  call  attention  to  a  few  of  these, 
because  this  work  is  still  so  much  used  as  a  text- 
book. 

I. 

II  and  Ce. 

§158 — "  L' impersonnel  ce  s'emploie  dans  la 
vieille  langue  et  encore  au  seizieme  sifecle  plus 
volontiers  que  il,  qui  tend  a  dominer  dans  la 
langue  moderne  :  '  C'estoit  raison  qu'il  fust  r6com- 
pense  de  sa  longue  patience'  (Marg.,  Hept.). 
Quand  ce  viendra  que  seray  mort  (Mont.)."  It 
is  true  that  in  Old  French  where  the  personal 
pronoun,  after  the  genius  of  the  Latin,  was  but 
sparingly  expressed,  the  comparatively  frequent 
occurrence  of  ee  attracts  the  attention,  but  as  the 
language  more  and  more  definitely  formulated 
itself  and  the  personal  pronoun  became  more 
regularly  expressed,  the  frequent  use  of  il  where 
to-day  ce  would  be  used,  is  striking.  To  be  sure, 
where  no  standard  was  yet  formed  and  gram- 
marians were  an  unknown  quantity,  ce  was  also 
vice-versa  used  where  il  would  be  used  to-day. 
Yet  even  so,  il  always  prevailed,  and  to  such  an 
extent  that  after  reading  such  a  writer  of  the 
thirteenth  century  as  Brunetto  Latini,  whose  sub- 


April,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


105 


ject  in  Li  Livres  dou  Tresor  lends  itself  readily 
to  this  form  of  expression,  and  whose  language 
bristles  with  these  il's,  the  statement  of  Darme- 
steter  arrests  the  attention  :  ' '  Lors  est  il  domages 
au  parleor  de  dire  le  fait  selonc  ce  que  il  a  est6, ' ' 
p.  522  ;  ' '  Por  ce  est  il  droit  de  veoir  les  enseigne- 
mens  de  1'un  et  de  1'autre,"  p.  524. 

But  Brunette  Latini's  usage  would  not  be  con- 
sidered representative  of  the  best  French  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  while  probably  to  that  of 
Guillaume  de  Lorris  in  his  portion  of  the  Roman 
de  la  Rose,  no  exception  would  be  taken.  Darme- 
steter  and  Hatzfeld  support  their  statement  by  two 
examples,  in  each  of  which  the  pronoun  anticipates 
a  clause  as  logical  subject.  We  shall  therefore 
give  only  similar  constructions  from  these  4,200 
lines  of  the  Roman  de  la  Rose,  although  the  case 
is  quite  as  strong  if  the  expressions  in  which  the 
pronoun  anticipates  a  noun,  or  an  infinitive  clause, 
or  resumes  a  preceding  clause,  were  included. 

Ce  m'  iert  avis  en  mon  dormant 

Qu'il  estoit  matin  durement.  1.    89. 

Cum  il  sembloit  que  ele  eust.  1.  315. 

Si  celeement  qu'il  nous  semble 

Qu'il  s'arreste  ades  en  ung  point.  1.  374. 

C'onques  it  nul  jour  ce  n'avint 

Qu'en  si  beau  vergier  n'eust  huis.  1.  520. 

II  paroit  bien  a  son  atour 

Qu'ele  iere  poi  embesoignie.  1.  580. 

II  sembloit  que  ce  fust  uns  anges.  1.  930. 

Et  ce  ne  li  seoit  pas  mal 

Que  sa  chevecaille  iert  overte.  1.  1206. 

Ce  n'est  mie  d'ui  ne  d'ier 

Que  riches  gens  ont  grand  poissance.     1.  1058. 

(Este'ust  il  que  g^  alasse. )  1.  1859. 

Qu'il  m'est  avis  que  loial  soies.  1.  2054. 

Car  il  convient  soil  maus,  soil  biens 

Que  il  face  vostre  plaisir.  1.  2064. 

II  est  ensi  que  li  amant 

Ont  par  ores  joie  et  torment.  1.  2267. 

II  est  raison  que  li  amant 

Doignent  du  lor  plus  largement.  1.  2299. 

AprSs  est  drois  qu'il  te  soviegne 

Que  t'amie  t'est  trop  lointiegne.  1.  2386. 

II  est  drois  que  toutes  tes  voies,  &c.       1.  2472. 

S'il  avient  que  tu  aperyoives.  1.  2479. 

Quant  ce  vendra  qu'il  sera  nuis.  1.  2511. 

Tex  fois  sera  qu'il  t'iert  avis 

Que  tu  tendras  cele  au  cler  vis.  1.  2525. 

Mes  ce  m' amort  que  poi  me  dure.          1.  2544. 

II  est  bien  drois  qu'en  1'escondie.          1.  2560. 


II  convient  que  tu  t'essai'mes.  1.  2636. 

II  est  voirs  que  nus  maus  n'ataint,  &c.  1.  2691. 

Tant  qu'  il  me  vint  en  remembrance 

Qu' amors  me  dist  que  je  queisse 

Ung  compagnon,  &c.  1.  3210. 

Mais  ce  me  torne  a  grant  contraire 

Que  sa  merci  trop  me  demore.  1.  3350. 

Se  il  vous  plaist  que  ge  la  baise.  1.  3514. 

Mes  il  est  voir  que  Cortoisie,  &c.  1.  3716. 

II  n'afiert  mie  a  vostre  non 

Que  vous  fades  se  anui  non.  1.  3831. 

II  ne  me  sera  ja  peresce 

Que  ne  face  une  forteresce.  1.  3755. 

Et  sachies  quant  il  me  sovient 

Que  a  consirrer  rn'en  convient 

Miex  vodroie  estre  mors  que  vis.  1.  3915. 

Christine  de  Pisan  shows  likewise  no  predilec- 
tion for  ce.  A  few  quotations  from  the  letters  in 
Le  Livre  du  Due  des  vrais  amans  (  Oeuvres  poeti- 
ques,  Vol.  m),  will  illustrate  her  usage  : 

"  Sy  sachiez  que  s'il  est  ainsi  que  pour  cause  de 
moy  aiez  tant  de  mal,  il  m'en  poyse  de  tout  mon 
cuer"  (p.  133);  "Mon  bel  ami,  il  est  bien  la 
verit^  que  folle  amour,  qui  plusieurs  degoit,  et  la 
nisse  pitie  que  j'ay  cue  de  vos  complaintes  moult 
m'ont  menee  a  oublier  ce  de  quoy  il  me  devroit 
souvenir  sans  cesser,  c'est  assavoir  mon  ame  et 
mon  honneur"  (p.  173)  ;  "Ma  dame,  j'ay  en- 
tendu  aucunes  nouvelles  de  vostre  gouvernement 
telles  que  j'en  suis  dolente  .  .  .  .  et  sent  telles, 
comme  il  me  semble,  que,  comme  il  soit  de  droit 
et  raison  que  toute  princesse  et  haulte  dame,  tout 
ainsi  comme  elle  est  hault  eslevee  en  honneur  et 
estat  sur  les  autres  que  elle  doye  estre  en  bonte1, 
etc.  Et  comme  il  apertiengne  que  elle  soit  devote 
.  .  .  .  ne  vous  fiez  es  vaines  pense'es  que  pluseurs 
joennes  femmes  ont  qui  se  donnent  a  croire  que  ce 
n'est  point  de  mal  d'amer  par  amours,  mais  qu'il 
n'y  ait  villenie  ....  Ha  !  ma  chere  dame,  il  va 
tout  autrement  (p.  164). 

In  Montaigne,  modern  usage  has  definitely 
asserted  itself.  In  the  first  forty-two  pages  of 
Petit  de  Julleville's  Extracts  from  Montaigne's 
Essais,  it  is  only  C'est  raison  (once  in  Au  Lec- 
teur),  c'est  merveille  (i,  9  (2),  24  (3),  25  (1)), 
and  c'est  dommage,  that  are  found  followed  by  a 
clause  as  subject,  whereas  il  is  the  rule  :  "il  ne 
nous  repasse  en  la  memoire  en  combien  de  sortes 
cette  nostre  allegresse  est  en  butte  a  la  mort,"  I, 
19  ;  "Mais  d'ou  il  puisse  advenir  qu'une  ame 


106 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  4. 


riche  de  ....  n'en  devienne  pas  plus  vive,  etc., 
i,  24  ;  croy  qu'il  vaut  mieux  dire  que  ce  mal 
vienne  de  leur  mauvaise  fa9on  de  se  prendre  aux 
sciences  (ib.~);  il  n'est  pas  merveille  si  ny  les 
escholiers,  ny  les  maistres  n'en  deviennent  pas 
plus  habiles  (ib.)  ;  puisqu'il  est  ainsi  que  les 
sciences  ne  peuvent  que  nous  enseigner  la  pru- 
dence, etc.  (ib.)  ;  il  n'est  pas  estrange  si  .... 
Us  respondirent,  etc.  (ib. ) ;  comme  est  il  possible 
qu'on  se  puisse  defiaire  du  pensement  de  la  mort 
et  qu'a  chasque  instant  il  ne  nous  serable  qu'elle 
nous  tienne  au  collet?  I,  4;  Qu'importe  il  com- 
ment que  ce  soit  (ib. ).  There  has  been  continuity 
of  development  through  the  ages. 

As  for  the  frequency  of  the  expression  of  this 
neuter  il,  if  it  is  said  of  the  language  of  the  six- 
teenth century  that  ' '  L'  impersonnel  il  de  meme 
est  encore  d'un  usage  restreint  "  (§  185),  what 
shall  be  said  of  the  language  of  the  thirteenth  or 
of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries  ? 

The  passages  cited  above  from  Guillaume  de 
Lorris  and  from  Christine  de  Pisau  show  that  il 
was  very  frequently  expressed  in  their  day.  In 
the  same  forty-two  pages  of  Montaigne  above  re- 
ferred to  il  is  expressed  ninety  times  and  unex- 
pressed three  times  :  Mais  tant  y  a  qu'  il  est  sien 
(r,  25)  ;  N'y  n'est  art  de  quoy  je  peusse  peindre 
seulement  les  premiers  lineaments  :  et  n'est  enfant 
des  classes  moyennes,  &c.  (ibid.). 


II. 


In  speaking  of  the  preposition  de,  the  sweeping 
statement  is  made  :  "II  ne  s'emploie  pas  apres 
rien,  quelque  chose,  &c.,  suivi  d'un  adjectif :  le 
seizieme  siecle  dit  habituellemeut :  quoi  plus  beau  ? 
il  n'est  rien  plus  beau.  Quelque  chose  plus  beau 
(ou  plus  belle)  ?  II  n'y  a  rien  si  vray  (des 
Periers,  Cymbalum  1).  Rien  trop  (Montaigne 
i,  16).  §  226,  2.  Again  in  section  179,  the 
statement  in  regard  to  quelque  chose  is  empha- 
sized :  "Quelque  chose  n'est  pas  encore  devenu 
substantif  neutre  :  Si  1'on  peut  nommer  quelque 
chose  plus  vile  "  (Calvin,  Inst.,  preface). 

Some  studies  of  the  language  of  the  fourteenth 
and  fifteenth  centuries,  where  these  words  were 
often  found  construed  with  the  preposition  de 
before  an  adjective,  raised  the  question  whether, 
on  the  contrary,  as  might  be  expected  from  the 
later  development  of  the  language,  there  was  not 


an  increasing  use  of  the  de  during  the  sixteenth 
century,  whether  in  fact  toward  the  latter  part  of 
the  century  the  use  of  de  did  not  preponderate. 

In  the  prose  selections  from  the  writers  of  the 
period,  given  in  the  second  part  of  Darmesteter 
and  Hatzfeld's  work,  the  following  pertinent  ex- 
amples are  found  : 

P.  22.  II  n'est  rien  si  ayse,  si  doux  et  si  favo- 
rable que  la  loy  divine  (Montaigne). 

P.  23.  Est-il  possible  de  rien  imaginer  si  ridi- 
cule que  cette  nouvelle  et  chestifve  creature  (ib. ). 

P.  24.  II  n'est  rien  subject  a  plus  contumelies 
agitations  que  les  lois  (ib.). 

P.  29.  II  n'y  a  rien  plus  ays6  que  le  pousser 
en  telle  passion  que  1'on  veut  (Charron). 

P.  74.    Que  lui  restoit  il  plus  ?  (Brantome). 

P.  97.  Rien  plus  qu'un  peu  de  mouelle  (Rabe- 
lais). 

P.  144.  Ne  se  promettant  rien  moins  que  de 
lui  faire  servir  d'exemple  en  Justice  (Pasquier). 

P.  15.    II  n'y  a  rien  de  mal  en  la  vie  (Mont). 

P.  45.  Car  qui  a  il  au  monde  de  plus  admirable 
et  que  peut  Dieu  mesme  faire  de  plus  estrange,  &c. 
(Satyre  Menippee). 

P.  47.  II  faut  bien  dire  qu'il  y  a  quelque  chose 
de  divin  en  la  saincte  Union  (ib. ). 

P.  76.  Jamais  rien  ne  fut  veu  de  si  beau 
(Brant6me). 

P.  139.  Vous  n'y  trouverez  rien  de  tel  en 
1'autre  (Pasquier). 

P.  139.  II  n'y  a  rien  de  si  beau  que  ses  Re- 
grets (ib. ). 

P.  154.  Vous  n'avez  doncques  rien  ouy  de 
nouveau? — Comment,  dit-il,  est  il  survenu  quel- 
que chose  nouvelle  ?  (Amyot). 

These  examples  suffice  at  least  to  show  that 
during  the  sixteenth  century  after  rien,  quelque 
chose,  &c.,  followed  by  an  adjective  de  may  or 
may  not  be  used. 

A  more  precise  understanding  of  the  status  of 
the  question  in  the  latter  half  of  the  century  might 
be  reached  by  a  thorough  examination  of  Mon- 
taigne's works.  At  the  risk  of  Montaigne's  ghost 
arising  to  say  :  ' '  Tant  de  paroles  pour  les  paroles 
seules  ! ' '  the  four  volumes  of  his  essays  and  letters 
(edition  Ch.  Louandre)  have  been  read  with  the 
view  of  collating  all  the  examples  of  this  construc- 
tion. The  result  may  be  expressed  in  a  few  words  : 


April,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


107 


Forty-nine  times  the  adjective  following  rien  is 
construed  with  de  and  forty-seven  without  de. 
Of  the  forty-seven  cases  without  de,  twenty-five 
follow  il  n'  est  rien,  after  which  de  is  never  found, 
and  thirteen  of  the  remainder  have  a  de  con- 
struction, either  preceding  rien  or  following  the 
adjective.  Sixteen  examples  of  quelque  chose  with 
a  following  adjective,  are  found,  in  fourteen  of 
which  the  adjective  is  preceded  by  de.  Five  times 
quoi  is  followed  by  an  adjective,  invariably  pre- 
ceded by  de.  Of  que  with  an  adjective,  there  are 
ten  cases,  in  only  two  of  which  does  de  appear. 

From  this  study  it  would  seem  that  modern 
usage  had  fairly  established  itself  except  in  the 
case  of  que.  The  development  of  the  partitive 
idea  has  been  not  only  continuous,  but,  so  to 
speak,  cumulative. 

1.  A  mon   advis  ses  ambitieux  et  courageux 
desseings  n'avoient  rien  de  si  hault  que  feut  leur 
interruption,    i,  19. 

2.  II  n'y  a  rien  de  mal  en  la  vie.    i,  19. 

3.  Rien  de  noble  ne  se  faict  sans  hazard,   i,  23. 

4.  Nature  pour  montrer  qu'il  n'y  a  rien  de 
sauvage  en  ce  qu'elle  conduict,  &c.    i,  24. 

5.  N' ay  ant  toutesfois  rien  de  pedantesque  que 
le  port  de  sa  robbe.    i,  24. 

6.  Une  profession  qui   n'a   rien   de   commun 
avecques  les  livres.    i,  24. 

7.  Une  chaleur  constante    .  .  .    qui   n'a  rien 
d'aspre  et  de  poignant,    i,  27. 

8.  Cette   consideration    n'a   rien  de   commun 
avecques  les  offices,  &c.    i,  27. 

9.  Or,  je  treuve  .  .  .  qu'il  n'y  a  rien  de  bar- 
bare  et  de  sauvage  en  cette  nation,    i,  30. 

10.  II  n'y  peult  avoir  rien  de  contrefaict.  I,  35. 

11.  II  n'y  a  rien  de  change1,    r,  38. 

12.  Qu'on  n'y  apperyoit  rien  de  chang6  de  leur 
etat  ordinaire,    i,  40. 

13.  La  doulceur  mesme  des  haleines  plus  pures 
n'a  rien  de  plus  parfaict  que  d'estre  sans  aulcune 
odeur.    r,  55. 

14.  Le  jeune  Scipion  .  .  ,  ordonnaa  ses  soldats 
de  ne  manger  que  debout,  et  rien  de  cuict.     u,  9. 

15.  Et  ne  veoid  on  rien  aux  histoires  anciennes 
de  plus  extreme,    n,  11. 

16.  Nous  n'avons  rien  de  pareil  ny  de  si  ad- 
mirable,   n,  12. 

17.  Veu  qu'il  n'y  a   rien  d'obscur   a   Dieu. 
n,  12. 


18.  N'ayant  trouve,  en  cetamas  de  science,  &c. 
rien  de  massif  et  ferine,    n,  12. 

19.  N'ayant  rien  trouv6  de  si  cache1  de  quoy  ils 
n'ayent  voulu  parler.    n,  12. 

20.  N'ayant  rien  de  commun  avecques  1'hu- 
maine  nature,    u,  12  (Vol.  ir,  p.  392). 

21.  Cela  n'a  rien  de  commun  avecques  1' in- 
finite1,   n,  12. 

22.  II  n'y  a  rien  de  divin.    n,  12. 

23.  II  fault  scavoir  .   .   .   .  s'il  y  a  rien  de  dur 
ou  de  mol  en  nostre  cognoissance.    n,  12. 

24.  II  ne  se  peult  establir  rien  de  certain,  ir,  12. 

25.  Ne  pouvant  rien  appr6hender  de  subsistant 
et  permanent,    n,  12. 

26.  Laisse  il  d'estre  parce  que  nous  n'avons  rien 
veu  de  semblable.    n,  12. 

27.  II   n'y  a   rien   d'emprunte  de  1'art,  &c. 
m,   12. 

28.  Nous   ne   sentons  rieu  de   plus   doulx  en 
la  vie   qu'un   repos   et   sommeil  tranquille,    &c. 
in,  12. 

29.  Et  n'a  rien  d' extraordinaire  en  1' usage  de 
sa  vie.    in,  13. 

30.  II  ne  me  fault  rien  d' extraordinaire  quand 
je  suis  malade.    m,  9. 

31.  Et,  s'il  n'y  a  rien  de  faict,  c'est  a  dire.  ib. 

32.  Elle  n'a  rien  faict  centre  moy  d'oultra- 
geux.    ib. 

33.  La  mort  n'a  rien  de  pire  que  cela.    Let.  1. 

34.  Elles  n'ayent  rien  de  mauvais.    Let.  1. 

35.  Le  reste  du  cours  de  sa  vie  n'a  rien  de 
reprochable.    Let.  8. 

36.  Mon  langage  n'a  rien   de  facile  et  poly, 
n,  17. 

37.  II  n'y  a  rien  d'alaigre.     ib. 

38.  Nous   ne   goustons   rien   de  pur.     n,   20 
(title). 

39.  Parce  qu'il  n'y  a  rien  de  stable  chez  nous, 
n,  23. 

40.  L' execution  qui  feut  faicte  prez  d' Orleans 
n'eut  rien  de  pareil.    ir,  29. 

41.  Mais   il   n'y  a  rien   d' inutile  en  nature, 
in,  1. 

42.  Tel  a  est6  miraculeux  au  monde  auquel  sa 
femme  et  son  valet  n'ont  rien  veu  seulement  de 
remarquable.    in,  2. 

43.  Mes  desbauches  ne  m'emportent  pas  fort 
loing  ;   il   n'y   a   rien   d' extreme   et   d' estrange, 
in,  2. 

44.  Le  monde  n'a  rien  de  plus  beau,    in,  3. 


108 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  4. 


45.  Je  n'ay  rien  jugd  de  si  rude  en  Pausterite 
de  vie,  &c.    in,  3. 

46.  n  n'y  a  rien  d'efforcti,  rien  de  traisnant, 
tout  y  marche  d'une  pareiele  teneur.    in,  5. 

47.  Gil  n'a  rien  de  genereux  qui  peult  recevoir 
plaisir  ou  il  n'en  donne  point,    in,  5. 

48.  Ou  il  y  aye  rien  de  gratuit  que  le  nom. 
in,  6. 

49.  H  ii'y  a  rien  de  seul  et  de  rare,    in,  6. 

1.  Ne  leur  semblant  raisonnable  qu'il  y  ait  rien 
digne  de  leur  faire  teste.    i,  14. 

2.  II  n'y  avait  rien  obmis  des  formes  accous- 
tume'es.    i,  20. 

3.  Qu'il  n'est  rien   si  contraire  a  mon  style. 
I,  20. 

4.  II  n'est  rien  moins  esperable  de  ce  monstre 
ainsi  agite  que  Phumanite  et  la  douceur.    I.  23. 

5.  II   n'est  rien  si  mal   propre   a   mettre   en 
besogne.    i,  24. 

6.  II  n'est  rien  plus  gay.    I,  25. 

7.  II  n'est  rien  si  gentil  que  les  petits  enfants 
en  France,    i,  25. 

8.  Est  il  rien  plus  delicat,  &c.    i,  26. 

9.  Et  celle  la  nous  deffend  de  rien  laisser  irre- 
solu  et  indecis.    i,  26. 

10.  Je  n'y  treuve  rien  digne  de  vous.  i,  28. 

11.  II  n'est  rien  si  dissociable  et  sociable  que 
Phomme.    i,  38. 

12.  II  n'est  rien  si  empeschant.    i,  42. 

13.  II  n'est  rien  plus  royal,    i,  42. 

14.  Je  ne  veois  rien  autour  de  moy  que  couvert 
et  masque,    i,  42. 

15.  II  n'est  rien  si  vilain  et  si  lasche.    i,  48. 

16.  II  n'y  a  rien  aussi  en  cette  besongne  digne 
d'etre  remarque.    n,  7. 

17.  Est  il  possible  de  rien  imaginer  si  ridicule. 
H,  12. 

18.  H  n'est  rien,  diet  Ciceron,  si  doulx  que 
P  occupation  des  lettres.    n,  12. 

19.  H  n'est  rien  si  ordinaire  que  de  rencontrer 
des  traicts  de  pareille  temerit&    n,  12. 

20.  II  n'est  rien  plus  cher  et  plus  estimable  que 
son  estre.    n,  12. 

21.  II  n'est  rien  meilleur  que  le  monde.  n,  12. 

22.  Qu'il  n'est  rien  si  estrange.    11,  12. 

23.  II  n'est  rien  en  somme  si  extreme,    n,  12. 

24.  II  n'est  rien  si  horrible  a  imaginer.    n,  12. 

25.  II  n'est  rien  plus  plaisant  au  commerce  des 
homines  que,  &c.    in,  7. 


26.  Est  il  rien  plus  certain,  &c.,  comme  1'asne. 
in,  8. 

27.  Je  ne  treuve  rien  si  cher.    in,  9. 

28.  A  peine  y  a  il  rien  si  grossier  au  jeu  des 
petits  enfants.    in,  11. 

29.  II   n'est  rien  si   soupple  et  erratique  que 
nostre  entendement.    in,  11. 

30.  II  n'y  a  rien  en  la  justice  si  juste.    HI,  12. 

31.  II  n'est  rien  plus  vraysemblable.     in,  12. 

32.  II  n'y  a  rien  juste  de  soy.    ni,  13. 

33.  H  n'est  rien  si  lourdement  et  largement 
faultier  que  les  loix.    in,  13. 

34.  Les  Indes  n'ont  rien  plus  esloinguS  de  ma 
force,    in,  13. 

35.  Mais  est  il  rien  doulx  au  prir  de  cette 
soubdaine  mutation,    in,  13. 

36.  II  n'est  rien  si  beau  et  legitime  que  de 
faire  bien  a  Phomme.   in,  13. 

37.  Vous  trouverez  qu'il  n'y  a  rien  si  fade, 
in,  13. 

38.  Rien  si  humain  en  Platon,  que  ce  pour 
quoy  ils  disent  qu'on  Pappelle  divin. 

39.  Je  ne  treuve  rien  si  humble  et  si  mortel  en 
la  vie  d'  Alexandre  que  ses  fantasies  autour  de  son 
immortalisation,    in,  13. 

40.  Nostre  Guyenne  n'a  eu  garde  de  veoir  rien 
pareil  a   luy   parmy   les   hommes   de   sa   robbe. 
Let.  iv. 

41.  Je  Padvise  qu'il  ne  feut  jamais  rien  plus 
exactement  diet  ne  escript,  aux  escholes  des  philo- 
sophes,  du  droict  et   des  debvoirs  de  la  saincte 
amitiS,  que  ce  que  ce  personage  et  moy  en  avons 
practique1  ensemble.    Let.  V. 

42.  H  n'y  a  rien  plus  illustre  en  la  vie  de 
Socrates.     L.  n,  ch.  13. 

43.  II  n'est  rien  naturellement,  si  coutraire  a 
nostre  goust  que  la  satiate1,  &c.    n,  15. 

44.  Je  ne  cognois  rien  digne  de  grande  admi- 
ration,   n,  17. 

45.  Rien   si   cogneu   et  si   receu   que   Troye, 
Helene.    n,  36. 

46.  La 'convoitise  n'a  rien  si  propre  que  d' estre 
ingrate.    in,  6. 

47.  Aussi  ne  leur  feit  il  rien  veoir  en  la  prison, 
indigne  de  ce  tiltre.     in,  6. 

1.  S'il  a  quelque  chose  d'instruisant.    i,  13. 

2.  II  y  a  quelque  chose  de  pareil  en  ces  aultres 
deux  philosophes.    I,  39. 

3.  S'ils  ont  quelque  chose  de  bon.    n,  8. 


April,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE    NOTES. 


109 


4.  Elles  auroient  quelque  chose  de  miraculeux 
comme  nostre  croyance.    n,  12. 

5.  Eh  quoi  !   avons   nous   veu  quelque  chose 
semblable  au  soleil  ?    n,  12. 

6.  Ce  sont  paroles  qui  signifient  quelque  chose 
de  grand,     n,  12. 

7.  II  y  a  doncques  quelque  chose  de  meilleur  ; 
cela  c'est  Dieu.    n,  12. 

8.  S'il  naissait,  a  cette  heure,  quelque  chose  de 
pareil,    il   est   peu   d'hommes  qui   le   prisassent. 
in,  12. 

9.  La  douleur  a  quelque  chose  de  non  evitable 
en  son  tendre  commencement,  et  la  volupt£  quel- 
que chose  d' evitable  en  sa  fin  excessifve.    in,  13. 

10.  S'il  eust  faict  quelque  chose  de  plus  aigre 
contre  nous,    n,  19. 

11.  Sa  mort  a  quelque  chose  de  pareil  a  celle 
d'Epaminondas.    n,  19. 

12.  J'en  scais  un  .  .  .  .  qui  neveid  jamais  sans 
jalousie  ses  gents  mesmes  faire  quelque  chose  de 
grand  en  son  absence,     n,  21. 

13.  En  ce  mesme  pais,  il  y  avoit  quelque  chose 
de  pareil  en  leurs  gymnosophistes.    n,  29. 

14.  Ses  cris  sembloient  bien  avoir  quelque  chose 
de  particulier.    n,  30. 

15.  Ne  craignons  point  .  .  .  d'estimer  qu'il  y  a 
quelque  chose  illicite  contre  les  ennemis  mesmes. 
ni,  1. 

16.  Quelque  chose  de  grand  et  de  rare  pour 
1'advenir.    m,  5.  . 

1.  Qu'est  il  plus  farouche  que  de  veoir  une 
nation^  &c.    i,  22. 

2.  Je   ne  S9ay  quoy  de   plus   vif  et  de  plus 
bouillant.    I,  28. 

3.  Que  peult  il  attendre  de  mieux  que  ce  qu'il 
vient  de  perdre.    i,  47. 

4.  II  y  a  des  vices  qui  ont  je  ne  sjais  quoy  de 
genereux.    n,  2. 

5.  II   y  a  je  ne   scais  quoy  de  servile  en  la 
rigueur  et  en  la  contraincte.    n,  7. 

6.  Je  ne  scais  quoy  de  plus  grand  et  de  plus 
actif  que  de  se  laisser,  &c.     n,  11. 

7.  Mais,  pauvret,  qu'a  il  en  soy  digne  d'un  tel 
advantage,    n,  12. 

8.  Qu'est-il  plus  vain  que  de  vouloir  dominer 
Dieu.    n,  12. 

9.  Et  qu'est  il   plus   vain  que   de  faire,  &c. 
n,  12. 


10.  Mais   cette   relation    a  je   ne    s§ais   quoy 
encores  de  plus  heteroclite.    u,  12. 

11.  Que  peuses  tu  done  faire   de   difficile  et 
d'exemplaire  a  te  tenir  la.    n,  10. 

12.  Qu'est  il  plus  ayse  a  un  homme  practique 
que  de  gauchir  aux  danglers  ?   n,  6. 

13.  Que   peult   on   imaginer  plus   vilain   que 
d'estre  couard  ?   n,  18. 

14.  Qu'est  il  plus  doulx  que  d'estre  si  cher  a  sa 
femme.    11,  35. 

15.  Que  luy  est  il  moins  possible  a  faire  que  ce 
qu'il  ne  peult  faire  qu'aux  despens  de  sa  foy,  <fec. 
in,  1. 

LUCY  M.  GAY. 

University  of  Wisconsin. 


GERMAN  SELB. 

No  satisfactory  etymology  has  been  discovered 
for  Ger.  selb.  The  Grimm  Dictionary,  s.  v. ,  notes 
several  attempts.  Kluge,  s.  v. ,  mentions  indirectly 
and  (with  a  "  vielleicht " )  only  the  suggestion 
occurring  in  Wlndisch,  Ir.  Texte  767  connecting 
the  word  with  Irish  selb  '  possession. '  No  men- 
tion is  made  of  Ger.  selb  in  Stokes-Bezzenberger, 
Urkelt.  Sprachsehatz,  p.  303  (4th  ed. )  or  in 
Holder,  Altkelt.  Sprachschatz,  s.  v.  *selva.  The 
development  of  meaning  '  possessor '  >  'lord,  mas- 
ter, Herr '  >  '  self'  appears  to  be  felt  as  a  serious 
difficulty  (see  the  Grimm  Diet,  I.  c. ).  Is  not  this 
difficulty  in  some  degree  done  away  with,  if,  for 
the  connection  of  meaning  between  '  possession ' 
and  '  self, '  we  compare  the  Lettish  and  Lithuanian 
word  pats  and  pails,  '  self, '  not  with  Gk.  irocrts 
'  husband '  and  Skr.  patis  '  lord,  husband, '  as  has 
hitherto  been  done,  but  with  Lat.  comparative 
potior  (superlative potissimus)  'rather,  preferable,' 
a  meaning  traceable  in  the  somewhat  rarely  used 
positive  only  in  its  stereotyped  enclitic  form,  pte  in 
suopte,  mihipte,  etc.  ?  The  prevailing  use  ofpotis- 
simum  is  also  in  association  with  pronouns,  e.  g.,  me 
p.,  ego  p.,  te  p.,  like  ich  selbst,  etc.  The  inten- 
sive pronouns  selb,  ipse,  aii-os,  patla,  pats  and  Skr. 
sim&s  are  constantly  found  (except  sometimes  in 
their  reflexive  and  anaphoric  uses)  in  association 
with  concepts  that  stand  out  as  predominating 
elements  of  a  unit  of  thought, — concepts  that  are 


110 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  4. 


"lifted  out"  of  their  surroundings  as  being  of 
relatively  greater  importance.  The  elements  of 
isolation  and  contrast,  so  generally  entering  into 
the  meanings  of  these  words,  are  the  results  of 
their  Hervorhebung,  their  "  preferredness "  over 
other  concepts  (cf.  Brugmann,  Die  Demonstrativ- 
pronomina,  p.  109).  In  various  types  of  context 
the  meanings  'same,'  'self,'  'alone,'  etc.,  then 
arise.  For  the  connection  between  '  possession ' 
and  '  preference  '  compare  (potis), '  pte,  potior, 
potissimus  with  potiri  '  get  possession  of,'  Albanian 
pata  '  had, '  patt  '  possession '  ;  Irish  selb  '  posses- 
sion '  with  Gk.  tXfvOai  '  prefer. ' 

C.  L.  MEADER. 

University  of  Michigan. 


A  GLANCE  AT  WORDSWORTH'S 
READING. 

II. 

The  external  evidence  on  the  reading  of  both 
Wordsworth  and  Coleridge  during  their  fruitful 
intimacy  in  Somerset,  and  later  at  Grasmere,  is, 
in  fact,  very  fragmentary.  Tradition  pictures  the 
two  men  wandering  with  Dorothy  Wordsworth  in 
the  beautiful  country-side  around  Alfoxden,  Cole- 
ridge apparently  as  heedless  of  "in-door  study" 
as  Wordsworth  himself.  The  "in-door,"  or 
bookish,  history  of  that  episode,  so  critical  in 
their  lives  and  in  English  literature,  lias  aroused 
no  general  curiosity  and  has  sunk  into  undeserved 
oblivion.  Sufficient  pains,  however,  might  yet 
reconstruct  a  valuable  outline.  We  say  bookish, 
rather  than  in-door,  for  Wordsworth  not  only 
composed  in  the  open,  but  by  day  did  much  of 
his  reading  there,  partly,  perhaps,  on  account  of 
his  eyes.  Of  his  ways  in  the  North  he  tells  us  the 
following  story:  "One  day  a  stranger  having 
walked  round  the  garden  and  grounds  of  Rydal 
Mount  asked  one  of  the  female  servants,  who 
happened  to  be  at  the  door,  permission  to  see  her 
master's  study,  'This,'  said  she,  leading  him 
forward,  '  is  my  master's  library  where  he  keeps 
his  books,  but  his  study  is  out  of  doors.'  "  32 

But  with  reference  to  books  of  travel  and  the 

82  Wordsworth,  Poetical  Works,  ed,  Morley,  p.  564, 


like  :  judged  chiefly  from  scattered  hints  in  con-' 
temporary  or  slightly  subsequent  poems,  Words- 
worth's studies  in  descriptive  geography  during 
the  first  few  years  after  his  establishment  at  Race- 
down,  in  1795,  seem  to  have  extended  from  some 
unidentified  notice  of  our  western  prairies  to  an 
account  of  the  Andes,  perhaps  in  the  record '  of 
the  Spanish  priest  Molina,  thence  to  the  Straits 
of  Magellan  and  Le  Maire,  thence  to  the  Canaries, 
thence  to  the  heart  of  Abyssinia,  a  region  which 
he  knew  probably  in  the  pages  of  the  intrepid 
explorer  Bruce,  if  not  likewise  in  Dr.  Johnson's 
translation  of  Lobo,3*  and  so  on  to  Tartary  and 
Cathay,  as  pictured  by  those  whom  he  calls  the 
' '  pilgrim  friars, ' '  among  them  doubtless  Odoric. 
Our  survey  intentionally  neglects  itineraries  deal- 
ing with  Great  Britain  and  parts  of  the  Continent 
that  Wordsworth  visited  in  person,  although  his 
use  of  such  itineraries  can  not  be  questioned,  any 
more  than  their  effect  upon  what  he  wrote.  He 
had  commenced  such  borrowings  even  before 
1793;  in  a  note  to  line  307  of  "Descriptive 
Sketches ' '  he  remarks  :  ' '  For  most  of  the 
images  in  the  next  sixteen  verses,  I  am  indebted 
to  M.  Raymond's  interesting  observations  annexed  - 
to  his  translation  of  Coxe's  Tour  in  Switzerland."  3* 
Whatever  the  extent  and  solidity  of  this  read- 
ing, its  purpose  must  not  be  mistaken.  Through 
the  courtesy  of  Messrs.  Ginn  and  Company,  who 
have  in  press  the  last  of  Wordsworth's  corre- 
spondence that  Professor  Knight  expects  to  pub- 
lish, I  am  able  to  cite  from  a  letter  hitherto 
unquoted  the  poet' s  own  opinion  on  the  importance 
of  the  literature  of  travel  as  an  "intermediary  " 
in  the  ' '  genesis ' '  of  his  poetry.  Writing  from 
Alfoxden  on  the  sixth  of  March,  1798,  half  a 
year,  it  will  be  observed,  before  the  publication 
of  Lyrical  Ballads,  Wordsworth  says  to  his  friend 
James  Tobin  : 

"If  you  could  collect  for  me  any  books  of 
travels  you  would  render  me  an  essential 
service,  as  urithout  much  of  such  reading  my 
present  labours  cannot  be  brought  to  any 
conclusion. ' ' 

83  He  was  familiar,  of  course,  with  Rasselas  ;  cf.  Words- 
worth's Guide  to  the  Lakes,  ed.  E.  De  Selincourt,  1906,  p.  48. 

34  This  indebtedness  is  much  more  extensive  than 
Wordsworth  indicates.  See  Legouis,  Early  Life  of  Words- 
worth, Appendix  (pp.  475-477), 


April,  1907]. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


Ill 


By  his  "present  labours"  Wordsworth  meant 
his  great  life  poem,  which  he  had  by  that  time 
commenced,  but  was  destined  never  to  organize 
as  a  perfect  and  unified  whole.  Five  days  after 
his  letter  to  Tobin  he  informs  another  friend,  a 
Mr.  Losh  of  Cumberland  :  "I  have  been  toler- 
ably industrious  within  the  last  few  weeks  ;  I 
have  written  706  lines  of  a  poem  which  I  hope  to 
make  of  considerable  utility.  Its  title  will  be  The 
Recluse,  or  Views  of  Nature,  Man,  and  Society. ' '  35 
Why  Wordsworth  was  never  able  to  complete  this 
work  as  he  designed  is  a  large  question  that  may 
not  be  broached  at  present.  It  was  admirably 
handled  by  the  late  Professor  Minto  in  The  Nine- 
teenth Century  for  September,  1889  ;  yet  there  is 
a  good  deal  more  to  be  said.  Parenthetically,  we 
might  offer  as  one  possible  reason  for  Words- 
worth's Great  Failure39  the  very  fact  that  he 
commenced  his  direct  preparation  rather  late,  and 
that,  unlike  his  grand  exemplar,  Milton,  he  was 
unduly  impatient  to  begin  producing  on  a  large 
scale.  And  we  may  add,  gratuitously,  as  another 
reason,  the  fact  that,  again  unlike  Milton,  as  well 
as  Chaucer,  Spenser  and  Shakespeare,  he  sundered 
his  poetical  activity  too  far  from  the  practical  life 
of  his  nation.  However  that  may  be,  Words- 
worth's great  tripartite  poem,  in  1798  imme- 
diately prospective  and  alluring,  is  represented  to 
to  us  now  by  a  body  of  verse  that,  noble  as  it 
may  be,  is  nevertheless,  as  a  whole,  structurally 
imperfect.  In  his  own  opinion  it  is  imperfect, 
at  any  rate,  in  such  sense  as  an  unfinished 
' '  Gothic  church ' '  may  be  deemed  so  ;  it  consists, 
first,  of  an  "ante-chapel,"  "The  Prelude,"  so- 
called  ;  second,  of  parts  of  the  main  structure, 
namely,  "The  Recluse,"  so-called,  and  "The 
Excursion ' ' ;  third,  of  most  if  not  all  of  the 
shorter  pieces,  "little  cells,  oratories  and  sepul- 
chral recesses,"  produced  by  Wordsworth  between 
1797,  or  earlier,  and  1814.  The  figure  from 
architecture  is,  of  course,  the  poet's  own."  We 
are  entitled,  however,  to  regard  many  of  his 
briefer  poems  as  material  which  he  was  desirous 
of  ultimately  using  in  the  construction  of  the 
nave,  had  he  been  destined  ever  to  complete  this, 

"Knight,  Life  of  Wm-dnworth,  Vol.  I,  p.  148. 
uWord«tmrth'e  Great  Failure,  Nineteenth   Century,  Vol. 
26,  pp.  435-151. 
"  Wordsworth,  Poetical  Works,  ed.  Morley,  p.  415. 


and   not  as   mere   side-chapels   in   his   imagined 
cathedral. 

The  effect  of  Wordsworth's  reading  of  travels 
is  discernible  throughout  this  entire  bulk  of 
poetry ;  it  may  be  detected  in  some  of  his  best 
and  most  familiar  passages.  The  "Prologue" 
to  ' '  Peter  Bell ' '  is  full  of  its  influence  ;  indeed 
the  whole  poem,  being  in  fact  Wordsworth's 
"Ancient  Mariner" — that  is,  the  wanderer-bal- 
lad which  he  evolved  when  he  had  found  himself 
unable  to  compose  jointly  with  Coleridge — breathes 
the  spirit  of  a  born  and  bred  peripatetic.  A 
tinge  of  the  American  naturalist  William  Bar- 
tram  is  visible  in  the  lines  commencing  "There 
was  a  Boy,"  in  the  "Stanzas  Written  in  my 
Pocket-Copy  of  Thomson's  'Castle  of  Indo- 
lence, '  "  in  "  She  was  a  Phantom  of  Delight, ' ' 
in  parts  of  "  The  Prelude  "  and  "  The  Recluse," 
and  perhaps  in  ' '  The  Excursion. "  "  Ruth  ' '  in 
places  follows  Bartram  word  for  word.  "The 
Affliction  of  Margaret  -  ' '  almost  certainly  carries 
a  reminiscence  of  Wilson's  Pelew  Islands.  "  The 
Complaint  of  a  Forsaken  Indian  Woman"  is 
confessedly  founded  on  Hearne.  Carver  lurks  in 
the  exquisite  lines  on  that  "faery  voyager," 
Hartley  Coleridge  at  the  age  of  six,  and  crops 
out  at  least  once  in  "The  Excursion."  38  In  the 
eighth  book  of  "The  Prelude  "  it  may  be  one  of 
the  mediseval  "  pilgrim  friars  "  mentioned  in  the 
seventh  that  furnishes  Wordsworth  with  his  mar- 
velous vision  of  the  Mongolian  paradise  Jehol  ; — 
there  seems  to  be  an  instructive  parallel  here  to 
Coleridge's  "Kubla  Khan,"  which  sprang  from 
his  remembrance  of  mediseval  lore  gathered  to- 
gether in  Purehas  his  Pilgrimage.  Such  reading 
helps  to  explain  the  continual  references  in  Words- 
worth to  distant  lands  and  seas  in  general ;  for 
instance  : 

The  antechapel  where  the  statue  stood 

Of  Newton  with  his  prism  and  silent  face, 

The  marble  index  of  a  mind  for  ever 

Voyaging  through  strange  seas  of  Thought,  alone  ;  " 

lines,  accordingly,  whose  inspiration  is  to  be  at- 
tributed   not    entirely    to    "the    equally    happy 

38  For  the  preceding  statements,  see  the  references  given 
above,  p.  88  ;  Carver's  word  for  the  whippoorwill,  the 
Muccawiss,  occurs  in  a  passage  from  "The  Excursion" 
quoted  at  the  end  of  the  present  article. 

*  "The  Prelude,"  Book  m,  11.  60  fl. 


112 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[  Vol.  xxii,  No.  4. 


lines"  in  Thomson's  " Death  of  Isaac  Newton " 
(Legouis).40  It  illuminates  likewise  his  frequent 
allusion  to  various  wanderers  and  sea-captains, 
etc.  ;  as  for  example  to  the  "  horsemen -travellers  " 
in  "Ruth,"  or  to  the  ideal  retired  "captain  of  a 
small  trading  vessel, ' '  described  in  an  instructive 
note  appended  by  Wordsworth  in  1800  to  "The 
Thorn. ' '  "  His  fondness  for  the  literature  of  travel 
explains  to  our  great  satisfaction  the  readiness 
with  which  Wordsworth  accepted  from  Coleridge 
a  famous  emendation  in  "  The  Blind  Highland 
Boy."  Wordsworth,  it  will  be  remembered,  at 
first  sent  his  blind  hero  afloat  in  an  ordinary 
wash-tub.  When  Coleridge  informed  his  brother 
poet  of  the  lad  in  Dampier's  Neiv  Voyage  round 
the  World  (1697)  who  went  aboard  his  father's 
ship  in  a  tortoise-shell,  Wordsworth  made  the 
obvious  but  unlucky  "substitution"  without 
delay." 

We  need  not  multiply  particular  instances.  If 
space  allowed,  certain  broader  influences  ought 
also  to  be  debated,  in  partial  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion why  Wordsworth,  himself  born  with  the 
instincts  of  an  itinerant — a  pedlar,  he  says, — and 
his  favorite  brother,  John,  a  seaman,  should  call 
the  first  book  of  his  longest  poem  "The  Wan- 
derer ' '  and  the  whole  poem  ' '  The  Excursion ' '  ; 
or  why,  in  characterizing  his  autobiography,  that 
is,  "The  Prelude,"  he  should  exclaim  : 

A  Traveller  I  am 
Whose  tale  is  only  of  himself.43 

Hooks,  he  says,  were  Southey's  passion;  "and 
wandering,  I  can  with  truth  affirm,  was  mine;  but 
this  propensity  in  me  was  happily  counteracted 
by  inability  from  want  of  fortune  to  fulfil  my 
wishes."  " 

Let  us  come,  however,  to  something  more  brief 
and  tangible, — a  definite  illustration  of  Words- 
worth's indebtedness  to  a  literary  medium  in  his 
ideal  representations  of  nature.  According  to  a 
German  dissertation  by  Dr.  Oeftering,45  since 

40  The  Early  Life  of  Wordsworth,  p.  79,  note. 

41  Wordsworth' s   Poetical    Works.    Aldine  Edition,   ed. 
Dowden,  Vol.  n,  pp.  306,  307. 

42  Cf.  Coleridge,  Anima  Poetce,  ed.  Ernest  Hartley  Cole- 
ridge, 1895,  pp.  175,  176. 

43  "The  Prelude,"  Book  in,  11.  195,  196. 

44  Wordsworth,  Poetical  Works,  ed.  Morley,  p.  408. 

K  Wordsworth' s  und  Byron's  Natur-Dichtung,  Freiburg  i. 
Br.  Diss.  von  W.  Oeftering,  Karlsruhe,  1901,  s.  WO, 


Wordsworth  had  never  seen  a  pelican,  all  that  he 
knew  of  this  classic  bird  was  the  mediaeval  fable 
that  the  female  fed  her  young  with  her  own  heart' s 
blood  ;  like  revolutionary  France,  she 

.  .  .  turned  an  angry  beak  against  the  down 
Of  her  own  breast. 

It  looks  as  if  Dr.  Oeftering  had  not  been  studying 
Mr.  Turin's  Wordsworth  Dictionary  any  more  as- 
siduously than  "The  Prelude."  In  "  The  Pre- 
lude, ' '  Book  in,  Wordsworth,  with  a  censuring 
eye  upon  the  Cambridge  of  his  day  and  its  unin- 
spiring landscape,  calls  up  in  imaginative  contrast 
his  vision  of  what  the  surroundings  of  a  seat  of 
learning  ought  to  be  : 

Oh,  what  joy 

To  see  a  sanctuary  for  oar  country's  youth 
Informed  with  such  a  spirit  as  might  be 
Its  own  protection  ;  a  primeval  grove, 
Where,  though  the  shades  with  cheerfulness  were  filled, 
Nor  indigent  of  songs  warbled  from  crowds 
In  under-coverts,  yet  the  countenance 
Of  the  whole  place  should  bear  a  stamp  of  awe  ; 
A  habitation  sober  and  demure 
For  ruminating  creatures  ;  a  domain 
For  quiet  things  to  wander  in  ;  a  haunt 
In  which  the  heron  should  delight  to  feed 
By  the  shy  rivers,  and  the  pelican 
Upon  the  cypress  spire  in  lonely  thought 
Might  sit  and  sun  himself.48 

This  is  not  the  least  beautiful  passage  in  "The 
Prelude,"  nor  the  least  curious.  Aside  from  the 
present  connection,  it  is  of  considerable  interest  as 
a  document  in  pedagogy.  The  "romantic"  poet, 
influenced  no  doubt  by  the  educational  doctrines 
of  Rousseau,-  is  mentally  transporting  the  youth  of 
England,  not  merely  to  the  land  of  social  freedom, 
America,  but  to  an  aboriginal  landscape  and  the 
homeofthe  "natural man,"  the  "naked Indian." 
The  whole  passage — ruminating  creatures,  pelican, 
cypress  spire,  and  all — is  a  remarkable  adaptation 
of  a  scene  depicted  by  the  Quaker  botanist,  Wil- 
liam Bartram,  on  the  banks  of  the  Altamaha  in 
Georgia  : 

"I  ascended  this  beautiful  river,"  says 
Bartram,  ' '  on  whose  fruitful  banks  the  gen- 
erous and  true  sons  of  liberty  securely  dwell, 
fifty  miles  above  the  white  settlements  .... 
My  progress  was  rendered  delightful  by  the 
sylvan  elegance  of  the  groves,  cheerful 
meadows,  and  high  distant  forests,  which  in 

46  The  Prelude,  Book  in,  11.  427  ff. 


April,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


113 


grand  order  presented  themselves  to  view. 
The  winding  banks  of  the  river,  and  the  high 
projecting  promontories,  unfolded  fresh  scenes 
of  grandeur  and  sublimity.  The  deep  forests 
and  distant  hills  re-echoed  the  cheering  social 
lowings  of  domestic  herds.  The  air  was  filled 
with  the  loud  and  shrill  hooping  of  the 
wary  sharp-sighted  crane.  Behold,  on  yon 
decayed,  defoliated  cypress  tree,  the  solitary 
wood  pelican,  dejectedly  perched  upon  its 
utmost .  elevated  spire  ;  he  there,  like  an 
ancient  venerable  sage,  sets  himself  up  as  a 
mark  of  derision,  for  the  safety  of  his  kindred 
tribes."  4T 

In  the  London  Athenaeum  for  April  22,  1905,  * 
having  pointed  out  the  parallel  just  noted,  I  tried 
to  suggest  reasons  why  Wordsworth,  a  scientific 
poet,  should  be  drawn  to  the  record  of  a  poet- 
scientist  and  traveler  like  Bartram  ;  I  was,  how- 
ever, unable  to  do  more  than  shadow  forth  the 
way  in  which  the  dominant  imagination  at  work 
in  "The  Prelude"  selected  and  appropriated  its 
poetic  material,  from  whatever  source.  It  may 
be,  the  principle  of  selection  is  obvious  enough 
simply  on  comparison  of  the  two  excerpts  here 
brought  together.  The  principle  of  appropriation 
must  also  pass  without  further  comment  than  this  : 
in  the  case  before  us  —as  has  been  said,  a  typical 
case,  — the  impression  from  Bartram  seems  to  have 
lain  dormant  in  the  poet's  mind  for  something 
like  five  years,  awaiting  utilization.49  It  had 
become  an  assimilated  experience,  and  was  in  the 
nature  of  a  purified  emotion,  "  recollected  in  tran- 
quillity." Wordsworth  differentiates  it  in  no  way 
from  such  other  "living  material "  as  he  gathered 
through  his  personal  observation  of  the  external 
world  about  him  ;  so  much  is  certain. 

*** 

By  way  of  appendix,  several  less  definite  con- 
siderations and  queries  are  herewith  presented, 
some  of  them  bearing  more  directly  upon  Words- 
worth, or  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge,  some  of 
them  concerning  rather  the  literary  "movement" 

"  Travels  Through  North  and  South  Carolina,  Georgia, 
East  and  West  Florida,  [etc.],  London,  1794,  pp.  47,  48. 

48  Atheimum,  1905,  Vol.  I,  pp.  498-500. 

49  Wordsworth    became  familiar  with    Bartram,  so    it 
seems,  at  Alfoxden.     The  passage  in    The  Prelude  was 
composed,  so  far  as  we  know,  at  Grasmere  in  J804, 


in  which  Wordsworth  has  been  recognized  as  a 
leader,  all  of  them  connected  with  the  literature 
of  travel.  The  present  writer  ventures  to  hope 
that  one  or  two  of  them,  however  inadequately 
developed  here,  may  stimulate  a  useful  curiosity, 
and  that  his  meager  effort  may  eventually  open  up 
a  comprehensive  study  of  the  relation  between 
geographical  discovery  during  the  latter  part  of 
the  eighteenth  century  and  that  release  of  the 
imagination  and  renewal  of  poetic  wonder  which 
characterize  the  so-called  "return  to  nature"  in 
the  literature  of  "  romanticism." 

1.  Wordsworth's    imagination    has   sometimes 
been  disparaged  as  relatively  narrow  and  insular, 
though  not  by  those  who  have  known  him  well. 
As  a  poet  he  was  restricted  in  his  choice  of  sub- 
jects and  restrained  in  his  treatment  of  such  themes 
as  he  finally  decided  to  handle.    These  limitations, 
however,  were  in  his  case  matters  of  conscious  will 
and  artistic  habit.     He  took  but  a  part  of  the 
world  for  his  stage.     Yet  his  view  of  the  world 
was  free  and   large.     Insular  he  was  not.     He 
came  of  an  island  race  whose  gaze  has  been  fixed 
from  earliest  times  upon  a  watery  horizon,  and  he 
flourished  during  a  period  of  utmost  interest  on 
the  part  of  England  in  colonies  beyond  many  seas. 
It  is  worthy  of  note  that  on  April  7,  1770,  when 
Wordsworth   was   born,    James   Cook,   who   was 
making  his  first  voyage  of  discovery  in  the  Pacific, 
was  on  his  way  from  New  Zealand  to  Australia. 
Furthermore,  at  the  time  when  his  poetical  genius 
was  developing   most   rapidly,    Wordsworth  was 
living,  not  in  the  Lake  region  of  England,  but 
within  walking  distance  of  a  great  shipping  thor- 
oughfare, the  Bristol  Channel,  and  not  in   "soli- 
tude,"   but   in   every  day   communion    with    an 
author  whose   best   known    production   is    "The 
Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner." 

2.  "The  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner"   is 
likewise  the  best  known  poem  of  the  collection 
called    Lyrical  Ballads.      But   that  Wordsworth 
was  responsible  in  a  large  measure  for  the  plot  of 
this  poem,  or  that  he  furnished  considerably  more 
of  its  details  than  he  afterwards  remembered,  can 
not  be  set  down  as  matter  of  common  knowledge. 
Its  joint  authorship,   however,   concerns  us  here 
only  in   so  far  as   the   poem    represents   similar 
reading  done  by  both  its  authors.     Of  the  Lyrical 
Ballads  as  a  whole  we  may  say  that  too  exclusive 


114 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  4. 


attention  has  been  paid  in  the  history  of  literature 
to  the  relation  between  these  and  other  ballads, 
above  all,  the  popular  ballads  exploited  by  Thomas 
Percy.  When  all  is  said,  the  fact  remains  that 
even  in  form  these  "experiments"  of  Coleridge 
and  Wordsworth  are  not  what  are  technically 
known  as  popular  ballads  ;  they  are  not  naive, 
but  sophisticated,  literary.  As  for  their  material, 
that  is  obviously  not  drawn  so  much  from  Percy 
and  the  rest  as  it  is  even  from  eighteenth-century 
books  of  travel.  And  these  latter  are  but  one 
set  of  ' '  sources. ' ' 

Again,  it  has  been  remarked  by  more  than  one 
of  our  modern  scholars  that  the  revolt  of  Words- 
worth, Coleridge  and  Bowles  against  the  tradition 
of  the  age  of  Queen  Anne  was  in  many  essentials 
a  return  to  the  standards  of  Spenser  and  Milton. 
Very  true.  In  the  "Advertisement"  to  Lyrical 
Ballads  (1798),  Wordsworth  himself  observes  : 
"  The  Eime  of  the  Ancyent  Marinere  was  profess- 
edly written  in  imitation  of  the  style,  as  well 
as  of  the  spirit  of  the  elder  poets."  Here  we 
are  on  familiar  ground.  But  has  it  been  any- 
where remarked  how  essentially  that  revolt  meant 
a  recourse  on  the  part  of  the  new  "school,"  not 
merely  to  their  own  observation  of  nature,  but  to 
the  observation  of  the  best  contemporary  natural 
scientists  ? 

3.  It  is,  in  fact,  surprising  to  see  with  what 
unerring  instinct  Wordsworth  and,  to  a  lesser 
extent,  Coleridge  betook  themselves  to  what  we 
can  now  recognize  as  the  most  trustworthy  de- 
scriptions of  natural  phenomena  by  scientific  and 
semi-scientific  men  of  their  day.  We  may  regard 
as  a  distinctive  mark  of  great  poets  that,  being 
themselves  potential  scientists  and  having  acquired 
the  touchstone  for  truth  to  nature  by  supremely 
honest  use  of  their  own  senses  upon  such  phe- 
nomena as  fall  within  the  range  of  their  own 
experience,  they  are  able  to  test  the  validity  of 
more  technical  observers,  and,  in  appropriating 
information  from  the  printed  page,  to  separate 
safe  from  unsafe  popular  authorities.  Accord- 
ingly, if  Coleridge  dealt  too  freely  in  questionable 
matters  like  the  miracles  treasured  up  by  credulous 
geographers  of  the  seventeenth  century  and  like 
Bryan  Edwards'  account  of  Obi  witchcraft,  the 
point  remains  that  both  he  and  Wordsworth  found 
their  way  quickly  to  eighteenth-century  treatises 


of  relatively  permanent  value  like  Edwards'  Wes* 
Indies,  Bartram's  Travels,  Bruce' s  Travels  and 
Hearne's  Journey. M  After  all,  was  this  so 
strange?  The  enthusiastic  scientist  or  the  in- 
quiring traveler  keeps  his  eye  "fixed  upon  his  - 
object " ;  in  describing,  he  speaks  the  language, 
not  of  Pope,  but  of  a  man  in  the  presence  of  re- 
ality. The  language  of  Shelvocke  and  James  and 
Carver  was  "language  really  used  by  men,"  and 
by  men  often  in  a  state  of  vivid,  yet  normal,  emo- 
tion. In  "  Expostulation  and  Keply  "  Words- 
worth covertly  girds  at  ' '  modern  books  of  moral 
philosophy."81  Setting  these  aside,  we  may  im- 
agine that  the  tastes  of  the  two  poets  while  they 
were  writing  lyrical  Ballads  were  mutually  in- 
fluential. Hence,  and  for  other  reasons,  it  is  not 
unlikely  that  the  Strange  and  Dangerous  Voyage 
of  that  very  real  man  Captain  Thomas  James — 
poet  and  Arctic  explorer — became  familiar  to  both 
about  the  same  time  ;  though  we  have  no  positive 
proof  that  Wordsworth  read  James  before  the 
year  1819.52 

4.  But  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge  were  not 
alone  in  this  wide  sea  of  reading.  Bowles,  who 
was  responsible  to  some  extent  for  the  "move- 
ment"—  "the  return  to  nature"  —which  gained 
impetus  through  the  publication  of  Lyrical  Ballads, 
may  have  shown  the  way  after  a  fashion  in  this 
direction  also.  For  the  student  of  that  period 
Bowles  is  useful  in  that  he  takes  care  to  indicate 
his  "sources."  These,  as  his  foot-notes  show,63 
are  principally  the  "elder  poets,"  above  all  Mil- 
ton and  Shakespeare,  and  the  travelers.  Thus 
he  proves  himself  conversant  with  Bartram,  Bruce, 
Camoens,  Chateaubriand,  Craven,  Forster,  Molina, 
Park,  De  Quiros,  Shaw,  Southey,  Stothard  and 
Zarco.  One  of  his  earlier  flights,  ' '  Abba  Thule, ' ' 

60  Cf.  Coleridge,  Poetical  Works,  ed.  Campbell,  p.  590  ; 
Coleridge's  Poems  :  Facsimile  Reproduction,  p.  173  ;  Athe- 
nceum,  Jan.  27,  1894. 

51  See  the   "Advertisement"    to    the    first  edition  of 
Lyrical  Ballads. 

52  Cf.  Poems  and  Extracts  cliasen  by  William  Wordsworth 
for  an  Album  presented  to  Lady  Mary  Lowther,  Christmas, 
1819,  ed.  Harold  Littledale,  London,  1905,  pp.  iv,  81  ; 
Athenaeum,  1906,  Vol.  I,  p.  325  ;  Coleridge,  Poetical  Works, 
ed.  Campbell,  pp.  595,  596. 

53 1  refer  to  later  editions  of  Bowles  ;  specifically  to  that 
by  Gilfillan,  Edinburgh,  1855,  which  is  a  reprint  of  the 
edition  of  1837. 


April,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


115 


harks  back  to  Wilson's  Pelew  Inlands.  Among 
his  later  and  longer  attempts,  ' '  The  Spirit  of 
Discovery  by  Sea,"  catches  our  attention  simply 
by  its  title.  This  and  "  The  Missionary, "  which 
is  still  later,  bear  ample  testimony  to  his  love  of 
the  wonders  related  by  such  as  go  down  to  the 
sea  in  ships.  Whether  Bowles  may  be  thought 
to  have  stimulated  his  admirer  Coleridge  and 
Coleridge's  friend  Wordsworth  in  this  interest,  or 
whether  they  reacted  rather  upon  him,  or  whether 
all  three  were  carried  on  in  a  stream  already 
strong,  the  truth  is  that  such  poetiy  of  the 
eighteenth  century  as  belongs  distinctively  with 
the  poetry  at  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  is, 
like  the  latter,  simply  permeated  with  the  spirit  of 
travel.  We  may  follow  this  spirit  from  Cowper's 
"Selkirk"  to  Keats'  fine  lines  on  Chapman's 
Homer,  notwithstanding  Keats'  mistake  of  Cortez 
for  Balboa.  We  may  find  it  in  a  forgotten  poet  of 
sylvan  nature  like  Thomas  Gisborne.54  Southey, 
who  read  everything,  was  both  a  traveller  and 
an  inveterate  student  of  travels.  So  also  was 
Byron.55  If  we  look  toward  France  at  the  turn 
of  the  century,  so  also  was  Chateaubriand.  Nor 
could  there  be  a  better  ethical  criterion  of  this 
"romanticist's"  methods  as  a  literary  artist  than 
his  use  of  Bartram  in  ' '  Atala, ' '  compared  with 
Wordsworth's  conscientious  treatment  of  the  same 
material  in  "Ruth"  and  " The  Prelude. "  The 
dubious  filching  from  Bartram,  Carver  and  others 
in  Chateaubriand's  Journal  en  Amerique  has 
been  effectually  censured  in  M.  BSdier's  Eludes 
Critiques.™ 

For  anything  dealing  half  so  thoroughly  with 
a  comparable  indebtedness,  censurable  or  praise- 
worthy, among  English  authors,  we  have  still  to 
wait.  Not  that  a  consideration  of  the  literature 
of  travel  in  some  connection  with  other  literary 
problems  during  the  last  quarter  of  the  eighteenth 
century  has  been  wholly  omitted.  But  it  is  a 
matter  for  regret  that  in  her  useful  study,  The 
Treatment  of  Nature  in  English  Poetry  between 
Pope  and  Wordsworth,  Miss  Reynolds  should  have 

54  Author  of  Walk*  in  a  Forest,  1794.     He  is  not  men- 
tioned by  Miss  Reynolds  in   the  dissertation  referred  to 
below. 

55  Cf.  J.  C.  Collins,  Studies  in  Poetry  and  Criticism,  1905, 
pp.  87,  etc. 

66  Joseph  Be'dier,  Etudes  Critiques,  Paris,  1903,  pp.  127  ff. 


regarded  simply  the  eighteenth-century  itineraries 
urithin  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  and  neglected 
those  without."  And  it  is  unfortunate,  further- 
more, that  so  far  even  as  these  local  itineraries  are 
concerned  she  should  have  noted  merely  the  in- 
creasing sympathy  with  external  nature  which 
they,  in  themselves,  disclose,  and  that  she  should 
not  have  aimed  to  measure  the  reaction  between 
them  and  the  later  eighteenth -century  poets.  Yet 
in  many  cases  it  might  be  puzzling  to  disentangle 
any  given  poet's  own  direct  impressions  of  the 
outer  world  from  his  debts  to  books  of  travel  in 
England  ;  whereas  the  problem  becomes  relatively 
distinct  when  it  is  a  question  of  this  or  that  poet's 
description  of  some  landscape  in  America  or  China 
that  he  surely  never  beheld. 

5.  The  interest  that  the  poets  of  Wordsworth's 
generation  took  in  foreign  travels  is  paralleled 
notably  by  a  similar  interest  on  the  part  of  those 
"elder  poets"  whom  they  studied  and  tried  to 
equal  ;  it  is  in  striking  contrast  to  the  relative 
lack  of  interest  on  the  part  of  literary  men  during 
the  intervening  epoch  of  pseudo-classicism.  The 
age  of  Elizabeth  read  geography,  because,  for  one 
thing,  there  was  new  geography  to  read.  The 
age  of  Anne  did  not,  in  the  main  because  there 
was  then  a  lull  in  geographical  discovery. 

In  that  efflorescence  of  intellect  which  followed 
the  cloistered  Middle  Ages  and  which  we  have 
been  content  to  call  the  Renaissance,  certain  wholly 
new  experiences  were  borne  in  upon  the  minds  of 
Europeans,  a  certain  amount  of  inspiring  knowl- 
edge was,  not  revived  through  study  of  the  classics, 
indeed  not  awakened  through  any  sources  previously 
accessible  or  familiar,  but  acquired  by  the  old  world 
for  the  first  time  since  the  dawn  of  eastern  civili- 
zation. This  wholly  fresh  knowledge,  these  new 
experiences,  this  leaven  of  novel  appeals  from  an 
enlarged  external  nature,  came  into  Europe  chiefly 
by  way  of  the  western  sea.  It  would  be  idle  to  dilate 
here,  or  to  refine,  upon  the  influence  of  maritime 
discovery  on  the  so-called  Renaissance  ;  yet  of  that 
influence  two  aspects  at  least  must  be  kept  in  view. 
First,  whereas  the  Middle  Ages  learned  their  geog- 
raphy in  large  measure  from  itinerants  who  had 
trod  the  land,  the  Renaissance  had  its  imagination 

57  University  of  Chicago  dissertation,  1896,  Chap.  IV, 
pp.  192  ff. 


116 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  4. 


quickened  rather  by  an  access  of  knowledge  from 
across  the  ocean.  Now  since  the  days  of  Homer 
the  soul  of  man  has  been  stimulated  less  urgently 
by  overland  communication  than  by  marine. 
Second,  if  we  examine  almost  any  typical  spirit 
of  the  Renaissance  with  care,  for  example,  Rabe- 
lais, we  shall  find  his  knowledge  of  geography 
about  as  exact  as  the  state  of  the  science  then  per- 
mitted.53 This  is  probably  true  of  Shakespeare  ; 
it  is  undoubtedly  true  of  Milton.5' 

It  may  pass  for  a  truism  that  the  great  develop- 
ment of  geography  as  a  body  of  information  was  a 
product  of  the  Renaissance,  although  the  discipline 
did  not  in  general  attain  any  very  high  degree  of 
accuracy  until  after  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  Though  Humboldt  was  not  born  until 

1769,  and  Ritter  until  a  decade  later,  yet  after 
1750,  we  may  say,  the  study  which  they  were  to 
dominate  had  already  begun  to  be  a  science  in  the 
modern  sense.     In  the  meantime,  and  especially 
from  about  1700  on,    there  had  been  a  distinct 
falling  off,  if  not  in  the  effort  to  order  such  facts 
as  were  known,  at  all  events  in  the  eagerness  and 
rapidity  with  which  new  geographical  data  were 
acquired  and  made  popular.     It  is  to  be  empha- 
sized that  this  epoch  of  comparative  lethargy  in 
the  observation  of  our  mother  earth  corresponds 
roughly  to  the  period  during  which  Alexander 
Pope  was  active  and  the  pseudo-classic  movement 
in  literature  was  at  its  height. 

After  1750  geography  began  to  grope  into  the 
status  of  a  modern  science.  The  date  of  its  clear 
emergence  may  be  set  for  convenience'  sake  at 

1770,  when  Cook  was  finishing  his  first  voyage  in 
the  Pacific, — the  year  of  the  birth  of  Wordsworth. 
Books  of  travel,  which  had  been  steadily  growing 
more  frequent,  and  on  the  whole  more  .reliable, 
now  came  out  in  very  great  numbers,  the  best  of 
them  appearing  again  in  reissues  and  large  collec- 
tions.    Their  increase  is  easily  illustrated.     Pink- 
erton's  lists,  which  are  inclusive  enough  for  the 
purpose,   record,  for   example,   but  five  titles  of 
travels  through  Denmark  and  Norway  published 
between  1700  and  1750.     For  the  period  1750- 
1800  they  record  under  the  same  head  six  times 
that   number.     Of   these   thirty,  twenty-two  ap- 

58  Cf.    Les   Navigations    de    Pantagruel :    Etude    sur    la 
Geographic  Rabelaisienne,  par  Abel  Lefranc. 
MCf.  Mod.  Lang.  Notes,  March,  1906  (p.  86). 


peared  after  1770. M  Moreover,  as  Miss  Reynolds 
has  noted,  toward  the  end  of  the  century  the  pub- 
lication of  foreign  discoveries  rapidly  overbalanced 
that  of  itineraries  in  England. 

With  these  broad,  if  crude,  generalizations  in 
hand,  will  it  seem  superfluous  to  insist  that  the 
relation  between  the  discoveries  and  the  wide 
ranging  imagination  of  the  Renaissance  is  hardly 
more  deserving  of  attention  than  is  the  relation 
between  the  modern,  exacter,  science  of  geography 
and  that  second  renaissance  of  poetry  which  we 
trace  in  the  age  of  Wordsworth  ?  And  will  it 
seem  inconsequent  to  suggest,  as  we  pass,  that  a 
false  limitation  of  the  term  ' '  nature ' '  has  done 
much  to  befog  our  understanding  of  him  and 
other  poets  who  are  said  to  have  returned  to 
her  ?  Might  we  not  be  at  once  more  precise  and 
more  philosophical,  if  with  reference  to  this  ten- 
dency in  the  ' '  romantic  ' '  mind  we  employed 
some  such  expression  as  ' '  the  return  to  geogra- 
phy," using  the  word  geography  in  its  most 
pregnant  signification  ?  This  science,  says  an 
American  dictionary,  is  the  one  that  ' '  describes 
the  surface  of  the  earth,  with  its  various  peoples, 
animals,  and  natural  products."61  Among  the 
Germans  it  is  something  even  more  inclusive 
than  that.  I  dare  not  now  expand  or  qualify 
the  definition,  but  was  not  Wordsworth  in  the 
truest  sense  a  poetical  geographer,  a  spiritual 
interpreter  of  observed  phenomena  on  the  earth  ? 
And  what  else  shall  we  name  his  less  restrained, 
yet  noble  successor,  the  author  of ' '  Cloud  Beauty" 
in  Modern  Painters  f 

6.  Wordsworth's  acquaintance  with  geography, 
or  with  one  of  its  main  branches,  ethnology,  ena- 
bles us,  in  closing,  to  draw  a  useful  line  of  de- 
marcation between  him  and  his  great  forerunner 
in  the  contemplation  of  nature,  the  prose-poet  and 
self-taught  scientist,  J.  J.  Rousseau.  Vestiges  of 
Rousseau's  doctrines  may  be  discerned,  no  doubt, 
in  Wordsworth's  poetry  to  the  end  of  his  days. 
In  his  earlier  verse,  as  M.  Legouis  makes  clear, 
some  of  those  doctrines  were  more  prominent  than 
Wordsworth,  if  he  had  been  conscious  of  their 
origin,  would  have  liked  to  confess.62  We  have 

""Pinkerton's  Voyages  and  Travels,  Vol.  xvn  (1814), 
pp.  72-75. 

61  Standard  Dictionary. 

62  The  Early  Life  of  Wordsworth,  pp.  54  fi. 


April,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


117 


already  noted  in  this  paper  a  touch  from  the  edu- 
cational theory  of  Emile  in  a  passage  taken  from 
"  The'  Prelude."  M  But  against  one  fundamental 
tenet  of  Rousseau,  a  tenet  that  was  accepted  in 
some  guise  or  other  by  nearly  every  one  with 
whom  the  young  English  poet  came  in  contact, 
Wordsworth  decisively  reacted.  To  the  fallacy 
of  the  "  natural  man"  his  study  of  travels  in  the 
new  world  immediately  gave  the  lie.  To  assume 
that  as  we  approach  more  closely  to  the  state  of 
aboriginal  men  we  discover  a  more  and  more  per- 
fect type  of  humanity,  was,  he  knew,  to  fly  in  the 
face  of  observed  data.  He  was  aware  what 
aborigiual  tribes  were  actually  like.  They  were 
in  even  worse  case  than  the  hopeless  dwellers  in 
the  immense  complexity  of  London, — that  "mon- 
strous ant-hill  on  the  plain. ' '  They  were  by  no 
means  superlatively  good  and  happy.  Such  a 
fallacy  could  indeed  steal  permanent  foothold 
only  in  the  brain  of  a  stubborn  autodidact  like 
Jean  Jacques,  who  neither  knew  anything  about 
savages  at  first  hand,  nor  sought  to  test  his  pre- 
conceptions about  them  by  appealing  to  authorities 
that  did  know.  Hence,  if  Wordsworth  never 
perhaps  came  to  see  that  immense  cities  are  just 
as  "natural  "  as  immense  colonies  of  beavers  and 
just  as  normal  as  immense  "hosts  of  insects," 
and  that  complexity  of  organization  is  a  good  or  a 
bad  thing,  not  in  itself,  but  according  to  its  fruits, 
still  he  ultimately  made  no  mistake  about  the 
character  of  the  "natural  man."  However,  it 
may  be  that  the  violence  of  his  disclaimer  betrays 
an  original  leaning  toward  the  illusion  he  describes. 
In  "The  Excursion,"  near  the  close  of  Book 
Third,  Wordsworth's  "Solitary,"  summing  up 
the  results  of  his  vain  search  for  happiness  in 
America,  tells  of  his  final  hope  and  final  disil- 
lusion, in  part  as  follows  : 

Let  us,  then,  I  said, 

Leave  this  unknit  Republic  to  the  scourge 
Of  her  own  passions  ;  and  to  regions  haste, 
Whose  shades  have  never  felt  the  encroaching  axe, 
Or  soil  endured  a  transfer  in  the  mart 
Of  dire  rapacity.     There,  Man  abides, 
Primeval  Nature's  child.     A  creature  weak 
In  combination,  (wherefore  else  driven  back 
So  far,  and  of  his  old  inheritance 
So  easily  deprived  ?)  but,  for  that  cause, 
More  dignified,  and  stronger  in  himself  ; 


Whether  to  act,  judge,  suffer,  or  enjoy. 
True,  the  intelligence  of  social  art 
Hath  overpowered  his  forefathers,  and  soon 
Will  sweep  the  remnant  of  his  line  away  ; 
But  contemplations,  worthier,  nobler  far 
Than  her  destructive  energies,  attend 
His  independence,  when  along  the  side 
Of  Mississippi,  or  that  northern  stream 
That  spreads  into  successive  seas,  he  walks  ; 
Pleased  to  perceive  his  own  unshackled  life, 
And  his  innate  capacities  of  soul, 
There  imaged  :  or  when,  having  gained  the  top 
Of  some  commanding  eminence,  which  yet 
Intruder  ne'er  beheld,  he  thence  surveys 
Regions  of  wood  and  wide  savannah,  vast 
Expanse  of  unappropriated  earth, 
With  mind  that  sheds  a  light  on  what  he  sees  ; 
Free  as  the  sun,  and  lonely  as  the  sun, 
Pouring  above  his  head  its  radiance  down 
Upon  a  living  and  rejoicing  world  ! 

So,  westward,  tow'  rd  the  unviolated  woods 
I  bent  my  way  ;  and,  roaming  far  and  wide, 
Failed  not  to  greet  the  merry  Mocking-bird  ; 
And,  while  the  melancholy  Muccawiss 
(The  sportive  bird's  companion  in  the  grove) 
Repeated  o'er  and  o'er  his  plaintive  cry, 
I  sympathised  at  leisure  with  the  sound  ; 
Bui  that  pure  archetype  of  human  greatness, 
I  found  him  not.     There,  in  his  stead,  appeared 
A  creature,  squalid,  vengeful,  and  impure  ; 
Remorseless,  and  submissive  to  no  law 
But  superstitious  fear,  and  abject  sloth. 

Enough  is  told  !  M 

The  "Solitary"  is  not  Wordsworth  ;  he  is  one 
of  Wordsworth's  dramatic  conceptions  ;  he  speaks 
in  extreme  terms,  and  at  last  with  bitterness. 
But  his  story  reveals  something  of  Wordsworth's 
education.65 


LANE  COOPER. 


Cornell  University. 


M  Cf.  supra,  note  46. 


«  "  The  Excursion,"  Book  in,  11.  913  fl. 

K  Through  no  fault  of  the  author,  certain  corrections  in 
the  proof  of  Part  I  of  this  article  were  not  embodied  in  the 
final  text  (Mod.  Lang.  Notes,  March,  1907).  In  general 
these  corrections  are  unimportant,  since  for  the  most  part 
they  concern  a  form  of  citation  of  titles  which  is  retained 
in  the  text  of  Part  II.  The  following,  however,  may  be 
noted  :  p.  85,  column  2,  last  quotation,  insert  comma  after 
'  rove  ' ;  p.  86,  column  1,  middle,  quotation,  delete  comma 
after  '  read  ' ;  p.  87,  column  2,  bottom,  for  '  Shelvock'g  ' 
read  '  Shelwcke's' ;  p.  87,  footnote  21,  for  'Dr.  R.  E. 
Farley's'  read  '  Dr.  F.  E.  Farley's';  p.  88,  column  2,  for 
'Busequius'1  read  '  Busbequius.' '  The  volume  cited 
several  times  as  '  Macmillan  ed.'  is  the  edition  with  an 
Introduction  by  John  Morley. — L.  C. 


118 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  4. 


SOME  DISPUTED  ETYMOLOGIES. 

1.  Goth,  diupa  'tief,'  etc.,  I  explained,  Modern 
Language  Notes,  xx,  41  f. ,  as  a  possible  deriva- 
tive of  the  IE.  base  dheu-  in  Skt.  dhunoti  '  schiit- 
telt,  bewegt,  entfernt,  beseitigt,'  etc.  Of  this 
Uhlenbeck  says,  Tijdschr.  v.  Ned.  Taal-  en  Letterk. 
xxv,  18:  "  De  gi?sing  van  Wood,  dat  diups 
eigenlijk  bij  den  wortel  van  Oind.  dhunoti  zoude 
behooren,  heeft  voor  mij  niet  de  geringste  waar- 
scliijnlijkheid. "  Before  replying  to  this,  permit 
me  to  quote  Uhlenbeck  again,  PBB.  xxvn,  136  : 
' '  Die  etymologische  Wortforschung  bleibt  leider 
zu  sehr  von  subjectiven  Anschauungen  und  Nei- 
gungen  abhangig,  und  in  den  meisten  Fallen 
kann  ja  iiiemand  sagen,  dass  gerade  seine  eigene 
Auffassung  die  richtige  1st." 

How  does  it  stand  with  diups  f  The  word  is 
wide-spread  in  Germ. ,  and  has  cognates  in  Balto- 
Slavic  and  Keltic.  Nothing  like  it  seems  to  occur 
in  other  languages.  That  it  goes  back  to  a  base 
dheub-  beside  a  synonymous  dheup-  would  prob- 
ably be  admitted  by  all.  With  these  we  may 
certainly  compare  the  synonymous  bases  dheug- 
and  dheuk-  (9-).  This  does  not  necessarily  prove 
that  these  all  go  back  to  a  primitive  base  dheu-, 
but  it  at  least  puts  it  within  the  realm  of  possi- 
bility. There  is,  therefore,  no  reason  why  a 
reference  of  diups,  pre-Germ.  *dheubo-s,  to  a 
base  dheu-  is  a  priori  improbable. 

That  the  base  dheu-  from  which  diups  may  be 
derived  is  identical  with  that  in  Skt.  dhunoti  can 
not,  of  course,  be  definitely  asserted  nor  dogmati- 
cally denied.  But  as  the  difference  in  meaning 
can  be  logically  bridged  over,  there  is  no  semasio- 
logical  necessity  for  separating  the  two  bases. 
For  a  word  meaning  '  make  a  quick  or  sudden 
movement '  might  easily  come  to  mean  '  fall, 
sink. ' 

But  the  meaning  '  fall  away '  occurs  in  Skt.  in 
words  which  may  be  referred  to  dhundti.  Com- 
pare the  following  :  Skt.  dhundti  '  schiittelt,  ent- 
fernt, beseitigt,'  dhv&sati  'fiillt  herab,  zerfallt, 
zerstiebt,  geht  zu  Grande, '  apa-dhvasta-s  '  gestiirzt, 
gesunken,  verkommen,'  etc.  If  these  meanings 
may  be  combined  with  those  in  dhunoti,  there 
ought  not  to  be  any  difficulty  in  comparing  the 
slightly  different  deep.  Moreover  the  meaning 
'fall  away,  sink,'  usually  to  be  sure  in  a  figurative 


sense,  occurs  in  several  bases  dheux-,  most  of 
which  are  generally  regarded  as  derived  from  the 
base  in  Skt.  dhundti.  E.  g.  :  ON.  dofenn  '  er- 
schlafft,  erlahmt,  triige, '  Icel.  dofinn  'benumbed, 
numb,  dead,'  OSw.  duvin,  dovin  'erschlafft, 
schwach,  lau,'  ON.  dofe  '  Schlaffheit, '  Norw.  dial. 
dove  'Betiiubung,'  Goth,  daufs  'taub,  verstockt,' 
etc. ,  OHG.  toben  '  rasen,  toben, '  Gk.  TVC^OS 
'  smoke,  mist  ;  vanity,  absurdity  ;  stupor  arising 
from  fever,'  etc. — Icel.  dcfoinn  'languid,'  doftna 
'relax,  become  dull,'  Fries,  dod  'Betiiubung,' 
OE.  dydrian  'delude,'  NE.  dial,  dodder  'shake, 
tremble,'  dudder  'shiver,  tremble;  shock  with 
noise,  deafen,  confuse,  amaze,'  MLG.  vordutten 
'  verdutzt,  verwirrt,  besinnungslos  machen  oder 
werden,'  MHG.  vertuzzen  'betiiubt  werden,  vor 
Schrecken  verstummen,  zum  Schweigen,  zum 
Aufhoren  bringen, '  getotzen  'schlummern,'  tuzen 
'  sich  still  verhalten,  still  im  Leide  betriibt  sein, ' 
etc.,  base  dhudh(n)-,  with  which  compare  Skt. 
dudhita-s  'dick,  steif,'  dodhat-  'steif,  zah'  (cf. 
Persson,  Wz.  59),  Gk.  Bwraroiuu.  '  schiittle  mich, 
riittlemich'  (Brugmann,  Grdr.  n,  1047). 

But  it  may  be  urged  that  these  meanings  are 
not  in  line  with  those  of  deep  and  its  cognates. 
That  is  true,  .but  they  at  least  show  that  '  deep  ' 
might  come  from  the  same  primary  meaning. 
Witness  the  following  :  Av.  -Swozsn  'sie  flattern,' 
Sw.  dial,  duka  'rasen,'  MHG.  tocken  'Flatter- 
haftigkeit, '  tuc  '  Schlag,  Stoss  ;  schnelle  Bewe- 
guug  ;  Kunstgriff,  Tiicke, '  tueken,  tueken  '  eine 
schnelle  Bewegung  machen  bes.  nach  unten,  sich 
beugen,  neigcn,'  tuchen,  OHG.  tuhhan  'tauchen,' 
intuhhun  '  iunatabant, '  petochen  '  versunken, ' 
fertochenen  '  verborgenen, '  MLG.,  MDu.  duken, 
Du.  duiken,  NE.  duck,  etc.,  Lith.  dugnas  'der 
Boden  eines  Geiasses,  eines  Flusses,  etc.,'  base 
dheueg-,  with  which  compare  dheueq-  in  Lith. 
dukineju  'rase  umher,'  dukis  'Tollheit,'  OHG. 
tougan  'verborgen,  heimlich,'  etc.  (Cf.  IE.  a? : 
a?i  :  a*u  74  f. ) 

Does  the  meaning  of  the  above  preclude  con- 
nection with  Skt.  dhunoti  '  schiittelt,  erschiittert, ' 
ON.  dyia  '  schiittelu, '  Gk.  Olxa  '  rush  along,  storm, 
rage,'  6eu>  'run,  fly,'  0oos  'quick,  swift,'  Skt. 
dhdvate  '  remit,  fliesst, '  etc.  ? 

The  meaning  '  fall  away,  sink,  dive,  become 
hollow,  etc. '  often  develops  from  '  move  quickly, 
swing,  sway,  bend,  etc. '  E.  g.:  ON.  slyngua 


April,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


119 


'  schwingen,  schleudern  ;  umspriihen, '  slyngr 
'  flink,  rasch,  keck, '  Lith.  slenkti  '  schleiche, ' 
slanfce  '  Bergrutsch ' ;  OE.  slincan  '  creep,'  NE. 
slink  'schleichen,'  MLG.  slinken  '  zusammen- 
schrumpfen, '  MHG.  slane  'schlank,  mager,'  Dan. 
slunken  '  schlaff,  schlotterig,  leer, '  ON.  slakke 
'Vertiefung,  Hohlung.' — Lith.  svaigineti  '  um- 
herschwankeu,'  ON.  sueigia  '  biegen,  beugen,' 
OSw.  swig  ha  '  sich  neigen. ' — Skt.  vijdte  'zittert, 
ist  in  heftiger  Bewegung,  etc.',  ON.  vikia  'in 
Bewegung  setzen,  sich  wenden,  weichen,'  vile 
'Bucht.' — OHG.  biogan  'biegen,  kriimmen, 
beugen, '  ON.  bugr  '  Kriimmung,  Windung, 
Hohlung, '  MHG.  bucken  '  biegen,  biicken, ' 
bocken  ' niedersinken, '  Skt.  bhuka-s  'Loch,  Off- 
nung'  (Mod.  Lang.  Notes,  xix,  4f. ) — Skt. 
kurdati  '  springt,  hiipft, '  Gk.  KpaSdta  '  wave, 
brandish,  shake,'  OE.  hratian  'rush,  hasten,' 
ON.  hrata  '  schwanken,  sich  beeilen,  stiirzen  ; 
fallen,  zu  Fall  kommen.' — ON.  hrapa  'stiirzen, 
eilen  ;  versinken, '  hrap  '  Fall,  Sturz. '  —  Lat. 
curro  '  run,'  ON.  hrasa  '  hasten  ;  stumble,  fall.'  — 
OE.  hr<f/>  '  agile,  swift,  quick, '  hradian  '  hasten, ' 
Lith.  kretu  '  bewege  mich  hin  und  her, '  krintii 
'falle,'  krttis  'Fall,'  krafiias  '  hohes  steiles  Ufer. ' 
—The  meaning  '  fall,  collapse '  also  occurs  in 
bases  of  the  type  greux-,  where  the  primary 
meaning  seems  to  be  '  rush,  move  quickly ' : 
OPruss.  krut  'fallen,'  kruwis  'Fall,'  ON.  hrun 
'downfall,  collapse,'  hrynia  'fall,  collapse,  cave 
in  ' ;  ON.  hriosa  '  schaudern, '  OE.  hriiosan  '  rush  ; 
fall,  collapse,  perish  ' ;  Lith.  krutii  '  riihre  mich, 
rege  mich,'  MHG.  rutte(l~)n  'riitteln,  schiitteln,' 
rutschen,  OE.  hry/>ig  '  in  ruins ' ;  Norw.  dial. 
ruta  '  sturmen,  larmen,  sausen, '  ON.  hriota 
'  herabfallen,  losbrechen.' — Av.  pataiti  '  fliegt, 
eilt,'  Skt.  pdtati  'fliegt,  senkt  sich,  fallt,'  Gk. 
Trirofuu  'fly,'  TriTTTw  'fall.' — ON.  sti0fr  '  hurtig, 
rasch,  unstiit,'  Sw.  snabb  '  schnell,  geschwind,' 
snafua  'stolpern,'  MHG.  snaben  '  hiipfen,  sprin- 
gen,  eilen  ;  stolpern,  fallen,  wanken. ' — MHG. 
sterzen  '  sich  rasch  bewegen,  umherschweifen  ; 
steif  emporragen,'  stiirzen  '  stiirzen,  umwenden  ; 
umsinken,  fallen.' — Skt.  rinati  'lasst  fliessen, 
lasst  laufen,  entliisst, '  OHG.  risan  '  steigen  ; 
fallen,'  reren  'fallen  machen,  fallen  lassen,  ver- 
streuen.' — Skt.  v&late  'wendet  sich,  dreht  sich,' 
ON.  valr  'rund,'  Lat.  vallis  (cf.  Walde.  Et.  Wb. 


647  for  this  and  several  other  words  for  valley 
with  the  same  primary  meaning). 

In  spite  of  all  of  these  examples  I  admit  that  it 
cannot  be  proved  that  deep  is  from  the  base  dheu- 
in  Skt.  dhunoti.  It  is  rarely  possible  to  give 
more  than  a  probable  conjecture.  Even  when  we 
find  words  that  correspond  exactly  in  form  and 
meaning,  we  cannot  be  absolutely  certain  of  their 
relation  to  each  other  unless  we  can  follow  them 
historically.  So  as  far  as  the  word  deep  is  con- 
cerned, it  is  just  where  I  left  it  before.  To  me 
the  explanation  here  given  seems  entirely  possible, 
but  I  shall  be  as  ready  as  anyone  to  give  it  up 
when  a  better  one  is  offered. 

But  to  make  my  explanation  seem  possible  or 
probable  to  others  is  not  my  main  object  here.  It 
is  rather  to  protest  against  the  making  of  unsup- 
ported statements  in  regard  to  an  explanation.  If 
an  etymology  can  be  shown  to  be  phonetically 
impossible  or  improbable,  or  if  another  explana- 
tion (whether  better  or  not)  can  be  given,  well 
and  good.  But  if  one  can  say  of  the  work  of 
another  only  that  it  is  improbable,  what  is  gained 
by  it?  We  simply  have  one  man's  opinion  pitted 
against  another's,  and  this  is  a  matter  in  which 
the  mere  show  of  hands  does  not  count. 

What  I  say  in  regard  to  this  word  would  apply 
equally  well  to  the  stricture  referred  to  in  no.  2 
below.  In  fact  it  is  a  general  statement  applicable 
to  all  cases  of  the  kind.  For  myself  I  have  found 
it  best  not  to  be  too  cocksure  of  any  etymology, 
whether  written  by  myself  or  another,  and  not  to 
discard  an  etymology  (much  less  express  my 
opinion  on  it)  without  investigating  it. 

2.  Goth,  fiaurban  :  Skt.  trpyati  is  an  old  com- 
parison which  I  tried  to  explain  logically  in  a 
former  number  of  the  Notes,  April,  1905.  My 
semantic  effort  is  brushed  aside  by  Uhlenbeck, 
Tijdsehr.  v.  Ned.  Taal-  en  Letterk.  xxv,  299,  as 
'geheel  in  de  lucht  haugende  beteekenisrecon- 
structies.'  If  that  is  so,  then  most  etymologists 
who  have  combined  words  that  are  not  synony- 
mous have  been  guilty  of  the  same  great  crime. 
But  what  Uhlenbeck  says  of  my  explanation  is  a 
misstatement.  The  line  of  development  is  shown 
in  actually  existing  words.  These  words  prove 
that  a  base  terep-  'rub,  press,  terere'  existed, 
and  that  from  this  base  may  come  Goth.  />aurban 


120 


MOD  Eli  N  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  4. 


'  bediirfen '    and   Skt.    tfpyati    '  wird   befriedigt ' 
and  also  Lat.  torpeo. 

To  jump  from  one  meaning  to  the  other  is,  of 
course,  out  of  the  question.  But  if  we  can  find 
a  word  with  a  meaning  from  which  might  develop 
both  'want'  and  'satisfy,'  we  have  a  right  to 
assume  such  a  possibility.  That  a  base  terep- 
existed,  no  one,  I  suppose,  will  deny.  That  I 
will  take  for  granted.  That  this  base  meant 
'  terere  :  press,  crowd  ;  rub,  wear  away, '  the 
following  words  prove  :  Gk.  rpairiia  '  tread  grapes,' 
OPruss.  trapt  'treten,'  Lith.  trepti  'stampfen,' 
Lett,  trepans,  trapains  '  morsch '  (compare  MHG. 
zermiirsen  '  zerdriicken '  :  NHG.  morsch'),  trepet, 
trapet  'verwittern,'  MLG.  derven  '  einschrumpfen, 
vergehen,  verderben,'  MHG.  verderben,  OHG. 
durfan  'Mangel  haben,  bediirfen,  notig  haben,' 
etc.  As  I  have  pointed  out,  this  is  an  exact 
parallel  to  Lat.  trudo  '  press,  thrust '  :  ON.  /note 
fail,  come  to  an  end  ;  want,  lack ;  become  a 
pauper. ' 

We  may  arrange  the  words  in  parallel  groups 
as  follows:  Lat.  trudo  'press,  thrust,'  ChSl. 
truditi  '  beschweren,  qualeu, '  OE.  fireatian  '  urge 
on,  press  ;  afflict ;  rebuke  ;  threaten, '  etc.  :  OPruss. 
trapt  'treten,'  Lith.  trepti  'stampfen,'  Pol.  trapic 
'  qualen, '  refl.  '  sich  griimen, '  OE.  /rrafian  'urge; 
rebuke '  ;  OE.  fireotan  '  wear  out,  weary, '  ON. 
/rreyta  '  wear  and  tear,  exhaustion, '  firiota  '  fail, 
come  to  an  end  ;  want,  lack  ;  become  a  pauper, ' 
firot  '  lack,  want,  destitution, '  fnotna  '  run  short, 
dwindle  away,  come  to  an  end'  :  Lett,  trepet 
'  verwittern, '  Lith.  tirpti  '  zerfliessen,  schmel- 
zen, '  MLG.  derven  '  vergehen,  verderben, '  OHG. 
durfan  'Mangel  habeu,  bediirfen,'  Goth.  foarbs 
bediirftig,  notig,'  etc. 

Anyone  who  believes  that  Lat.  trudo,  ChSl. 
truditi,  ON.  foriota  are  all  from  a  root  treud- 
•driicken,  stossen '  (cf.  Uhleubeck,  Et.  Wb.', 
162)  is  not  very  consistent  in  disallowing  a 
synonymous  root  terep-  for  Lith.  trepti  'stamp- 
fen, '  Pol.  trapiu  '  qualen, '  MHG.  verderben,  Goth. 
fiaurban.  Far  from  being  in  the  air,  this  com- 
bination is  as  certain  as  it  is  possible  to  make  one 
that  can  not  be  historically  proved.  The  main 
reason  for  doubt  is  that  there  may  have  been 
several  bases  terep-  derived  independently  from 
tere-  iu  Lat.  tero,  etc.  But  even  if  that  is  the 
case,  the  development  in  meaning  is  the  same. 


It  is  just  as  possible  that  Lat.  trudo,  ChSl.  truditi, 
ON.  /rriota  represent  three  bases  trend-  derived 
independently  from  treu-  in  Gk.  rpvia  '  distress, 
afflict,  vex,'  ChSl.  tryti  'reiben,'  OE.  frrean 
'  oppress,  afflict ;  threaten  ;  rebuke, '  etc. 

With  Lat.  triido  :  ON.  friota  ;  Lith.  trepti, 
Gk.  TpaTTiia  :  Goth.  />aurban  compare  the  follow- 
ing : — ChSl.  tryti  'reiben,'  Gk.  rpvia  'distress, 
afflict,  vex,'  i-pu'os  'distress,'  OE.  />rea,  />rauw 
'affliction,  oppression,  severity,  rebuke,  threat,' 
etc.,  ChSl.  truti  'absumere,'  ON.  />r6  'Mangel, 
Verlust,  Entbehrung  ;  Sehnsucht.' — ON.  firuga 
'  driicken, '  OE.  /wyccan  '  press  ;  trample, '  OHG. 
druechen  '  driicken  ;  zusammendrangen  ;  bedran- 
gen  :  sich  driiugen,'  Gk.  Tpv%<o  'rub  away,  wear 
out,  destroy,  consume,  waste ;  distress,  afflict,' 
Tpu'^oms  'exhaustion,  distress,'  OE.  firoht  'grie- 
vous ;  affliction '  ;  Lith.  Irakis  '  Riss,'  Lett. 
trukums  'Mangel,'  Lat.  truncus  'mutilated.'  — 
Gk.  rpwrdia  'bore,'  ChSl.  trupu  'venter,  vulnus, 
truncus,'  Lith.  trupus  'brocklich,'  triupas  'ab- 
gelebt, '  triumpas,  trumpets  '  kurz '  ;  OE.  /reapian 
'  rebuke,  reprove,  afflict, '  firiepel  '  instrument  of 
punishment.'  —  Lat.  tero  'rub,  nib  to  pieces, 
bruise,  grind  ;  wear  away,  wear  out,'  Gk.  rtipia 
'wear  away,  wear  out,  distress,  afflict,'  Lat. 
de-trimentum  'loss,  damage.' — Gk.  rpif$<o  'nib, 
thresh,  grind  ;  bruise ;  wear  out,  spend,  use,' 
Tpifiri  '  rubbing  :  wearing  away,  spending  ;  prac- 
tice, etc.',  TpijSos  'a  worn  path;  practice,  use,' 
ChSl.  treba  '  uegotium, '  trebu  '  notwendig, ' 
trebovati  'bediirfen.' — Lat.  tergo  'rub  off,  wipe 
off;  grate  upon,'  OE.  firacu  'pressure,  force, 
violence, '  forece  '  violence  ;  weariness, '  ON.  l>rekaf>r 
'  worn,  exhausted. ' 

So  frequently  does  '  lack,  want '  come  from 
such  meanings  as  '  rub  away,  wear  away,  tear, 
break,  etc. ' ,  that  it  is  surprising  that  any  one  who 
has  given  any  attention  to  etymological  work 
should  regard  the  comparison  of  Lith.  trepti 
'stampfen,'  trapils  'sprode,  leicht  brechend,' 
Lett,  trepans  'morsch,'  etc.,  with  Goth.  />aurban 
as  unusual.  To  show  that  this  statement  is  not 
"  hanging  in  the  air,"  compare  the  following  : — 
OS.  brestan  'bersten;  gebrechen,  maugeln.'- 
NHG.  brechen,  gebrechen.  These  did  not  come 
to  a  personal  use,  but  might  have  done  so.  For 
"it  lacks"  implies  "I  lack."— Skt.  bh&rvati 
'verzehrt,'  OHG.  brddi  '  gebrechlich,  schwach,' 


April,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


121 


OE.  a-breofian  '  deteriorate  ;  prove  untrustworthy, 
fail;  perish';  OE.  brlesan  'bruise,  crush,'  bros- 
nian  'crumble,  decay  ;  perish,  pass  away.' — Dan. 
tcese  'zupfen,'  NHG.  Zaser,  OE.  teom  'injury; 
fraud;  wrong,'  teomman  'injure,  annoy,'  Skt. 
dasyati  '  nimrat  ab,  geht  aus,  mangel t, '  dasayati 
'erschopft,'  etc.  (cf.  IE.  ax  :  axi  :  a"u  67).— 
MLG.  tosen,  OHG.  -zusen  '  zausen,  zerren, '  Skt. 
dosa-s  '  Fehler,  Schaden,  Mangel ,'  dtisyati  '  ver- 
dirbt,  wird  schlecht, '  OE.  tyran,  teorian  'fail, 
fall  short  ;  be  tired  ;  tire ' :  OE.  teona  '  injury, 
suffering,  injustice,  insult,'  (lenan  'annoy,  irri- 
tate, revile, '  ON.  tion  '  loss,  injury, '  etc. ,  Gk. 
&£VO/JMI  'lack,  want,'  5co/uu  'want,  need,  ask' 
(cf.  Mod.  Lang.  Notes,  xvr,  17). — MLG.  teppen 
'zupfen,  pfliicken,'  Skt.  dapayati  '  teilt,'  Gk. 
Sairro)  'tear,'  Lat.  damnum,  ON.  tapa  'verlieren,' 
tcbpr  'kurz,  knapp.' — Gk.  Sarco/uu  'divide,' 
OHG.  zadal  'Mangel,'  zadalon  '  Mangel  leiden.' 
— Skt.  giryate  '  wird  zerbrochen,  zerfallt,  zergeht, ' 
Lat.  caries  '  rottenness, '  careo  '  want,  lack  '  (cf. 
IE.  ax  :etc.  82). 

I  think  we  may,  therefore,  regard  it  as  prac- 
tically proved  that  Goth.  />arf  meant  primarily 
'I  (have  become)  am  worn  out,  exhausted,' 
hence  'I  am  needy,  lack,  want.'  And  yet  the 
meaning  'need'  might  develop  from  'use,'  and 
that  from  '  wear  away. '  Compare  the  following  : 
Gk.  rpifiut  'rub,  grind;  wear  out,  spend,  use,' 
ChSl.  treba  'negotium,'  trebU  '  notwendig,'  tre- 
bwati  'bedurfen.' — Gk.  TPJJTOS  '  bored  through ': 
Lith.  trolyti  'an  Leib  und  Leben  schadigen,' 
Slov.  tratiti  '  verwenden,  verschwenden,'  ChSl. 
tratiti  '  verbrauchen, '  Russ.  tratiti  '  verbrauchen, 
verschwenden,  vertun,  verlieren,'  Goth.  />ro/>jan 
'iiben'  (cf.  Hirt,  PBB.  xxm,  293).— Gk.  rpv'co 
'reibe  auf,'  rpta(f)(a  '  beschadige, '  Pol.  trawic 
'  verdauen,  verzehren,  vernichten, '  tnvonw  '  ver- 
schwenden, '  etc.  The  difference  between  '  wear 
away,  come  to  an  end,  lack,  want'  and  'wear 
away,  consume,  use,'  from  which  might  come 
'  need  '  is  only  the  difference  between  the  intran- 
sitive and  the  transitive  use  of  '  wear  away. ' 

Now  from  the  base  terep-  'press,'  which  is  not 
assumed  but  actually  existed,  naturally  came 
'  compressed,  compact,  hard,  strong,  stout,  etc. ' 
and  'be  compact,  stout,  big,  thrive,  etc.'  This 
we  have  in  the  following  :  Lith.  trepti  '  stamp- 


fen,'  MHG.  derp  'fest,  hart,  tiichtig  ;  unge- 
suuert,'  biderbe  'tiichtig,  bieder,'  Lith.  tarpti 
'gedeihen,  zunehmen,'  Skt.  tarpana-s  '  starkend, 
sattigend,  labend,'  trpyati  '  sattigt  sich,  wird  be- 
friedigt,'  tarpdyafi  '  stark  t,  sattigt,  befriedigt,' 
Gk.  Tfpirat  'fill,  satisfy,  delight.'  Goth,  firaftsjan 
'  trosten,  ermutigen  '  may  go  back  rather  to  the 
primary  meaning  '  press,  urge. '  Compare  espe- 
cially OE.  fraftan  'urge.'  But  Lat.  lorpeo,  Lith. 
tirpti  '  erstarren,  gefuhllos  werden,'  etc.,  are  but 
slightly  removed  in  meaning  from  MHG.  derp,  etc. 

For  the  change  in  meaning  '  press '  :  '  fill,  be 
compact,  big,  strong,  etc. ' ,  compare  the  following  : 
Lith.  trenkli  'drohneud  stossen,'  ON.  fryngua 
'pressen,  (be)driingen  ;  anfullen,  anschwellen,1' 
Icel.  ferunginn  'swollen.' — Lith.  tremiil  'werfe 
nieder,'  Lett,  tremju  '  stampfe, '  ON.  />ramma 
'  schwer  treten, '  MLG.  drammen  '  ungestum  drin- 
gen  ;  larmen,  poltern,'  OS.  thrimman  'schwellen,' 
OE.  frrymm  '  strength,  might ;  glory,  magnifi- 
cence ;  host,  army. '  — Skt.  trn&tti,  tardayati  'durch- 
bohrt,  spaltet, '  MHG.  drinden  'schwellend  drin- 
gen,  anschwellen '  (apparently  from  LG.  with 
nt-  becoming  -nd-),  MLG.  drinten  'anschwellen,' 
OE.  frrintan  'swell.' — OE.  frracu  'pressure,  force, 
violence,'  ON.  frrek  '  Arbeit ;  Kraft,'  Icel.  foreldnn 
'stout  of  frame,  robust,  burly.' — Lith.  trypiil 
'  stampfe,  trete, '  ON.  /vifa  '  ergreifen, '  />rifask 
'gedeihen.' — ON.  frryata  'press,  squeeze,  thrust,' 
firystiligr  'compact,  stout,  robust.' — Lat.  triido 
'press,  crowd,'  OE.  f>reat  'violence,  ill-treatment, 
threat  ;  crowd,  troop, '  a-Aruten  '  swollen. '  />rutian 
'swell,'  etc.—  Base  treu-  'press,  rub,'  ChSl.  tryti 
'reiben,'  Gk.  rpvia  'distress,  afflict,  vex,'  OE. 
firean  '  oppress,  afflict ;  threaten,  rebuke, '  /weal 
'  correction,  rebuke,  threat, '  ge/mjl  '  crowding, 
crowd,'  Ary/>  'crowd,  troop;  strength;  might,' 
ON.  £r6$r  'Stiirke,  Kraft.'  These  are  all  from 
bases  terex-,  treix-,  treux-,  which  may  be  remotely 
related  (cf.  IE.  of  :  a*i  :  a*u  59ff. ). 

The  same  change  in  meaning  occurs  in  other 
synonymous  bases  :  OHG.  dwingan  '  bezwingen, 
bedriicken,'  Gk.  <raTT<D  '  bepacke,  stampfe  fest, 
driicke  fest  hinein,'  Lith.  tvinkti  '  anschwellen," 
tvenkti  'schwellen  machen.' — Skt.  tanakti  '  zieht 
zusammen,  macht  gerinnen,'  Av.  taxmo  'stark, 
fest,'  Lith.  tankm  'dicht,'  Goth,  fieihan  'gedei- 
hen, zunehmen.' — OHG.  krimman  'quetschen, 


122 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  4. 


quiilen,'  OE.  crimman  'cram,  insert  ;  crumble,' 
crammian  'cram,  stuff.'— OE.  crudan  'press, 
crowd,'  gecrod  'crowd,  throng.'— So  many  other 
words. 

We  see,  therefore,  that  terep  '  press,  rub,  terere ' 
logically  gave  'wear  away,  lack,  want'  and  'be 
compressed,  swell,  thrive  ;  fill,  satisfy,  etc.'  This 
double  meaning,  to  mention  no  others,  occurs  in  a 
number  of  synonymous  bases  :  OHG.  dringan 
'  dringen,  drangen,  driicken,'  MLG.  drange 
'  Gedrange  ;  Einengung,  Zwang,  Gewalt  ;  Not,' 
drange  '  gedriingt  voll,  enge,'  ON.  firyngua 
'drangen;  anfiillen,  anschwellen, ?  etc. — MLG. 
dram  '  Bedriingnis,  Not,'  OS.  thrim  'Leid,  Rum- 
mer,' thrvmman  'schwellen.'—  OE.  fracu  'pres- 
sure, force,  violence, '  firece  '  violence  ;  weariness ' 
(active  and  passive  'pressure'),  ON.  /welc 
'strength,'  fireka&r  'worn,  exhausted. '—  Gk. 
rpv<a  'wear  away,  distress,'  Tpvos  'distress,'  ON. 
firuKr  'Stiirke,  Kraft.' — Lat.  trudo,  ON.  foriota 
'fail  ;  lack,  want,'  firutenn  'swollen,'  firutna 
'swell.' 

Here  I  rest  my  case,  and  leave  it  to  the 
unprejudiced  to  decide  whether  I  have  proved 
(1)  that  a  base  terep-  '  press,  rub,  terere ' 
existed,  (2)  that  from  this  came  'wear  away, 
fail,  lack,  want'  and  (3)  'be  compact,  swell, 
thrive  ;  fill,  satisfy.' 

I  repeat  what  I  have  said  elsewhere  :  It  is  just 
as  scientific  and  just  as  necessary  to  reconstruct  a 
primary  meaning  as  an  original  form.  For  a  word 
is  not  explained  at  all  unless  we  know  how  it  came 
to  its  present  meaning.  That  is  the  one  important 
thing,  and  therein  lies  the  chief  task  of  the  ety- 
mologist. 

NOTE.  To  the  examples  given  above  to  illus- 
trate how  '  thrive '  and  '  want '  may  come  from 
the  same  meaning  '  press '  add  ON.  /m/ngua 
'  drangen,  pressen  :  anfiillen,  anschwellen  ' :  Dan. 
trang  '  Drang,  Bedriingnis,  Bedurfnis,  Armut,' 
trcenge  '  Mangel  leiden,  Mangel  haben  ;  notig 
haben,  bediirfen,  brauchen, '  Norw.  trenga  '  notig 
haben,  bediirfen.' 


FRANCIS  A.  WOOD. 


University  of  Chicago. 


ENGLISH  PROSODY. 

A  History  of  English  Prosody  from  the  Twelfth 
Century  to  the  Present  Day.  By  GEORGE 
SAINTSBURY.  Vol.  i.  London  :  Macmillan 
and  Company,  1906. 

Treatises  on  English  prosody  usually  suffer 
from  one  or  the  other  of  two  defects  :  the  authors 
either  confine  themselves  to  the  classification  of 
existing  forms,  with  no  explanation  of  how  they 
came  to  be,  or,  if  they  treat  the  matter  histori- 
cally, they  bring  to  its  discussion  certain  precon- 
ceived theories  which  the  facts  must  be  made  to 
fit.  The  book  before  us  is  free  of  these  defects  : 
it  sets  out  by  examining  English  prosody  in  its 
beginnings  and  in  the  making  ;  and  the  author 
deduces  his  conclusions  from  a  full  investigation 
of  the  facts,  in  which  nothing  is  overlooked, 
slurred,  or  distorted.  Whether  we  agree  with 
him  or  not,  we  must  admit  that  he  has  placed  all 
the  evidence  before  us  as  it  has  never  yet  been 
done. 

The  difficulties  and  apparent  paradoxes  in  Eng- 
lish prosody  arise  from  the  fact  that  for  several 
centuries  two  different  prosodic  systems  have  con- 
tended or  coexisted  in  our  verse.  But  perhaps  it 
will  be  as  well  to  go  a  little  further  back  than 
where  Professor  Saintsbury  begins. 

If  we  inquire  what  is  the  differentia  that  distin- 
guishes verse  from  non-verse,  we  shall  find  that  it 
consists  in  a  design  of  superadded  ornament.  The 
nature  of  this  design  varies  with  different  litera- 
tures and  in  the  same  literature  at  different  times, 
but  in  all  cases  it  is  definite,  symmetrical,  and 
recurrent.  The  oldest  English  verse  was  founded 
on  a  design  of  two  equivalent,  though  not  neces- 
sarily equal,  sections,  carrying  four  principal 
stresses,  the  stresses  being  emphasised  by  allitera- 
tion. Great  freedom  was  allowed  in  the  use  of 
unstressed  or  lightly  stressed  syllables,  so  that  the 
design,  while  perfectly  rhythmical,  was  not  strictly 
metrical. 

French  poets,  on  the  other  hand,  having  an 
almost  atonic  language,  could  not  make  designs 
founded  on  stress  alone  sufficiently  conspicuous, 
nor  did  alliteration  appeal  to  them  as  it  did  to  the 
northern  peoples,  so  they  founded  designs  upon 
metre  (number  of  syllables)  with  terminal  rimes 
as  a  firm  outline  to  mark  the  pattern.  This  was 


April,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


123 


the  system  that  was  brought  into  England  with 
the  Norman  conquest.  For  about  a  century  we 
are  left  in  the  dark  as  to  what  effect  it  had  on 
English  verse,  if  any  was  written  ;  but  about  the 
end  of  the  twelfth  century  and  the  beginning  of  the 
thirteenth,  we  see  the  new  influence,  and  see  also 
the  resistance  of  the  old.  The  whole  thirteenth 
century  and  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  is  a  period 
of  contention,  of  interaction,  of  submission  and 
of  compromise,  most  instructive  to  students  of 
prosody.  The  new  principles  established  them- 
selves, but  did  not  destroy  the  old.  Stress  was,  of 
course,  unconquerable.  Alliteration  and  equiva- 
lence still  lingered  on,  sometimes  in  abeyance, 
sometimes  in  eclipse  ;  bursting  out  in  guerilla 
warfare  in  the  north  and  west,  much  alive  in  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  buried  under 
ashes  at  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth,  to  flash 
out,  to  men's  amazement,  at  its  close. 

This  formative  and  tentative  period  is  here 
completely  set  before  us,  and  we  can  see  the 
germination  of  all  English  verse.  We  see  the 
dawning  of  new  ideas,  the  experiments,  the  false 
starts  and  the  happy  innovations,  from  Layamon, 
wabbling  with  the  internal  conflict  of  the  two 
systems,  who  might  have  asked,  like  the  uncom- 
fortable Rebekah,  "Why  am  I  thus"?  and 
received  the  answer,  ' '  Two  nations  are  within  thy 
womb ' '  — to  the  wooden  Orm,  to  whom  equiva- 
lence is  anathema,  and  alliteration  and  rime  things 
of  naught ;  who  measures  out  his  eights  and  sevens 
with  the  precision  of  a  joiner,  and  pegs  in  his 
stresses  as  an  upholsterer  plants  his  brass-headed 
nails — and  to  the  lyrists  who,  rejoicing  in  the 
freedom  of  equivalence  give  their  song  the  bird's 
warble  and  joyous  spring  of  the  triplet.  Through 
all  this  maze  Professor  Saintsbury  leads  us,  omit- 
ting nothing  significant,  and  giving  us  the  facts 
from  which  we  can  form  our  own  opinion,  if  we 
do  not  choose  to  accept  his. 

The  fundamental  principle  he  expresses  thus  : 

"  There  was  something  in  the  old  material,  something 
antecedent  to  rhyme,  which  persevered,  and  which,  uniting 
itself  quite  happily  and  harmoniously  with  the  influence 
of  rhyme  itself,  gave  us  what  the  French  have  lacked  all 
through  their  literary  history,  and  will  perhaps  never  fully 
attain.  This  was  ....  that  peculiarity  in  Anglo-Saxon 
prosody  which  interspersed  the  accented  pivots,  pillars,  or 
whatever  you  like  to  call  them,  with  varying  numbers  of 
unaccented  syllables.  This  peculiarity  in  the  old  prosody, 


and  its  revival  in  the  new,  its  partial  disappearance  again, 
and  its  fresh  revival,  not  only  in  spite  of  mere  disuse,  but 
of  repeated  well-meant,  even  still  continuing  attempts  to 
suppress  and  extirpate  it,  show  that  the  national  ear,  the 
national  taste,  the  national  desire  and  appetence  must 
have  attached  some  special  sweetness  and  excellence  to  it." 
"  Feet  of  two  and  three  syllables  may  be  very  frequently 
substituted  for  each  other,  [but]  there  is  a  certain  metrical 
and  rhythmical  norm  of  the  line  which  must  not  be  con- 
fused by  too  frequent  substitutions." 

To  these  propositions  I  heartily  subscribe. 

On  one  point,  perhaps,  he  verges  a  little 
toward  dogmatism,  and  that  is  when  he  asserts — 
as  he  does  again  and  again,  declaring  himself 
ready  ' '  to  wage  truceless  war  ' '  against  all  gain- 
sayers— that  the  ' '  norm  ' '  of  English  verse  is  not 
in  the  stresses  or  the  number  of  syllables,  but  in 
the  foot.  Here  the  question  naturally  arises  : 
what  does  he  mean  by  the  somewhat  uncertain 
word  "norm?"  Does  he  mean  that  the  reader 
or  hearer,  recognizing  the  design  of  the  versifica- 
tion, recognizes  it  as  a  design  of  feet,  and  not  of 
stresses  or  syllables  ?  Or  does  he  mean  that  the 
poet  has  the  feet  in  mind  when  he  composes  his 
verse  ?  This  important  question  does  not  seem  to 
have  occurred  to  him  until  the  volume  was  three- 
quarters  finished,  when  he  tells  us  in  a  note  that 
he  does  not  hold  that  ' '  feet,  as  such,  are  inva- 
riably present  to  the  mind  of  the  poet."  This  is, 
to  my  mind,  a  very  safe  position,  and  he  might 
have  added,  "nor  to  that  of  the  reader  either." 
This  then  would  lead  to  the  less  bellicose  state- 
ment that  we  ought  to  scan  verses  as  feet — an 
opinion  merely,  from  which  some  will  probably 
dissent.  My  notion  is  that  a  poet  conceives  his 
verse,  and  his  hearer  hears  it,  as  a  rhythmical 
period.  A  composer,  fashioning  a  musical  thought 
into  a  melodic  chain,  thinks,  I  suppose,  of  the  sec- 
tions and  periods,  but  not  of  the  bars.  But  the 
bars  are  there  and  must  be  taken  into  account, 
though  they  are  not  the  "  norm  "  of  the  melody. 

Professor  Saintsbury  has  an  ear — a  blessing  not 
often  vouchsafed  to  prosodists — nor  is  he  insensi- 
tive to  the  rhythmic  phrase  ;  but  his  preoccupation 
with  the  foot  sometimes  leads  him  into  mistakes. 
For  instance,  he  very  hesitatingly  and  reluctantly 
admits  the  occurrence  of  the  spondee  (by  which 
he  means  the  concurrence  of  two  stresses)  in  Eng- 
lish verse.  He  had  only  to  open  his  Shakespeare 
to  find  it  on  every  page.  How  would  he  scan 


124 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


\_Vol.  xxii,  N6.  4. 


To  be  or  not  to  be :  THAT  is  the  question —  ? 

In  another  place  he  says  that  "  Moore's  '  shin- 
ing on,  shining  on,'  is  neither  a  pair  of  bad  ana- 
passts  nor  a  pair  of  good  cretics,  but  four  feet, 
two  of  them  monosyllabic. ' '  See  what  comes  of 
having  one's  head  full  of  anapaests  and  cretics  ! 
Then  Moore,  the  impeccable  rhythmist,  in  a  pas- 
sage of  absolutely  perfect  versification,  not  only 
gave  a  violent  wrench  to  his  rhythm,  but  made 
one  line  two  feet  too  long  for  his  design,  and 
never  noticed  it  !  But  when  we  take  the  whole 
passage  : — 

"  There's  a  beauty  forever  unchangingly  bright, 
Like  the  long  sunny  lapse  of  a  summer-day's  light, 
Shining  on,  shining  on,  by  no  shadow  made  tender, 
Till  Love  falls  asleep  in  its  sameness  of  splendor  " — 

I  think  there  can  be  no  question  about  that ! 

The  author's  method  of  indicating  scansion  by 
vertical  divisions  is  objectionable  in  that,  while  it 
marks  the  limits  of  the  foot,  it  does  not  indicate 
its  nature.  Thus  he  marks 

Cristes  |  milde  |  moder 
and 

Ich  wel  |  de  ma  |  re  then 

in  exactly  the  same  way,  though  he  considers  the 
one  ' '  trochaic ' '  and  the  other  ' '  iambic ' ' ;  while 
on  another  page,  a  line  exactly  like  the  first,  he 
scans  thus  : — 

Wul  |  de  ge  |  nu  lis  |  ten. 

In  complicated  metres,  and  when  accents  are 
reversed,  this  notation  is  confusing. 

And,  by  the  way,  I  am  somewhat  surprised 
that  the  author  has  not  treated  the  very  important 
phenomenon  of  the  reversed  stress — or  what  he 
would  probably  call  the  substitution  of  a  trochee 
for  an  iamb — in  regular  verse,  e.  g.  : — 

Have  melted  into  air — into  thin  air. 
Illumine  ;  what  is  low,  raise  and  support. 

But  this,  perhaps,  he  reserves  for  his  next  volume. 
Professor  Saintsbury  takes  issue  —  not,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  on  sufficient  grounds— with  those 
who  hold  that  in  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth 
centuries  "cadence"  was  the  term  applied  to 
unrimed  alliterative  verses.  The  two  classsical 
passages  are  in  Chaucer  and  Gower  : — 

In  ryme  or  elles  in  cadence. 

Of  metre,  of  rime,  and  of  cadence. 

Here  ' '  cadence' '  is  mentioned  as  a  distinct  spe- 


cies of  versification  which  was  neither  in  metre 
nor  in  rime.  If  there  was  such  a  species,  other 
than  the  unrimed  alliterative  verse,  he  should  give 
an  example  of  it.  I  know  of  none.  His  further 
argument  from  the  well-known  passage  in  Wyn- 
toun  is  unlucky,  Wyntoun,  justifying  the  poet 
of  the  Oeate  of  Arthurs  for  using  "Empyrowre" 
instead  of  "  Procuratoure, "  says  that  the  latter 
word  would  have  hurt  the  "cadence."  Professor 
Saintsbury,  assuming  that  the  poem  referred  to 
was  the  alliterative  Morle  Arthure,  says  that  the 
substitution  of  ' '  Procuratoure ' '  for  ' '  Empy- 
rowre" would  not  have  hurt  the  alliteration  at 
all.  Well,  the  line  is  : 

Sir  Lucius  Iberius,  the  Emperoure  of  Home — 

and  it  strikes  me  that  the  substitution  of  an  initial 
consonant  would  hurt  the  alliteration  considerably 
— in  fact  it  would  knock  all  alliteration  out  of  the 
line.  But  Mr.  Saintsbury  overlooks  the  fatal  fact 
that  (on  this  assumption)  Wyntoun  distinctly  speci- 
fies an  unrimed  alliterative  poem  as  a  poem  in 
"  cadence."  However,  any  argument  from  Wyn- 
toun' s  words  is  futile,  as  it  has  been  conclusively 
shown  that  Wyntoun  did  not  refer  to  the  alliter- 
ative Morte  Arthure. 

There  is  a  kind  of  capriceioso  style  in  the 
author's  diction  which  is  somewhat  annoying,  but 
it  is  probably  temperamental,  and  may  be  con- 
doned ;  but  more  serious  is  the  defect  of  saying 
very  simple  things  with  such  peculiarities  of  phrase 
and  arrangement  of  clauses,  that  it  takes  some 
effort  to  disentangle  the  meaning.  Justice  Shallow 
very  wisely  said  that  if  you  have  news  to  impart, 
' '  there  is  but  two  ways  :  to  utter  them,  or  to  con- 
ceal them."  Professor  Saintsbury  at  times  seems 
to  be  trying  to  do  both  at  once. 

But  it  is  more  pleasant  to  praise  than  to  carp  ; 
especially  when  the  merits  are  great  and  the  im- 
perfections small.  And  I  hasten  to  add  that  this 
is  not  merely  the  best  and  most  instructive  treatise 
of  English  prosody  that  has  come  under  my  notice, 
but  the  only  one  that  shows  a  thorough  under- 
standing of  the  subject,  perfect  candor  in  the 
recognition  of  facts,  and  a  true  ear  for  the  delica- 
cies of  rhythm — the  only  one  that  really  explains 
the  history  and  mystery  of  English  verse. 


WM.  HAND  BROWNE. 


Johns  Hopkins  University. 


April,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


125 


La  Perfecta  Casada,  por  el  Maestro  F.  LUYS  DE 
LEON.  Texto  del  siglo  xvi.  Reimpresion  de  la 
tercera  edition,  con  variantes  de  la  primera,  y 
un  pr6logo  por  ELIZABETH  WALLACE,  miembro 
del  mierpo  de  profesores  de  lengiias  romances  de 
la  Universidad  de  Chicago.  The  Decennial 
Publications,  Second  Series,  Volume  VI.  Chi- 
cago :  The  University  of  Chicago  Press,  1903. 
8vo.,  pp.  xxvii  +119. 

In  the  second  series  of  the  Decennial  Publica- 
tions of  the  University  of  Chicago  there  appears 
a  very  attractive  volume  due  to  the  scholarly  care 
of  Miss  Elizabeth  Wallace.  The  volume  in  ques- 
tion is  a  reprint  of  that  delightful  little  work, 
La  Perfecta  Casada,  one  of  the  masterpieces  of 
Spanish  literature.  Its  author,  el  Maestro  Fray 
Luis  de  Leon,  was,  it  will  be  recalled,  one  of  the 
most  elegant  prose  writers  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

As  every  one  knows,  the  treatise  is  a  com- 
mentary on  a  certain  well-known  chapter  (the 
thirty-first)  of  the  book  of  Proverbs,  and  was 
directed  to  a  lady,  among  Fray  Luis' s  friends, 
Dona  Maria  Varela  Osorio.  The  good  old  Friar 
loved  his  little  book  and  worked  over  it  and 
recast  it  even  after  it  had  appeared  in  print. 
He  was  able  to  give  this  patient  care  to  the  second 
and  third  editions,  his  constant  preoccupation 
being  a  striving  for  a  more  harmonious  and  more 
perfect  prose  rhythm.  Such  being  the  case,  Miss 
Wallace  had  the  excellent  idea  of  giving  us  a 
faithful  reprint  of  this  third  edition,  with  variants 
from  the  first  edition.  This  gives  us  an  oppor- 
tunity of  studying  at  first  hand  our  author's 
rhythmic  method,  and  of  seeing  his  work  grow  to 
perfection  in  his  hands. 

The  text  is  preceded  by  a  prologue  of  seventeen 
pages,  written  in  Spanish,  into  which  has  been 
compressed  a  great  deal  of  very  interesting  and 
valuable  information.  It  opens  with  a  few  general 
remarks  about  the  work,  and  a  list  of  the  most 
important  editions  and  translations  thereof.  Next 
comes  a  comparison  of  the  first  and  third  editions 
from  the  standpoint  of  punctuation  and  orthog- 
raphy. This  is  followed  by  a  comparison  of 
these  two  editions  from  the  standpoint  of  their 
phraseology.  The  prologue  closes  with  a  few 
pages  on  the  prose  rhythm  of  Fray  Luis,  as 
deduced  from  the  comparison  just  made. 


The  following  misprints  have  been  noted  : 

P.  xi,  1.  4,  Valera  for  Varela  ;  p.  xxi,  1.  16, 
ediciones  for  ediciones  ;  p.  xxi,  1.  22,  posseer  for 
posseer;  p.  xxiii,  1.  8,  eon  la  suerte  for  con  la 
suerte;  p.  xxiii,  1.  19,  CLAUSULAS  for  CLAUSULAS  ; 
p.  xxiv,  1.  9,  Tertuilano  for  Tertuliano ;  p.  xxvii, 
1.  30,  Y  reurencian  "  for  Y  reuerencian  ". 

As  a  critic  is  treading  on  very  treacherous 
ground  when  he  claims  to  point  out  misprints  in 
a  text  the  original  of  which  he  has  not  before 
him,  it  is  with  considerable  diffidence  that  I  call 
attention  to  the  following  probable  errors  in  the 
new  edition  : 

P.  7,  1.  27,  desistir  du  for  desistir  de  ;  p.  15, 
1.  11,  de  au  natural  for  de  su  natural  ;  p.  23,  1. 
17,  blue  su  los/or  biue  en  los  ;  p.  29, 1.  9,  guarder 
for  guardar  ;  p.  29,  1.  12,  quando  viere  a  for 
quando  vieue  a  ;  p.  43,  1.  2,  El  se  for  El  es  ; 
p.  50,  1.  17,  y  cotejo,  for  y  coteja  ;  p.  54,  1.  8-9, 
a  todas  los  for  a  todos  los  ;  p.  56,  1.  2,  sin  sentir.  y 
for  sin  sentir,  y  ;  p.  56,  1.  5,  diziendo.  for  di- 
ziendo  : ;  p.  58,  1.  28,  siempre,  no  ha  for  siempre 
no  ha  ;  p.  60,  1.  12,  de  todos,  for  de  todos.  ;  p.  60, 
1.  18-19,  los  si-ruen/or  los  sir-uen  ;  p.  63,  1.  4, 
porque  venida,  la  noche  for  porque,  venida  la 
noche  ;  p.  65,  1.  2-3,  ya  no  con-ozca  for  ya  no 
co-nozca  ;  p.  68,  1.  1,  Annque  for  Aunque  ;  p. 
84,  1.  34,  a  es  ver  ...  o  el  oyr  for  o  es  ver  .  .  . 
o  es  oyr  ;  p.  86,  Title,  CASAKA  for  CASADA  ;  p. 
90,  1.  41,  lo  onza/or  la  onza  ;  p.  101,  1.  23,  ver- 
goncoso.  for  vergon9oso,  ;  p.  115,  1.  15,  sonarar 
for  sonaran. 

In  spite  of  this  list  of  suggestions  (and  even  in 
case  each  suggestion  should  prove  to  be  correct — 
the  majority  of  the  cases  being  what  our  German 
colleagues  would  call  "  nicht  storende  Druck- 
fehler"),  it  is  evident  that  Miss  Wallace  has 
done  her  work  with  care  and  affection  ;  and  all 
Spanish  scholars  must  rejoice  that  it  is  at  last 
possible  to  read,  in  a  form  that  is  worthy  of  it, 
this  brilliant  gem  of  an  age  that  is  gone. 


JOHN  D.  FITZ-GEEALD. 


Columbia  University. 


126 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


xxii,  .ZVo.  4. 


CORRESPONDENCE. 

"From  China  to  Peru." 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — The  following  example  of  the  above 
phrase  may  be  of  interest.  It  occurs  in  Sir 
William  Temple's  Miscellanea,  Part  ir  ("Of 
Poetry ' '  :  last  paragraph  but  one)  : 

' '  what  honour  and  request  the  ancient  poetry  has 
lived  in,  may  not  only  be  observed  from  the 
universal  reception  and  use  in  all  nations  from 
China  to  Peru,  from  Scythia  to  Arabia,  but  from 
the  esteem  of  the  best  and  the  greatest  men  as 
well  as  the  vulgar." 

This  reads  somewhat  as  if  it  were  a  stock  phrase. 
Bartlett  in  his  Familiar  Quotations,  refers,  under 
Dr.  Johnson,  only  to  Thomas  Warton. 


carry  80  pilgrims,  and  there  were  several  other 
Cornish  vessels  similarly  occupied  about  the  same 
time.' 


W.  M.  TWEEDIE. 


Mt.  Allison  College. 


CHAUCEE,  Prol.  466. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — Among  other  places,  the  Wife  of  Bath 
had  been 

In  Galice  at  seint  lame.  .  .  . 

Skeat's  note  refers  to  'Piers  Plowman,  A.  iv. 
106,  110,  and  note  to  B.  Prol.  47  ;  also  Eng. 
Gilds,  ed.  Toulmin  Smith,  pp.  172,  177.' 

Further  illustrations  of  the  journey  to  Compos- 
tella,  and  of  the  conditions  in  that  town,  would 
be  interesting.  The  following  may  serve  as  a 
slight  contribution.  In  the  Victoria  History  of  tJie 
Counties  of  England :  Cornwall,  p.  482,  we  read  : 

'  An  important  branch  of  English  maritime 
traffic  in  the  fifteenth  century  was  the  transport 
of  pilgrims  to  enable  them  to  perform  their 
devotions  at  the  shrine  of  St.  James  of  Compos- 
tella.  They  could  only  be  carried  in  licensed 
ships,  and  nobles  and  merchants  seem  to  have 
been  equally  eager  to  obtain  a  share  in  what 
must  have  been  a  profitable  trade.  Most  of  the 
ships  belonged  to  the  southern  ports,  and  Pen- 
zance,  St.  Michael's  Mount,  Looe,  Fowey,  Fal- 
mouth,  Saltash,  and  Landulph  had  their  share, 
one  of  the  ships,  the  Mary  of  Fowey,  being  of 
140  tons.  As  early  as  January,  1393-4,  a 
license  was  obtained  for  the  George  of  Fowey  to 


ALBERT  S.  COOK. 


Yale  University. 


MARLOWE,  Faustus,  SCENE  14. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — In  a  recent  article  in  Modern  Language 
Notes, l  entitled  ' '  On  a  Passage  in  Marlowe' s 
Faustus,"  Dr.  H.  T.  Baker  suggests  that  a 
change  be  made  in  the  division  of  the  lines  in 
scene  14  (Mermaid  edition)  of  Marlowe's  Faus- 
tus. Dr.  Baker  advances  the  theory  that  only 
the  first  four  lines  of  the  long  speech  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  scene  were  spoken  by  the  Old  Man, 
while  the  rest,  beginning  with  the  words  : 

Break  heart,  drop  blood,  and  mingle  it  with  tears, 

were  spoken  by  Faustus.  Dr.  Baker  refers  to 
the  passage  as  it  stands  in  the  1604  text,  and 
points  out  that  in  the  1616  text  the  entire  speech 
is  changed,  making  nonsense  of  the  whole  matter. 
In  the  opinion  of  the  present  writer,  Dr. 
Baker's  case  would  be  a  very  strong  one  were  it 
not  for  one  point  which  he  has  overlooked,  namely, 
the  passage  as  it  stands  in  the  original  source  of 
Marlowe's  drama,  the  English  Faust-Book  of  1592. 
The  story  of  the  old  man's  attempt  to  turn  Faustus 
from  his  evil  ways  was  faithfully  translated  by  the 
author  of  the  E.  F.  B.  from  the  German  Faust- 
Book  of  1587. 

Ah,  Doctor  Faustus,  that  I  might  prevail 
To  guide  thy  steps  unto  the  way  of  life, 
By  which  sweet  path  thou  mayst  attain  the  goal 
That  shall  conduct  thee  to  celestial  rest 

is  surely  Marlowe's  poetic  rendering  of  the  lines, 
' '  Let  my  rude  Sermon  be  vnto  you  a  conuersion  ; 
and  forget  the  filthy  life  that  you  haue  led,  repent, 
aske  mercy,  and  Hue ' ' ;  while  the  next  line  in  the 
drama, 

Break  heart,  drop  blood,  and  mingle  it  with  tears, 

is  Marlowe's  rendering  of  the  very  next  line 
(excepting  a  direct  quotation  from  the  Scriptures) 
in  the  English  Faust-Book, 

» xxi,  8&-7. 


April,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


127 


"  Let  ray  words,  good  brother  FAUSTUS,  pearce  inta  your 
adamant  heart." 

Again,  the  lines  referring  to  a  call  for  mercy, 
which  Dr.  Baker  assigns  to  Faustus,  are  surely 
Marlowe's  repetition  of  the  old  man's  words, 

"repent,  aske  mercy,  and  Hue"; 
and  also — 

"  and  desire  God  for  his  Sonne  Christ  his  sake,  to  forgiue 
you." 

Lastly,  the  ' '  otherwise  incomprehensible  reproach 
of  Mephistophilis ' '  is  not  dependent  upon  Faustus' 
call  for  mercy,  but  is  Marlowe's  rendering  of  the 
lines  (as  he  read  on  in  the  English  Faust-Book 
version) : 

"  Begin  againe,  and  write  another  writing  with  thine  owne 
blood,  if  not,  then  will  I  teare  thee  all  to  pieces." 


ALFRED  E.  KICHARDS. 


Princeton  University. 


OLD  PLAYS. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

gIRS  : — Apropos  of  Prof.  Dodge's  communica- 
tion concerning  the  performance  of  old  plays,  I 
wish  to  state  that  a  presentation  of  an  Old  Testa- 
ment cycle  consisting  of  The  Creation  and  Fall  of 
Man,  Noah's  Ark,  The  Sacrifae  of  Isaac,  and 
The  Shepherds,  was  given  at  the  Educational 
Alliance,  New  York  City,  May  13,  1905,  by  The 
Dramatic  Club  of  the  Thomas  Davidson  School. 

Each  play  in  the  cycle  was  a  composite  con- 
structed out  of  the  various  English  versions. 
Nothing  was  added.  Where  a  word  was  so  far 
obsolete  as  not  to  be  found  in  Shakespeare,  a 
synonym  was  substituted,  unless  the  context  dis- 
tinctly showed  the  meaning.  The  reproduction 
was  historical  so  far  as  this  was  conveniently 
possible  in  a  modern  theater  and  before  a  modern 
audience.  For  instance,  the  figure  of  God  could 
not  very  well  appear  on  the  stage. 

The  performance  will  be  repeated  May  11, 
1907. 

DAVID  KLEIN. 

College  of  the  City  of  New  York. 


A  NOTE  ON  A  SONNET  OF  STEPHANE  MALLARME. 
To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

gIE8  : — The  writer  offers  an  interpretation  of 
the  following,  one  of  Mallarm6's  most  difficult 
sonnets : 

Ses  purs  ongles  tres  haut  de'diant  leur  onyx, 

L'Angoisse,  ce  minuit,  soutient,  lampadophore, 

Maint  rev*?  vesp<5ral  brute  par  le  Phgnix 

Que  ne  recueille  pas  de  cine'raire  amphore 

Sur  les  credences,  au  salon  vide :  nul  ptyx, 

Aboli  bibelot  d'inanit^  sonore 

(Car  le  maitre  est  alle"  puiser  des  pleurs  au  Styx 

Avec  ce  seul  objet  dont  le  Neant  s'honore. ) 

Mais  proche  la  croisde  au  nord  vacante,  un  or 

Agonise  selon  peut-§tre  le  ddcor 

Des  licornes  ruant  du  feu  centre  une  nixe  : 

Elle,  d^funte  nue  en  le  miroir,  encor 

Que,  dans  1'oubli  ferrne'  par  le  cadre,  se  fixe 

De  scintillations  sit&t  le  septuor. 

A  corpse  is  resting  at  night  with  the  presence  of 
no  human  soul  to  disturb  it.  The  soul  of  the  dead 
man  is  apparently  free  in  the  room,  to  be  inferred 
from  the  presence  of  the  mirror,  which  Mallarm^ 
uses  elsewhere  as  the  symbol  of  the  consciousness 
of  the  soul.  The  mirror  reflects  in  itself  the  pic- 
ture of  the  naked  spirit  of  good.  Nakedness  is 
another  favorite  symbol  for  the  idea  or  any  other 
impalpable  thing  when  divested  of  any  deter- 
mining attributes.  Thus  it  seems  that  what  we 
may  infer  here  is  that  the  spirit  is  wandering 
about  at  last  in  an  absolutely  pure  state  after  it 
has  been  freed  from  the  mortal  and  material  shell, 
and  so  more  fit  for  judgment.  The  seven  scintil- 
lations may  have  no  particular  significance  ;  seven 
is  merely  a  mystic  number  dear  to  the  symbolists, 
as  was  the  mystic  number  three  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
The  sonnet  is  also  capable  of  a  slightly  different 
interpretation.  The  naked  nixie  may  have  this 
significance  in  connection  with  the  mirror,  that, 
although  the  mirror  in  actual  experience  does  re- 
flect exactly,  yet  when  it  represents  the  soul,  it 
has  no  such  qualities,  its  eternal  impalpability 
being  represented  by  the  reflected  nakedness.  In 
other  words,  the  sonnet  may  be  a  representation 
of  the  soul  as  free  from  its  earthly  husk,  or  as 
incapable  of  definition  or  localization. 


ARTHUR  B.  MYRICK. 


University  of  Vermont. 


128 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  4. 


REJOINDER  TO  PROFESSOR  SUPER'S  CRITICISMS. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — Allow  me  to  express  my  gratitude  to 
Professor  O.  B.  Super  for  the  note  he  has  been 
pleased  to  write  on  the  little  Reader  for  first  and 
second  year  students  published  by  me,  two  years 
ago,  under  the  title  Selections  from  Standard 
French  Authors. 

While  some  of  his  suggestions  will  be  very 
helpful,  I  must  take  issue  with  him  on  several 
of  his  "corrections"  and  criticisms. 

Passer  condamnation  does  mean  "to  confess 
judgment."  It  means  also,  in  the  words  of 
Hatzfeld  and  Darmesteter,  renoncer  a  se  defendre 
sur  un  point,  which  the  expression  "not  to 
press  one's  point"  renders  pretty  well,  it  seems 
to  me. 

In  the  idiom  ne  plaignant  pas  mapeine  the  same 
authorities  translate  the  verb  plaindre  by  donner 
a  regret,  which  is  accurately  rendered  by  "not 
regretting  my  work." 

The  vocabulary  gives  for  tibde  the  meaning 
"cool,"  which  it  has,  in  a  figurative  sense  :  but 
it  gives  also  and  first  'mild,'  which  is  here  quite 
as  satisfactory  as  '  warm. ' 

The  "nonsensical"  translation  of  "counting 
money"  for  argent  comptant  is  nowhere  to  be 
found  in  the  vocabulary.  Under  argent  occurs 
the  translation  "ready  money"  which,  I  trust, 
is  sufficient. 

Professor  Super  adds  :  '  Boursault  is  spoken 
of  as  the  author  of  "The  Mercure  Galant " 
and  two  or  three  other  "comedies"  as  though 
the  ' '  Mercure  Galant ' '  was  the  name  of  a 
comedy. ' 

'  Le  Mercure  Galant '  is  a  comedy  :  the  extract 
given  in  my  '  Selections '  is  taken  from  it  and  it 
was  chosen  not  so  much  on  account  of  Boursault's 
prominence  as  on  account  of  the  entertaining  illus- 
trations it  offers  of  some  grammatical  peculiarities 
of  the  French  language. 

In  the  case  of  Brueys  and  Palaprat,  modernizers 
of  the  famous  farce  of  Mattre  Patelin,  it  was 
obviously  the  comedy,  not  the  authors  (whose 
work  was  merely  an  adaptation),  that  warranted 
their  introduction  in  a  book  of  "Standard" 
texts. 


As  for  the  choice  of  the  thirty-eight  selections 
that  compose  my  Reader,  I  confess  that  I  did  not 
expect  to  be  able  to  satisfy  the  individual  tastes 
of  all  my  colleagues.  The  preface  states  that 
"  many  more  texts  equally  important,  by  authors 
just  as  representative,  might  have  been  added  if 
space  had  allowed."  Corneille  and  Racine,  La- 
martine  and  Musset  are  missing,  to  be  sure,  and 
I  regret  it.  As  for  Dumas,  I  am  satisfied  that 
the  young  American  scholar  will  soon  or  late  get 
acquainted  with  this  ' '  standard  author. ' '  The 
same  reason  would  lead  me  to  sacrifice  Sand  and 
About  to  such  writers  as  Vauvenargues  and  Ri- 
varol,  who  hold  in  the  estimation  of  connoisseurs, 
a  higher  rank  than  some  seem  to  think. 

I  am  perfectly  willing  to  ' '  passer  condamna- 
tion "  on  Professor  Super's  criticism  of  my  selec- 
tion from  Bernardiu  de  St.  Pierre.  Indeed  it 
is  not  characteristic,  but  it  happened  to  be  a 
short  and  easy  anecdote  for  the  first  part  of  the 
book. 

But  for  Don  Juan's  scene  of  M.  Dimanche,  I 
could  not  see  my  way  clear  to  abandon  it.  The 
scene  seems  to  me  a  masterpiece  and  in  Moliure's 
best  vein.  As  for  Don  Juan  itself,  which  Pro- 
fessor Super  calls  one  of  Moliere's  "  less  important 
plays,"  another  critic,  Jules  Lemaitre,  considers 
it  an  "extraordinary  work."  He  even  goes  so 
far  as  to  state  that  "there  is  hardly  any  play 
more  interesting  from  one  end  to  the  other,  or 
more  pathetic  in  spots,  or  more  amusing." 

May  I  add  that,  while  realizing  better  than  any 
one  else  the  deficiencies  of  this  book  and  having 
tried  to  correct  some  of  them,  I  share  Professor 
Super's  flattering  opinion  about  its  "usefulness"  ? 
I  agree  with  him  that  it  was  a  "good  idea"  to 
offer  to  our  grown-up  college  boys  and  girls  who 
begin  French,  often  at  the  age  of  twenty,  some- 
thing besides  fairy  tales.  It  has  seemed  to  me 
that  short  stories,  scenes,  or  essays  from  Voltaire, 
Rousseau,  Beaumarchais,  P.-L.  Courier,  Balzac, 
Victor  Hugo,  Flaubert,  Daudet,  Maupassant,  and 
Anatole  France  are  fairly  good  substitutes  for  Le 
Petit  CJiaperon  Rouge,  Le  Chat  botte,  I' Abbe  Con- 
stantin,  and  even  Les  trois  Mousquetaires. 


O.    G.    GUERLAC. 


Cornell  University. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES 


VOL.  XXII. 


BALTIMORE,   MAY,    1907. 


No.  5. 


ALL  OF  THE  FIVE  FICTITIOUS  ITALIAN 
EDITIONS  OF  WRITINGS  OF  MACHI- 
AVELLI  AND  THREE  OF  THOSE  OF 
PIETRO  ARETINO  PRINTED  BY  JOHN 
WOLFE  OF  LONDON  (1584-1589).  II. 

Recapitulation  and  Completion  of  the  Arguments. 

In  the  first  part  of  this  paper  which  appeared  in 
Modern  Language  Notes,  Vol.  xxn  (1907),  pp. 
2-6,*  the  Historic  and  the  Asino  d'  Oro  of  Machia- 
velli  (1587  and  1588)  and  the  Quattro  Comedie 
and  the  Terza,  et  Ultima  Parte  de  Ragionamenti 
of  Pietro  Aretino  (1588  and  1589)  were  assigned 
to  John  Wolfe  on  the  strength  of  documentary 
evidence  from  the  contemporary  Stationers'  Reg- 
isters. The  Discorsi  and  the  Prendpe  and  the 
Arte  delta  Guerra  of  Machiavelli  (1584  and 
1587),  all  with  the  device  of  a  flourishing  palm- 
tree  with  serpents  and  toads  about  the  root  and 
the  motto  :  II  vostro  malignare  non  gioua  nulla, 
were  attributed  to  him,  apart  from  other  typo- 
graphical reasons,  on  account  of  his  appearing  as 
the  possessor  of  this  device  in  1593,  six  years 
before  Adam  Islip  used  it,  to  which  may  now  be 
added  that  this  palm-tree  is  found  three  more 
times  in  books  printed  by  Wolfe  in  1592  and 
1593,  and  as  early  as  1594  in  one  printed  by 
Islip,1  and  that  according  to  documentary  evi- 

*  The  following  corrections  should  be  made  in  this  part. 
First :  The  figures  in  the  Boman  numerals,  p.  3,  A  5  and 
B  1-3,  should  all  be  of  the  same  size.  Second  :  In  the  title 
read  1589  for  1588  ;  p.  3,  B2,  Carte  viii  +  288  for  Pp.  xvi 
+  292 ;  p.  5,  col.  2,  1.  5,  siparla  for  riparla  and  ibid.,  1. 
14,  the  for  The.  Third  :  Supply  Carte  0  +  115  at  the 
close  of  A  5,  an  apostrophe  B  1  after  e  in  el,  dividing  lines 
after  A  1,  xxviij  di,  A  2  Prendpe,  chiaudli  and  nella,  A  3 
uelli,  A.4ammendate,  A  5  seyuenle,  Bl  Ficata  and  Si  and 
B  3  cosa,  and  hyphens  after  A  3  appres,  B 1  dim  and  Si  and 
B  2  conosci. 

1  Wolfe  used  the  device  of  the  palm-tree,  which  so 
excellently  fits  the  Discorsi  and  the  Prencipe  of  Machia- 
velli that  it  must  have  been  specially  designed  for  them, 
quite  appropriately  in  two  controversial  books  by  Gabriell 
Harvey,  viz.,  Foure  Letters  and  certaine  Sonnets:  Especially 
touching  Robert  Greene,  and  other  parties,  by  him  abused,  etc., 


dence  the  latter  bought  his  type  and  printing 
implements  from  the  former  and  therefore  obtained 
the  device  in  question  in  a  perfectly  legal  way.* 
The  First  and  Second  Part  of  the  Ragionamenti 
of  Pietro  Aretino  with  appendix  (1584)  finally 
were  ascribed  to  John  Wolfe  because  of  their 
complete  agreement  in  type,  initial  letters  and 
ornaments  with  other  books  printed  by  him.  But 
as  this  evidence,  however  strong  it  may  be,  does 
not  seem  quite  equal  to  that  of  the  preceding 
cases,  it  is  a  matter  of  satisfaction  that  the  other 
two  editions  of  the  Ragionamenti  I  &  II,  men- 
tioned there  as  well  as  a  fourth  of  the  same  year 

1592,  and  Pierces  Supererogation  or  a  new  prayse  of  the  Old 
Aise.  A  Preparatiue  to  certaine  larger  Discourses,  intituled 
Noshes  S.  Fame,  1593.  In  the  latter  the  title-page  with 
the  device  occurs  twice,  once  at  (he  beginning  and  then 
again  on  the  eleventh  leaf.  In  Ames- Herbert,  Typo- 
graphical Antiquities,  n,  1181,  only  the  first  ten  leaves  are 
mentioned  and  recorded  as  a  book  by  itself.  Islip  first 
used  it  in  William  Clerke,  Triall  of  Bastardie,  1594,  and 
often  afterwards  without  special  reference  to  the  contents 
of  the  books. 

2  The  documentary  statement  is  found  with  Arber,  Tran- 
script, ill,  700,  saying  that  '  Adam  Islip  bought  his  print- 
ing house  Letter  [type']  and  Implements  of  John  wolfe  and 
succeeded  him,  being  an  ancient  Erection '  and  is  taken 
by  Arber  himself  (v,  204)  as  meaning  that  '  He  succeeded 
J.  Wolfe,  this  year,"  i.  e.,  the  year  of  his  death,  1601,  'as 
a  Master  Printer  and  in  his  Printing  House.'  This  inter- 
pretation can  only  be  correct  as  far  as  the  succession  as  a 
Master  Printer  is  concerned,  for  the  transfer  of  the  device 
of  the  palm-tree  in  1594  is  not  the  only  evidence  that  the 
purchase  of  type  and  implements  must  have  occurred 
much  earlier.  In  the  first  place,  Wolfe's  widow  did  not 
dispose  of  her  husband's  belongings,  but  continued  his 
business.  She  did  not  only  give  the  old  apprentices  a 
chance  to  serve  out  their  time  (/.  c.,  n,  728,  730  and  734) 
but  she  also  engaged  a  new  one  in  the  person  of  John 
Adams,  a  son  of  Frauncis  Adams,  a  devoted  friend  of  her 
husband,  who  had  died  about  the  same  time  (I.  c.,  II,  253), 
and  made  two  extensive  transfers  of  books — none  of  our 
Italian  prints  among  them  however, — to  her  former  ap- 
prentice, John  Pindley,  as  late  as  1612  (I.e.,  Ill,  483  and 
487).  In  the  second  place,  Islip  did  not  wait  to  start  in 
business  till  1601,  but  established  himself  in  1594  when  he 
engaged  his  first  apprentice,  to  whom  he  added  another  at 
the  beginning  of  1596  (I.  c.,  n,  192  and  208).  There  is 
even  a  record,  of  a  license  granted  to  him  Sept.  16,  1591, 


130 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


which  I  have  found  since  I  have  been  in  Berlin, 
have  all  turned  out  to  be  reprints  of  Wolfe's.' 
The  Prefaces  by  Barbagrigia  and  his  Heir  are, 
therefore,  original  with  our  edition  and  John 
Wolfe's  case  receives  additional  strength  both 
from  the  similarity  with  which  the  fictions  of 
Barbagrigia  and  Antoniello  degli  Antonielli  are 
carried  out,  and  from  the  fact  that  the  edition  of 
Boccaccio's  Decamerone,  which  Barbagrigia  prom- 
ises to  issue  at  some  future  date,  was  actually 
planned  by  John  Wolfe  in  1587,  not  to  speak  of 
the  other  works  of  Pietro  Aretino  promised  by 
Barbagrigia  and  mostly  either  printed  or  intended 
to  be  printed  by  John  Wolfe.  Indeed,  in  the 
Preface  to  the  Ragionamenti  in  of  1589  the  veil 
is  so  far  lifted  that  we  learn  that  only  a  few  copies 
of  Parts  I  and  n  of  1584  may  still  be  had. 
After  John  Wolfe's  title  to  all  of  the  eight  edi- 
tions has  thus  been  still  more  firmly  established, 
we  are  now  ready  to  turn  to  his  life  and  the 

but  this  was  not  given  unconditionally,  and  at  all  events 
there  is  no  evidence  of  his  having  actually  printed  any- 
thing in  his  own  name  before  1594.  In  the  third  place, 
there  is  direct  documentary  evidence  to  the  effect  that  in 
1595  William  Moorin[g]  and  Adam  Islip,  partners,  suc- 
ceeded John  wolfe  in  trade  and  place  (I.  c.,  ill,  702),  and 
we  find  this  not  only  confirmed  by  the  fact  that  Wolfe 
changed  his  place  of  business  from  Paul's  Chain,  where  it 
is  found  from  1592-1594  (I.  c.,  v,  166,  170  and  174),  to 
Pope's  Head  Alley,  Lombard  street,  where  it  is  from  1596 
on  (/.  c.,  v,  182,  etc. ),  no  place  being  recorded  for  1595, 
but  also  by  Wolfe's  sharing  his  license  for  Books  n,  nr, 
IV  and  v  of  Amadis  de  Gaule  with  Adam  Islip  and  William 
Morynge,  Oct.  16,  1594  (I.  c.,  11,  662,  together  with  n, 
607  and  in,  483),  which  is  at  the  same  time  the  only 
occurrence  of  the  name  of  Moring  in  all  the  licenses,  so 
that  his  partnership  with  Islip  cannot  have  lasted  long. 
Other  books  licensed  to  Wolfe  but  printed  by  Islip  about 
the  same  time  are  :  Antonio  de  Gueuara,  The  Mount  of 
Calmrie,  licensed  to  the  former  in  1593  (/.  c.,  n,  638)  and 
printed  by  the  latter  with  the  device  of  the  palm-tree  ( ! ) 
in  1595  ;  and  likewise  probably  Huarte  :  Examen  de  Inge- 
nios.  The  Examination  of  men's  wits,  etc.,  licensed  to  Wolfe 
in  1590  (1.  c.,  ii,  557)  and  printed  by  Islip  in  1594,  to 
which  we  shall  have  occasion  to  return  below.  At  all 
events,  there  are  plenty  of  indications  that  the  transfer  of 
the  device  of  the  palm-tree  from  Wolfe  to  Islip  was  per- 
fectly legal  and  the  possibility  of  Islip' s  having  used  it  in 
connection  with  the  Discorsi  and  the  Preneipe  in  1584  is 
excluded  by  the  fact  that  he  did  not  finish  his  apprentice- 
ship till  June  of  the  following  year  (I.  c.,  n,  694). 

3 1  reserve  the  detailed  proof  of  the  priority  of  Wolfe's 
edition  which  I  had  intended  to  insert  here  for  some  other 
occasion,  and  will  simply  say  that  Wolfe's  edition  repeat- 


prominent  part  he  played  in  the  stormy  period 
through  which  the  English  book  trade  passed  in 
the  eighties  of  the  sixteenth  century,  a  matter 
which  is  of  so  much  general  interest  that  it  seems 
desirable  to  go  a  little  more  into  detail  than  the 
question  in  hand  in  itself  demands.  My  account 
is  based  on  the  documents  and  records  published 
in  Arber's  Transcript,  to  which  all  references  in 
the  text  are  made  and  on  the  following  two  Rap- 
presentazioni  to  which  my  attention  was  cour- 
teously called  by  Arundell  Esdaile  of  the  British 
Museum  who  saw  a  notice  of  one  of  them  in  a 
recent  catalogue  of  Jacques  Rosenthal  of  Munich. 
Historia  et  \  Vita,  di  Santo  \  Bernardino.  \  Wood- 
cut rep  resenting  the  Ascension  of  the  Saint  |  Dddd. 
At  the  close  :  In  Fiorenza,  Ad  instanzia  di  Gw- 
uanni  \  Vuolfio  Inglese,  1576.  2  leaves.  4°. 

La  Historia  e  Oratione  di  Santo  \  Stefano  Pro- 
tomartire.  \  Quale  fu  eletto  Diacono  dalli  Apostoli, 
e  come  \  fu  lapidato  da  Giudei.  \  Nuouamente 
Ristampata.  \  Woodcut  representing  the  Saint  in 
a  landscape.  |  Hhhh.  At  the  close  :  In  Fiorenza, 
Ad  instanzia  di  Giouanni  \  Vuolfio  Inglese,  1576. 
2  leaves.  4°. 

Since  in  later  years  John  Wolfe  so  often  puts 
the  name  of  an  Italian  city  on  books  printed  by 
him  in  London,  it  may  be  added  that  the  genuine 
Italian  origin  of  these  two  leaflets  is  placed  beyond 
doubt  both  by  their  close  resemblance  to  some  of 
the  many  other  Rappresentazioni  printed  at  Flor- 

edly  agrees  with  the  edition  of  the  First  Part  of  the 
Ragionamenti  which  bears  the  false  date  of  Paris,  and  the 
print  of  the  Third  Day  of  the  First  Part  entitled  Opera 
noua  del  diuino  &  vnico  signer  Pietro  Aretino :  laqual  ieuopre 
le  astutie :  scelerita,  /rode,  tradimenli  .  .  .  che  vsano  le  Corti- 
giane,  etc.,  etc.,  purporting  to  have  appeared  in  Naples, 
1534,  where  one  or  more  of  the  other  three  editions  differ. 
As  the  Ragionamenti  i  and  11,  in  spite  of  the  avowed  moral 
purposes  of  the  author,  are  utterly  repulsive  by  their 
obscenity,  it  is  more  complimentary  to  Wolfe's  not  over- 
scrupulous business  instincts  than  to  the  taste  of  the  read- 
ing public  that  not  only  his  edition  but  also  three  or  even 
four  reprints  of  it  should  have  found  a  market,  for  it  is  not 
impossible  that  the  only  edition  of  1584  mentioned  by 
Carlo  Bertani,  Pietro  Aretino  e  le  Sue  Opere,  p.  362 1.,  is 
different  from  the  other  four,  because  it  alone  adds  the 
Dialogue  between  Ginevra  and  Eosana.  The  Ragionamenti 
in  of  1589,  on  the  other  hand,  are  absolutely  unobjection- 
able, and  also  the  Comedie  are  staunchly  defended  by  Ber- 
tani, /.  c.,  377,  whose  appreciation  of  Pietro  Aretino  for 
the  rest  may  be  gauged  by  the  fact  that  he  inscribes  his 
study  to  his  wife. 


May,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


131 


ence  at  that  time  and  by  the  fact  that  his  name  is 
found  here  alongside  of  that  of  an  Italian  city 
which  in  the  other  cases  of  course  never  occurs. 

John  Wolfe's  Life  and  His  Part  in  the  Troubles  of 
the  Stationers'  Company. 

John  Wolfe   served    his   apprenticeship   under 
John  Day,  one  of  the  most  influential  and  pros- 
perous London  printers  and  stationers  of  the  first 
part  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  reign  and  a  personal 
favorite   of  Lord  Leicester  from  1562-1572  (r, 
172).     At  the  close  of  it  he  failed  however  to 
obtain  his  admission  as  a  freeman  to  the  Stationers' 
Company,  and  had  to  be  satisfied  with  the  freedom 
of  the  Fishmongers  who  do   not  seem  to  have 
objected  to  his  '  many  loose  pointes  of  behaviour  ' 
as  strongly  as  the  Stationers.   Probably  soon  after- 
ward he  went  abroad,  'gadding  from  countrey  to 
countrey,'  as  the  Queen's  Printer  Christopher  Bar- 
ker disparagingly  calls  it  (n,  780),  but  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact  laying  the  foundations  for  his  future 
success  in  life  and  his  publication  of  Italian  books 
in  England.     Not  only  this  but  also  his  surname 
Machivill,   which   then   was   almost   synonymous 
with  Italian  in   an  odious  sense,  tend  to  indicate 
that  his  stay  in  Italy  was  a  prolonged  one,  and 
perhaps  it  is  not  amiss  to  suppose  that  he  was  con- 
nected for  a  while  with  the  famous  printing  estab- 
lishment of  the  Giunti,  who  sometimes  employed 
foreigners.     At  least  he  adopted  their  device  of 
the  heraldic  lilies  for  his  own  and  the  Dddd  and 
Hhhh  on  the  titles  of  his  Rappresentazioni  find  a 
parallel  in  the  liii  on  the  title  of  a  Scelta  di  Laudi 
Spirituali  printed  '  Nella   Stamperia  de'  Giunti ' 
in  1578. 

In  or  before  1579,  the  year  of  his  first  license, 
he  was  back  in  England  where  it  was  then  almost 
an  impossibility  for  a  man  without  means  or 
patronage  to  make  a  living  in  the  printers'  and 
stationers'  trade.  Whole  classes  of  the  most 
profitable  lawful  and  serious  books  had  by  royal 
patents,  often  injudiciously  granted,  come  into 
the  hands  of  a  few  ;  efforts  were  making  to  sub- 
ject the  production  of  light  literature,  hitherto 
free  to  all,  with  the  exception  of  books  printed  in 
a  foreign  language,  to  a  more  rigorous  supervision 
(n,  752),  and  in  addition  to  this  the  number  of 
printers  exceeded  in  the  opinion  of  some  by  more 


than  twice  the  actual  demand.4     Wolfe,  however, 
then  already  past  thirty,  was  determined  not  to  go 
to  the  wall  and  decided  to  make  a  place  for  himself 
in  the  profession  by  force  or  favor,  right  or  wrong. 
He  began  with  an  attempt  to  become  one  of  the 
privileged  few,  but  when  the  patent  for  which  he 
had  applied  was  refused  because  it  '  was  thought 
vnreasonable  by  some  serving  her  Maiestie '    (i, 
144),    he   resolutely  joined   the    most   desperate 
among  the  discontented  who  had  organized  or  just 
were  organizing  for  the  wholesale  production  and 
dispersion  of  the  most  popular  school  books  owned 
by  the  patentees  (n,  19).     Rising  to  the  leader- 
ship of  these  men  by  his  superior  energy  and  per- 
haps also  by  his  '  Macheuillian  deuices,  and  conceit 
of  forreine  wit,'  with  which  Christopher  Barker 
credits  him  on  May  14,  1582,  i.  e.,  over  a  year 
before  he  printed  his  first  edition  of  Machiavelli, 
he  made  such  an  onslaught  upon  the  existing  order 
of  things  in  the  Stationers'  Company  that  not  only 
the  patentees  lost  their  profits  and  were  disobeyed 
by  their  journeymen  and  apprentices,  which  latter 
even  '  married  wiues  and  for  a  time  did  what  they 
list'  (n,   782),   but   that   a   revolutionary   spirit 
began  to  pervade  the  populace  of  the  city. 

'  WOLFE  and  his  confederats, '  a  Supplication 
to  the  Privy  Council,  probably  dated  March,  1583, 
says  (n,  781  f. ),  '  affirmed  openly  in  ye  Stationers 
hall,  yat  it  was  lawfull  for  all  men  to  print  all 
lawfull  bookes  what  commandement  soeuer  her 
Maiestie  gaue  to  ye  contrary.'  '  WOLFE  being 
admonished,  yat  he  being  but  one  so  meane  a  man 
should  not  presume  to  contrarie  her  Highnesse 
gouernmente:  "Tush,"  said  he,  "  LUTHEK  was  but 
one  man,  and  reformed  all  ye  world  for  religion, 
and  I  am  that  one  man,  yat  must  and  will  reforme 
the  gouernement  in  this  trade,"  meaning  printing 
and  booke-selling.'  '  WOLFE  and  his  confederats 
made  collections  of  money  of  diuers  her  maiesties 
poore  subiects,  perswading  them  to  ouerthrow  all 

*In  Dec.,  1582,  Christopher  Barker  reports  :  '  There  are 
22  printing  bowses  in  London  where  '8  or  10-  at  the  most 
would  suffice  for  all  England,  yea  and  Scotland  too  (i, 
172) .  In  May  of  the  next  year  there  were  23  printers 
with  53  presses  (i,  248).  At  that  time  '  John  Wolf  hath 
iii  presses,  and  ii  more  since  found  in  a  secret  Vau[l]t' 
i.  «.,  as  many  as  the  Queen's  Printer  and  more  than  any- 
body else, 


132 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


priuiledges,  and  being  demanded  why  he  did  so, 
answered  his  purse  was  not  able  to  maintaine  so 
great  a  Cause  as  yat  he  had  in  hand.'  '  WOLFE 
and  his  confederats  incensed  ye  meaner  sort  of 
people  throughout  the  City  as  they  went,  yat  it 
became  a  common  talke  in  Alehouses,  tauernes 
and  such  like  places,  whereupon  insued  dangerous 
and  vndutifull  speaches  of  her  Maiesties  most 
gracious  gouernment.' 

In  vain  Christopher  Barker  had  furnished  him 
with  work  at  his  own  loss  and  offered  him  'for 
quietness  sake '  even  more  than  reasonable  fur- 
therance in  his  plans,  for  during  their  very  nego- 
tiations 'although  WOLFE  denied  to  haue  any 
more  of  Barkars  Copies  in  Printing  his  seruants 
were  in  work  of  ye  same,  as  within  '4'  houres 
after  was  manifest'  (n,  780).  Thrown  into 
prison  he  continued  to  foment  trouble  by  means 
of  those  who  came  to  see  him,  and  even  to  the 
efforts  of  the  special  Commission  appointed  by  the 
Queen  to  restore  peace  and  order  he  and  his  asso- 
ciates for  a  good  while  turned  a  deaf  ear  until,  not 
long  after  another  search  and  extensive  confis- 
cations made  at  his  house  (i,  499),  he  suddenly 
'  acknowledged  his  error  '  (n,  784)  and  withdrew 
from  the  contest — being  admitted  a  freeman  to  the 
Company,  July  1,  1583  (n,  688) — not  so  much 
induced,  it  seems,  by  the  concessions  which  under 
the  pressure  of  the  situation  and  the  government, 
the  patentees  were  about  to  make  to  all  of  the 
poorer  members  in  common,6  as  by  a  prospect  of 
special  personal  advantages  at  which  he  had  been 
aiming  from  the  first  and  which  he  was  probably 
keen  enough  to  see  might  escape  him  if  he  per- 
sisted longer  in  his  rebellious  attitude.  In  the 
autumn  of  the  following  year  in  fact,  he  and  his 
fellow- agitator,  Frauncis  Adams,  were  given  a 
share  in  the  valuable  patent  of  John  Day,  de- 
ceased, and  his  son  Richard. 

Now  we  do  not  only  find  both  him  and  Adams 
entering  a  complaint  to  the  Queen  against  those 
who  were  unlawfully  exploiting  their  new  patent 
and  serving  them  as  they  themselves  had  served 
others  (n,  790  ff. ),  but  after  the  passage  of  the 
new  Star  Chamber  Decree  for  orders  in  printing 

'January  8,  1584,  the  leading  patentees  relinquished 
their  exclusive  rights  to  a  great  number  of  books  (n, 
786  fit.). 


of  June  23,  1586  (n,  807  ff.),  which,  partly  by 
its  fairness  and  partly  by  its  severity,  put  a  stop 
to  almost  all  disorders,  he  sought  and  obtained  the 
appointment  as  a  Beadle  of  the  Company. 

In  the  discharge  of  the  duties  of  this  office  he 
'  ryd  to  Croydon  for  a  warraunt  of  Roger  Warde, ' 
one  of  his  most  daring  former  colleagues  in  sur- 
reptitious printing  (i,  527),  and  proved  a  relent- 
less executor  of  one  of  the  most  draconic  para- 
graphs of  the  Decree  just  mentioned  against  Robert 
Waldegraue.  '  You  know  that  Walde-graues 
printing  presse  and  Letters  were  taken  away  :  his 
presse  being  timber  /  was  sawen  and  hewed  in 
pieces  /  the  yron  work  was  battered  and  made  vn- 
seruiceable  /  his  Letters  melted  /  with  cases  and 
other  tooles  defaced  (by  John  Woolfe  /  alias 
Machiuill  ( !)  /  Beadle  of  the  Stationers  /  and  most- 
tormenting  executioner  of  Walde-graues  goods), 
etc.' 6  In  1591  Wolfe  had  his  salary  as  a  beadle 
almost  doubled  from  £6  to  £10  =  $300  to  $500, 
according  to  the  present  value  of  money *  ;  in 
1593  he  succeeded  Hugh  Singleton  as  a  Printer 
to  the  City  of  London,8  and  in  1598  finally,  three 
years  before  his  death,  he  was  '  admitted  into  the 
Liuerye'  of  his  Company  (n,  872). 

As  a  publisher  he  certainly  played  '  the  Bees 
part,'  as  Gabriell  Harvey  puts  it  in  the  letter  men- 
tioned in  note  8,  for  during  the  six  years  from 
1588-1593  from  25  per  cent,  to  33  per  cent,  of 
all  books  and  pamphlets  licensed  to  London  pub- 

6  Martin   Marprelate,  The  Epistle  [September-Novem- 
ber, 1588]  in  Arber,  The  English  Schokir's  Library  of  Old 
and  Modern  Works,    No.    11,   p.    22.     Sad  to  say,  John 
Penry,  who  was  credited  with  a  main  share  in  the  writings 
appearing  under  the  pseudonym   of  Martin  Marprelate, 
fared  no  better  at  the  hands  of  the  Anglican  bishops  than 
Giordano  Bruno,  of  whom  we  have  to  speak  later,  did  in 
Eome  and  was  hanged  in  1593  (ibid.,  p.  viiff. ). 

7  Ames-Herbert,   Typographical  Antiquities,  n,  1170. 

8  The  year  when  Wolfe  became  Printer  to  the  City  is 
given  as  1594  i,  xliii,  as  1593  v,  Ix  and  as  1595  v,  181. 
The  true  date  of  his  appointment  is  some  time  between 
April  17,  1593,  the  date  of  an  '  Order  to  the  Lord  Mayor, 
etc. ,  of  London,  for  the  avoidance  [expulsion]  of  beggars, 
etc.',   printed  by  or  for  Hugh   Singleton  (v,  171)  and 
Sept.  16  of  the  same  year,  the  date  of  a  letter  by  Gabriell 
Haruey  'To  my  louing  friend,  John   Wolfe,  Printer  to 
the  Cittie.'     According  to  Arber  (v,  173),  the  title  of 
this  letter  was  :  '  A  new  letter  with  notable  contents.  With 
a  Sonnet.'     The  copy  which  I  used  in  the  British  Museum 
lacked  the  title-page. 


May,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


133 


lishers  belong  to  him.  Although,  probably  owing 
to  his  duties  as  a  printer  to  the  city,  his  share  does 
not  reach  this  figure  again  afterwards,  we  may 
surmise  that  his  death  during  the  first  months  of 
1601,  probably  before  he  had  reached  55  years  of 
age,  was  in  no  small  measure  due  to  the  inde- 
fatigable zeal  and  energy  he  had  displayed  in  all 
his  doings.  The  last  three  books  entered  to  him 
are  :  Disce  Mori.  Learneto  Dye  (Aug.  21,  1600), 
The  Sanctuary  of  A  troubled  soule  (Nov.  13, 
1600),  and  Godly  meditations  vppon  the  most  holie 
Sacrament  of  the  Lordes  supper,  &c.  (Jan.  13, 
1600).  His  widow  did  not  depend  for  her  sup- 
port upon  others,  but  continued  his  business 9  and 
thereby  proved  herself  a  worthy  partner  of  his. 

The  Italian  Hooks  published  by  John  Wolfe. 

The  Italian  books,  to  which  on  account  of  their 
bearing  upon  the  subject  in  hand  some  volumes  of 
Latin  poetry  composed  by  Italians  will  here  be 
added,  form  the  most  curious  part  of  Wolfe's 
many-sided  printing  and  publishing  activity.  For 
together  with  the  works  of  Giordano  Bruno,  printed 
in  London  in  1584  and  1585,  as  is  generally 
believed  by  Thomas  Vautrollier,  and  the  later 
books  of  Petruccio  Ubaldino,  printed  all  or  all 
but  the  last  by  Richard  Field, 10  a  contemporary 
and  fellow  townsman  of  William  Shakespeare, 
from  1592  to  1599,  they  are,  as  far  as  I  am  aware, 
the  only  books  in  the  Italian  language  published 
in  England  during  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth, 
who  was  quite  an  Italian  scholar  herself,  and  for 
a  long  time  afterwards. 

Wolfe's  first  Italian  book  is  at  the  same  time 
the  first  book  which  was  licensed  to  him  as  a  pub- 

9  For  particulars,  see  note  2.     She  did  not  get  any  new 
licenses  in  her  own  name,  however. 

10  Richard  Field  succeeded  Vautrollier  by  either  marry- 
ing hia  daughter  (Ames-Herbert,  /.  c.,  1065  and  1252,  and 
Arber,  v,  Ixiii)  or  his  widow  (Arber  in,  702).    His  claim 
to  Ubaldino'e  Parte  Primadette  breuiDimoslrat.,  etc.,  1592, 
rests  on  the  license  he  obtained  for  it,  Dec.  6,  1591.    I  am 
aware  of  the  fact  that  the  British  Museum  Catalogue  sug- 
gests that  some  of  the  following  books  may  be  printed  away 
from  London  in  Antwerp  ?,  Venice  ?  and  Oxford  ? ,  but  a 
close  typographical  comparison  shows  that  all  were  products 
of  the  same  press,  doubts  being  admissible  only  regarding  the 
last,  the  second  edition  of  the  Vita  di  Carlo  Mayno.     The 
absence  of  licenses  is  accounted  for  by  Ubaldino's  connec- 
tion with  the  Court  during  the  last  years  of  his  life. 


lisher  and  a  printer  (Jan.  17,  1581) — that  of 
1579  had  been  licensed  to  him  as  a  publisher  only 
on  condition  that  it  be  printed  by  John  Charlwood 
(n,  353) — and  the  first  genuine  Italian  book  ever 
printed  in  London,  because  the  story  of  Arnalt  and 
Lucenda11  which  had  appeared  there  six  years 
before  had  been  a  school  book  and  accompanied 
by  a  collateral  English  translation.  Its  title  is  : 
La  |  Vita  di  \  Carlo  Magno  \  Imperadore,  \ 
Scritta  in  Lingua  Italiana  da  Petruccio  \  Ubaldino 
Cittadin  \  Florentine.  \  Flower-de-luce,  apparently 
taken  from  Giunti "  and  hereafter  Wolfe's  most 
frequent  device  here  with  '  Ubique  florescit.'  \ 
Londra,  \  Appresso  Giovanni  Wolfio  Inghilese,  \ 
1581.  |  The  Florentine  author  bids  the  English  to 
whom  the  book  is  dedicated  rejoice  because  '  I'opere 
Italiane  non  men  si  possono  stampar  felicemente  in 
Londra,  che  le  si  stampino  altroue  (essendo  questa 
la  prima)  per  studio,  &  diligenza  di  Giouanni 
Wolfio  suo  cittadino ;  per  la  commodita  del  quale 
altre  opere  potrete  hauer  nella  medesima  lingua  di 
giorno  in  giorno,  se  la  stima  che  farete  di  questa 
sard,  tale,  quale  si  deue  aspettar  da  huomini  desi- 
derosi  di  lunga,  &  honorata  fama,  come  io  ho 
sempre  stimato,  che  siate  voi  fra  tutti  gli  altri  delle 
piu  lodate  nationi  de  i  Christiani.'  John  Wolfe, 
therefore,  is  introduced  by  a  competent  judge  as  a 
competent  printer  of  Italian  books  and  prepared 
to  meet  any  further  demands  that  may  arise  in 
that  line,  and  it  woidd  be  interesting  to  know 
whether  the  '  altre  opere '  refer  to  other  prospective 
literary  efforts  by  Petruccio  Ubaldino  himself,  or 
to  the  works  of  Machiavelli  and  Pietro  Aretino, 
which  were  the  next  Italian  books  of  John  Wolfe's 
to  appear. 

The  following  list  includes  only  those  Italian 
books,  together  with  a  few  Latin  books  written  by 
Italians,  which  were  actually  printed  by  John 
Wolfe,  while  one  which  just  may  have  been 

"The  Pretie  |  and  Wittie  Historic  of  |  Arnalt  and 
Lucenda :  |  With  certen  Eules  and  |  Dialogues  set  foorth 
for  |  the  learner  of  th'Ita-  |  liantong:  |  And  dedicated  vnto 
the  Wor-  |  shipfull,  Sir  Hierom  Bowes  |  Knight.  |  By 
Claudius  Hollyband  Schole-  |  master,  teaching  in  Paules  | 
Churcheyarde  by  the  |  Signe  of  the  |  Lucrece.  |  Dumspiro, 
spero.  |  Imprinted  at  London  |  by  Thomas  Purfoote.  | 
1575. 

12  Compare  e.  </.,  Giunti' g  Second  Edition  of  the  Deca- 
merone,  1582,  colophon,  and  my  remarks  above. 


134 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


printed  by  him  and  others  for  which  licenses  are 
recorded  in  the  Stationers'  Registers,  but  which 
in  reality  were  either  not  printed  in  Italian,  or 
neither  in  Italian  nor  by  him,  or  not  at  all  will  be 
given  later.  The  title  of  c  is  quoted  from  the 
Early  English  Printed  Books  in  the  University 
Library  of  Cambridge,  Vol.  I,  401,  and  that  of 
No.  10,  which  does  not  properly  belong  to  the 
Italian  books,  from  Ames-Herbert's  Typographical 
Antiquities,  n,  1175.  The  remainder  are  taken 
from  the  works  themselves,  but  so  that  those  given 
in  full  before  are  here  only  repeated  in  an  abbre- 
viated form.  Where  a  license  is  recorded  its  date 
is  given  in  parentheses. 

A.  Licensed  : 

1.  Petruecw    Ubaldino,    Vita  di    Carlo   Magno, 
flower-de-luce,   etc.,    Londra,   G.  W.,    1581. 
4°.     (Jan.  17,  1581.) 

B.  Not  licensed  : 

2.  Machiavelli,Discorsi,  palm-tree,  Palermo,  Jan. 
28,  1584.    8°. 

3.  MachiavellifPrencipe,  palm-tree,  Palermo,  Jan. 
28,  1584.    8°. 

4.  Pietro  Aretino,  Ragionamenti  i&  n  with  Com- 
mento   di  Ser  Agresto,  etc.,  no  device,  s.  1., 
1584.    8°.     (Preface  from  Bengodi,  Oct.  21, 
1584.) 

o.  Torquati  Tassi  \  Solymeidos,  \  Liber  Primus 
Lati-  |  nis  numeris  ex-  \  pressus.  A  Scipio 
Gentili.  |  Flower-de-luce  |  Londini.  \  Excu- 
debat  Johannes  Wolfius  \  1584.  4°. 

b.  Scipii  Gentilis  \  Solymeidos  \Libriduopriores  \ 
de  |  Torquati  Tassi  \  Italicis  expressi:  \  Flow- 
er-de-luce |  Londini.  \  Apud  Johannem  Wol- 
fium. |  1584.    4°. 

c.  Torquato  Tasso.  Plutonis  Concilium.  Ex  initio 
quarti  libri  Solymeidos.  Londini.  Apud  Johan- 
nem Wolfium.  1584.    4°. 

d.  Scipii   Gentilis  \  in  xxv.  \  Dauidis  Psalmos  \ 
Epicae  \  Paraphrases.  \  Flower-de-luce.  |  Lon- 
dini |  Apud  Johannem  Wolfium.  \  1584.     4°. 

4.  La  Vita  di  Giulio  \  Agricola  scritta  since-  \  ris- 
simamente  \  da  \  Cornelio  Tadto  suo  Genero.  \ 
Et  Messa  in  volgare  da  Giouan.  Maria  Ma- 
nelli.  |  Arms  of  the  Lord  Robert  Sidney  to 
whom  the  book  is  dedicated.  |  Londra  \  Nella 
Stamperia  di  Giouanni  Wolfio  \  1585.  4°. 


e.  Julii  Caesaris  \  Stellae  \  Nob.  Rom.  \  Colum- 
beidos,  \  Libri  Priores  \  duo.  \  Flower-de- 
luce.  Londini  \  Apud  Johannem  Wolfium.  \ 
1585.  4°.  (Edited  by  Jacobus  Castelvetrius.) 

e*.  The  same  book  without  the  leaf  containing  the 
dedication  to  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  and  with  the 
substitution  of  Lugduni  for  Londini  \  Apud 
Johannem  Wolfium. 

6.  Machiavelli,    Libra   delFArte   della    Guerra, 
palm-tree,  Palermo,  s.  a.   8°. 

6*.  The  same  book  with  the  title  :  I  sette  Libri 
dell'Arte  della  Guerra  and  the  substitution  of 
1587  for  the  palm-tree  and  Palermo. 

Aa.    Licensed  : 

7.  Essamine  di  \  varii  Giudicii  \  de  i  Politici :  e 
della  Dot-  \  trina  e  de  i  fatti  de  i  Pro-  \  testanti 
veri,  &  de  i  Cattolici  Romani.  |  Libri  quattro. 
|  Per  Gio.  Battista  Aurellio.  \  Con  la  tauola, 
etc.  |  Flower-de-luce   with  '  Ubique  floret '  in 
elaborate   setting  |  In  Londra  \  Appresso  Gio- 
uanni Wolfio.  |  1587.     4°.     (May  4,  1587.) 

8.  Macchiavelli,    Historic,    Giglio's   device,    In 
Piacenza,  1587.  12°.     (Sept.  18,  1587.) 

9.  Descrittione  \  del  Regno  di  Scotia,  \  et  \  delle 
Isole  sue  ad-  \  iacenti  di  Petruccio  Vbaldini  \ 
Cittadin  Fiorentino.  \  Nella  quale,  etc.    Flow- 
er-de-luce  as  in   No.    7.  |  Anversa.    \   II  Di 
primo     di    Gennaio.  \  M.  D.  LXXXVIH.     Fol. 

(Nov.  27,  1587.) 

10.  The  Courtier  of  Count  Bald[a]ssar[e]    Cas- 
ti[g\lio,  deuided  into j "owe  Bookes.     In  three 
columns,   English,  French,  Italian.     Printed 
for  the  Cumpany,  etc.     1588.     4°.     (Dec.  4, 

1587.) 

11.  Macchiavelli,  L'Asino  d'  Oro,  part  of  Giglio's 
device,  In  Roma,  1588.   8°.  (Sept.  17,  1588.) 

12.  Pietro  Aretino,  Quattro  Comedie,  head  of  Are- 
tino, s.  1.,  1588.    8°.     (Sept.  20,  1588.) 

13.  Pietro  Aretino,    Ragionamenti  III,   head   of 
Aretino,  s.  1.,  1589.    8°.    (Preface  from  Val- 
cerca,)    (Oct.  14,  1588.) 

14.  Lettera  di   \  Francesco   \  Betti  gentilhuomo  \ 
Romano.  \  All' — S.  Mar-  \  chese  di  Pescara.  \ 
Nella  qual  da  eonto  a  S.  Ecc.  della  cagione 
che  |  I'  ha  mosso  a  partirsi  del  suo  send-  \  gio, 
&  vscir  d' Italia.  \  Stampata  la  seconda  volta, 
etc.  |  Flower-de-luce  |  Londra  \  Appresso  Gio- 
uanni Wolfio.  |  1589  |  8°.     (Dec.  4,  1588.) 


May,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


135 


15.  Le  Vite  del-  |  le  Donne  \  Illustri.  \  Del  Regno 
d'ln-  \  ghilterra,   &   del  Regno  di  Scotia  & 
di  |  quelli,  che  d'altri  paesi  ne  i  due  detti  \ 
Regni  sono  stato  maritate.  \  Doue,  etc.  |  Seritte 
in   lingua  Italiana   da  Petruceio   Ubaldino  \ 
Cittadin  Fiorentino.  \  Flower-de-luce   |   Lon- 
dra  |  Appresso   Giouanni  Volfio.  \  1591.  |  4°. 
(July  23,  1590.) 

Bb.    Not  licensed  : 

16.  II  Pastor  Fido  \  Tragicomedia  \  Pastorale  \  di 
Battista     Guarini.    \  Al    Sereniss.    D.    Carlo 
Emanuele  \  Duca  di  Sauoia   &c.   Dedicata.  \ 
Nelle  Reali  Nozze  di  S.  A.  con  la  Sereniss. 
Infante  \  D.  Caterina  d' Austria.  \  Flower-de- 
luce  |  Londra  \  Giouanni  Volfeo,  a  spese  di  \ 
Giacopo  Casteluetri.  MDXCI.  |  12°.     On  page 
217  follows  :  Aminta  \  Fauola  \  Boscherecda  \ 
del  S.  Torquato  \  Tasso  \  etc. 

(To  be  continued.) 

A.  GEEBEK. 
Flensburg,  Germany. 


THE  AUTHOKSHIP  OF   TWO  SEVEN- 
TEENTH CENTURY  PLAYS. 

I. 

The  Christmas  Ordinary,  a  Private  Show ;  Wherein 
is  expressed  the  Jovial  Freedom  of  that  Festival. 
As  it  was  Acted  at  a  Gentleman's  House  among 
other  Revels.  By  W.  R.  Master  of  Arts.  Lon- 
don. Printed  for  James  Courtney,  at  the 
Golden  Horse-shoo,  on  Saffron  Hill,  1682. 

The  author,  in  his  preface,  has  the  following  to 
say  of  his  work  : 

".  .  .  .  'Tis  the  First- Born  of  a  young  Aca- 
demick  Head,  which  since  hath  been  Deliver'd 
of  most  excellent  Productions.  It  hath  lain  Dor- 
mant almost  half  an  Age,  and  hath  only  crawl'd 
out  in  Manuscript  into  some  few  hands  ;  who 
likeing  the  Entertainment  they  found  in  it, 
thought  it  too  good  a  Morsel  to  be  Devour' d  by 
Moths,  but  suppos'd  it  a  fitter  Bit  to  feed  some 
Bookseller,  and  therefore  wisht  it  might  rather  be 
adranc'd  to  the  Clutches  of  the  one,  than  miser- 
ably be  condemn'  d  to  the  grinders  of  the  other. 

"Here  are  as  Ingenious  Passages,  and  as 
Humorous  Conceits,  and  as  Lively  Descriptions, 


as  any  occurs  in  the  most  celebrated  Dramatick. 
But  if  these  Beautiful  Charms  will  not  in  the 
least  allure  the  Reader,  then  let  the  Deformity  of 
the  Shape  invite  and  draw  him  ;  for  'tis  neither 
exact  Comedy,  Farce,  or  Tragedy,  but  a  spatch'd 
Chimsera  ;  that  hath  somewhat  of  every  one,  and 
the  Spirit,  Flame,  Elixir  of  them  all.  'Tis  a 
Monster  in  Learning,  as  great  as  any  that  occurrs 
in  Nature,  and  if  men  will  not  read  it  for  its 
Ingenuity,  yet  I  hope  they  will  come  see  it,  as  a 
Prodigy,  and  so  gratifie  their  Curiosity,  if  not 
please  their  Fancy. 
Helmdon,  Octob. 

18.  1682.  W.  R." 

From  the  title  and  preface  we  get  the  following 
clews  to  the  author  and  date  of  production  :  (1) 
His  initials  were  W.  R. ;  (2)  he  was  Master  of 
Arts  ;  (3)  he  dated  his  preface  from  Helmdon  in 
1682;  (4)  the  play  was  "the  First-Born  of  a  young 
Academick  Head " ;  and  (5)  it  had  been  acted 
"almost  half  an  Age"  since.  The  author  was 
doubtless  William  Richards,  (1643-1705),  son  of 
Ralph  Richards,  rector  at  Helmdon,  Northamp- 
tonshire. He  entered  Trinity  College,  Oxford,  in 
1658,  proceeded  B.  A.  in  1663,  and  M.  A.  in 
1666  ;  was  appointed  fellow,  took  holy  orders, 
and  preached  at  Marston,  Oxfordshire.  He  set- 
tled at  Helmdon  as  rector  in  1675,  and  was  living 
there  in  1682. '  The  "most  excellent  Produc- 
tions ' '  referred  to  in  the  preface  were :  The 
English  Orator,  or  Rhetorical  Descant  by  Way  of 
Declamation  upon  some  notable  themes,  both  His- 
torical and  Philosophical,  1680;  and  Wallography, 
or  the  Britten  Described,  1682.  The  latter  was 
published  under  his  initials  only,  with  a  preface 
signed  "W.  R.,  Helmdon,  Oct.  24,  1681." 

That  the  play  was  produced  at  Oxford  is  proved 
by  the  following  pleasantry  :  * 

I  have  been  lately  reputed  a  most  renowned 
Cheater,  and  indeed  I  borrow' d  that  Art  of  a 
certain  City-Major,  who  was  properly  married  to 
his  Trade  ;  for  his  Wives  Petty-coat  was  his  best 
Warehouse  ;  whence  he  grew  to  be  the  Frontis- 
peice  of  the  Town  ;  for  the  Ford  he  maintain' d  in 
his  Cellar,  and  the  Ox  in  his  Head. 

On  the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Company,  June 
29,  1660,  was  entered  The  Christmas  Ordinary, 
comedy,  by  Trinity  College,  Oxford.  The  piece 

1  Dictionary  of  National  Biography . 
*  Page  2. 


136 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


was  not  published.*  The  entry  probably  refers  to 
the  play  by  William  Richards,  written  while  he 
was  a  student  at  Trinity  College.  If  so,  the  date 
is  fixed  at  Christmas,  1659.* 

In  spite  of  what  the  author  says,  the  play  is 
very  stupid.  The  plot  is  thus  outlined  in  The 
Argument  : 

"Roger  escaping  from  his  Master  Shab- Quack, 
at  Christmass  Time,  meets  with  Drink-Fight,  and 
joyns  with  him  in  a  Knot  of  Merriment  :  They 
also  inveigle  the  Hermit  and  Astrophil.  Mr. 
Make-peace  being  pensive  at  his  Son's  Departure, 
sends  Humphry  to  enquire  him  out,  who,  in  the 
Disguise  of  a  Traveller,  finds  them  frolicking  at 
an  Ordinary  ;  who  insinuates  himself  into  their 
Mirth  :  Afterwards,  with  false  Dice,  cheats  them, 
and  escapes.  They  afterwards,  wrangling  about 
the  Reckoning,  beat  their  Host,  who  summons 
them  all  before  the  Justice,  and  runs  to  Shab- 
Quack  for  Cure.  Mr.  Make-peace  perceiving  his 
Son  Astrophil  amongst  them,  joyfully  entertains 
him  and  the  rest.  Shab-Quack  pardons  his  Ser- 
vant's Christmass  Merriment,  and  the  Hermit,  in 
a  jolly  Humor,  is  bound  Apprentice  to  the  Host." 

The  prose  is  filled  with  ingenious  scholastic 
conceits.  A  number  of  songs  and  poems  give 
variety.  A  masque  of  "the  Four  parts  of  the 
Year  contending  for  Priority"  is  introduced  in 
the  middle  of  the  play  :  the  speakers  are  Apollo, 
Terra,  Ver,  JSstas,  Autumnus,  and  Hyems. 

One  passage  seems  to  show  a  recollection  of 
Shakespeare  : 

Austin.    .  .  .  Pray,  where  wert  thou  Bred  ? 

Humphry.  Faith,  every  where,  I  am  a  living 
Miscellany  of  all  Customs,  and  I  have  lost  my 
self  into  another  Metemp  [a]  ychosis.  In  Barbary  I 
lost  my  Manners,  in  Hungary  mine  Abstinence  ; 
my  Gentility  in  Sclavonia  ;  in  Spain  I  made  Ship- 
wrack  of  mine  Honesty  ;  in  Germany  of  my 
Religion. 

In  The  Merchant  of  Venice  Portia  exclaims  : 

'See  Biog.  Dram.,  and  Hazlitt's  Manual  of  Old  English 
Plays. 

4  At  this  time  Eichards  was  sixteen  years  old.  Cf.  with 
the  Prologue  : 

Since  all  then  would  seem  candid,  let  none  use 
Satyrick  Rods  to  such  a  Cradle  Muse. 

Again  : 

But  if  our  Infant-Cook  shall  please  your  nice 
Judgment  with  Messes  .... 

In  the  preface  he  refers  to  his  work  as  "the  First-Born  of 
a  young  Academick  Head  '' 


How  oddly  he  is  suited  !  I  think  he  bought  his 
doublet  in  Italy,  his  round  hose  in  France,  his 
bonnet  in  Germany,  and  his  behaviour  every- 
where. 6 

The  author  seems  also  to  show  a  recollection  of 
a  passage,  the  "military  postures"  of  the  pipe, 
in  Wine,  Beere,  Ale,  and  Tobacco  Contending  for 
Superiority.  A  Dialogue.  The  Second  Edition, 
much  enlarged.  London,  1630.' 

Enter  Drink-fight,  Roger,  Astrophil,  Austin  : 
All  with  Pipes  on  their  Shoulders,  and  other  Fur- 
niture. 

Drink-fight.  Now  my  Martial  Volunteers,  to 
instruct  you  in  the  military  Postures  of  the  Pipe, 
and  to  make  you  proficient  Souldiers  in  the  Artil- 
lery of  Tobacco,  Lieutenant,  Serjeant,  &c.  March 
up  in  Ranks — Stand — Stoop  your  Muskets  —Draw 
your  Bandileers — Charge  your  Pieces — Ram  your 
Powder — Prime  your  Pan — Light  your  Match — 
Present — Give  Fire — 

Christmas  Ordinary,  Scene  vii. 

Compare  the  following  from  Wine,  Beere,  Ale, 
and  Tobacco : 

Ale.  Yes,  yes,  I  remember  I  have  heard  him 
reported  a  souldier  ;  and  once  being  in  company 
with  a  knap-jack  man,  a  companion  of  his,  I 
obtained  a  coppy  of  his  military  postures,  which 
put  down  the  pike  and  pot-gun  cleane  :  pray 
observe  'em. 

1.  Take  your  scale. 

2.  Draw  your  box. 

3.  Uncase  your  pipe. 

4.  Produce  your  rammer. 

5.  Blow  your  pipe. 

6.  Open  your  box. 

7.  Fill  your  pipe. 

8.  Ramme  your  pipe. 

9.  Withdraw  your  rammer. 

10.  Return  your  rammer. 

11.  Make  ready. 

5  Such  conceits,  however,  were  very  popular  with  the 
early  dramatists.    Cf.   Lingua,  in,  5,  and  Seven  Deadly 
Sins  (ed.  Arber,  p.  37). 

6  The  title   of  the   first  edition   is  as  follows  :   Wine, 
Beere  and  Ale  together  by  the  Eares.     A  Dialogue,  written 
first  in  Dutch  by   Gallobelgicus,  and  translated  out  of  the 

Originall  Copie  by  Mercurius  Britannicus.  London,  1629. 
This  edition  is  inaccessible  to  me.  The  passage  describing 
the  military  postures  of  the  pipe  probably  appeared  only 
in  the  "enlarged"  edition.  This  "dialogue"  belongs  to 
that  interesting  class  of  university  "shewes,"  of  which 
Band,  Cuffe  and  Ruff,  and  Worke  for  Cutlers  are  represen- 
tatives. 


May,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


137 


Present. 

Elbow  your  pipe. 

Mouth  your  pipe. 

Give  fire. 

Nose  your  Tobacco. 

Puffe  up  your  smoake. 

Spit  on  your  right  hand. 

Throw  off  your  loose  ashes. 

Present  to  your  friend. 

As  you  were. 

dense  your  pipe. 

Blow  your  pipe. 


12. 
13. 
14. 
15. 
16. 
17. 
18. 
19. 
20. 
21. 
22. 
23. 
24.  Supply  your  pipe. 

II. 

The  Launching  of  the  Mary ;  or  The  Seaman's 
Honest  Wife,  is  a  manuscript  play  preserved  in  the 
British  Museum.7  It  is  contained  in  sis.  Egerton 
1994,  a  collection  of  fourteen  manuscripts  bound 
together  and  labelled  English  Plays  of  the  XVII 
Century.  The  Launching  of  the  Mary  is  number 
fourteen,  occupying  ff.  317-349,  inclusive.  It  is 
written  in  a  large  fair  hand.  Apparently  it  is 
the  first  draught,  written  at  different  times,  with 
different  inks,  and  on  different  paper.  Moreover, 
the  manuscript  is  full  of  the  author's  corrections. 
Folio  317  has  simply  the  words  "Anno  1632"; 
f.  318,  recto,  contains  the  title  and  the  dramatis 
personce  ;  verso,  the  prologue  ;  ff.  319-349,  the 
body  of  the  play  ;  f.  349,  verso,  besides  the  con- 
cluding (nine)  lines  of  the  play,  has  the  epilogue, 
and  the  permission  to  act  the  play. 

This  play,  called  ye  Seamen's  Honest  wife,  all 
ye  oathes  left  out  in  ye  action  as  they  are  crosst  in  ye 
book  and  all  other  Reformations  strictly  observ'd, 
may  bee  acted,  not  otherwyse.  This  27  June, 
1633. 

HENRY  HERBERT. 

I  command  your  Bookeeper  to  present  me  with 
a  faire  Copy  hereafter  and  to  leave  out  all  oathes, 
prophaness  and  publick  Ribaldry,  as  he  will 
answer  it  at  his  peril. 

HERBERT. 

Clews  to  the  authorship  of  the  play  are  found  in 
the  title,  The  Lanchinge  of  the  Mary  written  by 
W.  M.  gent  in  his  returns  from  East  India.  Ad. 
1682,  (the  Prologue  states  further,  "This  was 
done  at  sea  " ) ;  and  in  the  fact  that  the  play  is 

7  A  short  selection  from  this  play  was  printed  by  Bullen, 
Old  English  Plays,  u,  432. 


little   more  or  less    than  a   eulogy  of  the  East 
India  Company. 

The  author  was  probably  William  Methold  (d. 
1653).  He  entered  the  service  of  the  East  India 
Company  in  1615,  and  was  rapidly  promoted. 
That  he  was  familiar  with  the  pen  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  in  1626  he  contributed  to  the  fifth 
volume  of  Purchas' s  Pilgrimes,  a  narrative  entitled 
Relations  of  the  Kingdome  of  Golchonda  and  other 
neighbouring  Nations  within  the  Gulfe  of  Bengala. 
\ye  know  that  in  1632  he  was  in  London,  for  in 
June  of  that  year  he  acted  as  deputy  of  Humphrey 
Leigh  as  swordbearer  of  the  city  of  London.  In 
the  following  year,  1633,  he  was  sent  by  the 
Company  to  Surat  in  an  important  capacity.8 

In  a  letter  from  William  Methold  to  his  wife, 
written  from  Surat,  December  22,  1634,  is  a 
reference  to  the  Mary '  : 

"  The  affections  of  my  soule  contracted  into  such 
a  quintessence  as  might  be  contayned  in  one  poore 
letter  presentes  themselves  unto  thee  in  a  double 
koppy,  the  one  of  them  inclosed  unto  ye  honble 
East  India  Company,  the  other  by  Mr.  Barker, 
and  yf  the  royall  Mary 10  arrived  in  safety  I  make 
no  secret  [?]  that  bothe  of  them  came  seasonably 
to  thy  handes." 


JOSEPH  QUINCY  ADAMS,  JR. 


Cornell  University. 


THE  COUNCIL   OF  REMIREMONT. 

In  the  Zeitschrift  fur  deutsches  Alterthum  of 
1849  (vol.  vii,  pp.  160-167),  G.  Waitz  pub- 
lished a  Latin  poem  of  two  hundred  and  thirty- 
nine  hexameter  verses  in  leonine  rhyme,  to  which 
he  gave  the  name  of  Das  Liebesconcil.  The  manu- 
script which  he  followed  seemed  to  belong  to  the 
eleventh  or  twelfth  century.  Many  years  later, 
in  1877,  Waitz  printed  in  the  same  journal  (vol. 
xxi,  pp.  65-68)  some  emendations  to  the  text, 
which  he  had  found  in  a  copy  made  by  Pertz 
from  another  manuscript.  In  1880  B.  Haureau 

8  Dictionary  of  National  Biography. 
"British  Museum.   Addit.  MS.  11,268. 
10  Cf.  f.  347  of  the  play  :  "A  royal  shippe  and  heaves  a 
royall  name." 


138 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


mentioned  the  poem — under  the  title  of  Le  Concile 
de  Remiremont — as  an  imitation  of  the  Alter catio 
Phyllidis  el  Florae,  and  assigned  it  to  the  four- 
teenth century.1  In  1886  Paul  Meyer  expressed 
the  opinion  that  it  belonged  to  the  first  years  of 
the  twelfth  century.'  G.  Grober  also  pronounces 
in  favor  of  the  twelfth  century,  but  without  re- 
stricting the  time  to  any  part  of  the  century.8 

The  Council  of  Remiremont  is  a  very  interesting 
specimen  of  mediaeval  Latin  literature,  but  its  date 
would  be  of  little  consequence  were  it  definitely 
fixed  in  the  last  third  of  the  twelfth  century.  In 
that  period  it  would  find  associates,  both  in  Latin 
and  in  the  vernacular.  Its  presence  in  a  fairly 
numerous  company  would  not  be  particularly  sig- 
nificant. On  the  other  hand,  if  the  Council  was 
composed  before  the  Crusade  of  1147,  or,  as  Paul 
Meyer  would  seem  to  believe,  before  Geoffrey  of 
Monmouth's  Historia  Britonum,  its  position  in  the 
literary  history  of  the  Middle  Ages  becomes  a 
commanding  one.  We  would  then  be  compelled 
to  agree  with  E.  Langlois  that  it  is  the  earliest 
example  of  mediaeval  amatory  verse  which  has 
come  down  to  us.1 

Of  the  dates  proposed  for  the  Council,  the  one 
suggested  by  HaurSau,  of  the  fourteenth  century, 
is  undoubtedly  wrong.  Pertz,  and  Waitz  too,6 
can  hardly  have  gone  so  far  astray  as  to  the  date 
of  the  Trier  manuscript.  Besides,  the  ideas 
advanced  by  the  author  of  the  Council  are  the 
ideas  in  vogue  under  Louis  VII  and  Philip  Augus- 
tus. It  is  not  probable  that  they  were  revived 
in  this  one  instance  under  the  Valois.  For  the 
other  extreme,  the  approximate  date  mentioned  by 
Paul  Meyer,  there  are  objections,  if  we  subscribe  to 
the  accepted  views  of  mediaeval  literature.  The 
sentiments  to  which  the  poem  gives  expression  are 
generally  supposed  to  have  been  formulated  in  the 
courts  of  France,  Champagne  and  Flanders  after 
the  contact  of  French  nobles  with  Provenyal  cul- 
ture, or  during  the  third  quarter  of  the  twelfth 
century.  An  analysis  of  the  Council  shows  at 
once  how  excellent  a  representative  of  romantic 

1  Nolicet  et  Eztraits  de*  Manuscrits,  etc.,  vol.  xxix,  2,  p. 
309. 
1 Romania,  xv,  p.  333. 

*  Grundriss,  u,  p.  421. 

*  Oriyines  et  Sources  du  Roman  de  la  Rose,  p.  6. 
'See  PerU'  Archiv,  VHI,  p.  598. 


literature  it  is,    the  romanticism  of  the  Latin 
Renaissance  : 

The  Council  of  Remiremont  is  a  parody  on 
a  church  council.  It  discloses  an  assembly  of 
women,  nuns,  not  monks,  where  the  deliberations 
pertain  to  love,  not  religion.  As  the  story  goes, 
this  council  of  unusual  composition  was  held 
during  the  Ides  of  April  at  the  abbey  of  Remire- 
mont in  the  diocese  of  Toul.  No  man  was  allowed 
a  seat  in  the  assembly,  but  ' '  honesti  clerici ' '  might 
be  spectators.  Old  women  inimical  to  ' '  gaudium ' ' 
were  also  excluded.  The  proceedings  were  opened 
by  reading  the  Gospel  according  to  Ovid,  and  con- 
tinued by  the  singing  of  love  songs.  Then  a 
"cardinalis  domina"  took  the  chair  and  asked 
for  silence.  She  was  a  royal  maiden,  a  daughter 
of  Spring,  clad  in  a  dress  of  many  colors  hung 
with  a  thousand  flowers  of  May.  Addressing  all 
those  who  gloried  in  love  and  in  the  amatory 
delights  of  April  and  May,  she  announced  herself 
to  be  the  envoy  of  Amor,  the  god  of  all  lovers. 
Her  mission  was  to  visit  the  nuns  of  Remiremont 
and  search  into  their  lives.  Therefore,  all  of 
them  should  confess  what  their  manner  of  living 
was.  She  would  correct  them  and  be  indulgent 
to  them. 

This  address  of  the  "cardinalis  domina"  was 
responded  to  by  Elisabeth  des  Granges,  who  de- 
clared that  they  all  served  Amor,  and  consorted 
with  monks  only,  a  statement  which  was  at  once 
supported  by  Elisabeth  du  Faucon.  The  love  of 
clerks,  she  said,  who  are  affable,  pleasing,  honor- 
able men,  who  know  not  desertion  or  slander,  but 
who  are  expert  in  love,  generous  in  gifts,  is  far 
preferable  to  the  love  of  knights,  as  the  nuns  had 
found  out  by  bitter  experience.  This  unfavorable 
opinion  is  further  upheld  by  Agnes.  Knights' 
love  is  forbidden,  illicit.  Then  Bertha  adds  her 
testimony  to  the  advantage  of  an  alliance  of  Amor, 
"  juventutis  gaudium, "  with  clerks.  Finally,  the 
assembly  in  chorus  proclaims  its  intention  to  love 
clerks  with  the  consent  of  the  "cardinalis  do- 
mina," a  consent  at  once  given,  for  she  sees  no 
"useful  "  lovers  save  clerks. 

But  there  are  a  few  friends  of  knights  present 
and  they  protest  against  such  a  verdict.  They, 
for  their  part,  had  found  the  love  of  knights 
pleasing.  Knights  study  how  they  may  win  their 
ladies'  favors.  To  accomplish  this  result  they  fear 


May,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


139 


neither  wounds  nor  death.  The  clerks'  advocates 
rejoin  that  knights  are  fickle  and  garrulous.  They 
betray  their  love  affairs.  Therefore,  they  would 
advise  that  the  love  of  knights  be  condemned. 

The  greater  number  incline  to  this  opinion,  and, 
in  obedience  to  the  will  of  the  majority,  the  "car- 
dinalis  domina  ' '  orders  that  nuns  who  love  knights 
be  refused  admittance  to  their  circle,  until  they 
repent,  receive  absolution  and  promise  to  sin  no 
more.  To  this  general  decree  she  adds  other  and 
explicit  commands,  that  nuns  must  be  content 
with  one  lover  only,  under  the  penalty  of  the 
council's  ban,  and  he  should  be  a  clerk  who  will 
not  reveal  their  secrets.  She  calls  on  them  to 
affirm  whether  or  not  this  is  their  opinion.  All 
assent,  ' '  sedens  in  concilio. ' '  The  decree  is  to 
be  published  in  churches  and  cloisters,  and  ana- 
thema will  be  pronounced  on  the  disobedient.  An 
' '  Excommunicatio  rebellarum, ' '  in  set  terms  suited 
to  the  language  of  Pagan  mythology,  ends  the 
poem. 

What  light  do  the  contents  of  the  Council  of 
Remiremont  throw  on  its  place  in  mediaeval  litera- 
ture ?  They  show  that  allusions  to  Spring,  to 
April  and  May,  have  become  conventional  in  lyric 
poetry,  that  "joy"  (gaudiwn~)  in  its  technical 
sense,  and  "joy  of  youth"  (Amor,  deus  omnium, 
juventutis  gaudium,  1.  101)  have  become  accli- 
mated in  North  France,  and  that  Ovid' s  authority 
in  amatory  matters  is  unquestioned.  Of  these 
characteristics,  the  first  marks  the  verses  of  Wil- 
liam IX,  thus  dating  from  the  first  years  of  the 
twelfth  century,  at  least.  The  second — "joy" 
in  its  meaning  of  love  or  as  an  attribute  of  love — 
is  commonly  held  to  be  of  Proven9al  origin — per- 
haps because  of  the  lack  of  French  documents — 
and  is  supposed  to  have  entered  into  the  phrase- 
ology of  the  Northern  poets  after  the  Crusade  of 
1147.  For  the  third,  we  know  that  Ovid's  erotic 
works  had  long  been  admired  by  Latin  writers. 
They  are  cited  by  French  and  Provencal  poets 
who  wrote  towards  the  middle  of  the  century.* 
But  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  Art  amatoria  would 
have  been  substituted  for  the  Gospel  (quasi  evange- 
lium)  in  the  early  part  of  the  reign  of  Louis  VII, 

•See  Everard's  translation  of  Goto  in  Ausgaben  und 
Abhandlungen,  no.  47,  strophe  74 ; — Richeut  (11.  746- 
749)  in  M&m's  Nauxcau  RecueU; — Uc  Catola  and  Marca- 
brun  in  Appel's  Chrestomathie,  no.  85,  11.  37-39. 


or  whether  indeed  the  very  conception  of  a  parody 
on  church  councils  would  have  been  tolerated  in 
that  devout  period.  The  structure  of  the  Council 
is  really  one  of  a  debate  between  women  on  sub- 
jects pertaining  to  love,  a  kind  of  cour  d' amour 
held  in  a  convent.  Such  an  idea  would  rather 
suit  the  years  when  the  influence  of  Eleanor  of 
Poitou  and  her  daughters  had  become  predominant 
in  court  circles,  or  the  sixth  and  seventh  decades 
of  the  twelfth  century.  One  statement  of  the 
nuns,  that  clerks 

Laudant  nos  in  omnibus  rithmis  atque  versibus  (1.  146) 

would,  in  fact,  better  apply  to  the  generation 
following  the  Crusade  of  1147.  For  lyric  forms, 
whether  in  French  or  Latin,  attained  variety  in 
North  France  only  after  the  introduction  of  Pro- 
venc^l  models  about  that  time. 

To  these  inferences  in  favor  of  a  comparatively 
late  date  in  the  century  for  the  composition  of  the 
Council,  may  be  added  a  decisive  argument  per- 
haps. When  the  few  nuns  who  prefer  knights  to 
clerks  rally  to  defend  their  lovers,  they  advance 
the  claim  that  in  addition  to  their  other  merits 
knights  try  to  win  them  by  their  exploits  : 

Audaces  ad  prelia  sunt  pro  nostri  gratia  : 

Ut  si  nos  habeant,  et  si  nobis  placeant, 

Nulla  timent  aspera,  nee  mortem,  nee  vulnera. 

(11.  116-118.) 

Here  we  find  the  fundamental  definition  of  "  cor- 
toisie."  The  man  solicits  the  woman's  love,  not 
the  woman  the  man's.  And  to  please  her  he 
does  deeds  at  arms,  unhorses  all  comers  at  any 
risk.  '  Furthermore,  the  passage  in  the  Council 
shows  that  the  idea  was  fully  formed.  The  stage 
of  its  development  had  passed.  Now  the  par- 
ticular epoch  in  which  this  development  is  gup- 
posed  to  have  taken  place  is  the  reign  of  Henry  I 
of  England.  The  customs  of  ' '  courteous  ' '  society 
found  their  first  eulogist  in  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth 
towards  the  end  of  that  reign.  They  made  their 
appearance  in  French  literature  with  the  Roman 
de  Thbbes,  for  the  early  chansons  de  toils  are  not 
' '  cortois  ' '  in  tone.  There  is  therefore  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  a  poem  hailing  from  Lorraine, 
which  takes  the  ideal  of  "  cortoisie  "  for  granted, 
antedates  the  general  acceptation  of  that  ideal  by 
the  court  circles  of  the  Continent.  Rather  the 
contrary  would  be  the  case.  The  poet  must  have 


140 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


addressed  himself  to  an  audience  which  fully 
admitted  "cortoisie,"  at  least  in  this  essential 
respect  of  winning  a  lady's  favors  by  deeds  at 
arms. 

Another  evidence  of  the  presence  of  a  developed 
"cortois"  sentiment  may  be  seen  in  the  com- 
mands of  the  "carclinalis  domina"  to  her  nuns 
concerning  their  attitude  towards  their  suitors. 
She  bids  them  keep  themselves  for  clerks  only  : 

Ne  vos  detis  vilibus  unquam  et  militibua 
Tactum  vestri  corporis,  vel  coxe,  vel  femoris. 

(11.  185-186.) 

Apart  from  the  sensuality  of  the  lines,  which 
would  point  to  the  existence  of  a  considerable 
amount  of  verse  of  the  same  sort,  the  question 
naturally  suggests  itself  why  "  vilibus,"  a  general 
term,  should  be  used  in  close  contrast  with  ' '  mili- 
tibus,"  the  name  of  a  particular  class.  An  obvious 
answer  to  this  question  would  be  that  "vilibus" 
is  a  synonym  for  "  villanis,"  and  is  substituted 
here  for  "villanis"  in  order  to  satisfy  the  re- 
quirements of  both  rhyme  and  rhythm.  Should 
this  assumption  be  correct,  we  would  then  find 
grouped  together  the  three  classes  of  feudal 
society,  which  were  recognized  by  the  court  poets 
of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries,  the  clerks, 
the  knights,  and  the  villains. 

Through  internal  evidence  we  are  therefore  led 
to  this  conclusion  :  The  Council  of  Remiremont, 
with  its  romantic  spirit  and  amatory  sentiment, 
would  come  later  in  the  century  than  Thebes  or 
Wace's  Bnd,  and  probably  later  than  the  first 
works  of  Gautier  d' Arras  and  Chre'tien  de  Troyes. 
To  admit  that  it  antedates  them  would  be  to 
reverse  the  generally  received  opinions  regarding 
the  development  of  court  poetry  in  North  France. 
We  would  therefore  place  the  Council  not  earlier 
than  1160,  and  preferably  not  earlier  than  Chre'- 
tien's  la  Charrette.  Waitz'  statement  regarding  the 
date  of  the  Trier  manuscript,  and  Paul  Meyer's 
belief  that  the  Council  is  the  product  of  the 
generation  of  Henry  I  argue  against  the  validity 
of  this  conclusion.  But  we  think  that  a  close 
examination  of  the  manuscript  might  extend  the 
time  limits  set  by  Waitz,  and  perhaps  modify  Paul 
Meyer's  attitude  toward  the  question.  If  it  does 
not,  it  would  then  be  in  order  to  change  our  views 


regarding   the   rise   of  mediaeval   literature  to  a 
somewhat  radical  extent. 

F.  M.  WARREN. 

Yale  University. 


MILTON'S  'SPHERE  OF  FORTUNE.' 

For  him  I  reckon  not  in  high  estate 
Whom  long  descent  of  birth, 
Or  the  sphere  of  fortune  raises. 

These  lines  of  the  Chorus  in  Samson  Agonistes 
(170-172),  which  seem  clear  enough  at  first,  lead 
one  on  closer  examination  to  ask  what  Milton 
meant  by  'the  sphere  of  fortune.'  In  ancient 
and  mediaeval  tradition  it  was  not  by  her  sphere, 
but  by  her  wheel,  that  Fortuna  wrought  vicissi- 
tude in  the  conditions  of  men.1 

Praecipitem  movet  illam  rotam,  motusque  laborem 
Nulla  quies  claudit,  nee  sistunt  otia  motnm. 
Nam  cum  saepe  manum  dextram  labor  ille  fatiget, 
Laeva  nianus  succedit  ei,  fessaeque  sorori 
Succurrit,  motumque  rotae  velocius  urget. 
Cujus  turbo  rapax,  raptus  celer,  impetus  anceps, 
Involvens  homines,  a  lapsus  turbine  nullum 
Excipit,  et  cunctos  fati  ludibria  ferre 
Cogit,  et  in  varios  homines  descendere  casus. 
Hos  premit,  hos  relevat ;  hos  dejicit,  erigit  illos. 
Summa  rotae  dum  Croesus  habet,  tenet  infima  Codrus, 
Julius  ascendit,  descendit  Magnus,  et  infra 
Sulla  jacet,  surgit  Marius  ;  sed  cardine  verso 
Sulla  redit,  Marius  premitur  ;  sic  cuncta  vicissim 
Turbo  rapit,  variatque  vices  fortuna  voluntas. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  sphere  is  simply  an 
unemployed  accessory  of  the  goddess  Fortuna,  or, 
at  most,  a  means  of  locomotion  ; 2  it  is  '  entweder 
das  Symbol  ihres  stets  wandelbaren  Wesens,  oder 
driickt,  wenn  sie,  wie  z.  B.  auf  den  Wandge- 
malden,  deutlich  als  Weltkugel  erscheint,  ihre 
weltherrschende  Macht  aus.'  * 

1  Cf.  Tibullus  1.  5.  70  ;  Seneca,  Agamemnon  71  ;  Boe- 
thius.  De  Cons.  Phil.  2,  Prose  2  ;  Chaucer,  Knights  Tale 
67.  The  most  elaborate  description  of  her  wheel  is  found 
in  Alain  de  Lille's  picture  of  the  goddess  and  her  abode 
in  his  allegorical  poem,  Anti-Clavdianus,  Bk.  8,  Ch.  1 
(Migne,  Pair.  Lot.  210.  560).  [Cf.  Publ.  of  the  M.  L.  A. 
of  A.,  vm,  303  f.  ;  M.  L.  N.,  vm,  230  f.,  235  f.;  ix,  95. 
— J.  W.  B.] 

'Cf.  Plutarch,  De  Fortuna  Romanorum4. 

*  Peter,  in  Roscher,  Lexikim  der  Griechischen  und  Romi- 
schen  Mythologie  1.  1505. 


May,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


141 


The  sphere  which  Milton  substitutes  for  the 
wheel  of  Fortune  seems  not  to  be  any  distortion 
or  adaptation  of  the  traditional  sphere,  but  quite 
a  different  one,  based  apparently  upon  the  con- 
ception found  in  Dante.  The  relevant  lines  are 
the  following  (Inf.  7.  73-92)  : 

Colui  lo  cui  saper  tutto  trascende, 

Fece  li  cieli,  e  die  lor  chi  conduce, 

Si  che  ogni  parte  ad  ogni  parte  splende, 
Distribuendo  egualmente  la  luce  : 

Similemente  agli  splendor  niondani 

Ordind  general  ministra  e  duce, 
Che  permutasse  a  tempo  li  ben  vani, 

Di  gente  in  gente  e  d'uno  in  altro  sangue, 

Oltre  la  difension  de'  senni  umani. 


Questa  provvede,  giudica  e  persegue 

Suo  regno,  come  il  loro  gli  altri  Dei. 
Le  sue  permutazion  non  hanno  triegue  : 

Necesaita  la  fa  esser  veloce, 

Si  spesso  vien  chi  vicenda  consegue. 
Quest'  6  colei  ch'  6  tanto  posta  in  croce 

Pur  da  color  che  le  dovrian  dar  lode, 

Dandole  biasmo  a  torto  e  mala  voce. 
Ma  ella  s'  6  beata,  e  ci6  non  ode : 

Con  1'  altre  prime  creature  lieta 

Volve  sua  spera,  e  beata  si  gode. 

A  better  illustration  than  this  of  Dante's  tolerant 
attitude  towards  the  ancient  mythology  could  not 
be  cited.  It  was  his  belief  that  the  Greeks  and 
Romans,  in  their  ignorance  of  the  true  God,  had 
nevertheless  recognized,  though  imperfectly,  many 
of  his  spiritual  agents  who  control  the  motions  of 
the  spheres,  and  had  worshiped  them  as  their  gods 
and  goddesses.  This  general  conception  is  clearly 
set  forth  in  the  Convito,  2.  5  and  6.  As  Dr. 
Moore  has  shown  (Studies  in  Dante  1.  163),  it 
appears  in  primitive  form  in  Plato's  Timaeus, 
and  is  modified  by  St.  Augustine  to  the  general 
form  in  which  Dante  presents  it  (De  Oivitate 
Dei  7.  28).  But  the  representation  of  Fortune 
as  controlling  the  motions  of  her  proper  sphere  in 
the  manner  of  the  other  gods,  seems  to  be  original 
with  Dante,  and  is  the  natural  corollary  of  the 
doctrine  which  he  received  from  St.  Augustine.* 

If  in  Milton's  sphere  of  fortune  we  have  an 
allusion  to  Dante's  attitude  towards  paganism,  it 

4  Parts  of  the  passage  on  Fortune  in  the  Inferno  are 
founded  upon  Boethius,  De  Cms.  Phil.  2.  Met.  1  and 
Prose  2  (Moore,  Studies  in  Dante  1.  285)  :  but  Boethius 
shows  no  trace  of  this  conception  of  Fortune's  sphere. 


cannot  but  be  interesting,  not  to  say  significant, 
to  any  student  of  Milton's  relation  to  the  classics. 
If  the  allusion  is  slight,  it  nevertheless  points  to 
the  most  significant  and  beautiful  line  in  Dante's 
description— 

Volve  sua  spera,  e  beata  si  gode. 

Milton  seems  never  to  have  been  wholly  at  one 
with  himself  about  classical  myths.  He  is  con- 
tinually making  such  use  of  them  as  shows  a  deep 
appreciation  both  of  their  beauty  and  their  truth  ; 
yet  he  occasionally  seems  to  suffer  a  revulsion 
of  feeling,  and  shrinks  from  them  as  from  some- 
thing pagan,  and  therefore  diabolical.5 

Dante's  position  was  at  once  more  catholic  and 
more  just  than  Milton's  ;  he  succeeded  in  relating 
the  old  religion  closely  and  harmoniously  to  his 
own.  It  is  pleasant  to  think  that  in  one  of  his 
last  allusions  to  classical  mythology,  Milton  may 
have  been  considering  an  interpretation  of  pagan- 
ism which  was  even  nobler  than  such  as  he  had 
given. 

It  may  be  observed  in  passing  that  Milton  would 
not  have  heard  the  line, 

Necessita  la  fa  esser  veloce, 

without  being  reminded  of  the  famous  episode  in 
the  Tenth  Book  of  the  Republic,  where  Necessity 
and  her  daughters,  the  Fates,  preside  over  the 
revolutions  of  the  spheres.  That  the  episode  was 
a  memorable  one  with  him  may  be  inferred  from 
the  noble  use  which  he  made  of  it  in  Arcades 
61-73,  many  years  before. 


CHARLES  G.  OSGOOD,  JK. 


Princeton  University. 


ETYMOLOGIES  FRANCAISES. 

Cotret  =  cort  +  eret  (  <  -ARICIUS). 

Le  Didionnaire  General  dit  que  cotret  (dent 
aussi  coteret)  est  d'origine  inconnue.  M.  Thomas, 
dans  la  precieuse  6tude  qu'il  a  publie'e  depuis  peu 
sur  le  suffixe  -ARICIUS,  *  a  indique'  1'origine  du 

6  P.  L.  1.  506-525  ;  P.  B.  2.  174-191. 
'Antoine  Thomas,  Nnuveaux  essais  de  philologie  fran- 
faise,  Paris,  1904,  pp.  83-84. 


142 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


mot  pris  dans  ses  deux  sens  techniques,  en  ajou- 
tant  que  cotret  au  sens  de  "fagot  de  menu  bois" 
est  moins  facile  a  expliquer  ;  toutefois,  il  semble 
croire  que  dans  ce  sens  aussi,  cotret  aurait  la  meme 
etymologic  que  dans  les  sens  techniques,  c'est-a- 
dire  representerait  COSTA  +  ARICIUS,  et  il  cite  a 
ce  sujet  P  opinion  de  M.  Tobler  qui  "  suppose  que 
le  mot  s'est  d'abord  applique1  aux  rondins  qui 
soutiennent  les  cotes  des  voitures,  puis  aux  rondins 
d'un  fagot,  puis  au  fagot  Iui-m6me." 

Je  m' imagine  que  Phistoire  du  mot  est  plus 
simple.  D'abord,  1'a  de  la  forme  costerez,  le  plus 
ancien  exemple  rapporte"  par  le  Dictionnaire  Gene- 
ral,  ne  doit  pas  faire  illusion,  puisque  la  date, 
1332,  permet  de  conside"rer  cette  lettre  comme 
purement  graphique.  Ensuite,  ce  qui  caract6rise 
surtout  ce  fagot,  c'est  qu'il  est  court  ainsi  que  les 
batons  qui  le  composent.  Or,  si  1'on  ajoute  a 
1'ancienne  forme  cort  le  repre'sentant  fra^ais  du 
suffixe  -ARIOIUS,  on  a  *corterez 2  qui  peut  sans 
doute  avoir  perdu  la  premiere  r  par  simple  dis- 
similation ;  mais,  ay  ant  6gard  a  ce  qu'exprime 
notre  vocable  et  par  consequent  a  sa  nature  rusti- 
que,  il  est  plus  probable  que  nous  avons  affaire  a 
un  cas  d'amuissement  par  assimilation  de  la  den- 
tale  vibrante  a  la  dentale  explosive  qui  la  suit. 
Li'  amuissement  de  1'r  dans  ces  conditions  devait 
6tre  un  phe'nomene  accompli  au  treiziSme  et  qua- 
torziSme  siecles  dans  la  plupart  des  dialectes  ou 
patois  qui  presentent  de  DOS  jours  cette  particu- 
larite'.  On  trouve  le  m6me  phe'nomene  de  phon6- 
tique  dans  deux  derives  de  1'adjectif  court  enre- 
gistre's  par  Littr6,  a  savoir  coutauder,  pour 
courtauder,  et  conston  (I's  ne  se  prononce  pas), 
forme  dialectale  de  eourton  ' '  brins  courts  de 
chanvre. ' '  *  Cotret  done,  quand  il  designe  un 
fagot  court  ou  un  des  courts  batons  qui  le  com- 
posent, n'est  qu'une  forme  dialectale  de  ce  qui 
serait  en  frangais  normal  *courteret,  et  I's  de 
Porthographe  du  moyen  age  n'est  que  le  r6sultat 
d'une  confusion  avec  costerez  de'rive'  de  coste. 


2  Cf.  la  forme  feminine  corterece  dans  le  livre  precitd  de 
M.  Thomas,  p.  360. 

3  (Dependant  le  Dictionnaire  General,  s.  \.  eourton,  dit  que 
"  quelques  dictionnaires  donnent  a  tort  couston  dans  le 
mfeme  sens."     Je  suis   d'avis,  au  contraire,  qu'on   doit 
voir  dans  cette  dernifire  forme  une  prononciation  dialec- 
tale de  la  premieTe,  et  que  I's  n'a  £t£  introduite  dans  la 
graphic  que  par  confusion  avec  un  mot  different,  couton 
(=v.  fr.  cosion  et  prov.  mod.  coustoun), 


Deche  <  *DiSTICA  (8vOTt>Xa). 

On  n'a  pas  fait  accueil,  et  pour  cause,  a  1' ex- 
plication du  mot  deche  "misere,  manque  d' ar- 
gent"  par  quelque  derive"  de  debere,  explication 
que  Scheler  avait  proposed  dubitativement.  Dans 
le  Larousse  se  trouve  une  histoire  de  pure  fan- 
taisie  selon  laquelle  ce  mot  serait  redevable  de  la 
vie  a  la  prononciation  fautive  du  mot  deception 
par  un  acteur  allemand.  Quant  au  Dictionnaire 
General,  il  dit  que  c'est  peut-6tre  un  substantif 
verbal  de  dechoir,  ce  qui  ne  serait  phone'tiquement 
possible  que  par  abridgement  argotique  de  dechet, 
comme  dans  occase  pour  occasion. 

Pour  confirmer  les  doutes  qu'on  peut  avoir  sur 
cette  origine,  on  n'a  qu'a  comparer  deehe  au  mot 
dttse  qui  se  trouve  dans  le  glossaire  du  patois  des 
Fourgs  (Doubs)  et  qui  est  ainsi  con9U  :  "  Detse, 
s.  f.,  accident,  dommage,  blessure  ;  sin.  man  et 
sin  detse,  sans  mal  et  sans  dommage."  *  Voila 
bien,  je  crois,  le  me'ine  mot  et  qui  ne  fait  pas 
Peffet  d'un  emprunt  r6cent  a  P  argot  parisien,  car, 
pour  ne  rien  dire  des  significations,  la  phrase 
toute  faite  qui  est  citee  a  Pair  de  venir  de  loin,  et 
il  y  a  bonne  chance  que  deche,  detse  ait  appartenu 
au  plus  ancien  fond  de  la  langue. 

Je  voudrais  proposer  pour  ce  mot  une  etymo- 
logic qui  est  inattaquable  sous  le  double  rapport 
de  la  phone'tique  et  de  la  se'mantique.  Les  dic- 
tionnaires grecs  nous  font  savoir  qu'on  employait 
au  lieu  du  substantif  at  Svorux"",  le  neutre  pluriel 
de  1'adjectif  Svcrrux'fc,  c'est-a-dire  ra  SUO-TVX^  :  le 
sens  "malheur,  besoin,  misere"  est  le  m^me  que 
celui  de  dtche,  detse.  Adopt6  par  le  latin  popu- 
laire  comme  substantif  f6minin  singulier,  ainsi  que 
d'autres  neutres  pluriels  grecs,  Svo-rvx*)  serait 
devenu  *DISTICA  selon  les  lois  de  P  accentuation 
latine.  On  trouve  meme  pour  1'adjectif  grec,  au 
lieu  de  5vo-Tvxn*>  •««>  la  forme  SutrroxoS)  -<w,  dont 
le  neutre  pluriel  Su'crTD^a  serait  encore  plus  proche 
de  la  forme  latine  proposed.  ^D^TiOA  en  pas- 
sant par  *desca,  *desche  devient  d'eche  en  fran9ais, 
tandis  que  dans  le  patois  des  Fourgs  il  doit  donner 
detse,  tout  comme  dans  le  m6me  patois  ttsea  donne 
letse  et  plscat  donne  pHse. 5 

On  doit  ajouter  que  si  le  mot  n'existe  a  Paris 
que  depuis  une  date  assez  rlcente,  ce  qui  parait 

*  Mem.  de  fa  Soe.  (Pemul.  du  Dwbs,  1864,  p.  258. 
"Ibid.,  p.  300  et  324, 


May,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


143 


bien  probable,  et  qu'il  ne  vienne  pas  du  territoire 
francien,  rien  n'empecherait  qu'on  1'eut  apporte 
de  la  Franche-Comte  me'ine,  car  les  habitants  de 
cette  province  doivent  naturellement  franciser 
dUse  en  deche  seloa  la  correspondance  de  petse, 
peche  et  letse,  laiche. 

Palier  <  *PEDALARIUM. 

Le  Dictionnaire  General  dit  que  le'  mot  palier 
est  d'origine  inconnue,  mais  il  fait  justement 
observer  que  la  plus  ancienne  forme  enregistree 
par  Godefroy  dans  une  citation  de  1328  est  paalier, 
c'est-a-dire  trissyllabe,  et  par  consequent  distincte 
de  pailler  ;  pour  la  me'ine  raison  on  doit  refuser 
de  suivre  Scheler  et  d'  y  voir  un  derive  de  pala. 

Je  crois  que  palier  vient  d'une  forme  du  latin 
populaire  *PEDALARIUM  qui  fut  faite  sur  pedalem 
et  dont  P  existence  est  attested  sous  la  forme  f6mi- 
nine  dans  le  prove^al  pesaliera,  pesalieiro.  Le 
Tresor  de  Mistral  donne  pour  ce  mot  la  definition 
que  voici  :  "sabliere,  semelle,  pi6ce  de  charpente 
qui  porte  le  pied  des  chevrons."  La  me'ine  id6e 
"pi6ce  de  support"  est  pre'cise'ment  celle  qu' ex- 
prime  le  franjais  palier  quand  il  est  employ^ 
comme  terme  de  mficanique,  ce  qui  est  le  cas  pour 
tous  les  exemples  du  mot  cit£s  par  Godefroy  s.  v. 
paaillier.  Notons  ici  que  1' anglais  emploie  le  mot 
pedestal  avec  la  signification  de  ' '  palier  de  ma- 
chine." En  latin  on  avait  dejil  appe!6  podium 
une  plate-forme  Sieved  a  laquelle  on  aurait  pu 
assimiler  un  palier  d'escalier,  mais  on  avait  vu 
surtout  dans  ce  dernier  une  marche  comme  les 
autres,  quoique  plus  large,  entre  deux  voltes 
d'escalier,  et  il  aurait  6t6  difficile  de  lui  dormer 
un  nom  plus  convenable  que  *pedalarium.  La 
me'ine  idee  semantique  se  retrouvedans  1'allemand 
Podest,  Pedest,  le  moyen  haut  allemand  Gr&de,  et 
le  proven9al  trepadou  qui  signifient  tous  "palier 
d'escalier,"  et  aussi  dans  1' anglais  foot-pace 
' '  demi-palier. ' ' 

Sous  le  rapport  de  la  phone"tique  en  trouvera 
peu  a  redire  dans  la  s4rie  *PEDALARIUM  >  *peda- 
lier  >  *pealier  >  paalier  >  palier.  De  paalier 
on  a  eu,  par  deux  dissimilations  difiSrentes  des 
voyelles  contigues,  poalier  et  paelier,  formes  cities 
par  Godefroy,  la  derniere  dans  le  Supplement  & 
Particle  palier.  Les  autres  formes  que  1'on 
trouve  dans  Godefroy  s.  v.  poaillier  ne  sont  que 
des  variantes  orthographiques  de  poalier.  On 


pourrait  objecter  ^  la  s4rie  que  la  contrefinale  de 
*PEDALARIUM  devrait  donner  regulie'rement  e  et 
non  a  ;  cependant  la  regie  n'est  pas  sans  excep- 
tions, comme,  par  exemple,  dans  echalier  <  *is- 
CALARIUM.  D'ailleurs  le  repr&entant  de  PEDA- 
LEM a  presque  surement  existe  en  ancien  franjais 
— il  existe  en  prove^al,  comme  on  peut  le  voir  4 
1'  article  pesal  dans  Mistral — et  puisqu'il  s'agit  du 
suffixe  -alis,  on  aurait  done  pu  former  ou  refaire 
*pealier  sur  *peal  (pour  *peel)  comme  on  a  fait 
journalier  sur  jornal  (pour  jornel).  Au  cas  ou 
*peel,  *peal  n'auraient  pas  exists,  on  peut  expli- 
quer  1'a  de  la  contrefinale  par  1' influence  des 
autres  derives  de  pedem  (peage,  peaigne,  peason) 
qui  avaient  un  a  entrav6.  Cette  influence  pu 
avoir  lieu  surtout  a  1'epoque  ou,  le  d  intervo- 
calique  n'6tant  pas  encore  amui,  on  avait  con- 
science de  la  parent^  du  groupe. 

Sabliere  <  *SAPPINARIA. 

Sablikre,  "piece  de  bois  sur  laquelle  reposent 
les  chevrons,  les  pieds  des  4tais,  etc.,"  est  d'ori- 
gine inconnue,  selon  le  Dictionnaire  General. 
Littr6  cite  *SCAPULARIA  et  *STABILIARIA,  etymo- 
logies propos^es,  1'une  par  Menage,  1'autre  par 
Scheler,  mais  il  reconnait  qu'elles  sont  inac- 
ceptables. 

Je  crois  que  sabliere  repre"sente  le  d6veloppe- 
ment  rigoureusement  phon6tique  du  latin  *SAPPI- 
NARIA  (de  sappinus'),  a  savoir  *SAPPINARIA  > 
*sap'naria  >  *sab'naria  >  *sablaria  >  sabltire. 
Au  groupe  bn,  inconnu  dans  la  prononciation  du 
latin  populaire  de  la  Gaule,  s'est  naturellement 
substitue"  un  groupe  connu,  bl  plutdt  que  br  a 
cause  de  la  presence  de  r  dans  le  suffixe  -ARIA. 
Ce  phenomene  de  substitution,  le  me'ine  qui  ex- 
plique  IV  des  mots  francais  coffre,  timbre,  etc., 
est  frequent  dans  les  langues  indo-europe'ennes 
comme  le  d^montrent  les  exemples  qu'en  a  donnes 
M.  Maurice  Grammont  dans  son  livre  sur  la  dis- 
similation consonantique.6 

II  va  sans  dire  que  sapiniere  a  6t4  fait  sur  sapin 
comme  savonnier  a  6t6  fait  sur  savon.  Je  ne  con- 
nais  pas  d' autres  mots  fran9ais  qui  pre"sentent  les 
m^mes  conditions  phongtiques,  mais  je  n'en  suis 

'M.  Gramraont,  La  Dissimilation  consonantique  dans  lea 
langues  indo-europeennes  et  dans  les  langues  romance,  Dijon, 
1895,  pp.  138-140. 


144 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


pas  moins  d'avis  qu'on  doit  computer  la  loi  pour 
b  (non  initial)  +  consonne  en  constatant  que  dans 
le  groupe  bn,  b  ne  s'amuit  pas  comme  le  donnent 
a  entendre  toutes  les  grammaires  historiques  fran- 
caises,  mais  qu'il  persiste  par  le  passage  de  bn  & 

bl  ou  br. 

Comme  sappinus,  selon  Forcellini,  parait  avoir 
design^  originairement  non  une  espece  d'arbres, 
mais  les  gros  bois  de  construction  tire's  de  la  partie 
inferieure  du  tronc  de  plusieurs  especes  d'arbres, 
I'gtymologie  que  je  propose  pour  sablttre  n'en  est 
que  plus  assuree. 

Littrg  donne  encore  au  mot  sabl'iere  la  definition 
suivante  qui  ne  se  trouve  poiut  dans  le  Diction- 
naire  General :  "Bateau  jaugeaut  au  moins  cinq 
tonneaux  sur  le  canal  du  Midi."  Je  constate 
dans  Littre  et  dans  Larousse  que  sapinttre,  sapine 
et  sapinette  designent  aussi  des  sortes  de  bateaux. 
Sabliere  dans  ce  sens  aussi,  vient  encore  bien 
probablement  de  *SAPPINARIA  ;  du  moins  je  ne 
trouve  pas  qu'on  ait  appele  ces  bateaux  de  ce  nom 
parce  qu'ils  servent  a  transporter  le  sable. 


C.    A.    MOSEMILLER. 


Indiana,  University. 


SCOTT'S  IVANHOE  AND  SYDNEY'S  ARCADIA. 

Attention  has  never  been  called,  I  believe,  to 
the  correspondences  between  Scott's  Ivanhoe  and 
Sydney's  Arcadia.  That  there  are  correspond- 
ences which  are  neither  slight  nor  casual,  will 
appear  from  a  comparison  of  the  two  works.  The 
broad  fact  that  both  romances  deal  largely  with 
chivalry  of  course  renders  probable  some  general 
resemblances.  Another  common  general  feature 
of  the  two  works  is  that,  with  chivalry,  scenes  of 
pastoral  life  are  combined.  This  is  a  less  conspic- 
uous element  in  the  later  romance,  but  it  is  there, 
in  the  famous  first  scene,  for  example,  and  else- 
where. Again,  the  scenes  of  outlawry  and  the 
general  state  of  society  correspond :  Sherwood 
Forest  and  Arcadia  are  strikingly  similar.  If, 
then,  we  compare  these  works,  we  shall  find  that 
in  the  main  action  of  each  there  are  three  chief 
moments  :  the  tournaments,  the  capture  and  im- 
prisonment of  the  heroines  and  hero,  and  the 


siege.     Let  us  note  the  agreeing  circumstances  in 
regard  to  each. 

I.    THE  TOURNAMENTS  :  (Ar.  i,  16  seqq.  ;  Iv. 

8  seqq.  )  — 

Each  is  of  two  days'  continuance.  In  the  Arca- 
dia, Pyrocles  enters  disguised  in  rusty  poorness  of 
apparel  the  second  day,  after  the  overthrow  of 
many  Arcadian  knights.  The  spectators  have 
already  measured  his  length  on  the  earth  when  he 
rides  up  and  strikes  the  shield  of  the  challenger 
(i,  17.  5). 

Ivanhoe  enters  after  the  day  seems  lost  to  the 
Saxons.  He  is  splendidly  apparelled,  but  is  dis- 
guised, and  his  shield  bears  a  device  and  word 
signifiying  "Disinherited."  He  rides  straight 
up  and  strikes  the  shield  of  the  challenger  until  it 
rings  again.  In  both  combats  the  challenger  is 
unhorsed  by  the  breaking  of  his  saddle  girth  (Ar. 
i,  17.  7  ;  Iv.  8.  86).  In  each  story  there  is  a 
Black  Knight,  although  the  parts  played  are 
different.  In  the  Arcadia,  the  Black  Knight 
smites  the  shield  of  the  challenger  just  an  instant 
after  Pyrocles,  and  therefore  misses  his  opportunity 
to  fight  (17.  5).  In  the  later  story,  the  Black 
Knight  assists  Ivanhoe  when  the  odds  are  against 
him  (12.  126). 

Each  tournament  is  followed  by  miscellaneous 
sports  and  contests.  (Ar.  i,  19  ;  Iv.  13.  134). 
Corresponding  to  the  Eclogues  in  the  earlier  work 
are  the  ballads  in  the  later  (17.  169,  171). 
Before  leaving  this  topic,  the  horsemanship  of 
Ivanhoe  (8.  84 ;  9.  91)  should  be  compared  with 
that  of  Sidney's  second  hero,  Musidorus,  n,  5.  3. 
II.  THE  CAPTURE  AND  IMPRISONMENT  :  (Ar. 
in,  2  seqq.;  Iv.  19  seqq.)  — 

In  the  Arcadia,  the  two  heroines,  Philoclea  and 
Pamela,  and  the  hero,  Pyrocles,  are  taken  captive 
at  a  rural  festival  in  the  woods  and  are  lodged  in 
Cecropia's  castle.  The  design  of  the  captor  is  to 
make  one  of  the  young  ladies  the  wife  of  Amphia- 
lus,  Cecropia's  son  (in,  2).  In  Ivanhoe,  the  two 
heroines  together  with  the  hero  of  the  story  and 
others  are  taken  captive  and  lodged  in  the  castle 
of  Front  de  Boeuf,  who  has  designs  upon  Rebecca 
and  Ivanhoe  (19).  Compare  the  separation  and 

1  References  are  to  Cross' s  Ivanhoe  (Scribner's)  by  chapter 
and  page ;  and  to  Sommer's  Arcadia,  facsimile  reprint 
(London,  190Z  )  by  book,  chapter,  and  paragraph. 


May,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


145 


disposal  of  the  captives  :  Ar.  in,  2.  5  and  21.  4  ; 
Iv.  21.  201  seq. 

The  ordeals  of  the  heroines  are  similar  in  the 
two  stories.  In  the  Arcadia,  Amphialus  goes  to 
the  chamber  of  Philoclea  and  woes  her  to  become 
his  wife  (in,  3.  1  seqq. ).  Note  how  he  has 
bedecked  himself  with  the  most  costly  apparel  :  a 
garment  of  ' '  black  velvet  richly  embroidered  with 
great  pearle,"  and  "about  his  necke  he  ware  a 
brode  and  gorgeous  coller."  In  Ivanhoe,  De 
Bracy  enters  Rowena's  chamber  and  offers  to 
make  her  his  wife  (23.  218  seqq.).  He  has 
' '  decorated  his  person  with  all  the  foppery  of  the 
times."  He  wears  "  a  richly  furred  cloak, "  and 
his  girdle  is  ' '  embroidered  and  embossed  with 
gold  work." 

Each  suitor  is  the  captive  of  his  prisoner  (Ar. 
in,  6.  6  ;  Iv.  23.  219).  The  imprisonment  in 
each  case  is  gallantly  ascribed  to  the  beauty  of  the 
prisoner. 

Amphialus  says  :  "  It  is  you  your  selfe,  that 
imprisons  your  selfe  :  it  is  your  beautie  which 
makes  these  castle-walls  embrace  you  (3.  5).  De 
Bracy  says  :  "To  thyself,  fair  maid,  to  thine  own 
charms  be  ascribed  whatever  I  have  done  which 
passed  the  respect  due  to  her  whom  I  have  chosen 
queen  of  my  heart  and  loadstar  of  my  eyes ' ' 
(219). 

The  scene  of  gallantry  and  comparative  honora- 
bleness  only  prepares  in  each  instance  for  the  scene 
of  lawless  passion.  In  the  Arcadia  (in,  26.  7), 
Anaxius,  of  might  and  terror  in  arms  like  Brian 
de  Bois-Guilbert,  seeks  to  win  Pamela  to  be  his 
paramour:  "And  withall,  going  to  Pamela,  and 
offring  to  take  her  by  the  chin,  'And  as  for  you, 
Minion  (said  he)  yeeld  but  gently  to  my  will," 
etc.  Whereupon  Pamela  thus  rebuffs  him  :  "  Proud 
beast,"  etc.  In  Ivanhoe  (24.  227),  the  sybil  had 
exclaimed  :  ' '  Thy  life,  Minion  :  what  would  thy 
life  pleasure  them  ?  ' '  This  prepares  for  the  scene 
in  which  Brian  de  Bois-Guilbert  makes  his  dis- 
honorable proposals  (230  seqq.). 

HI.  THE  SIEGE  :  Ar.  ni,  7  seqq.  ;  Iv.  29 
seqq.). 

In  each  story  a  Black  Knight  leads  the  besiegers 
and  distinguishes  himself  for  prowess  in  arms.  Ar. 
in,  8.  4  :  "  Into  the  presse  comes  ....  a  Knight 
in  armor  as  darke  as  blacknes  coulde  make  it, 
followed  by  none,  and  adorned  by  nothing  .... 
But  vertue  quickly  made  him  knowne. ' ' 


Iv.  29.  289  :  "  '  A  Knight,  clad  in  sable  armor, 
is  the  most  conspicuous, '  said  the  Jewess  ;  '  he 
....  seems  to  assume  the  direction  of  all  around 
him."' 

Scott's  Black  Knight  is  afterwards  recognized 
to  be  Richard  Coaur-de-Lion,  and  Sidney's  proves 
to  be  his  second  hero,  Musidorus,  the  friend  of 
Pyrocles  and  lover  of  Pamela  (Ar.  in,  18.  10). 

Minor  Circumstances  of  the  Sieges: — 1.  Com- 
pare the  challenges  (Ar.  in,  13.  2  and  6  ;  Iv. 
25.  239  and  243).  The  ludicrous  element  is  pos- 
sessed in  common  by  them,  although  the  purport 
of  the  two  is  different. 

2.  Within  each  castle  is  a  friend  of  the  be- 
siegers,  in  each   instance   a  woman  :   Artesia  in 
Cecropia's    (in,    14)    and   Ulrica   in   Front    de 
Boeuf '  s. 

3.  Compare    the    ludicrous    combat   between 
Clinias  and    Dametas    (Ar.    in,    13),    and   that 
between  Gurth  and  the  miller  (Iv.  11).     Each  is  a 
comic  interlude  introduced  in  accordance  with  the 
same  principles  of  art.     Two  other  incidents  rela- 
ted in  each  story  remain  to  be  noticed.     The  first 
is  an  act  of  knightly  courtesy.    In  Scott's  romance 
the  incident  of  Ivanhoe' s  refusal  to  take  advantage, 
in  the  lists,  when  his  opponent's  horse,  by  rearing 
and  plunging,  disturbed  the  rider's  aim,  will  be 
recalled.     Ivanhoe  wheeled  his  horse,  and  having 
ridden  back  to  his  own  end,  gave  his  antagonist 
the  chance  of  a  second  encounter  (8.  87).    In  the 
Arcadia  (in,  16.  4)  :   "But  when  his  staffe  was 
in  his  rest,  comming  down  to  meet  with  the  Knight, 
now  verie  neere  him,  he  perceyved  the  Knight  had 
mist  his  rest :  wherefore  the  curteous  Amphialus 
woulde  not  let  his  Launce  descende,"  etc. 

The  second  incident  is  the  resuscitation  of  charac- 
ters at  the  convenience  of  the  writer.  This  is  no 
infrequent  device  of  the  Greek  romances,  whence 
Sidney  borrowed  it.  It  occurs  some  three  or  four 
times  in  the  Arcadia  :  n,  8.  10  ;  9.  1  ;  in,  21. 
4,  and  22.  5  :  explanation  of  the  last,  23  (erro- 
neously written  17),  3.  Compare  also  n,  3.  5. 
The  celebrated  bringing  to  life  again  of  Athel- 
stane  might  well  have  been  suggested  by  Sidney's 
examples. 

IV.  MISCELLANEOUS  POINTS. — Ivanhoe  opens 
with  the  scene  of  the  swine-herd  Gurth  and  the 
clown  Wamba :  the  Arcadia  opens  with  the  scene 
of  the  two  shepherds,  Strephon  and  Claius.  That 
is,  both  openings  are  pastoral. 


146 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


Of  the  heroes,  in  the  Arcadia,  Musidorus,  who 
is  heir  to  the  throne  of  Thessalia  and  Pyrocles,  his 
cousin  and  friend,  heir  of  the  throne  of  Macedon, 
have  filled  Asia  with  the  renown  of  their  unexam- 
pled valor.  In  Ivanhoe,  the  Asiatic  exploits  of 
Richard,  heir  to  the  throne  of  England,  and  Ivan- 
hoe,  his  friend  and  heir  of  Eutherford  Grange> 
form  a  similar  background  for  the  real  action  of 
the  story. 

In  each  work  the  counterpart  of  the  chivalry  of 
the  heroes  is  the  chastity  of  the  heroines. 

Disguises  and  recognitions  are  notable  features 
of  both  works.  In  the  earlier  romance  Pyrocles 
can  have  opportunity  to  woo  Philoclea  only  by 
disguising  himself ;  and  in  disguise  he  enters  the 
tourney.  Ivanhoe  only  by  the  favor  of  his  dis- 
guise gets  an  interview  with  Rowena,  and  in 
disguise  he  tilts  in  the  lists  at  Ashby.  Other  dis- 
guises and  consequent  recognitions  occur  in  both 

stories. 

ROBERT  T.  KERLIN. 

New  Haven,  Conn. 


VARIOUS  NOTES. 
CARLYLE,  SAXTOX  RESARTUS  2.  9. 

One  of  Carlyle's  memorable  passages  is  this 
(Sartor  Resartus  2.  9,  ed.  MacMechan,  p.  173)  : 
'  The  Fraction  of  Life  can  be  increased  in  value 
not  so  much  by  increasing  your  Numerator  as  by 
lessening  your  Denominator.  Nay,  unless  my 
Algebra  deceive  me,  Unity  itself  divided  by  Zero 
will  give  Infinity.  Make  thy  claim  of  wages  a 
zero,  then  ;  thou  hast  the  world  under  thy  feet. 
Well  did  the  Wisest  of  our  time  write  :  "  It  is 
only  with  Renunciation  (Entsagen)  that  Life, 
properly  speaking,  can  be  said  to  begin. ' ' 

It  is  rather  surprising  to  find  that  this  is  a 
doctrine,  not  of  the  Stoics,  but  of  Epicurus  him- 
self. Seneca  says  (Ep.  21.  7)  :  '  "Si  vis,"  inquit 
[Epicurus] ,  ' '  Pythoclea  divitem  facere,  non  pecu- 
nise  adjiciendum,  sedcupiditatidetrahendumest."  ' 
To  the  same  effect  Stobseus,  Flor.  17.  37  :  "EmKovpos 
iptorrjOtls  trlas  av  Tts  Tr\ovTiq<Ttiev  ;  '  ou  rots  ovcri  irpo<r- 
Ti0«s '  f<prj  '  TJJS  8e  2$>«'as  Ta  iroAAa  irepirejuvw.' 
And  so  Flor.  17.  24,  where  the  saying  is  again 


ascribed  to  Epicurus  :  Et  /JouXci  ir\ownov  nva. 
Troirjtrai,  /j,r)  \p^fui(TLV  irpocrTi0e.i,  Trjs  Of  fTn&v/J,ta.<; 

a<paipfi.  A  somewhat  similar  saying  is  attributed 
to  Socrates  (Flor.  17.  30). 

In  Regnard's-Le  Joueur  (1696),  Act  5,  Sc.  13, 
the  valet,  Hector,  reading  to  his  master  from 
Seneca,  '  Chapitre  six.  Du  mepris  des  richesses, ' 
concludes : 

'C'est  posseder  les  biens  que  savoir  s'en  passer.' 
Que  ce  mot  est  bien  dit !  et  que  c'est  bien  penser  ! 
Ce  Seneque,  monsieur,  est  un  excellent  homme. 

King,  Class,  and  For.  Quot. ,  No.  299,  adds,  from 
Vigee's  Epitre  a  Duds  sur  les  Avantages  de  la 
Mediocrite: 

Je  suis  riche  du  bien  dont  je  sais  me  passer. 


CHAUCER,  PARL,  FOULES  353. 

In  confirmation  of  my  view  with  regard  tofoules, 
published  in  Mod.  Lang.  Notes  for  April,  1906, 
Dr.  A.  E.  H.  Swaen,  of  the  University  of  Gron- 
ingen,  calls  my  attention  to  the  fact  that  in  the 
Wright- Wiilcker  Vocabularies,  beo  occurs  with  the 
names  of  birds  in  the  following  places  :  261.  9  ; 
318.  34  ;  543.  7,  the  first  time  in  a  section  headed 
De  Ambus. 


BEOWULF  1408  ff. 

In  Mod.  Lang.  Notes  17.  209-10  (418-9)  I 
called  attention  to  the  parallel  between  Beow. 
1408  ff.  and  Seneca,  Here.  Fur.  762-3.  To  the 
latter  passage  I  now  wish  to  add  certain  others. 
A  handy  translation  is  that  of  Miss  Harris  ( The 
Tragedies  of  Seneca,  Henry  Frowde,  1904).  The 
first  is  Seneca,  (Ed.  530-547  : 

Est  procul  ab  urbe  lucus  ilicibus  niger, 
Dircsea  circa  vallis  irriguse  loca. 
Cupressus  altis  exserens  silvis  caput 
Virente  semper  alligat  trunco  nemus ; 
Curvosque  tendit  quercus  et  putres  situ 
Annosa  ramos.     Hujus  abrupit  latus 
Edax  vetustas  ;  ilia  jam  fessa  cadens 
Eadice,  f ulta  pendet  aliena  trabe. 
Amara  baccas  laurus,  et  tiliae  leves, 
Et  Paphia  myrtus,  et  per  immensum  mare 
Motura  rernos  alnus,  et  Phoebe  obvia, 
Enode  Zephyrus  pinis  opponens  latus. 


May,  1907]. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


147 


Medio  stat  ingens  arbor,  atque  umbra  gravi 
Silvas  minores  urget,  et  magno  ambitu 
Diftusa  ramos,  una  defendit  nemus. 
Tristis  sub  ilia  lucis  et  Phcebi  inscius 
Restagnat  humor,  frigore  aeterno  rigens. 
Limosa  pigrum  circuit  fontem  palus. 

Another  is  Thy.  649-655,  664-6  ': 

A  barren  detested  vale,  you  see  it  is  ; 
The  trees,  though  summer,  yet  forlorn  and  lean, 
O'ercome  with  moss  and  baleful  mistletoe  ; 
Here  never  shines  the  sun  ;   here  nothing  breeds 
Unless  the  nightly  owl  or  fatal  raven. 

But  straight  they  told  me  they  would  bind  me  here 
Unto  the  body  of  a  dismal  yew. 

See  Cunlifle,  The  Influence  of  Shakespeare  on  Elizabethan 
Tragedy,  p.  70. 

Arcana  in  imo  regia  secessu  patet, 
Alta  vetustum  valle  compescens  nemus, 
Penetrale  regni,  nulla  qua  laetos  solet 
Praebere  ramos  arbor,  aut  ferro  coli  ; 
Sed  taxus,  et  cupressus,  et  nigra  ilice 
Obscura  nutat  silva  ;  quam  supra  eminens 
Despectat  alte  quercus,  et  vincat  nemus. 

Fons  stat  sub  umbra  tristis,  et  nigra  piger 
Haeret  palude  ;  talis  est  dine  Stygis 
Deformis  unda,  quae  facit  caelo  fidem. 

A  third  is  from  the  context  to  the  passage 
quoted  in  the  earlier  article.  This  is  Here.  Fur. 
662-3,  683-6,  689-90  : 

Spartanatellus  nobile  attollit  jugum, 
Densis  ubi  sequor  Tsenarus  silvis  premit. 

Qualis  incerta  vagus 
Maeander  unda  ludit,  et  cedit  sibi, 
Instatque,  dubius,  littus  an  fontem  petat. 
Palus  inertis  fceda  Cocyti  jacet. 

Horrent  opaca  fronde  nigrantes  comae 
Taxo  imminente,  quam  tenet  segnis  Sopor. 

Various  passages  from  Latin  poets  on  hell  and 
its  rivers  might  be  adduced.  Among  them  are 
the  following  : 

Lucan,  Phars.  6.  639-646  : 

Haud  procul  a  Ditis  caecis  depressis  cavernis 
In  praeceps  subsedit  humus,  quam  pallida  pronis 
Urget  silva  comis,  et  nullo  vertice  caalum 


Suspiciens  Phoebo  non  pervia  taxus  opacat. 
Marcentes  intus  tenebrae,  squalensque  sub  antris 
Longa  nocte  situs,  nunquam,  nisi  carmine  factum, 
Lumen  habet. 

Silius  Italicus,  Pun.  13.  563-4,  568-573,  595-6  : 

Turn  jacet  in  spatium  sine  corpore  pigra  vorago, 
Limosique  lacus. 

At,  magnis  semper  divis  regique  deorum 
Intrari  dignata  palus,  picis  horrida  rivo, 
Fumiferum  volvit  Styx  inter  sulphura  limum. 
Tristior  hie  Acheron  sanie  crassoque  veneno 
jEstuat,  et,  gelidam  eructans  cum  murmure  arenam, 
Descendit  nigra  lentus  per  stagna  palude. 

Dextra  vasta  comas  nemorosaque  brachia  fundit 
Taxus,  Cocyti  rigua  frondosior  unda. 

Also  12.  126-8  : 

Huic  vicina  palus  (fama  est,  Acherontis  ad  undas 
Pandere  iter)  caecus  stagnante  voragine  fauces 
Laxat,  et  horrendos  aperit  telluris  hiatus. 

Ovid,  Met.  4.  432-4  : 

Est  via  declivis  funesta  nubila  taxo ; 
Ducit  ad  infernas  per  muta  silentia  sedes. 
Styx  nebulas  exhalat  iners. 

Virgil,  Georg.  4.  478-480  : 

Quos  circum  limus  niger  et  deformis  harundo 
Cocyti  tardaque  palus  inamibilis  unda 
Alligat,  et  noviens  Styx  interfusa  coercet. 

Virgil,  especially  in  the  Sixth  Book  of  the 
JEneid,  is  the  source  for  all  later  Latin  poets,  so 
far  as  the  description  of  Hades  is  concerned. 
Dieterich  says  (Nekyia,  pp.  158-9)  :  '  Vergil  hat 
den  Anstoss  gegeben  zu  den  zahlreichen  Hades- 
schilderungen  der  romischen  Dichter,  die  bis  in 
Einzelheiten  von  ihm  abhangig  sind.  .  .  .  Selten 
wird  auch  mit  Sicherheit  auszumachen  sein,  woher 
sie  die  abweichenden  Einzelheiten  haben.'  He 
then  refers  to  G.  Ettig,  Acheruntiea,  pp.  360  ff., 
especially  for  the  relevant  passages  in  Seneca, 
Lucan,  Silius,  and  Statins. 


Yale  University. 


ALBERT  8.  COOK. 


1  This  is  perhaps  reflected  in  Shakespeare,  Til.  Andr.  2. 
3.  93-7,  106-7 : 


148 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


NOTES  ON  CALDERON:    THE  VERA 
TASSIS    EDITION  ;    THE  TEXT  OF 

LA  VIDA  ES  SusSo. 

Ticknor  has  aptly  remarked  that  the  Vera 
Tassis  edition  is  to  Calderon  what  the  First  Folio 
of  his  plays  is  to  Shakespeare.  Its  importance 
has,  in  fact,  never  been  questioned.  But  all  who 
have  attempted  to  write  the  bibliographical  history 
of  the  edition  have  approached  the  task  with  in- 
sufficient first-hand  information  and  little  critical 
discernment.  A  census  of  extant  copies  is  a  de- 
sideratum. Breymaun,  Calderon' s  most  recent 
bibliographer,  has  seen  a  sufficient  number  to 
enable  him  to  present  something  like  a  trust- 
worthy account  of  the  chronological  order  of  their 
publication.  Unfortunately,  like  the  merest  tyro, 
he  has  contented  himself  with  noting,  in  super- 
ficial manner,  the  title-pages,  without  reading 
carefully  approbations  and  prologues.  He  seems, 
indeed,  to  be  ignorant  of  any  difficulties. 

My  sole  purpose  in  broaching  the  matter  now, 
is  to  call  attention  to  certain  obvious  errors  and 
seeming  inconsistencies,  in  the  hope  that  some  one 
may  be  induced  to  prepare  a  full  and  reliable 
bibliography. 

Ticknor' s  account,  it  may  be  noted  in  passing, 
errs  in  minor  details,  owing  to  the  fact  that 
several  of  his  copies  were  not  first  editions.1  It 
was  for  this  reason,  likewise,  that  he  fixed  the 
posterior  date  of  publication  at  1694,  instead  of 
1691.  The  first  volume  to  appear  was  Parte  V, 

1682.  It  is  doubtful  whether  another  volume  was 
issued  that  year.     Morel- Fatio  has  expressed  the 
opinion  that  at  least  six  volumes  were  published 
in   1682, — Breymann   indicates   as   many.     The 
second  part  to  appear  was,  apparently,  Vol.  vi, 

1683.  La  Barrera  first  noted  an  edition  of  1682. 
Such  a  volume  has   not   been  found   by  Salv6, 
Hartzenbusch,   Morel-Fatio,   or   Breymann.     La 
Barrera  was  an  accurate  and  painstaking  bibliog- 
rapher ;   it  can  be  said,  however,  with  dogmatic 
assurance,  supported  by  irrefutable  evidence,  that 

'i.  1685  ;  n,  1686 ;  m,  1687  ;  iv,  1688  ;  v,  1694  ;  vi, 
1683 ;  vii,  1683 ;  vm,  1684 ;  ix,  1691.  I  have  the  fol- 
lowing volumes  of  the  Vera  Tassis  edition  :  I,  1726  ;  u, 
1726  ;  in,  1726  ;  v,  1730  ;  vi,  1715  ;  vn,  1715  ;  vm, 
1726  ;  ix,  1698. 


he  erred  in  assigning  Vol.  i  to  1682.  If  this  can 
be  proven,  then  there  is  a  possibility  that  he  was, 
likewise,  wrong  in  his  bibliography  of  Vol.  vi. 
When  Vera  Tassis  asked  permission  to  print  parts 
i,  ii,  in,  iv,  he  stated  that  the  former  privilege 
had  expired  in  the  previous  year,  oohenta  y  dog, — 
he  refers  to  the  fact  that  a  privilege  (for  ten  years) 
had  been  granted  for  the  Quarto,  parle,  June  18, 
1672.  This  then  makes  the  publication  of  Vol.  i 
impossible  before  1683  ;  the  earliest  copy  known 
is  dated  1685.  In  this  edition  of  1685  el  rey 
states, — and  such  a  document  would  not  be 
altered,  —  that  parts  v,  vi,  vn,  had  already 
appeared,  and  that  part  vm  was  in  preparation. 
In  the  al  que  leyere,  Vera  Tassis  adds  that  he 
hopes  to  publish  soon  u,  in,  iv,  ix,  x.  It  will 
be  noted  that,  according  to  this  statement,  Vol.  I 
appeared  before  Vol.  n.  Here  arises  a  difficulty. 
The  Eiblioteca  National  has  a  copy  of  Vol.  u, 
dated  1683.  This  copy  Breymann  has  apparently 
seen.  If  the  title-page  is  correct,  then,  of  course, 
Vol.  i,  likewise,  appeared  in  1683,  as,  also,  vi, 
vn.  This  is  quite  possible,  so  far  as  Vol.  vi  is 
concerned.  Breymann  says,  referring  to  the 
unique  copy  of  the  1683  edition  of  the  Sexta  parte : 

"Die  Druckerlaubnisse  sind  vom  Jahre  1682.  Daher 
erkliirt  sich  wohl  die  jedenfalls  irrige  Angabe  La  Barrera' s, 
dasz  die  sexta  parte  bereits  im  Jahre  1682  erschienen  sei." 

I  have  recently  had  an  opportunity  of  examining 
the  Ticknor  copy  of  Vol.  vn,  which  has  always 
been  dated  1683.  That  is,  indeed,  the  date  on 
the  title-page.  But  the  volume  did  not  appear 
until  1684,  the/e  de  errata  being  signed  in  Enero 
ocho  de  mil  y  seisceientos  y  ochenta  y  quatro  afios, 
and  the  suma  de  la  tassa,  likewise,  in  the  same 
year  (1684).  The  work  had  apparently  been 
printed  in  1683. 

In  Vol.  vm  (mma,  de  la  tassa,  October  16, 
1684)  Vera  Tassis  says  : 

11  El  Octavo  tomo  .  .  .  y  Quarto  en  orden  de  log  que  mi 
cuydadosa  tarea  ha  puhlicado  .  .  .  Las  demos  [comediat] 
que  en  mi  poder  quedan  eslan  en  sus  traslados  tan  ineiertos  que 
hasta  conseguir  otros  mas  verdaderos  awe  de  suspender  el  prose- 
guir  en  el  Noueno  tomo :  passando  A  repetir  en  la  Prensa  los 
quatro  Primeros.  ..." 

This  has  been  accepted  as  the  first  edition  of  Vol. 
vm  ;  but  that  is  impossible  if  the  1683  edition  of 
Vol.  n  is  genuine  or  correctly  dated. 

D.  Gaspar  Augustin  de  Lara,   writing  in  the 


May,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


149 


Obeliseo  funebre  .  .  .  (1684)  refers  to  only  parts 
v,  vi,  vn,  "  aviendo  valido,"  he  adds,  "  al  Im- 
presor  (como  dizen  todos  los  libreros)  en  menos  de 
vn  ano,  mas  de  ires  mil  ducados,  sacada  la  costa  de 
la  impresion."  When  this  was  written,  I  do  not 
know,'  but  it  must  have  been  written  in  1683,  or 
1684,  conclusive  proof,  at  least,  that  parts  i,  n, 
in,  iv,  were  not  reprinted  in  1682  ;  in  other 
words,  that  not  more  than  three  volumes  could 
possibly  have  appeared  in  1682.  I  may  note, 
finally,  that  a  (new  ?)  suma  del  privilegeo  was 
obtained  for  at  least  parts  in,  iv,  July,  1684, 
whether  or  not  for  parts  i,  n,  I  cannot,  at  present 
state.  How  to  reconcile  this  with  the  existence 
of  an  edition  of  the  Quarta  parte,  1683,  in  the 
University  Library,  Madrid,  is  another  problem 
which  confronts  the  bibliographer. 

Much  has  been  written  about  Vera  Tassis.  We 
owe  him  gratitude  for  rescuing  plays  that  might 
have  perished.  But  one  may  be  pardoned  for 
questioning  the  sincerity  of  his  persistent  claims 
to  the  friendship  of  Don  Pedro.  In  such  matters 
sinister  and  crooked  motives  are  implied  by  over- 
insistence.  Certainly,  lea  amis  de  mes  amis  sont 
mes  amis,  was  not  a  maxim  to  the  liking  of  Vera 
Tassis.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  Vergara 
was  befriended  by  CalcJeron.  None  the  less,  Vera 
Tassis  speaks  of  his  "  vana  ostentation  de  amigo 
de  nuestro  Don  Pedro ; ' '  and  yet  Calderon  had 
referred  to  him  in  1664,  as  "mi  mas  apassionado 
amigo, ' '  had  permitted  him  to  publish  some  plays, 
nay,  to  " restaurarlas  de  los  achaeados  errores." 
And  why  does  Vera  Tassis  never  mention  Cal- 
deron's  other  warm  /rieuds,  Lara  and  Veragua? 
To  the  latter  he  had  sent  a  list  of  his  plays,  used 
(?)  but  not  mentioned  by  Vera  Tassis.  Why, 
one  may  ask,  was  Vera  Tassis  not  among  the 
number  of  Calderon' s  guests,  on  the  author's  last 
birthday,  when  the  latter  chatted  reminiscently  of 
his  youth  ?  Nay,  ' '  yo  que  fui  quien  mas  entrana- 
blemente  ame  a  Don  Pedro ' '  neither  knew  the 
precise  day  nor  year  of  Calderon' s  birth  !  He 
states  that  the  author  was  born  January  1st  (  "  did 
de  la  Santissima  Cireuntixion")  instead  of  Jan- 
uary 17th  ;  1601,  instead  of  1600.  All  this  he 
avers,  pompously,  ' '  consta  de  la  Fe  de  Bau- 

2  Why  does  Men^ndez  y  Pelayo,  in  his  Calderon  y  su 
teairo,  p.  49,  state  that  Lara's  work  was  printed  1681  ? 


tismo.  ..."  Don  Juan  Banos  de  Velasco  alone 
refers  to  Vera  Tassis  as  Calderon' s  ' '  intimo  amigo. ' ' 
This  same  writer  speaks  of  Vera  Tassis  as  "  mi 
Amigo. ' '  (Aprobation  to  Vol.  vi).  But  nowhere 
does  Calderon  even  mention  his  editor — although 
the  latter  published  two  of  Calderon' s  plays  in 
1679.  For  my  part,  I  cannot  help  thinking  that 
Vera  Tassis  was  a  self-styled  friend.  The  mixture 
of  a  lie  was  to  serve  as  an  adamant  for  commercial 
advantage.  Much  can  be  inferred  from  Lara's 
innuendo,  where  he  is,  unquestionably,  speaking 
words  of  truth  and  throwing  a  little  light  upon 
what  was,  apparently,  at  the  time,  a  kind  of 
literary  scandal.  Referring  to  the  so-called  Ver- 
dadera quinta  parte,  he  asks,  why,  if  the  Congre- 
gation de  el  Glorioso  Apostol  had  been  made 
Calderon' s  literary  executor,  were  parts  v,  vi, 
vn,  not  published  by  that  body?  Moreover, 
alluding  specifically  to  the  advertentias  in  the 
Quinta  parte,  where  Vera  Tassis  is  at  great  pains 
to  prove  his  intimacy  with  the  author,  Lara  gives 
him  the  lie  direct,  adding  : 

"  Aunque,  D.  Pedro  Calderon  padecio  los  penosos  habi- 
tuales  achaques  de  la  edad,  hasta  el  vltimo  aliento  de  la 
vida,  le  conserud  el  cielo  tan  sano  el  juizio,  que  se  des- 
mintio  humano,  si  en  los  aciertos  de  su  muerte  se  acredito 
Diuino ;  que  es  al  contrario  de  lo  que  leo  en  las  aduer- 
tencias  de  la  verdadera  Quinta  Parte,  pues  dizen,  que  su 
achacosa  edad  no  permitio  pudiesse  hazer  entero  juizio  de 
sns  comedias  .  .  .  y  quien  podra  auer  que  se  persuada, 
que  la  raemoria  de  todas  las  comedias  que  se  ponen  en  la 
verdadera  quinta  Parte  estan  rubricadas  de  Don  Pedro, 
quando  el  mismo  confiessa,  que  las  desconocia  por  el  con- 
texto,  y  por  los  titulos ;  (and,  he  continues,  referring  to 
Vera  Tassis'  edition, )  imprimiendo  en  nombre  de  Don 
Pedro  lo  que  no  le  pass6  por  el  pensamiento  escriuir." 

Be  this  all  as  it  may,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
whatsoever  that  Vera  Tassis'  editions  have  no 
more  critical  value  than  earlier  ones.  Morel- 
Fatio  has  pointed  this  out  in  his  edition  of  El 
Magieo  Prodigioso,  and  it  can  be  shown,  perhaps 
more  conclusively,  in  the  case  of  La  vida  es  sueno. 
Calderon,  largely  for  conscientious  scruples,  was 
indifferent  to  the  publication  of  his  comedias. 
The  autos  alone  he  considered  worthy  of  appear- 
ing in  print.  In  1672  he  wrote,  in  the  prologue 
of  the  Quarta  parte,  to  an  anonymous  friend  : 

"  Si  veis  que  ya  no  las  busco  [i.  e.,  the  comedias]  para 
embiarlas,  sino  para  consumarlas,  como  me  aconsejais  el 
aumentarlas  [i  e.,  in  print]  ?" 


150 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


As  a  consequence,  resort  had  to  be  taken  to  unre- 
liable prints  or  traslados.  Even  the  autographs 
are  defective,  inasmuch  as  they  are,  to  use  Cal- 
deron's  expression,  mere  borradores,  not  intended 
for  reading.  It  seems  incredible,  however,  that 
Calderon  should,  time  and  again,  protest  that 
none  of  the  editions  of  his  works  were  correct, — 
not  even  the  two  volumes  published  by  his  brother  ? 
But  Don  Pedro  had  the  odd  notion  that  such  of 
his  plays  as  were  not  correctly  printed  were  not 
his  ;  none  the  less,  he  acknowledged  as  his  those 
printed  in  the  first  four  parts  !  All  of  them,  un- 
doubtedly, abound  in  errors.  It  is  evident  that 
the  author  gave  little  or  no  assistance  to  his 
editors,  much  less  did  he  read  the  proofs.  Lara 
could  truly  say,  ' '  Calderon  published  not  a  single 
play." 

The  rest  of  this  note  will  be  limited  to  a  consid- 
eration of  the  relative  value  of  the  three  texts  of 
La  vida  es  sueno  :  (A)  published  by  the  author's 
brother,  1636  ;  (.B)  printed  surreptitiously  in  Vol. 
xxx  of  Comedias  famosas  de  Varies  autores,  1636, 
presumably  at  Zaragoza,  but  doubtless  at  Madrid  ; 
(C)  Vera  Tassis'  edition,  in  the  Primera  Parte 
(1685?).  Second  editions  of  A—B  need  not  be 
considered  here. 

It  is  obvious  at  the  outset,  that,  will  or  nill, 
Joseph  Calderon' s  text  must  serve  as  a  basis,  for 
future  critical  editions.  The  piratical  edition  dif- 
fers very  considerably.  There  are  additions  and 
omissions,  and  hardly  a  line  is  identical.  But  in 
some  cases  its  readings  must  be  accepted.  It  may 
have  been  printed  from  an  actor's  copy,3  or  it  may 
have  been  taken  down  verbatim  at  the  theater. 
A  few  illustrations  will  demonstrate  the  value 
ofS: 

1.  326,  A.   y  una  rueda  que  las  pare. 
B.    una  rienda  que  las  pare  ? 
1.  347,  A.   Y  si  humildad  y  soberbia 
no  te  obligan,  personages 
que  ban  movido  y  removido 
mil  Autos  Sacramentales. 
S.   y  si  humildad  y  soberbia 

no  te  mueuen  .  .  . 
1.448,  A.   es  de  materia  tenfacil.    BC,fragti. 


It  would  be  interesting  to  know  how  Vera 
Tassis  retouched  (retoeo)  the  play.  His  edition 
presents  a  considerable  number  of  trifling  changes 
and  corrections  of  some  typographical  errors.  He 
omits,  through  negligence,  five  lines,  2047  (ed. 
Maccoll,  p.  205,  I.  1057)  and  2923-27,  (ibid., 
p.  235,  II.  723-27).  The  following  passages  will 
show  that  Vera  Tassis  has  some  readings  in  com- 
mon with  B.  He  presumably  had  at  his  disposal 
an  intermediate  text,  lost  to  us,  as  he  does  not 
make  consistent  use  of  B,  even  where  it  is  clearly 
correct. 


1.      16,     A.  que  abrasa  al  Sol  el  ceno  de  la  frente 

B.  que  arruga  el  Sol  el  ceno  de  su  frente 

C.  que  arruga  al  Sol  el  ceno  de  su  frente. 
160,     A.  ida  ;  BC,  huyda. 

165,     A.  sacar  ;  BC,  arrancar. 
326,  AC.  rueda;  B,  rienda. 
548,     A.  aplacarnos  ;  BC,  aplacamos. 
700,     A.  En  este  misero,  en  este 
mortal  Planeta ;  6  signo, 

B.  En  aqueste  pues  del  Sol 
yafrenesi,  ya  delito  [!] 

C.  En  aquesle  pues  del  Sol 
yafrenesi,  6  ya  delirio. 

1.  1605,     A.  de  la  docta  Academia  de  sus  ruinas 

B.  en  ...  las  minas 

C.  de  ,  .  .  sus  minas. 


Some  of  these  readings  of  BC  are  to  be  referred 
to  A's;  just  what  value  to  give  to  B,  when  not 
supported  by  C,  it  is  difficult  to  decide.  B 
abounds  in  errors  of  all  kinds.  The  new  material 
which  it  contains  is  sometimes  no  better  nor  worse 
than  the  rest  of  the  comedia.  Until  more  is 
known  of  the  ways  and  means  of  literary  pirates 
of  the  time,  the  variants  must  be  treated  with 
respect.  Personally,  I  incline  to  the  suspicion 
that  B  represents,  with  many  obvious  errors, 
Calderon' s  original  borrador  as  first  acted  on  the 
stage,  and  that  A  reproduces  the  more  finished 
product,  carelessly  printed,  as  given  to  Joseph  for 
publication.  I  am  aware  of  objections  that  may  be 
urged  against  such  a  view. 


MILTON  A.  BUCHANAN. 


University  of  Toronto. 


8  It  is  interesting  to  note  tbat  Calderon  states  that  actors 
were  not  permitted  to  dispose  of  their  copies  for  publica- 
tion. If  they  did,  it  was  in  garbled  form,  lest  their  dis- 
honesty be  detected.  (Cf.  his  letter  to  Veragua. ) 


May,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


151 


MISCELLANEOUS  NOTES. 


I. 


The  familiar  triplet  in  the  Lay  of  the  Last  Min- 
strel, in,  15-17  : 

"Love  rules  the  court,  the  camp,  the  grove, 
And  men  below,  and  saints  above, 
For  love  is  heaven,  and  heaven  is  love." 

is  perhaps  drawn  from  the  refrain  of  Schiller's 
Der  Triumph  der  Litbe  : 

"  Selig  durch  die  Liebe 
Gotter — durch  die  Liebe 

Menschen  Gottern  gleich  ! 
Liebe  macht  den  Himmel 
Himmlischer — die  Erde 
Zu  dem  Himmelreich." 

II. 

Writing  of  Shelley,  Browning  (Memorabilia, 
13-15)  uses  a  notable  figure  : 

"For  there  I  picked  upon  the  heather 

And  there  I  put  inside  my  breast 
A  moulted  feather,  an  eagle  feather  !  " 

which  he  apparently  borrowed  from  Young  ( The 
Complaint,  Night  II,  601-606): 

"  His  flight  Philander  took,  his  upward  flight, 
If  ever  soul  ascended.     Had  he  dropped, 
(That  eagle  genius  ! )     O  had  he  let  fall 
One  feather  as  he  flew,  I  then  had  wrote 
What  friends  might  flatter,  prudent  foes  forbear, 
Rivals  scarce  damn,  and  Zoilus  reprieve." 

This  passage  suggests  a  more  definite  explana- 
tion of  Browning's  lines  than  any  yet  offered,  as 
follows  : 

The  later  poet  writes  in  conscious  imitation  of 
the  earlier.  Young  states  an  hypothetical  case, 
«'....  0  had  he  let  fall  One  feather  ...."; 
and  his  apodosis  is  given  as  contrary  to  fact, 
«'....  I  then  had  wrote  .  .  .  .".  Browning 
makes  his  statement  as  fact,  "  ....  I  picked  up 
....  an  eagle  feather !"  To  follow  Young,  he 
must  now  say,  "I  wrote  .  .  .  ."  Not  willing  to 
hazard  so  bold  an  assertion,  he  breaks  off  with  the 
line,  for  which,  I  believe,  no  explanation  has  yet 
been  offered : 

Well,  I  forget  the  rest. 


III. 

Milton's  sounding  word-group  (Paradise  Lost, 
v,  600-601,  and  elsewhere)  : 

" Angels,  Progeny  of  Light, 

Thrones,  Dominations,  Princedoms,  Virtues,  Powers," 

harks  back,  as  might  be  expected,  to  the  Bible 
(Colossians    I,    16)  :     ".  .  .  .  whether   they   be 

thrones  or  dominations,  or  principalities,  or  powers 
;  j 

Perhaps,  however,  the  use  of  two  words,  Domi- 
nations and  Virtues,  may  indicate  that  Milton's 
source  was  Ben  Jonson,  Eupheme,  ix  :  Elegy  on 
My  Muse  : 

"  He  knows  what  work  he  hath  done,  to  call  this  guest 
Out  of  her  noble  body  to  this  feast : 
And  give  her  place  according  to  her  blood 
Amongst  her  peers,  those  princes  of  all  good  ! 
Saints,  Martyrs,  Prophets,  with  those  Hierarchies, 
Angels,  Archangels,  Principalities, 
The  Dominations,  Virtues,  and  the  Powers, 
The  Thrones,  the  Cherubs,  and  Seraphic  bowers, 
That,  planted  round,  there  sing  before  the  Lamb 
A  new  song  to  his  praise " 


Prior  liked  the  group,  imitating  it  in  Solomon 
on  the  Vanity  of  the  World,  I,  641-644  : 

" .  .  .  .  essences  unseen,  celestial  names, 
Enlightening  spirits,  and  ministerial  flames, 
Angels,  dominions,  potentates,  and  thrones, 
All  that  in  each  degree  the  name  of  creature  owns  : " 

And  Mrs.  Browning,  A  Drama  of  Exile,  Scene  2  : 

"  The  angelic  hosts,  the  archangelic  pomps, 
Thrones,  dominations,  princedoms, " 


IV. 

The  closing  scene  of  Ivanhoe  seems  to  be  taken 
from  Shenstone's  Love  and  Honour.  That  Scott 
was  familiar  with  Shenstone's  work  seems  suffi- 
ciently indicated  by  casual  references  like  that  in 
the  last  chapter  of  Quentin  Durward,  and  more 
especially  that  in  the  prose  introduction  to  Rokeby. 

In  Scott's  story,  Rebecca  loves  Ivanhoe,  to 
whom  she  is,  besides,  deeply  grateful  for  benefits 
received,  but  who  loves  Rowena,  a  maiden  of  his 
own  nation.  Rowena  herself  is  a  colorless  figure, 
taking  no  active  part  in  the  story.  Just  after 
Rowena  and  Ivanhoe  are  married,  Rebecca  calls 
upon  Rowena,  and  states  that  she  is  going  with 


152 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


her  father  to  Grenada,  where  she  will  devote  her 
life  to  the  service  of  her  people.  It  is  hinted  that 
she  would  enter  a  convent  if  her  race  possessed 
such  an  institution.  She  presents  to  Rowena  a 
casket  of  costly  jewels. 

In  Shenstone's  poem,  Elvira  is  an  Iberian 
maiden,  captured  by  the  British,  and 

" assign'd  to  Henry's  care, 

Lord  of  her  life,  her  fortune,  and  her  fame." 

Henry  treats  Elvira  with  the  greatest  kindness, 
makes  her  his  friend  and  companion,  and  she  loves 
him.  When  the  time  of  her  release  conies,  and 
she  is  about  to  go  back  to  Spain,  she  tells  Henry 
of  her  love,  and  asks  his  in  return  ;  but  learns 
that  his  faith  is  plighted  to  Maria,  an  English 
maiden,  who  comes  into  the  story  only  at  this 
point  and  only  by  name.  Elvira  then  gives 
Henry  a  casket  of  jewels  for  Maria,  saying  that, 
when  she  reaches  Spain,  she  will  enter 

" the  sacred  cells 

Of  some  lone  cloister  .  .  .  . ' 


J.  W.  PEAECE. 


New  Orleans,  La. 


THREE  NOTES  TO  A.   DAUDET'S 
STORIES. 

In  Les  Vieux,  Daudet  wrote:  "J'avais  deja 
choisi  mon  cagnard  entre  deux  roches.  .  ."  It 
seems  that  "cagnard"  must  be  labelled  "collo- 
quial" rather  than  "provincial."  This  appears 
from  an  entry  by  Saine'an  in  a  recent  article  on 
the  Romance  derivatives  of  Latin  CANIS  ' :  "  anc. , 
fr.  cagnard,  cagnart,  lieu  abrit6  ou  exposS  au 
soleil  (que  les  chiens  recherchent  des  qu'ils  res- 
sentent  un  changement  de  temps)  ou  se  retirent 
les  gueux.  Encore  aujourd'hui  le  cagnard  du 
Jardin  des  Tuileries,  appe!6  aussi  la  petite  Pro- 
vence, est  toujours  rempli  de  gueux." 

In  Les  Vieux,  a  child  is  reading  from  the  life  of 
St.  Irenseus  :  "  Alors  saint  Irenee  s'6cria  :  Je  suis 
le  fromeut  du  Seigneur  ;  il  faut  que  je  sois  moulu 
par  la  dent  de  ces  animaux.  .  ."  As  I  discovered 

1  Mem.  d.  I.  Soc.  d.  Linguistique  de  Paris,  xiv,  p.  239. 


from  meeting  the  same  quotation  in  J.  Schlum- 
berger's  poignant  study,  Le  Mur  de  Verre  (Paris, 
1904),  Daudet  must  have  confused  St.  Irenseus 
with  St.  Ignatius  of  Antioch,  in  whose  well-known 
epistle  to  the  Romans  (iv,  i  and  ii,  ed.  Lightfoot, 
H,  p.  648)  occur  the  words  :  "  Frumentum  sum 
del,  et  per  dentes  bestiarum  molar,  ut  rnundus 
panis  inveniar  Christi."  Or  did  Daudet  prefer 
Irenee  to  Ignace  on  the  ground  of  euphony  ? 

In  1904,  M.  Hugues  Le  Roux  asserted  in  pub- 
lic lectures  in  Chicago  and  elsewhere  that  he,  and 
not  Alphonse  Daudet,  was  the  real  author  of  the 
story  La  Belle- Nivernawe.  It  will  be  remembered 
that  this  tale  was  originally  published  in  English 
in  the  Youth's  Companion  (Boston)  in  1885. 
Wishing  if  possible  to  control  the  statement  of  M. 
Le  Roux,  the  undersigned,  sometime  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1905,  addressed  a  courteous  letter  to  M. 
L6on  A.  Daudet,  son  and  literary  executor  of  A. 
Daudet,  inquiring  as  to  the  truth  of  the  matter. 
This  letter  has  not  been  honored  with  a  reply. 
The  inference  seems  to  be  that,  following  the 
example  of  the  illustrious  Dumas,  Alphonse 
Daudet  in  at  least  one  case  put  out  the  work  of 
his  secretary  as  his  own,  for  the  editors  of  the 
Youth's  Companion  state  that  in  the  correspond- 
ence Daudet  more  than  once  referred  to  La  Belle- 
Nivernaise,  as  "ma  nouvelle."  It  was  long  ago 
remarked  that  the  choppy  sentences  and  a  certain 
looseness  of  language  observed  in  the  story  are 
quite  unlike  Daudet' s  usual  style.  This  fact 
lends  additional  support  to  the  idea  that  the  La 
Eelle-Niveniawe  was  not  written  —  though  per- 
haps retouched — by  the  author  of  Tartarin  sur  les 
Alpes. 

T.  ATKINSON  JENKINS. 

University  of  Chicago. 


RESIDUAL  ENS. 

The  scholastic  dignities  of  ens  must  always  be 
respected.  On  all  occasions  this  wordlet  should 
be  qualified  by  an  adjective  profoundly  technical. 
Whether  ever  before  it  has  been  called  residual 
ens  does  not  matter  ;  it  is  important  only  that  the 
epithet  be  suggestive  of  philosophy  and  science. 


May,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


153 


Surely  the  meaning  of  residual  ens  has  unfathom- 
able depths,  reaching  into  the  last  mysteries  of  the 
universe.  Less  appalling,  but  really  more  alarm- 
ing, is  its  connotation  in  the  realm  of  personal 
conduct.  This  is  duly  set  forth  by  the  Bishop  of 
Dunkeld,  with  a  negligible  feature  of  ecclesiasti- 
cism  : 

Quhen  halie  Kirk  first  flurist  in  gouthheid, 
Prelatis  wer  chosin  of  all  perfectioun  ; 
For  Conscience. than  the  brydill  had  to  leid. 

And  fra  Conscience  the  Con  they  clip  away, 
And  maid  of  Conscience  Science  and  na  mair  ; 

And  fra  Sci  of  Science  wes  adew, 
Than  left  thai  nocht  hot  this  ssillab  Ens. 
Quhilk  in  our  language  signifies  that  schrew 
Riches  and  geir,  that  gart  all  grace  go  hens. 

Gavin  Douglas,  Conscience  (Small,  i,  121). 

The  Scottish  editor-in-chief  of  the  Oxford  Dic- 
tionary will  not  undervalue  this  citation,  which  so 
notably  antedates  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  "quiddity 
of  Ens"  (An  Apologie  for  Poetry,  ed.  Schuck- 
burgh,  p.  42  f. ).  Dr.  Fennell  (Stanford  Diction- 
ary) had  also  not  gone  back  beyond  Sidney  to 
give  ear  to  the  lamentation  of  the  good  Bishop. 

JAMES  W.  BRIGHT. 


MR.  WILLIAM  J.  CRAIG  (1843-1906). 

American  papers  seem  not  to  have  noticed  the 
death,  on  December  12th,  1906,  of  Mr.  William 
J.  Craig,  known  to  many  as  the  editor  of  the 
Oxford  Shakespeare,  and  as  editor-in-chief  of  the 
elaborate  Arden  Shakespeare,  published  in  this 
country  by  the  Bobbs-Merrill  Company.  Mr. 
Craig  was  born  in  1843,  in  the  North  of  Ireland, 
and  graduated  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  where 
he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Professor  William 
Graham,  of  Queen's  College,  Belfast,  and  of  Pro- 
fessor Edward  Dowden,  who  were  perhaps  his 
closest  friends.  After  1874,  Mr.  Craig  lived  for 
the  most  part  in  London,  although  he  was  for  a 
time  Professor  of  the  English  Language  and  Lit- 
erature at  University  College,  Aberystwith.  His 
published  work  included  the  Oxford  Shakespeare, 
already  mentioned  ;  a  particularly  attractive  little 
pocket  edition  of  Shakespeare,  in  forty  volumes, 


published  by  Methuen  ;  and  the  King  Lear  in  the 
Arden  edition.  At  the  time  of  his  death,  he  was 
working  upon  a  Coriolanus,  for  the  same  series. 

Mr.  Craig's  great  work,  however,  was  a  colossal 
Shakespearean  Glossary,  to  which  he  had  given 
the  most  of  his  time  for  the  last  twelve  years,  and 
for  which  he  had  accumulated  an  immense  mass 
of  material.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  his  collections 
may  yet  be  made  available  to  others  ;  but  even  if 
they  are  not  published,  they  have  not  been  without 
value,  for  there  are  few  English  scholars  who  have 
written  in  the  past  ten  years  about  Shakespeare  or 
his  times,  who  have  not  recorded  their  indebted- 
ness to  Mr.  Craig's  great  learning  and  generous 
help. 

In  addition  to  Professors  Graham  and  Dowden, 
Mr.  Craig  numbered  among  his  particular  friends 
Mr.  Sidney  Lee,  Mr.  A.  H.  Bullen,  Mr.  Thomas 
Seccombe,  Professor  W.  P.  Ker,  and  Dr.  John 
Rae.  The  few  Americans  who  had  the  privilege 
of  his  acquaintance  will  testify  to  his  kindliness 
and  his  unusual  personal  charm.  As  a  friend 
wrote  of  him  in  the  London  Times,  ' '  He  was  that 
rare  kind  of  skilled  philologist  with  whom  style, 
thought,  and  feeling  were  the  only  things  that 
counted  in  literature.  A  veritable  passion  for 
tracing  the  meaning  of  words  and  for  illustrating 
their  usage  never  dimmed  his  critical  perception. 
As  a  man  Mr.  Craig  had  a  genius  for  friendship. 
An  active  sympathy  with  the  aspirations  and  en- 
thusiasms of  youth  kept  him  young  at  heart  to  the 
end.  Never  happier  than  when  rendering  service 
to  others,  he  placed  his  stores  of  learning  with 
self-denying  liberality  at  the  disposal  of  all  others. 
Tolerant  of  others'  foibles,  he  was  when  in  good 
health  the  most  buoyant  and  genial  of  com- 
panions. A  keen  sense  of  humour  made  him 
alive  to  the  comical  character  of  situations  which 
his  tendency  to  absent-mindedness  and  his  singu- 
larly difficult  handwriting  occasionally  provoked. 
His  closest  friends  were  men  sharing  his  own 
tastes.  But  he  was  at  home  with  everybody. 
The  Savage  Club  had  no  more  popular  member. 
The  soul  of  magnanimity  and  modesty  himself,  he 
only  reprobated  in  others  meanness  or  self-conceit." 


EDWARD  PAYSON  MORTON. 


Indiana  University. 


154 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


Die  altenglischen  Sdugetiernamen.  Zusammenge- 
stellt  und  erlautert  von  RICHARD  JORDAN. 
(Anglistische  Forschungen  xn.)  Heidelberg, 
1903.  Pp.  xii  +  212. 

The  appearance  of  Jordan's  monograph  on  the 
Old  English  mammal-names  calls  to  mind  the  fact 
that  in  recent  years  considerable  attention  has 
been  paid  to  the  vocabulary  of  the  early  Ger- 
manic languages.  The  first  of  the  special  treatises 
in  this  particular  field  was  Hoops'  Uber  die  alten- 
glischen Pflanzennamen,  Freiburg  1889  ;  this  was 
followed  by  Whitman's  The  Birds  of  Old  English 
Literature  (Journal  of  Germanic  Philology  2. 
194  ff.,  1898);  Palander's  Die  althoehdeutschen 
Tiernamen,  Darmstadt,  1899  ;  and  Bjorkman's 
Die  Pflanzennamen  der  althoehdeutschen  Glossen 
(Zs.f.  deutsche  Wortforschung  2.  202  ff.,  1902).1 

Jordan  acknowledges  his  chief  indebtedness  to 
the  treatise  of  Palander.  The  work  is  based  upon 
a  fairly  complete  list  of  examples,  chiefly  of  the 
author's  own  collecting,  in  which  no  attempt  has 
been  made  to  normalize  the  spelling  or  insert  the 
proper  marks  of  quantity.  In  the  sections  treating 
of  grammar  and  etymology,  however,  the  spelling 
is  normalized,  and  the  macron  is  used  to  mark 
length  of  vowel.  In  the  citing  of  examples  the 
author  has  rarely  gone  beyond  the  eleventh  cen- 
tury, unless  the  form  of  a  word  of  later  date 
places  it  beyond  question  in  the  Old  English 
period. 

In  the  introduction  a  general  view  is  taken  of 
the  whole  field.  An  attempt  is  made  to  place 
together  the  names  that  are  approximately  of  the 
same  age  and  belong  to  the  same  speech-period. 
The  chronological  assignment  of  a  name  is  at  the 
best  a  difficult  task  ;  frequently  it  depends  solely 
upon  a  questionable  etymological  relation.  There 
is  need,  then,  of  extreme  caution  in  the  drawing 
of  inferences,  for  the  investigator  is  aware  that 
many  errors  have  originated  in  the  omissions  and 
deficiencies  of  tradition.  Jordan  is  not  one  of 

1  Since  this  review  was  written  three  monographs  have 
appeared : — Die  altenglischen  namen  der  Insekten  Spinnen-  und 
Krustentiere,  von  John  van  Zandt  Cortelyou.  Heidelberg, 
1906. — Eigentumlichkeiten  des  englischen  Wortschatses,  von 
Richard  Jordan.  Heidelberg,  1906. — The  Anglo-Saxon 
Weapon  Names  treated  archcsohgically  and  etymologicaUy, 
by  May  Lausfield  Keller.  Heidelberg,  1906. 


those  who  always  have  a  root  at  hand  to  cover 
every  case  ;  he  is  cautious  and  conservative  and 
invariably  prefers  to  state  a  negative  conclusion 
rather  than  force  an  interpretation  which  the 
facts  will  not  warrant.  His  chief  conclusions 
may  be  summed  up  as  follows  : 

The  mammal-names  form  an  important  part  of 
the  vocabulary  of  early  Indo-Germanic.  Among 
them  are  the  following  names,  the  plurals  of  which 
signify  domestic  animals  :  hund,  eoh,  cu,  steor, 
cealf,  sugu,  bucca,  hcefer,  hecen,  eoivu,  wetier,  oxa. 
The  remainder  are  the  names  of  beasts  of  prey, 
wulf,  otor  ;  the  names  of  the  rodents,  mus,  befor  ; 
and  that  of  the  stag,  eolh. 

To  the  list  of  words  inherited  from  the  Indo- 
Germanic  belong  those  which  are  lacking  in  the 
Asiatic  languages,  but  which,  outside  of  the  Ger- 
manic, appear  in  one  or  more  European  languages. 
Such  are  the  early  European  fola,  fearh,  lox, 
heanna,  il,  heorot,  eofor,  hwcel,  hara,  and  the 
North  European  wesend,  common  only  to  Celtic, 
Germanic,  and  Baltic. 

Then  follow  those  names  which  are  not  present 
outside  of  the  Germanic  but  are  classed  as  Early 
Germanic  because  they  are  possessed  in  common 
by  the  Old  Germanic  dialects.  In  this  group  the 
names  of  wild  animals  predominate  :  fox,  bera, 
mearft,  wesle,  acweorna,  seolh,  ra,  ur.  Hors, 
hengest,  win,  gilte  signify  domestic  animals  ; 
ticcen  may  be  placed  here,  and  possibly  rat. 

To  the  narrower  province  of  West  Germanic 
belong  only  the  names  of  modern  domestic  ani- 
mals :  rySfta,  ram,  hrySer,  bar,  seep.  The  OE. 
has  only  biece,  roxc,  colt  in  common  with  the 
Norse  ;  only  for  in  common  with  the  Low  German. 
The  special  OE.  names  are  not  so  numerous  as 
the  creations  of  the  Old  High  German.  This  is 
due  in  part  to  the  fact  that  the  OHG.  is  more 
inclined  to  form  new  names  by  composition  with 
appelatives,  or  with  animal  names  already  ex- 
isting, than  is  the  OE. 

Among  the  borrowed  words  those  derived  from 
the  Latin  play  the  most  important  part.  To  the 
oldest  class  belong  esol,  mul,  sea-mere,  elpend. 
These  borrowings  came  through  trade  ;  elpend, 
for  example,  presupposes  traffic  in  ivory.  Later 
in  British-Christian  times,  when  a  knowledge  of 
lion-names  implied  an  acquaintance  with  Biblical 
and  ecclesiastical  literature,  leo  was  adopted.  But 


May,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


155 


•while  leo  was  thoroughly  assimilated,  names  like 
tiger  and  pandher  were  only  literary  foreign  words, 
and  were  never  fully  anglicized.  Camel  is  met 
with  only  in  late  Northumbrian.  In  the  tenth 
century,  yip  was  derived  from  elpend.  In  addition 
to  the  words  borrowed  from  the  Latin  there  may 
be  cited  that  remarkable  Germanic-Slavic  camel- 
name  which  appears  in  OE.  as  olfend.  It  is 
related  to  the  Greek  IA.£<£a«. 

The  British-Celtic  words  are  brocc  and  assa. 
The  latter  form,  which  is  met  with  commonly  in 
Biblical  literature,  is  doubtless  to  be  traced  back 
to  the  influence  of  Irish  Christianity. 

Our  animal  names  were  little  influenced  by  the 
influx  of  the  Old  Norse,  which  made  itself  felt 
most  strongly  toward  the  end  of  the  OE.  period. 
Only  two  words  rightly  belong  here — hran,  and 
the  composite  horshwasl,  names  of  two  northern 
animals  which  Alfred  came  to  know  through  his 
intercourse  with  the  Norwegian  Ohthere. 

On  phonetic  grounds  it  can  be  assumed  that  the 
Old  French  dain,  analogous  to  the  Lat.  damus, 
is  the  source  of  the  OE.  da.  The  continental 
Germanic  influence  is  so  slight  at  this  period  that 
it  hardly  comes  into  consideration.  Possibly  the 
form  ittanbucca  may  be  placed  in  connection  with 
the  OHG.  tteinbock.  Finally,  there  should  be 
mentioned  as  a  translation  of  the  Lat.  unicornis 
the  form  anhyrne.  Corresponding  to  the  poetical 
kenning  is  the  circumlocution  nihtgenge  for  hyaena 
in  the  glosses. 

A  trait  common  to  the  OE.,  and  in  general  to 
the  Old  Germanic  animal-names,  is  the  regular 
way  in  which  the  female  is  distinguished  from  the 
male,  the  young  from  the  mature. 

Palander  thus  designates  two  important  classes 
of  sex -distinctions  :  '  In  order  to  separate  dis- 
tinctly the  female  animal  from  the  corresponding 
male,  either  the  feminine  designations  are  created 
out  of  separate  roots  or  are  built  up  by  "  motion ' ' 
from  the  existing  masculine  forms  and  common 
nouns.'  The  first  in  general  finds  application 
only  with  domestic  animals,  among  which  the 
distinctions  of  sex  are  of  the  most  practical  sig- 
nificance to  man.  In  OE. ,  as  a  general  thing, 
are  found  the  same  pairs  as  in  OHG.,  in  which 
feminine  and  masculine  animal-names  of  diiferent 
stems  stand  over  against  each  other  ;  examples 
are  :  bicce—tifehund,  myre — steda,  gat — hcefer, 
etc.  The  single  case  in  which  this  suppletive 


change  is  found  among  wild  animals  is  that  of 
hind—heorot.  This  change  of  stem  seems  to  be 
based  on  the  distinction  between  the  horned  male 
and  the  unhorned  female. 

The  second  method  of  forming  the  feminine 
animal-names  is  '  motion, '  which  in  OE.  occurs  in 
suffixal  change  as  well  as  in  composition.  The 
suffixes  which  are  here  to  be  considered  are  -on, 
-id,  -ion,  -inio.  Of  these  only  the  last,  -inio,  is 
productive  in  the  OE.  period.  In  Mod.  E.  the 
suffix  -inio  appears  only  in  vixen,  while  the  suffix 
-in  is  still  productive  in  Mod.  G. 

Next  to  the  suffixal  change,  composition  plays 
the  most  important  part,  and  in  the  course  of 
speech-evolution  ever  gains  in  significance.  Ex- 
amples are :  ass-myre,  cu-cealf,  rah-deor.  On 
the  same  principle  rest  the  Mod.  E.  bitch-fox, 
dog-fox,  etc. 

Corresponding  to  the  usual  method  of  prefixing 
masculine  or  feminine  pronouns  in  Mod.  E.  is  the 
reference  in  ^Ifric's  Glossary  ( WW.  320.  18, 
19) :  ursus  :  bera,  but  ursa  :  heo.  Finally,  there 
should  be  noted  the  rare  case  in  which  the  differ- 
ence in  gender  is  expressed  merely  by  the  help  of 
the  article  (cf.  Greek  17  Itnroi).  This  finds  appli- 
cation with  the  borrowed  word  leo.  The  method 
of  designating  the  young  is  closely  related  to  that 
used  to  distinguish  the  female  ;  furthermore,  only 
the  different  stems  of  the  young  of  domestic  animals 
are  analogous  ;  cf.  the  pairs  hwelp-hund,  fola- 
hors,  etc. 

In  marked  contrast  to  the  OHG.,  the  number 
of  OE.  diminutives  formed  by  suffixes  or  compo- 
sition is  very  small.  With  the  suffix  -ina  are 
formed  swm,  ticcen,  heeen.  The  only  diminutives 
formed  by  composition  are  leon-hwelp  and  hind- 
cealf. 

The  suppletive  change  of  masculine  and  feminine 
animal-names  shows  the  only  certain  disagreement 
of  meaning  between  Indo-Germanic  and  Germanic. 
Sometimes  a  word  which  is  known  outside  of 
Germanic  as  masculine  appears  in  Germanic  as 
feminine.  For  example  :  Lat.  hcedm,  '  he-goat ' 
=  OE.  gat,  'she-goat.'  It  seems  probable  that 
when  two  or  more  stems  for  the  designating  of  a 
domestic  animal  were  existent,  one  was  used  to 
distinguish  the  female  from  the  male,  the  young 
from  the  mature,  the  one  name  taking  from  the 
other  a  part  of  its  range  of  meaning,  Thus  lamb 
signifies  in  Gothic  the  common  'sheep,'  but  in 


156 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


West  Germanic,  in  competition  with  *skapa,  it  is 
particularized  into  'lainb.'  On  similar  grounds 
might  be  explained  the  change  of  meaning  from 
the  OE.  hund,  'dog,'  to  the  Mod.  E.  'hound,' 
'sporting  dog.'  In  ME.  dogge  occurs  conjointly 
with  hund;  at  that  period  a  new  differentiation 
enters,  whereby  hund  loses  its  former  meaning, 
and  obtains  the  new  sense  of  '  sporting  dog, '  while 
dogge  (LOE.  doggo)  retains  its  general  significa- 
tion. 

The  problem  of  the  original  signification  of 
animal-names  presents  far  greater  difficulties  than 
the  question  of  secondary  changes  of  meaning  ;  it 
resolves  itself  chiefly  into  a  study  of  the  root,  and 
of  the  simple  idea  underlying  it.  In  many  cases 
the  primitive  sense  can  be  inferred  from  the  related 
speech-material.  The  safest  interpretations  are 
ordinarily  based  on  external  appearances.  Sera, 
befor  are  designated  '  the  brown '  ;  hara,  '  the 
gray  *  ;  the  quills  give  the  name  ll  to  the  porcu- 
pine ;  and  the  otter  is  called  otor,  '  water-animal, ' 
on  account  of  its  place  of  retreat.  Abstract  signi- 
fications are  hors,  the  '  swift ; '  ram,  the  '  strong. ' 

The  main  body  of  the  monograph  is  devoted  to 
the  discussion  of  115  classified  mammal-names. 
These  are  divided  into  10  orders  as  follows  : 
Pitheci,  Apes  ;  Chiroptera,  Bats  ;  Carnivora,  Beasts 
of  prey  ;  Pinnipedia,  Fin-footed  animals  ;  Insecti- 
vora,  Moles ;  Rodentia,  Rodents  ;  Procoscidae, 
Proboscidians  ;  Perrissodactyla,  Hoofed  animals  ; 
Artiodactyla,  Cloven-hoofed  animals ;  Cetacea, 
Marine  animals. 

In  his  treatment  of  the  individual  animal-names 
the  author  first  cites  the  various  spellings  of  a 
word,  then  gives  lists  of  examples,  of  compounds 
and  derivatives,  and  finally  discusses  the  meaning 
and  etymology.  Under  derivatives  are  given  not 
only  the  feminine  nouns  formed  on  the  same  stem, 
but  adjectives  and  other  parts  of  speech  as  well. 
Under  the  head  of  '  compounds '  occur  all  names 
into  which  the  word  under  discussion  enters.  One 
might  question  the  wisdom  of  devoting  space  to 
such  words  as  hors-minte,  hors-ftistel,  etc.,  which 
bear  only  a  remote  relation  to  the  animal,  and 
more  properly  belong  to  the  province  of  plant- 
names.  Compounds  like  ercd-hors  and  rad-hors 
are  of  course  of  a  quite  duTerent  category,  and  find 
here  their  natural  place. 

General  names,  such  as  nyten,  dear,  feoh,  orf, 


etc.,  have  not  been  considered.  Of  this  group, 
dear  at  least  deserves  to  be  included,  because  it 
sometimes  possesses  the  individual  sense  of  '  deer'  ; 
cf.  Oros.  1.  1  :  Ohthere  hcefde  fia  he  ftone  cyninge 
sohte  tamra  deor  unbebohtra  syx  hund.  Da  deor 
hi  hataft  hranas. 

In  the  preface  the  author  expresses  the  hope 
that  he  has  not  been  too  lavish  in  the  citation  of 
examples.  Far  from  criticizing  on  that  score, 
the  student  might  wish  that  an  attempt  had  been 
made  to  present  a  complete  list.  This  feature 
would  make  the  monograph  more  valuable  as  a 
work  of  reference.  The  examples  are  arranged 
according  to  cases  after  the  manner  of  Grein's 
Sprachschatz  der  angelsach#ischen  Dichter,  and  as 
far  as  examined  are  accurately  recorded. 

The  present  writer  has  had  occasion  recently  to 
go  over  the  same  ground  as  that  covered  by  Jor- 
dan's monograph,  and  has  noted  the  following 
additional  words  which  seem  to  deserve  a  place  in 
the  list  of  OE.  mammal-names. 

The  abbreviations  used  in  the  references  are 
those  adopted  by  Bosworth-Toller. 

I.  Hattefagol,   'hedgehog.'     Ps.  Spl.  M.  103. 
19  :  herinaciis,  hattefagol. 

II.  Nicor,  m. ,  '  hippopotamus. '    It  is  true  that 
ordinarily  nicor  is  a  general  term  for  water-mon- 
ster, but  in  the  following  references  it  is  equivalent 
to  the  Lat.  gloss  '  hypopotamus. '     Nar.  20.  29  : 
Him  wceron    t5a    breost   gelice   necres    breostum : 
hypopotami  pectore.  Nar.  11.  11  :  Nicoras:  hypo- 
potami. 

HI.  McBstelberg,  m.,  'fattened  hog.'  Mi.  Skt. 
7.  6,  note  :  ante  porcos,  before  bergum;  fiat  sindon 
fta  mcestelbergas ;  %cet  aron  Sa  gehadade  menn,  and 
tSa  gode  menn,  and  Sa  wlonce  menn  for  hogas 
Godes  bebod  und  godspelles. 

IV.  Hyroxa  m.,    'hired  ox.'     L.  In.    (Th.) 
61.  1,  note  :  hyroxan. 

V.  Gestedhors,  n.,  'stud-horse,  stallion.'     Bd. 
2.    14  ;   8.    517.   5 :    He  ftone  cyng  bad  fiat  he 
him  ivcepen  sealde   and  gestedhors :   rogavit   sibi 
regem  anna  dare  et  equum  emissarum. 

VI.  Siren,  f.,  'she-bear.'     This  is  given  as  a 
hypothetical  form  by  Jordan,  who  apparently  over- 
looked the  reference  Ct,  (OET.)  30,  12  :  birene- 
feld.     It  is  recognized  by  both  Sweet  and  Hall. 

VII.  Headeor,   m. ,    '  stag  '    or    '  deer. '      Chr. 
1086  ;  Erl.  222.  29  ;  Erl.  &  PI.  221.  10  :  Hexam. 


May,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


157 


9  ;  Norm.  16.  3  :  Siva  swidfte  he  lufode  Sa  headeor 
siirilce  he  were  heora  fader. 

VII.  Purlamb,  n.,  'wether-lamb.'  Ex.  12.5  : 
Dcet  lamb  sceal  bion  anwintre  purlamb  clcene  and 
unwemme:  erit  agnus  absque  mascula,  masculus, 
anniculus.1 

An  excellent  bibliography  of  OE.  texts  and 
auxiliary  helps  adds  greatly  to  the  value  of  the 
work.  A  German,  and  possibly  a  Latin,  index 
would  be  helpful  for  reference. 

The  monograph  is  in  no  sense  a  popular  work. 
The  subject  is  treated  chiefly  from  the  philological 
standpoint,  and  consequently  its  strongest  appeal 
is  to  the  student  of  language.  Yet  incidentally  it 
makes  a  few  contributions  to  zoology,  and  throws 
side-lights  on  the  life  and  customs  of  the  OE. 
period. 

Investigators  who  treat  a  subject  thus  exhaust- 
ively bring  to  light  the  errors  of  early  lexico- 
graphers, help  to  free  the  language  of  its  burden 
of  spurious  forms  and  meanings,  and  greatly  lessen 
the  labors  of  those  who  follow  after.  Jordan's 
monograph  is  in  the  main  a  careful  and  scholarly 
piece  of  work,  and  constitutes  a  real  addition  to 
our  knowledge  of  the  OE.  vocabulary. 

CHARLES  HUNTINGTON  WHITMAN. 
Rutgers  College. 


MAX  PLESSOW  :  Geschichte  der  Fabeldichtung  in 
England  bis  zu  John  Gay  (1726).  Nebst  Neu- 
druck  von  Bullokars  "Fables of  ^sop,"  1585, 
"Booke  at  Large"  1580,  "  Bref  Grammar  for 
English"  1586,  und  "Pamphlet  for  Gram- 
mar" 1586.  Berlin:  Mayer  und  Miiller,  1906. 
8vo.,  cliiand  392  pp.  (Palcestra :  Untersuch- 
ungen  und  Texte  aus  der  deutschen  und  eng- 
lischen  Philologie,  LII.  ) 

As  the  title  implies,  the  present  monograph  is 
a  study  of  fable  literature  in  England  from  the 
earliest  period  to  John  Gay.  The  author,  in 

'The  OE.  form  of  the  word  'hog'  has  only  recently 
been  discovered.  Professor  Skeat  writes  Dr.  H.  L.  Har- 
grove in  November,  1902  :  '  The  A.  8.  gen.  plur.  hogga, 
"of  hoggs,"  occurs  twice  in  a  scrap  picked  out  of  an  old 
binding  only  last  week.  It  is  perfectly  genuine,  and  before 
10G6.'—  Professor  A.  S.  COOK. 


making  a  list  of  fable  collections  prior  to  Gay, 
found  that  a  certain  collection  of  ^sop's  fables, 
that  of  William  Bullokar,  could  not  be  obtained 
on  the  Continent.  A  trip  to  England  was  the 
result,  and  the  determination  on  the  part  of  the 
author  to  give  the  world  a  new  edition  of  this 
work. 

The  monograph,  therefore,  is  divided  into  two 
parts.  The  first  part  is  devoted  to  a  study  of 
fable  literature  in  England  down  to  John  Gay. 
In  the  second  part  is  the  text  of  Bullokar' s 
"Fables  of  ^Esop,"  his  "Booke  at  Large,"  his 
' '  Bref  Grammar  for  English  ' '  and  his  ' '  Pam- 
phlet for  Grammar. ' ' 

In  the  first  part  the  subject-matter  is  divided 
according  to  periods,  the  principal  of  which 
are  :  (1)  Fable  Literature  of  the  Normans  and 
Anglo-Saxons  ;  and  (2)  Latin  Fable  Literature 
in  England  during  the  Twelfth,  Thirteenth  and 
Fourteenth  Centuries.  Several  pages  are  devoted 
also  to  the  fable  literature  of  Scotland.  By  the 
word  fable  we  are  to  understand  exclusively 
animal  tales  with  a  moral  application. 

The  remarkable  growth  and  popularity  of  fable 
literature  in  England,  especially  in  the  Latin 
language,  during  the  thirteenth  and  the  early 
part  of  the  fourteenth  century  is  emphasized  by 
Dr.  Plessow. 

The  fables  of  Marie  de  France  and  Odo  of 
Cherington  were  especially  well  known,  and  must 
have  been  freely  copied  and  imitated.  Marie 
would  naturally  be  very  popular  among  her  fel- 
low-countrymen, and  they  were  not  few,  in  Eng- 
land. This  seems  also  to  have  been  true  for  the 
Anglo-Norman  Nicole  Bozon  (c.  1300),  who  in- 
serted fables  in  his  sermons.  Bozon  was  dependent 
for  the  greater  part  of  his  fables,  not  on  Odo  (as 
Dr.  Plessow  asserts),  but  on  Marie,  or  at  least, 
the  Alfred-Marie  tradition  as  opposed  to  the 
Komulus-Odo  tradition.1 

Attention  is  called  to  the  fact  that  in  Bozon' s 
fables  several  English  words  and  even  whole  sen- 
tences are  employed.  This  leads  to  the  mooted 
question  of  a  lost  English  Romulus.  Dr.  Plessow, 
however,  throws  no  new  light  upon  this  subject. 

1  Cf.  A  Comparative  Study  of  the  JEsopic  Fable  in  Nicole 
Bozon  (Johns  Hopkins  Dissertation),  Philip  W.  Harry, 
1903.  (  University  Studies,  University  of  Cincinnati,  Series 
II,  Vol.  i,  No.  2,  March-April,  1905. ) 


158 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


A  short  chapter  is  devoted  to  the  Scottish 
fabulists,  and  a  study  of  Henryson's  fables  con- 
vinces the  author  of  the  present  work  that  Henry- 
son's  dependence  on  Lydgate  (who  it  should  be 
remembered  principally  follows  Marie)  appears 
to  be  greater  than  generally  supposed.  Caxton's 
influence  upon  Henryson  is  also  to  be  noted. 

Caxton's  two  books,  Reynard  the  Foxe  (1481) 
and  Fables  of  JEsop  (1484)  show  their  imprint 
on  later  writers  of  every  genre.  JSsop  was  the 
popular  author  of  the  day  :  his  fables  were  trans- 
lated for  the  school-children  ;  they  were  made  use 
of  in  political  debates  and  quarrels  ;  they  even 
invaded  the  stage.  Dr.  Plessow  has  pointed  out 
the  great  popularity  of  the  fable  with  all  classes 
of  writers  during  the  times,  especially,  of  Chaucer 
add  Shakespeare.  He  has  gone  through  an  im- 
mense amount  of  material  and  collected  the 
"stray"  fables  found  interwoven  with  subjects 
of  a  different  character. 

Bullokar'  s  ' '  ^Esop'  s  Fables ' '  appeared  in  1 585. 
They  were  translated  by  him  from  the  Latin,  but 
he  tells  us  that  he  mislaid  his  Latin  copy  after  he 
had  finished  his  work  and  was  consequently  unable 
to  say  what  edition  he  had  used,  though  he  thought 
as  near  as  he  could  ' '  ges  of ' '  that  it  was  the  edi- 
tion of  Thomas  Marsh,  London,  1580.  By  reason 
of  some  variations  in  Bullokar' s  translation,  Dr. 
Plessow  holds  the  opinion,  however,  that  his 
original  was  rather  the  edition  of  Wynkyn  de 
Worde  (1535)  and  that  the  edition  of  Thomas 
Marsh  is  from  the  same  source.  Wynkyn  de 
Worde' s  "^Esop"  is  in  turn  dependent  on  the 
Venice  edition  of  1534. 

Bullokar  has  in  his  collection  131  "proper" 
fables  of  ./Esop,  8  gathered  out  of  divers  authors, 
95  from  Abstemius,  33  from  Valla,  99  from 
Kimicius,  and  11  from  Poggius.  Bullokar' s 
translation  did  not  seem  to  enjoy  any  special 
popularity.  His  phonetic  script  (in  which  the 
fables  were  written)  was  doubtless  a  hinderance. 
The  edition  used  by  Dr.  Plessow  is  in  the. British 
Museum,  but  there  are  also  other  editions  of  1621 
and  1647. 

The  fable  in  England,  even  more  so  than  in 
France,  frequently  becomes  satire,  and  generally 
political  satire,  rather  than  moral.  The  fables  of 
Gay  are  of  this  kind.  He  attacks  the  ministers 
and  parliament.  The  influence  of  La  Fontaine 


upon  Gay  is  apparent  despite  his  striving  after 
originality.  In  true  German  fashion  our  author 
makes  a  careful  study  of  Gay's  style,  composition, 
verse  and  rhyme. 

Bullokar  wrote  his  fables  ' '  in  true  ortography 
with  grammar  notes."  He  wished  to  show  his 
countrymen  how  false  their  orthography  was  at 
that  time  and  how  they  must  write  well.  The 
fact  that  he  selected  fables  speaks  well  for  their 
popularity  in  all  circles. 

Bullokar  was  indeed  a  phonetist.  He  was  con- 
vinced that  twenty-four  letters  were  not  sufficient 
to  picture  "  Inglish  speech,"  which,  according  to 
him,  needs  forty  letters.  At  that  time,  many  of 
his  countrymen  thought,  so  he  complained,  that 
he  wanted  ' '  to  change  English  speech  altogether. ' ' 

Accompanying  the  fables  are  some  ' '  short  sen- 
tences of  the  Wys  Cato."  also  translated  by  Bul- 
lokar from  the  Latin.  They  are  in  verse  and  still 
in  "tru  ortography."  His  "Bref  Grammar," 
which  was  an  abstract  of  his  "  Grammar  at  larg, " 
has  the  distinction  of  being  perhaps  the  first  Eng- 
lish grammar  ever  written. 

The  chief  interest  to  us  to-day  in  these  works  of 
Bullokar  (outside  of  his  Fables)  lies  in  the  fact 
that  they  show  that  in  the  sixteenth  century 
there  were  quarrels  concerning  the  orthography 
of  English  speech,  and  that  educators  concerned 
themselves  with  providing  some  "remedie"  as 
they  are  doing  to-day.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
a  close  study  of  the  phonetic  script  might  reveal 
the  fact  that  certain  words  at  that  period  had  a 
different  pronunciation  from  what  is  generally 
suspected  to-day. 

Dr.  Plessow  has  given  us  a  careful  outline  of 
fable  literature  in  England  down  to  the  first 
quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century.  His  work 
abounds  iu  information  and  suggestion  that  could 
only  be  acquired  by  wide  reading  and  studious 
effort.  A  plentiful  supply  of  welcome  information 
on  fable  literature  in  England,  but  more  especially 
that  of  the  later  period,  has  been  unearthed  by 
him. 

PHILIP  HARRY. 

Northwestern  University. 


May,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE    NOTES. 


159 


CORRESPONDENCE. 
A  LANGUAGE  OF  THE  PHILIPPINES. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  :— On  January  26,  1907,  Dr.  Charles 
Wilhelm  Seidenadel  of  Chicago  presented  to  the 
Philological  Society  of  the  University  of  Chicago 
selected  chapters  of  his  manuscript  First  Grammar 
of  The  Bontoc  Igorot.  The  author,  who  is  a 
trained  philologist  and  a  thorough  musician, 
associated  last  summer  for  several  months  with 
the  members  of  a  group  of  the  Igorot  tribe,  about 
thirty  in  number,  brought  to  Chicago  at  the  close 
of  the  St.  Louis  Exposition  and  exhibited  at 
River  View  Park.  Continuous  intercourse  with 
these  people,  often  lasting  ten  hours  each  day, 
enabled  Mr.  Seidenadel  not  only  to  understand 
their  language,  but  also  to  converse  with  them 
freely  in  it  upon  a  basis  of  mutual  intelligibility. 
He  was  successful  in  transcribing  between  three 
and  four  thousand  complete  sentences,  which  he 
first  repeatedly  tested  in  actual  use  and  then 
subjected  to  critical  examination  and  classification 
for  the  purpose  of  the  Grammar. 

The  linguistic  and  ethnological  importance  of  a 
study  like  that  here  mentioned  is  clear  in  the  light 
of  our  close  national  relations  with  the  Philippine 
Islands  and  of  the  almost  utter  lack  of  trustworthy 
philological  work  in  the  languages  of  the  archi- 
pelago. Mr.  Seidenadel' s  remarkable  initial  suc- 
cess, his  singular  natural  gift  and  special  training 
for  making  accurate  phonetic  transcriptions  of  the 
spoken  word,  and  his  personal  friendly  relations 
with  a  considerable  group  of  the  natives  prominent 
in  the  Igorot  tribe,  are,  it  seems  to  the  members 
of  the  Philological  Society,  strong  reasons  for 
expecting  from  Mr.  Seidenadel' s  further  research 
in  this  direction  results  of  very  great  importance 
for  the  linguistic  and  ethnological  history  of  the 
Islands. 

Mr.  Seidenadel  hopes  to  secure  from  some 
source  the  means  needed  for  residence  in  the 
Philippines  to  complete  his  studies  of  the  Bontoc 
Igorot  and  to  extend  his  attention  to  other  allied 
dialects. 

STAKE  WILLARD  CUTTING, 

/Secretary  of  the  Philological  Society. 
The  University  of  Chicago. 


THE  ETYMOLOGY  OF  bore. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — The  Oxford  Dictionary  rejects  the  usual 
explanation  of  the  verb  bore,  '  to  weary, '  as  a 
figurative  use  of  bore,  'to  pierce,'  holding  that 


the  noun  bore  in  the  sense  of  '  the  malady  of 
ennui'  (1766)  is  the  source  of  the  other  senses, 
and  of  the  verb  itself.  An  interesting  passage 
from  a  letter  of  Lady  Sarah  Lennox,  January  9, 
1766  (Life  and  Letters,  1902,  i,  179),  is  worth 
adding  to  the  quotations  given  by  Dr.  Murray, 
and  may  perhaps  be  thought  to  supply  evidence 
for  the  priority  of  the  noun  : 

' '  I  have  given  you  a  pretty  good  boar  upon  dress 
...  I  told  you  the  word  '  boar '  is  a  fashionable 
expression  for  tiresome  people  &  conversations,  & 
is  a  very  good  one  &  very  useful,  for  one  may  tell 
anybody  (Ld  G.  Cavendish  for  example),  'I  am 
sure  this  will  be  a  boar,  so  I  must  leave  you,  Ld 
George.'  If  it  was  not  the  fashion  it  would  be 
very  rude,  but  I  own  I  encourage  the  fashion 
vastly,  for  it's  delightful  I  think  ;  one  need  only 
name  a  pig  or  pork,  &  nobody  dares  take  it  ill 
but  hold  their  tongues  directly." 

Yet  after  all  it  seems  more  probable  that  the 
current  etymology  is  correct.  The  verb  in  the 
sense  of  '  to  weary  by  tedious  conversation '  is 
quoted  from  1768,  and  may  well  have  been  in  use 
a  few  years  earlier.  To  bore  one's  ears  in  the 
sense  of  '  to  force  one  to  listen  '  is  duly  registered 
by  Dr.  Murray,  with  three  quotations,  the  latest 
from  1642,  and  he  adds  a  cross-reference  to  the 
verb  bore  '  to  weary. '  The  following  additional 
quotations  (especially  the  second)  conduct  one 
easily  enough  to  the  latter  verb,  for  it  is  not  dif- 
ficult to  pass  from  '  to  bore  a  person' s  ears  with 
offensive  or  tedious  conversation '  to  the  simpler 
'to  bore  a  person.'  Such  ellipses  are  common 
enough. 

1665.  The  English  Rogue  (i,  242  of  the  re- 
print): "  His  prophane  and  irreligious  discourse 
did  so  bore  my  glowing  ears,  that  ...  I  could 
not  endure  to  hear  him  blaspheme. ' ' 

1699.  The  Country  Gentleman's  Vade  Mecum, 
p.  4  :  "If  you'll  come  here  you  must  sometimes 
expect  to  be  encountred  with  the  Apes  and  Pea- 
cocks of  the  Town,  those  useless  Creatures  that  we 
dignifie  and  distinguish  by  the  modish  Titles  of 
Fops  and  Beaux,  and  what's  "worse,  be  compelled 
to  suffer  your  Ears  to  be  bor'd  through  and  grated 
within  empty,  tedious  Din  of  their  dull  Imperti- 
nencies,  or  else  the  squeamish  Cox[c]ombs  look 
awry  and  scornfully  upon  you,  and  immediately 
repute  you  to  be  a  proud,  ill-natur'  d,  unmannerly 
Country  Fellow. ' ' 

There  is  surely  no  difficulty  in  getting  from  the 
verb  bore  in  the  figurative  sense  of  '  to  weary '  to 
the  noun  bore  'ennui.'  As  for  the  adjective 
French  in  French  bore  (1768),— which  Dr.  Mur- 
ray says  "naturally  suggests  that  the  word  is  of 
French  origin ' '  and  which  leads  him  to  hazard 
the  conjecture  bourre,  'padding,'  'triviality,' — 


160 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  5. 


there  is  surely  no  difficulty  about  it.  Instead  of 
indicating  a  French  origin  for  the  word,  it  doubt- 
less indicates  a  French  origin  for  the  slate  of  mind. 
Indeed  Dr.  Murray  himself  remarks  that  the 
"malady  of  ennui"  was  "supposed  to  be  spe- 
cially 'French.'  " 

G.    L.    KlTTBEDGE. 

Harvard  University. 


ERRATA. 


Beowulf,  62. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

gIES  : — Having  been  forced  to  protest  against 
the  charge  of  "questionable  tactics"  preferred 
against  me  in  Mod.  Lang.  Notes,  xxn,  96,  I  ask 
your  indulgence  for  handing  to  you  the  following 
brief  and  final  reply  in  this  matter. 

1.  It   is   entirely  unfair   to   say  that  I  have 
"persisted  in  seeing  things  in  the  autotype  that 
surely  are  not  there."    I  never  dreamed  of  claim- 
ing or  insinuating  that  I  could  see  a  trace  of  a 
p  or  a  or  w  or  ce.     I  am  neither  prepared  to  say 
what  the  erased  letters  were  nor  what  they  were 

not excepting  the  s  which  I  am  quite  willing  to 

believe  Professor  Bryant  has  successfully  rescued. 
If  Professor   Bryant   has  information  about  the 
other  letters,  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  has  not 
divulged  it.     I  merely  cited,  by  way  of  concrete 
illustration,    what  seems  to  me  a   possible  case, 
stating   at  the   same   time  distinctly  that    "the 
nature  of  the  word  or  words  erased  as  well  as  the 
reading  of  the  scribe's  original  MS.  is  entirely  a 
matter  of  speculation. "    If  I  am  hopelessly  unable 
to  grasp  Professor  Bryant's  position,  he  fails  in 
no  less  degree  to  understand  my  point  of  view. 

2.  The  reading  "  hyrde  ic  in  Fat.  Ap.  70,"  in 
my  letter,  Mod.  Lang.  Notes,  xxi,  256*,  1.  1  f.  is 
a  regrettable,  but  not  unnatural  slip  of  the  pen 
(possibly  a  typographical  error),   which  is  in  a 
measure  counterbalanced  by  the  occurrence,  in  1. 
10,  of  the  correct  form  :   "  hyrde  we  70."     Pro- 
fessor Bryant  does  not  mention  the  latter  quotation, 
but  makes  much  of  the  ' '  misquotation. ' '    I  had  not 
noticed  the  slip  until  it  was  brought  home  to  me  in 
a  manner  not  altogether  pleasant.   A  hand-written 
duplicate  (which  I  have  saved)  of  the  copy  sent 
to  the  Editors  shows  the  proper  plural  form  we. 

3.  The  charge  that  "the first  time  [I]  referred 
to  the  passage  [I]  gave  the  wrong  line-number" 
is  an  interesting  puzzle  to  me.     To  the  very  best 
of  my  recollection,  I  never  referred  to  the  Fat.  Ap. 
passage  except  in  that  much  abused  letter  (Mod. 
Lang.  Notes,  xxi,  256").     The  only  explanation 
I  can  guess  of  this  terrible  charge  is  that  Professor 
Bryant  had  in  mind  somebody  else,  namely  Dr. 
Schiicking,  who,  on  p.  85  of  his  Satzverknupfimg, 
misprints:   "  Hyrde  we,  fat  Jacob  .   .   .   V.  20  " 
(instead  of  70).     But  I  most  certainly  beg  to  be 
excused  from  acting  the  part  of  a  scapegoat. 

FE.  KLAEBER. 


To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS: — Permit  me  to  say  that  in  my  article 
printed  in  last  December's  issue  of  this  journal 
there  are  some  errata  which  I  wish  to  correct. 
They  are  as  follows  : 

P.  236a,  line  21.    yru/> ^instead  of  yrnfi. 

line  28.    winierdas  instead  of  winier- 

des. 

P.  236b,  line  26.    sapinus  instead  of  supinus. 
P.  237a,  line  33.    Ledern  instead  of  Leder. 

line  37  and  44.    Kunne     instead     of 

kunne. 

line  48.    Not  instead  of  Note. 
P.  237b,  line  40.    HH  instead  of  Hpt. 

I  take  this  opportunity  to  draw  attention  to  the 
fact  that  in  his  Contributions  to  Old  English  Lexi- 
cography, London,  1906,  pp.  6-7,  Napier,  at 
Prof.  Toller's  suggestion,  prints  as  proof  for  ars- 
gang  (latrina)  the  same  passages  from  the  Leeeh- 
doms  I  had  quoted  to  contradict  him.  He  rein- 
forces them  by  one  from  his  forthcoming  edition 
of  St.  Chrodegang's  Rule,  p.  113,  where  we  read 
f>cd  meox  his  argancges.  He  now  admits  the  word 
with  the  seemingly  well-authenticated  by-form 
argang  as  genuine.  As  to  the  latter,  I  beg  to 
refer  to  my  remarks  in  the  forthcoming  number 
of  Anglia.  Concerning  heor/>a  (nebris*)  quoted 
by  me,  on  page  237a,  it  should  be  noted  that 
Sweet  fails  to  record  it,  though  Hall  and  B.  -T. 
have  it,  as  Napier  1.  c.  p.  37  points  out,  quoting 
from  St.  Chrodegang's  Rule,  p.  74,  biccene  = 
byccene  heorSan  (pellet  buceinas  =  hircinas).  The 
word  has  been  identified  with  OHG.  herdo  (vel- 
lus)  by  Zupitza,  Die  Germ.  Gutturale,  p.  111. 
With  regard  to  thuachl,  erroneously  attributed  to 
Epinal  by  Sievers,  Ags.  Gr.\  §  222,  note  4,  ob- 
serve that  the  error  reappears  in  Biilbring's 
Elementarbuch,  §  133,  note  and  §  528,  note  1. 
With  regard  to  Sievers'  statement  in  §  219,  note 
2,  to  the  effect  that  an  ancient  dat.  pi.  of  smeoru 
is  recorded  which  lacks  -w,  smerum,  I  would  ask  : 
Is  this  not  the  smerum  of  Lr.  35  ( Jwccis)  which 
Sweet,  OET.  p.  529%  erroneously  connects  with 
smeorul  Napier,  note  to  OEGl.  1,  697,  points 
out  the  mistake.  Finally,  I  wish  to  draw  atten- 
tion to  two  or  three  words  from  the  oldest  Glossa- 
ries which,  as  far  as  I  see,  are  recorded  by  neither 
Hall  and  Sweet  nor  Bosworth-Toller  :  (1)  aseo- 
dan  (expendere) ;  on  record  in  the  Corpus  Glos- 
sary, ed.  Hessels  E  542  =  Sweet  Cp  815,  from 
Oros.  i,  1013  ;  (2)  cemonnis  (excidium)  ibid.  E 
526,  absent  from  Sweet ;  (3)  bebltan  (mordicus 
conrodere);  on  record  in  EfEf.  1319  =  Cp  616. 
The  reference  is  to  Oros.  v,  122.  Aseodan  is,  of 
course,  a  derivative  of  seod  (marsuppiiim}. 

OTTO  B.  SCHLUTTER. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES 


VOL.  XXII. 


BALTIMORE,   JUNE,    1907. 


No.  6. 


SCHILLERS  EINFLUSS  AUF  HEBBEL. 

Allen  Freunden  der  deutschen  Literatur  in 
Amenta  muss  es  zur  Freude  gereichen,  dass  das 
Jahr  1906  hierzulande  zwei  Arbeiten  fiber  Fried- 
rich  Hebbel  gezeitigt  liat.  Miss  Annina  Periam 
hat  als  eine  der  "Columbia  University  Germanic 
Studies"  eine  ausfuhrliche  Untersuchung  iiber 
Hebbels  Nibelungen  vcroftentlicht,  und  Mr. 
Ernst  O.  Eckelmann  eroffnete  bald  darauf  die 
"  Ottendorfer  Memorial  Series  of  Germanic  Mono- 
graphs" der  New  York  University  mit  einer 
Studie  iiber  Schillers  Einfluss  auf  die  Jugend- 
dramen  Hebbek.  Von  der  ersten  Arbeit  hat  der 
berufenste  Kritiker,  Prof.  R.  M.  Werner,  gesagt : ' 
"man  muss  staunen,  dass  ein  solchcs  Buch  in 
Amerika  moglich  war ' ' ;  die  zweite  mochte  ich 
nun  in  diesen  Spalten  einer  kurzen  Besprechung 
unterziehen.  Sie  besteht  aus  einer  Einleitung  und 
fiinf  Kapiteln  mit  den  Uberschriften  :  (1)  Hi- 
storische  Beziehungen,  (2)  Die  Prinzipien  der 
Philofophie,  (3)  Die  Prinzipien  der  dramatischen 
Theorie,  (4)  Hebbels  Kritik,  (5)  Die  Jugenddra- 
men  Hebbels.  Dazu  kommen  als  Anhang  eine 
Reihe  von  Zitaten  aus  Hebbels  Tagebiichern  und 
Briefeu,  und  die  einschliigige  Bibliograj^hie. 

Aus  den  Kapiteliiberschriften  ersieht  man  ohne 
Miihe  was  der  Verfasser  will,  aber  eben  darin 
fallt  auch  schon  eine  gewisse  Unbestimmtheit  auf. 
Es  versteht  sich  von  selbst,  dass  nicht  von  den 
Prinzipien  der  Philosophic  iiberhaupt  die  Rede 
ist ;  aber  was  ist  unter  Hebbels  Kritik  oder  gar 
unter  Historischen  Beziehungen  zu  verstehen  ? 
Doch  wohl  Kritik  der  Dramen  Schillers  und 
Beziehungen  zu  Schiller?  Im  ersteti  Kapitel 
finden  wir  eine  gedriingte  Ubersicht  iiber  Hebbels 
Entwicklungsgang,  die  zugleich  chronologisch  und 
entwicklungsgeschichtlich  sein  mochte  uud  eigent- 
lich  so  wenig  das  eine  wie  das  andere  ist  ;  weil 
einmal  die  Daten  und  Epochen  nicht  deutlich 
hervortreten,  und  zweiteus  das  Verhaltnis  zu 
Schiller  mehr  vorausgesetzt  als  erwiesen  wird  uud 

1DLZ,  1906,  Sp.  3061. 


als  ein  ziemlich  konstantes  erscheint,  indem  von 
allerlei  anderen  Verhaltuissen  und  von  allgemci- 
nereu  asthetischen  Fragen  gesprochen  wird.  Dar- 
unter  finden  sich  mehrere  gewagte  Behauptungen, 
die  doch  gerade  hier  bcgriindet  werden  miissten. 
So  z.  B.  "DieZeit  der  Jugendentfaltung  .... 
ist  besonders  gekennzeichuet  durch  den  Einfluss 
Schillers  im  Friihjahr  1837  in  Miiuchen  "  (S. 
14);  "Hebbels  Auifassung  des  Charakters  [der 
Jungfrau  von  Orleans]  war  das  Ergebnis  einer 
Vergleichung  der  dramatischen  Gestalt  Schillcrs 
mitderhistorischenPersonlichkeit"  (S.  19);  "  er 
befasste  sich  vornehmlieh  mit  der  dramatischen 
Technik  Schillers,  wie  man  wohl  annehmen 
darf"  (S.  20);  "der  vergleichenden  Untersu- 
chung der  dramatischeu  Gestalt  Schillers  und  der 
historischen  Personlichkeit  der  Jungf'rau  miissen 
wir  zum  grossen  Teil  Hebbels  tiefe  Erfassung  des 
Tragischen  zuschreiben"  (S.  21).  Das  alles  be- 
zweifle  ich  sehr,  und  ich  glaube,  eine  einfache 
Beachtung  der  Chronologic  von  Hebbels  Ausse- 
rungen  iiber  Schiller  und  die  Jungfrau  in  Miin- 
chen  macht  es  hochst  wahrscheinlich,  dass  zu  Heb- 
bels Auffassuug  des  Charakters  der  Jungfrau  von 
Orleans  das  Schillersche  Stuck  so  gut  wie  gar 
nichts  beigetragen  hat.  Die  "tiefe  Erfassung  des 
Tragischen  "  suchte  Hebbel  damals  iibenill,  nur 
nicht  bei  Schiller. 

Die  drei  folgenden  Kapitel  sind  kiirzer,  iiber- 
sichtlicher,  und  haben  nur  in  Bezug  auf  das 
Gauze  Bedeutung.  Der  Kern  der  Sache  steckt  im 
fiinften  Kapitel.  Hier  versucht  Dr.  Eckelmann 
den  Beweis  zu  erbringen,  dass  Hebbel  bei  der 
Komposition  seiner  Judith  beinahe  Schritt  fur 
Schritt  und  Hand  in  Hand  mit  Schiller  gegangen 
sei,  speziell,  dass  der  Aufbau  der  Jungfrau  von 
Orleans  sich  mit  einigen  Anderungen  in  Hebbels 
Judith  wiecler  finde  (S.  48).  Zur  Veranschau- 
lichung  dienen  ein  graphisches  Schema  und  eine 
Tabelle  mit  Stoff  und  "stofflicher  Vorlage  "  (S. 
54  f.). 

Nun  ist  zwar  nicht  zu  verkennen,  dass  die 
beiclen  Stiicke  eine  gewisse  Ahnlichkeit  mitein- 
ander  haben.  Es  ist  aber  sehr  die  Frage,  ob 


162 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


diese  nicht  mit  der  Sache  selbst  gegeben  war  uud 
nicht  im  bestcn  Falle  rein  ausserlieh  1st.  Meinet- 
wegen  mag  "Bertrams  [richtig  Bertram!,  S.  61] 
Ungliicksbotscbaften  "  (S.  55)  "Mirzas  Bericbt 
vom  Wassermangcl"  entsprechen,  auf  jenen  basiert 
ist  dieser  darum  noch  nicht  ;  und  solange  nicht 
bis  zur  Evidenz  dargetan  ist,  dass  Hebbel  jcdesmal 
erst  bei  Schiller  anfragt,  wie  dies  und  das  zu 
machen  sei,  hat  es  keinen  Sinn,  "Johannas 
Unerschrockeuheit "  als  "Vorlage"  fiir  "Judiths 
Scliaudern  "  zu  bezeicbnen.  Fiir  Eckelmann  istes 
allcrdings  ' '  Tatsache,  dass  Hebbels  Judith  gewis- 
sermasseu  eine  Polemik  gegeu  Schillers  Jungfrau 
von  Orleans  bedeutet,  insofern  sie  die  psycholo- 
gische  Behandlung  desselben  historischen  Charak- 
ters  darstellt "  (S.  60).  Meiner  Meinung  nach 
ist  diese  Polemik  sowenig  Tatsache,  als  es  wahr 
ist,  dass  Judith  und  Johanna  ein  und  derselbe 
historische  Charakter  sind.  Zugegeben  aber,  dass 
Hebbel  gegen  Schiller  polemisiert,  sind  wir  dann 
noch  bereehtigt,  von  "  Einfluss  "  und  "  Vorlage  " 
zu  reden  ?  Die  Tabelle  auf  S.  55  entha.lt  zwolf 
Hauptpunkte  in  der  Judith.  Bei  viereu  fehlt 
"die  auffallende  Ahnlichkeit  mit  Schiller"  (S. 
54) ;  bei  weiteren  vier  ist  die  Ahnlichkeit  eine 
auf  dein  Kopf  stehende,  also  "Polemik";  und 
es  bleiben  aus  der  Jung/ran  von  Orleans  "  Ber- 
trands  Unglucksbotschaften, "  "Hofszenen  in 
Chinon,"  "Bestimmung  der  Johanna,"  "  Jo- 
hannas prophetische  Vision"  als  etwaige  "stoff- 
liche  Vorlage"  zu  "Mirzas  Bericht  vom  Was- 
sermangel,"  "Volksszenen  in  Bethulien,"  "Be- 
stimmung der  Judith, "  "  Judiths  Beobachtungs- 
gabe"— also  Nachahmung.  Auch  hiervon  fallt 
jedoch  "Johannas  prophetische  Vision"  gleich 
weg,  denn  der  Verfasser  gewahrt  uns  keinen 
Aufschluss  dariiber,  in  welchem  Verhaltnis  diese 
zu  "  Judiths  Beobachtungsgabe  "  stehen  soil,  und 
letztere  besteht  hauptsiichlich  darin,  dass  Judith 
den  Holofernes  auf  den  ersten  Blick  erkennt  (S. 
65).  Keiu  Wunder  !  Und  dass  Schillers  Jung- 
frau ebenfalls  den  Dauphin  erkennt,  will  eben 
nicht  viel  sagen,  denn  dasselbe  wird  auch  von  der 
historischen  Johanna  berichtet.  Auf  die  beiden 
Berichte,  die  Hof-  resp.  Volksszenen,  und  die 
"  Bestimmungs  " -Szenen  einzugehen,  lohnt  sich 
nicht.  Wem  es  Spass  macht,  sich  zu  erinnern, 
dass  vor  Holofernes  schon  Wallenstein  ein  ' '  ge- 
bietendes  Auge"  besessen  habe  (S.  68),  dem  ist 


es  zu  gouneu  ;  aber  bei  einer  Liste  von  achtund- 
zwanzig  "  pai-allelen  Stellen  "  (S.  70),  womitder 
Kompilator  selbst  nichts  anzufangen  weiss,  wollen 
wir  uus  nicht  aufhalten. 

Ich  halte  Eckelmanns  sorgfaltige  Arbeit  zwar 
fiir  verfehlt,  mochte  sie  aber  nicht  als  wertlos 
verwerfen.  Es  ist  viel  interessantes  Material 
darin  zusammengestellt,  was  zu  denken  gibt  und 
zur  Nachpriifung  anregt.  Zu  bedauern  ist  es, 
dass  er  sein  Problem  nicht  klarer  erfasst,  und 
seine  Resultate  nicht  einheitlicher  gruppiert  hat. 
Vor  allem  wiinschte  ich  eine  Vers-tiindigung  iiber 
die  Bedeutung  und  Tragweite  des  Wortes  Einfluss. 
Ist  Einfluss  da  vorhanden,  wo  ein  Dichter  das 
verbessert,  was  sein  Vorganger  nicht  gut  gemacht 
hat  ?  Ist  ein  Vorgauger  co  ipso  Muster  ?  Was 
ist  bei  zwei  ahnlichen  Werken  das  Entscheidende, 
die  Ubereinstimmung  eiuzelner  Faktoren  oder 
die  Verschiedenheit  der  Produkte  als  Ganzes? 
Wenn  die  Produkte  als  Gunzes  verschieden  sind, 
weshalb  soil  der  Scho'pfer  des  einen  gerade  in  dem 
andern  Motive  und  Gedanken  aufgegrifTen  haben, 
die  er  ebenso  gut  hiitte  anderswo  hernehmen 
konnen  ?  Freilich,  wer  bliiidlings  darauf  aus- 
geht,  "Einfluss"  zu  entdecken,  der  findet  am 
Ende,  wie  Fries,8  dass  sogar  Ausrufungszeicheu 
dafiir  zeugen  !  Es  ist  zuni  Staunen,  wie  man  das 
Wort  immer  wieder  im  Munde  fiihrt,  ohne  sich 
dabei  etwas  Rechtes  zu  denken.  Oder  hat  fol- 
gender  Satz  Eckelnianns  wirklich  einen  greif- 
baren  Gehalt?  "Am  10.  Marz  1836  [lies  1838] 
sah  Hebbel  den  Esslair  als  Wallenstein.  Man 
kann  den  tiefen  und  nachwirkenden  Einfluss,  den 
diese  Vorstellung  in  ihm  hervorrief,  aus  den 
Kritiken  in  seinen  Miinchener  Briefen  etc.  deut- 
lich  erkennen  (S.  23  f.)."  In  einem  "  Ideen- 
dichter"  soil  das  Spiel  eines  beriihrnten  Histri- 
onen  in  einem  gleichzeitig  als  ideenlos  erkannten 
Stiicke  einen  Einfluss  hervorgerufen  haben  !  Nein, 
echter  und  rechter  Einfluss  ist  nur  da  nachzu- 
weisen,  wo  man  ganz  gewiss  weiss,  dass  einem 
Dichter  die  ' '  Vorlage  ' '  tatsachlieh  vorgelegen 
hat,  oder  aber  wo  man  zwingende  Gru'nde  hat, 
anzunehmen,  dass  es  von  vorn  herein  wahr- 
scheinlich  ist,  der  betrefi'ende  Dichter  wiirde  die 
"Vorlage"  benutzen,  wenn  sie  zur  Hand  ware. 


'VergkichendeStudien  zu  Hebbels  Fragmenlcn,  Berl.,  1903, 
S.  23. 


June,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


163 


Nicht  jede  Beriihrung  bcdeutet  Einfluss,  und  ciu 
Post  hoc,  ergo  proptc/r  hoc  kaun  nirgends  grosseres 
UnLeil  stiften,  als  gerade  bei  der  Wahrsehein- 
lichkeitsrechnuug.  Von  dera  Wert  der  Qucllen- 
forschung  als  soldier  sehe  ich  giinzlich  ab  ;  wo  es 
sich  aber  uni  Hebbel  und  Schiller  handelt,  da  1st 
sie  in  der  Tat  sebr  schlecht  angebracbt.  Die 
weitere  Begriindung  meiner  Ansichten  muss  ich 
auf  eine  spiitere  Gelegenheit  versparen.  Weu  es 
interessiert,  zu  erfahren,  wie  icb  diese  Dinge 
ansehe,  don  verweise  ich  auf  die  uiichste  Nummer 
der  Publications  of  the  Modern  Language  Asso- 
ciation (Vol.  XXH,  pp.  309-344). 


W.   G.  HOWARD. 


Harvard  University. 


THE  SOUKCES  OF  THE  TEXT  OF 
HAMLET  IN  THE  EDITIONS  OF  HOWE, 
POPE,  AND  THEOBALD. 

After  the  publication  of  the  fourth  folio  in 
1685,  there  seems  still  to  have  been  a  demand  for 
the  cheap  separate  copies  of  the  plays.  Hamlet, 
being  one  of  the  most  popular,  was  issued  at  least 
twice  between  1685  and  1709,  at  which  time 
Rowe  brought  out  his  edition  of  Shakespeare's 
works,  the  first  octavo  edition.  These  two  quar- 
tos, and  two  others,  bearing  the  dates,  1676  and 
1683,  are  known  as  the  players'  quartos  of  Hamlet 
and  are  without  any  considerable  textual  value. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Rowe  followed  the 
fourth  folio,  but  he  did  not  follow  it  so  closely  as 
has  been  supposed.  Many  plays  which  before 
had  no  divisions,  he  divided  into  acts  and  scenes, 
while  he  further  divided  others  which  had  very 
few.  Even  when  the  folios  have  divisions,  he  does 
not  always  follow  these.  For  example,  in  the  folios 
the  first  act  of  Hamlet  is  divided  into  three  scenes  ; 
Rowe  has  the  same  number,  but  his  third  scene 
does  not  begin  at  the  same  point  as  that  of  the 
folios.  The  second  act  in  the  folios  is  divided 
into  two  scenes,  which  divisions  Rowe  follows. 
The  folios  offer  no  further  division,  but  Rowe, 
perhaps  following  a  players'  quarto,  divides  the 
play  into  the  usual  five  acts,  the  last  three  of 
which  he  divides  into  scenes.  Throughout  the 
Tragedies  Rowe  has  indicated  the  place  of  each  of 


his  scenes,  but  in  the  Histories  and  Comedies  he 
has  often  neglected  to  do  KO,  and  Pope  sometimes 
supplies  these  omissions.  Although  Rowe  did  his 
collating  with  great  carelessness,  for  which  he  has 
been  .severely  blamed,  he  made  some  happy  emen- 
dations, and  some  judicious  restorations  from  the 
older  editions.  Too  sweeping  charges  have  fre- 
quently been  made  by  writers,  among  whom 
may  bo  named  the  Cambridge  editors,  who  say  : 
"it  is  almost  certain  that  he  [Rowe]  did  not  take 
the  trouble  to  refer  to,  much  less  to  collate,  any 
of  the  previous  Folios  or  Quartos.  It  seems, 
however,  while  the  volume  containing  Romeo  and 
Juliet  was  in  the  press  he  learned  the  existence  of 
a  Quarto  edition,  for  ho  has  printed  the  prologue 
given  in  the  Quartos  and  omitted  in  the  Folios,  at 
the  end  of  the  play"  '  (vol.  i,  p.  xxix).  If  the 
printing  of  the  prologue  to  Romeo  and  Juliet  is 
admitted  as  evidence  that  Rowe  saw  a  quarto  of 
that  play,  which  I  think  it  entirely  fair  to  do, 
then  the  following  selections  will  show  that  he 
must  have  seen  some  quarto  of  Hamlet,  for  he 
introduces  into  his  text  about  a  hundred  and 
twenty  readings  from  the  quartos  which  are  dif- 
ferent from  those  of  the  folios,  and  at  least  nine* 
passages  which  are  found  only  in  the  quartos. 
All  the  passages  omitted  in  the  folios  and  a  large 
proportion  of  the  readings  which  Rowe  incor- 
porated from  the  quartos  are  also  in  the  players' 
quartos  of  1676  and  1703.  Many  of  them  are 
first  met  with  in  those  editions,  as  will  appear 
from  the  following  selections,  which  have  led  me 
to  conclude  that  Rowe  collated  a  players'  quarto, 
apparently  that  of  1676,  more  thoroughly  than 
any  other  quarto  or  folio,  except,  of  course,  the 
fourth  folio.  The  quarto  of  1703  is  the  most 
carelessly  printed  of  the  editions  that  I  have  seen. 

Not  having  access  to  the  fifth  and  sixth 
quartos,  I  have  relied  upon  The  Cambridge 
Shakespeare  (1892)  for  the  readings  from  these 
two  quartos.  I  have  also  followed  that  edition  in 
the  divisions  into  acts  and  scenes  and  in  the  num- 
bering of  the  lines. 

When  no  authority  is  given  for  the  first  reading, 
it  is  to  be  understood  that  it  is  derived  from  the 

1  Substantially  the  same  statement  in  the  Dictionary  of 
National  Biography,  under  Rowe,  anil  also  in  Skake- 
speariana,  1885,  vol.  II,  p.  66, 

2Cf.  pp.  167-8, 


164 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


quartos  and  folios  not  mentioned,  and  that  all 
editors  previous  to  the  one  mentioned  as  authority 
for  the  alteration  also  agree  with  the  first  reading. 
When  the  quartos  from  the  second  to  the  sixth 
inclusive  and  the  quartos  of  1676  and  1703  have 
the  same  reading,  the  quartos  of  1676  and  1703 
are  not  mentioned. 

I.  I.  113  palmy]  flourishing  Q1676  Q1703  Rowe. 
I.  it.  37   To  business]  Of  Treaty  Q  1676  Q 1703  Kowe. 
141   might  not  beteeme  Qq.    might  not  beteene  Ff  (beteen  F 

3,  between  F  4).  permitted  not  Q 1676  Q 1703  Kowe. 
I.  IV.  5   Indeed;  JQ2  Q3  Q4  Q5.  Indeed  JFf.  Indeed,  1 
Q6.  /Q  1676  Q 1703  Howe. 

I.  v.  20  porpentine]  Porcupine  Q  1676  Q1703  Howe. 
33  Lethe]  £e(Ae's  Q 1676  Rowe.  ie^a'sQ1703. 

170  so  mere  Q  2  Q  3  Q  4  Q  5.  so  ere  Ff  Q  6.  soe're  Q 1676. 
so  e'er  Q 1703  Rowe. 

II.  n.  396  writ]  wit  Q1676.  Wit  Q1703  Rowe. 

414  pious  chanson]    Q2Q3Q4Q5.    Puns  Chanson  Ff 
(Pores  Fl).  pans  chanson  Q  6.  Kubrick  Q1676  Q1703 
Kowe. 
m.  n.  150  cart]  Carr  Q 1676.  Cart  Q 1703.  Car  Rowe. 

245  better,]  worse  Q 1676  Q1703  Rowe. 
in.  in.  38  can  I  not]  1  cannot  Q 1676  Q 1703  Rowe. 
88  hent]  bent  F  4.  time  Q 1676  Q 1703  Rowe. 

III.  IV.  83  mutine]  mutiny  Q 1676  Rowe. 

IV.  IV.  24    Yes,  it  is]    Yes  it  is  Q4.  Nay  'tis  Q6.  Nay,  'tis 

Q  1676  Rowe.  Nay  it  is  Q  1703.    Not  in  Ff 3. 
30   buy  you  Q2  Q3  Q4  Q5.  buy  your  Q6.  6'  vf  ye  Q 

1676  Q  1703  Rowe.    Not  in  Ff. 
60  imminent]  Q  6  Q  1676.  iminent  Q2Q3Q4Q5. 

eminent  Q  1703  Kowe.   Not  in  Ff. 
IV.  v.  102,  103   The.  .  .  shall  be  king]   The to  be  king 

Q  6.   The  .  .  .  for  our  King  Q 1676  Q 1703  Rowe. 
IV.  vil.  70  organ]  Instrument  Q  1676  Q  1703  Rowe  (i-  Q 

1703).    Not  in  Ff. 
77  riband]  Q4Q5Q6.  ri6a«dQ2Q3.  .Fea(AerQ1676 

Q  1703  Rowe.    Not  in  Ff. 
115  wake  Q2Q3Q4Q5.  wicke  Q  6.  Wick  Q 1676.  wiek 

Q  1703  Rowe.    Not  in  Ff. 
122   spend  thrifts  sigh  Q 2  Q 3.  spend-thrifts  siyh  Q4Q5. 

spend-thrift  sigh  Q  6.    spend-thrift-sigh  Q  1676  Q  1703 

Rowe  (S-).   Not  in  Ff. 

161  stuck]  tucke  Q6.   Tuck  Q1676  Rowe.  toed  Q 1703. 
v.  ii.  22  goblines  Q2  Q3.   Goblins  Q4  Q5  Q6  Ff  Q  1703 

Rowe  (</-  Q  4).  Ooblings  Q 1676  Rowe  (ed.  2). 
Cf.  pp.  167-8. 

Pope's  text  is  based  on  Howe's,  and  in  all 
probability  on  Howe's  second  edition,  for  he  gen- 
erally has  the  punctuation  of  the  second  edition 
rather  than  that  of  the  first  ;  and  he  has  readings 
in  his  foot-notes  and  in  his  text  which  occur  first 

3  Not  in  Ff  means  that  more  words  than  the  word  col- 
lated are  omitted  in  Ff. 


in  Bo  we' 8  second  edition  (1714).*  But  he  fol- 
lowed the  first  and  second  folios  in  excluding  the 
seven  plays  which  were  published  in  the  last  two 
folios  and  in  Howe's  editions.  These  plays  are  at 
the  end  of  the  volume  in  the  copies  of  the  fourth 
folio  that  I  have  seen,  not  at  the  beginning,  as 
the  Cambridge  editors  say  (p.  xxix).  In  forming 
his  text  Pope  used  other  editions  besides  Howe's. 
I  have  noted  that  in  the  single  play  of  Hamlet, 
while  incorporating  the  passages  restored  from  the 
quartos  by  Rowe,  he  added  four  others  from  the 
same  source  ;  and  that  he  further  followed  the 
quartos  in  omitting  thirteen 5  passages  which  are  in 
the  folios  and  Howe's  editions.  Only  two  of  the 
passages  which  he  omitted  are  noted  at  the  foot  of 
the  page,  though  he  says  in  his  preface,  ' '  The 
various  Readings  are  fairly  put  in  the  margin,  so 
that  every  one  may  compare  'em  ;  and  those  I 
have  prefer' d  into  the  Text  are  constantly  ex  fide 
Codicum,  upon  authority. ' '  He  generally  accepted 

4 1.  v.  150  so  f]  Q  6  Q 1676  Q 1703  Rowe.  so,  Q  2  Q  3  Q  4 

Q5.   so.  Ff.  so  ;  Rowe  (ed.  2)  Pope. 
159   this  that]  this  which  Rowe  (ed.  2)  Pope, 
ii.  I.  49  doos .  .  .  doos  Q2Q3Q4Q5.   does .  .  .  does  Ff 
Q6  Q 1676  Q 1703.  do's  .  .  .  do's  Rowe.  does  .  .  .  do's 
Rowe  (ed.  2)  Pope. 

II.  II.  1,  33,  34  Rosencraus  Qq.  Rosincrance  F  1 .  Rosincros 
F  2.  Rosincross  F  3  F  4.  Roseneraus  Rowe.  Rosincrosse 
Rowe  (ed.  2)  Pope. 
379  MMtfitn^Qq.  simthingFf  Rowe.  swathling  Rowe  (ed. 

2)  Pope, 
in.   I.   2   confusion]    Confesion    Rowe  (ed.    2).    confession 

Pope's  foot-note. 
119   I  Im'ed  you  not.]  I  did  lore  you  once.  Rowe  (ed.  2) 

anil  Pope's  foot-note.  1  lotfd  you  not.    Pope, 
in.  ii.  30  nor  the]  or  the.  Rowe  (ed.  2)  Pope. 

78  his  occulted]  then  his  hidden  Q  1676  Q  1703.  his  occult 
Rowe  (ed.  2)  Pope. 

271  raz'd  Qq.     rac'd  Ff  Rowe.    rack'd  Rowe  (ed.  2). 
rayed  Pope,    rack'd,  rac'd  Pope's  foot-note. 

272  sir.    F1F2F3.    om.    Qq.    Sir.  F  4  Rowe.    Sir? 
Rowe  (ed.  2)  Pope. 

iv.  iv.  22  sold]  so  Rowe  (ed.  2)  and  Pope's  foot-note. 

Not  in  Ff. 
IV.  v.  123  thou  art]  art  thou  F  3  F  4  Rowe.   are  you  Rowe 

(ed.  2 )  Pope. 

IV.  vu.  99  sight]  fight  Rowe  (ed.  2)  Pope. 
115  wick]  Rowe  (ed.  2)  Pope,   weeke  Q2Q3Q4Q5. 
wieke  Q  6.    Wiek  Q 1676.   wiek  Q 1703  Rowe.    Not  in 
Ff. 
v.  II.  221  punish'd]  punished  Rowe  (ed.  2)  Pope. 

257   Prepare  to  play.  Ff  Rowe  (Play),  om.  Qq.  Prepares 

to  play.  Rowe  (ed.  2)  Pope. 
5  Cf.  pp.  167-8. 


June,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


165 


Rowe's  changes,  but  drew  upon  the  older  editions 
for  about  three  hundred  readings  differing  from 
those  in  Rowe's  text,  and  contributed  a  like 
number  of  readings  of  his  own,  adding  and 
omitting  arbitrarily.  He  believed  that  he  could 
detect  the  interpolations,  and  ruthlessly  struck 
out  much  that  is  undoubtedly  Shakespeare's, 
while  he  too  often  forgot  to  note  that  he  had 
made  any  change.  In  the  play  of  Hamlet  his 
notes  of  every  sort  are  only  about  seventy,  which 
certainly  is  far  too  few.  Moreover,  his  notes  are 
not  always  exact,  cf.  n.  n.  414  pious  chanson] 
Q2Q3Q4Q5.  Pans  Chanson  Ff  (Pons  F  1). 
pans  chanson  Q  6.  It  is  Pons  chansons  in  the  first 
folio  edition.  (Pope's  foot-note),  in.  i.  118  in- 
oculate'] Rowe.  euocutat  Q  2  Q  3.  euacuat  Q  4. 
euacuate  Q  5.  innocculate  F  1.  inocculate  F  2  F  3. 
evacuate  Q  6  Q  1676  Q  1703.  inocualte  F  4. 
innoculate  Rowe  (ed.  2)  Pope,  evacuate  in  the 
first  edition.  (Pope's  foot-note.)  And  yet,  not- 
withstanding the  paucity  and  inferiority  of  his 
notes,  Pope's  is  the  first  critical  edition. 

In  his  notes  Pope  has  some  readings  from  the 
quartos  and  first  folio  which  do  not  appear  in 
Rowe's  editions  ;  but  the  larger  number  of  his 
notes  I  believe  to  be  based  on  Rowe's  text,  not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  many  agree  with  the 
folios.  In  these  notes  Pope  sometimes  cites  ' '  the 
first  edition  "  or  "  the  old  edition,"  by  which  he 
he  does  not  mean  the  first  quarto  as  we  know  it, 
but  later  quartos.  I  do  not  doubt  that  he  saw  a 
second  or  a  third  quarto,  but,  judging  from  the 
readings  given  below,  I  have  concluded  that  he 
referred  more  frequently  to  still  later  quartos  than 
to  these. 

i.  i.  55  <m't]  of  it  Q  4  Q  5  Q  6  Q 1676  Q 1703  Pope. 

I.  n.  204  distil? if]  Q  5  Q  6  Q 1676  Q  1703  Pope,  dislil'd  Q 

2Q3Q4.   bestiCdFl.  bestill'dF2.  bestiWd  F3  F4. 

be-stUVd  Rowe  (ed.  1,  2). 

I.  m.  133  moment]  Q2  Q3  Ff  Rowe  (ed.  1,  2).  moments 

Q 4  Q 5  Q  6  Q 1676  Q 1703.  moment's  Pope. 

II.  I.  4  to  make  inquire']  Qq.    you  make  inquiry  Ff.   to  make 

inquiry  Q 1676  Pope,  to -make  enquiry  Q  1703.  make  you 

Inquiry  Rowe  (ed.  1,  2). 
II.  n.  418  valanct  Q2  Q3.    valanJd  Q4  Q5  Q6  Q1676 

Q1703  Pope,  valiant  Ff  Rowe  (ed.  1,  2). 
484   Manes  Armor  Q2  Q3  Q4Q5.    Mars  his  Armours 

Ff  Rowe  (ed.  1,  2).   Mars  his  Armour  Q6  Q1676  Q 

1703  Pope  (a-  Q  6  Pope), 
in.  I.  77  grant}  groan  Q 1676  Q 1703  Pope. 

life,]   lifel  Q4  Q5  Q6  Q1676  Q1703  Pope.    Life, 

Rowe  (ed.  1,  2). 


118  inoculate]  Rowe.    euocutat  Q  2  Q  3.    euacuat    Q4. 

euacuateQS.  innocmlateFl.  inocculate  F 2 F3.  evacuate 

Q6  Q  1676  Q  1703.    inocualte  F  4.    innoculate  Rowe 

(ed.  2)  Pope,     evacuate  in  the  first  edition.   (Pope's 

foot-note ). 

in.  II.  185  fruit]  fruits  Q1676  Q1703  Pope. 
271  cry]  city  Q4  Q  5  Q6  Pope  (ed.  2).    City  Q  1676  Q 

1703. 
369,  370  a  weasel  ...  a  weasel]  an  Ouzle  ...  an  Ouzle 

Pope.  An  Ouzle  or  Blackbird  :  it  has  been  printed  by 

mistake  a  Weesel,  which  is  not  black.  (Pope's  foot-note. ) 
370  backt  Q  2  Q  3.    black  Q  4  Q  5  Q 1 676  Q 1703  Pope. 

back'd  Ff  Rowe  (ed.  1,  2 ).    blacke  Q  6. 
in.  m.  6  neer's  Q2Q3Q4Q5.  dangerous  Ff  Rowe  (ed. 

1,  2).  neare  us  Q  6.   near  us  Q 1676  Q  1703  Pope, 
in.  iv.  122  an  end]   Qq  Ff  Q 1703  Rowe  (ed.  1,  2)  Pope. 

on  end  Q 1676  Pope  (ed.  2). 
206  enyiner]    Qq.    Engineer  Q  1676  Q 1703  Pope  (<-). 

Not  in  Ff  or  Rowe  (ed.  1,  2). 
iv.  vr.  22  bore  of  the]  Ff  Rowe  (ed.  1,  2).    bord  of  the  Qq. 

om.  Q 1676  Q 1703  Pope. 
27  make]  Q  4  Q  5  Q  6  Q 1676  Q 1703  Pope.  om.  Q  2  Q  3. 

oiue  F  1.  give  F  2  F  3  F4  Rowe  (ed.  1,  2). 
IV.  VII.  62  checking  at]  Ff  Rowe   (ed.  1,  2).    the  King  at 

Q  2  Q  3.    liking  not  Q  4  Q  5  Q  6  Q 1676  Q 1703  Pope. 
140  thai]  Ff  Rowe  (ed.  1,  2).  om.  Q2  Q3.  the  Q4  Q  5 

Q6Q  1676  Q 1703  Pope, 
v.  i.  88  fine]  a  fine  Q 1676  Q 1703  Pope  (ed.  2). 

174  a  Qq  Ff  Rowe  (ed.  1,  2).  he  Q 1676  Q  1703  Pope, 
v.  n.  264  union]  Ff.  Vnice  Q  2.  Onixe  Q  3  Q  4.  Onix  Q  5. 

Onyx  Q  6  Q 1676  Q 1703  Pope.  Union  Rowe  (ed.  1,  2). 
269   heaven  to]  Q  2  Q  3  Ff.  heavens  to  Q  4  Q  5  Q  6  Q  1 676 

Q1703  (If-  Q  1676  Q 1703).  Heav'n  to  Rowe  (ed.  1, 

2).  heaifns  to  Pope. 
345  o'er-crows]  ore-growes  Q4  Q5  Q6.  o'r-grows  Q1676. 

o'regrows  Q 1703.    o'er-grows  Pope. 
357   thine  eternal]  thine  infernall  Q  6.  </«'nein/eraa/Q1676 

Q 1703.  In  another  edition  infernal.    (Pope's  foot-note 

ined.  2). 
379  noblest]  Noblest  Ff  Rowe  (ed.  1,  2).  Nobless  Q  1676 

Q 1703  Pope  (ed.  2). 
Cf.  pp.  167-8. 

Though  Pope  made  some  happy  conjectures,  no 
one  can  forget  that  he  was  more  daring  than  any 
other  editor  in  tampering  with  the  text,  and  that 
too,  when  his  preface  proves  him  to  have  been 
thoroughly  conversant  with  the  duties  of  an  editor. 
Indeed,  he  never  scruples  to  alter  a  word,  or  omit 
or  add  one  or  more  words  for  the  sake  of  the 
scansion.  For  such  liberties  he  has  been  severely 
censured.  Malone,  not  without  some  reason,  con- 
sidered that  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  "  who- 
ever he  was,  and  Mr.  Pope  were  the  two  great 
corruptors  of  our  poet's  text." 

Pope's  second  edition  (1728)  is  based  upon  his 
first.  He  introduced  some  new  readings  into  the 


1GG 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


text,  and  added  a  few  new  foot-notes  and,  occa- 
sionally, a  new  idea  to  a  former  foot-note.  He 
adopted  some  of  the  readings  suggested  by  Theo- 
bald, in  all,  according  to  his  own  statement, 
' '  about  twenty  five  Words. ' '  This  number  is  not 
large  enough.  Of  the  readings  given  below  he 
mentioned  very  few,  though  he  professed  to  have 
' '  annexed  a  conipleat  List. "  6  In  none  of  his  foot- 
notes to  Hamlet  does  Theobald's  name  appear.7 

Theobald's  first  edition  was  issued  in  1733.  He 
had  the  temerity  to  criticise  not  only  Pope's  trans- 
lation of  Homgr,  but  also  his  edition  of  Shakes- 
peare. For  such  offences  Pope  made  him  the 
hero  of  the  Dunciad  and  this  is  the  portrait  by 
which  Theobald  was  for  a  long  time  generally 
known.  The  friends  of  the  two  men  took  up  the 
quarrel,  and  Theobald  was  handled  most  unjustly 
and  severely.  His  assailants  ridiculed  his  taste, 
charged  him  with  ingratitude,  and  sneered  at 
his  poverty,  his  pedantry,  and  his  painstaking. 
Whatever  may  be  said  of  these  charges,  he  made 
many  emendations  of  Shakespeare's  text  that 
merely  plodding  mediocrity  could  not  have  pro- 
duced ;  and  by  his  painstaking  he  became  the  first 
great  commentator  of  that  author.  Though  he 
received  scant  honor  at  the  hands  of  the  critics, 
his  edition  became  so  popular  that  it  was  reissued 
many  times. 

Theobald  used  Pope's  second  edition8  as  a  basis 
for  his  text,  and  unfortunately  was  too  greatly 
influenced  by  it.  He  collated  the  old  copies  more 
carefully  than  had  been  done  before,  and  restored 
passages  omitted  by  Howe  and  Pope,  so  that  his 

6Cf.  Pope  (eel.  2),  vol.  8. 

7Cf.  below,  I.  v.,  32,  33,  54,  etc.     In  these  readings 
(Theobald)  means  that  the  reading  was  Theobald's  con- 
jecture. 
"I.  III.  130  bawds']  Pope,  ed.  2  (Theobald),  bonds  Qq  Ff 

Q1703  Pope.  Bonds  Q167G  Ilowe  (ed.  1,  2). 
I.  iv.  17,  IS   revet  cast  and  nest  Makes']   Pointed  as  in  Qq. 

revel,  east  and  west ;  Makes  Pope,  revel,  tad  and  west, 

Makes  Pope,  ed.  2  (Theobald).     Not  in  Ff  or  Kowe 

(ed.  1,2). 

32  star]  siun-eQq.  scar  Pope,  ed.  2*  (Theobald).  Not  in 
Ff  or  Kowe  (ed.  1,  2). 

33  2ViaV]  Pope,  ed.  2  (Theobald).  His  Qq  Pope.  Not  in 
Ff  orEowe  (ed.  1,  2). 

54  we]  MS  Pope,  ed.  2  (Theobald). 

I.  v.  178   to  note]  denote  Pope,  ed.  2  (Theobald). 

II.  n.  233  her'}  in  her  Pope  (ed.  2)  Theobald. 

347   s-jcussion'!]  Pope,  ed.  2  (Theobald).  Succession.  Ff 

Kowe  (ed.  1,  2)  Pope  (s-).    Not  in  Qq. 
*  pp.  167-8. 


was  the  most  complete  edition  up  to  that  time. 
He  numbered  each  act,  but  not  one  scene,  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  seven  volumes,  is 
numbered.  He  has  many  notes  at  the  foot  of  the 
pages,  but  they  are  not  always  to  be  trusted  ;  for 
example,  Hamlet,  n.  i.  79,  he  says:  "I  have 
restor'd  the  Reading  of  the  Elder  Quarto's,  —  his 
Stockings  loose.  — ' '  etc.  But  loose  occurs  first  in 
Q  1076,  all  the  preceding  copies  having  fouled  or 
foul'd.  He  cites  reading.?  from  the  quartos  of 
1605  and  1611  and  from  the  first  and  second 
folios,  and  thus  we  know  that  he  had  access  to 
these  copies,  which  are  also  in  his  list  of  authors 
collated. 

Throughout  the  play  of  Hamlet  I  have  noticed 
no  apostrophe  denoting  possession  in  the  second, 
third  or  fourth  quartos,  or  in  the  second  folio.  It 
is  extremely  rare  in  the  first  folio  ;  but  in  the 
third  and  fourth  folios  and  in  the  quarto  of  1676 
the  growing  use  of  this  apostrophe  is  apparent, 
and  in  the  quarto  of  1703  it  occurs  still  more  fre- 
quently. Howe,  Pope,  and  Theobald  were  even 
more  thorough,  and  thereafter  there  remained 
very  little  in  this  line  to  be  done  by  editors. 

The  following  table  notes  the  passages  which  are 
wanting  in  either  the  quartos  or  the  folios.  It  also 
shows  the  use  which  Howe,  Pope,  and  Theobald 
made  of  these  passages  in  the  preparation  of  their 
editions.  In  the  notation  here  used  Qq  includes 
Q  1676  and  Q  1703  ;  Ff  stands  for  the  folios  ; 
-f-  indicates  present  ;  -  -  indicates  absent.  The 
indented  lines  are  those  which  are  omitted  in  the 
quartos  ;  the  others  are  omitted  in  the  folios.  In 
the  following  list  I  have  used  the  first  and  second 
editions  of  Rowe,  Pope,  and  Theobald. 

349'  them]  them  on  Pope,  ed.  2  (Theobald) .    Not  in  Qq. 
435  were  riw  sallcts]  Qq.   was  no  sallets  Ff  Rowe,  ed.  1, 

2  (S- ).   u-as  no  salts  Pope,  was  no  salt  Pope  (ed.  2) 

Theobald. 
584  About  my  braines;  Q2  Q  3.    About  my  braines,  Q4 

Q5  Q6.  About  my  Braine.   Ff  (brain.  F3  F4).  About 

my  brains,  Q  1G7C  Q1703.  Aboutmy  JBrain.  Kowe  (ed. 

1,  2).  about  my  brain-  Pope,  about  my  brain!-  Pope 

(ed.  2).  about,  my  brain.'-  Theobald. 

III.  II.  238   kino]  duke  Pope,  ed.  2  (Theobald). 

IV.  v.  33    Ophelia,-]  Ophelia.  Qq  Ff.    Opht lia- Pope  (ed.  2) 

Theobald.    Ophelia.-  Kowe  (ed.  1,  2)  Pope. 

V.  I.  67  in  him]  to  him  Pope  (ed.  2 )  Theobald. 

V.  n.  318   thy  union]  Ff.    the  Onixe  Q2Q3Q4Q5.    the 
Onyx  Q6Q1676Q1703  Pope  (o-).    thy  Union  Rowe 
(ed.  1,  2).  the  union  Pope's  foot-note,   the  Union  Theo- 
bald. 
9  346  by  mistake  in  The  Cambridge  Stiakespeare  (1892). 


June,  1907.]  MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES.  167 

Qq.  Ff.  Eowe.        Pope.        Theobald. 

I.  I.  108-125   Ber.  I  think .  .  .  countrymen.  +                                   +                +                + 

I.  n.  58-60  wrung .  .  .  consent.  -f-                                   ~H                +                + 

I.  ra.  18   For  he .  .  .  birth :  +                +                +                + 
I.  IV.  17-38   This .  .  .  scandal.  +                                                      — 10              + 

I.  IV.  75-78   The  very .  .  .  beneath.  +                                                      +                + 

n.  I.  52   at  friend  .  .  .  gentleman. 

II.  I.  120  Come.  + 

II.  n.  17    Whether  .  .  .  thus,  +                                   +                +                + 

n.  n.  210,  211   and  suddenly .  .  .  him  +                +                +                + 

n.  II.  238-268   Let  me .  .  .  attended.  +                +                +                + 

n.  II.  321,-  322  the  clown .  .  .  sere,  +                + 

n.  n.  333-358  Ham.  How . .  .  load  loo.  +                +                +                + 

n.  n.  438,  439  as  wholesome  .  .  .  fine.  + 

n.  II.  459   So,  proceed  you.  -\- 

II.  II.  498   mobled .  .  .  good.  +                +                +                + 
m.  n.  110,  111   Ham.  Imean  .  .  .  lord.  +                +                                    -f- 

m.  n.  162  women  .  .  .  love,  And  +                                                                          -j- 

ra.  n.  166,  167   Where  love .  .  .  there.  +                                                                     + 

ra.  n.  213,  214   To  desperation .  .  .  scope !  -\-                                                                         -f- 

m.  n.  260  Ham.    What,  .  .  .fire!  +               +                                 + 

m.  IV.  5  Ham mother!  -|- 

in.  IV.  71-76  Sense .  .  .  difference.  -f-                                                                          -(- 

in.  iv.  78-81  Eyes  .  .  .  mope,  '+                                                                          -f- 

iii.  iv.  161-165   That .  .  .  put  on.  +                                   +                -f-                + 

ra.  iv.  167-170  the  next .  . .  potency.  +                                 H-               +               + 

ra.  IV.  180    One  word  .  .  .  lady.  + 

in.  IV.  202-210   Ham.  There's  letters .  .  .  meet.  +                                                      +                + 

IV.  I.  4  Bestow  .  .  .  while.  -f-                                                                          -f- 

IV.  I.  40-44   Whose  whisper  .  .  .  air.  -j- 

IV.  II.  2   Ros.  Guil.  [Within]  .  .  .  Hamlet!  +                +                + 

IV.  n.  29,  30   Hide  fax.  .  .  after.  +                +                + 

rv.  in.  26-28   King.  Alas,  .  .  .  that  worm.  +                                                      -f-                -|- 

IV.  IV.  9-66   Ham.  Good .  .  .  worth !  +                                   +                + 

IV.  v.  62   He  answers.  + 

iv.  v.  93  Queen.  Alack,  .  . .  thisf  +               +                                 -f 

IV.  V.  158-160  Nature  .  .  .  loves.  +                +                +                + 

iv.  v.  162  Hey  non .  .  .  nonny;  -f-                —                — 

IV.  V.  196  1  pray  God.  +                +                                   — 

IV.  vu.  36  How  now ! .  .  .  news  f  +                +                                    -\- 

rv.  vn.  36  Letters .  .  .  Hamlet :  +               -j-                                  -f 

IV.  vn.  41  Of  him  .  .  .  them.  +                                                                        — 

IV.  vii.  68-81  Laer.  Jl/y  lord .  .  .  graveness.  +                                   -j-                -|-                -f- 

IV.  vn.  100-102  the  scrimers .  .  .  opposed  them.  +                                                      —                -(- 

iv.  vn.  114-123  There  lives .  .  .  ulcer :  +                                   -|-                _|_                _j_ 

IV.  VII.  162  But  stay,  .  .  .  noise  f  +                                                                         — 

IV.  vn.  163  How  .  .  .  queen !  +                -f-                -(-                -\- 

V.  I.  34-37  Sec.  Clo.    Why,  he  .  .  .  armsf  +                -f 

v.  I.  102,  103   is  this .  .  .  recoveries,  -j-                -|_                _|_                _|_ 

V.  I.  117  For  such  .  .  .  meet.  +                +                +                -j- 

V.  I.  179   Let  me  see.  +                + 

V.  I.  269  woo 't  fast  f        '  +                                                     -f                + 

V.  II.  57    Why  .  .  .  employment ;  -\--\-                                   -f- 

V.  n.  68-80    To  quit  .  .  .  here?  +                +                +                -f 

V.  II.  106-135  here  is  newly  .  .  .  sir?    Osr.  +                                                                          _)- 

v.  n.  137-141   Ham.  I  flare  .  .  .  unfellou'ed.  4- 

10  Pope  put  lines  17-36  This  .  .  .  .fault,  in  the  margin  and  omitted  lines  37  and  38. 


168 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  JVo.  6. 


Qq. 

+ 
+ 
+ 


Ff. 


Rowe.         Pope. 


V.  II.  1S2,  153  Hor.  I  knew  .  .  .  done. 

v.  II.  189-200  Enter  .  .  .  instructs  me. 

V.  II.  216   Let  be. 

v.  ii.  232  Sir,  .  .  .  audience,  +  + 

v.  II.  24(5   Come  on.  +  + 

v.  n.  278   Laer.  A  touch,  a  touch,  +  +  + 

rQ4Q5Q6 
Q2Q3JQ1676 
I.  Q  1703 

I.  I.  43   Ber.  Looks .  .  .  Horatio.  +  +  +  + 

I.  v.  117  Hor.    What...  lord?  +  +  +  + 

n.  ii.  32    To  be  commanded.  -\- 

ir.  ii.  406-408   Pol.  If...  follows  not.          +  +  +  + 

in.  IV.  101    Queen.     No  more  1  -\- 

II.  n.  164   And  .  .  .  thereon  omitted  in  Q  6;  present  in  the  other  editions  above  mentioned. 

"Pope  (1.  102)  omitted  Ham.  also. 
Ann  Arbor,  Mich. 


Theobald. 

+ 
+ 


AURA  MILLER. 


CHARMS  FOR  THIEVES. 

B.  M.  MS.  Arundel  3G.674,  fol.  89. 

Disparib"  meritis  pendent  tria  corpora  ramis 
Dismas  &  Gesmas  medio  divina  potestas 
Alto  petit  Dismas.1  infelix  infima  Gesmas 
Ilrec  versus  di[s]cas  ne  furto  ne  tua  perdas. 

Jesua  autcm  transiens  p  medium  illorum  ibat, 
irruat  super  eos  formido  &  pauor  in  maguitudine, 
brachii  tui,  fiaut  imobilse  quasi  lapis,  donee  per- 
transeat  populus  tuns  quern  possedisti  +  Christsu 
vincit  +  Christus  regnat  +  Christus  iinperat  + 
Christus  hunc  locum  &  famulum  tuum  ab  omni 
malo  protegat  &  defendat.  Amen  &  die  Euange- 
listurn  S.  Joannis  et  pater  nosters  5.  Aves  3.  Creed. 

B.  M.  MS.  2584,  fol.  73b. 

Pro  larronibus  &  mimicis  meis  (on  margin,  in 
later  hand  Contra  la<rones). 

'  For  the  history  of  the  two  thieves,  Dismas  and  Gismas 
(or  Gesmas)  who  were  crucified,  the  one  on  the  right,  the 
other  on  the  left  of  our  Saviour,  see  the  Arabic  Oospel  of 
the  Infniicy,  chap.  23 ;  Cowper's  Apocryphal  Gospels,  Lon- 
don, 1867,  p.  190.  Here  the  names  are  given  as  Titus 
and  Dumachus.  On  their  flight  into  Egypt,  the  Holy 
Family  are  beset  by  robbers  in  a  lonely  place  in  the  desert. 
Titus,  moved  with  compassion,  wishes  to  let  them  pass  in 
peace,  offers  Dumachus  forty  drachmas,  and  holds  out  his 
girdle  as  a  pledge.  The  infant  Christ  then  prophesies 
that  after  thirty  years  these  two  thieves  shall  be  crucified 
with  him,  Titus  at  his  right  hand  and  Dumachus  at  his 
left,  and  that  Titus  shall  go  before  him  into  paradise.  In 


Disparibus  mentis  pendent  tria  corpora  ramis  * 
Dismas  &  Gesmas  medio  dii'rna  potestas 
Alta  petit  dismas,  infelix  ad  infima  gesnias 
Nos  &  res  nosiras  servet  dirtna  potestas. 

Stande  se  stille  in  );"  name  of  )>"  trinite  &  for 
Y  passion  of  ilm  crist  &  for  his  de]>  &  for  his 
uparyse  ]>l  je  stille  stonde  til  ich  byde  5011  go. 
Tune  dicatur  v  pater  nosters  &  v  Aves  iii  (  +  ). 

God  J>'  was  y  bore  in  bethleem3 

&  baptized  in  Bum  Jordan 

J>er  inne  was  no  t>ef 

but  god  him  self  \>at  was  fill  lef 

god  &  seint  trinite  saue  alle  t>ings  )>'  is  me  lef 

wij>inne  t>is  hous  &  wkmte 

&  alle  l>e  way  aboute.     I  be  teche  god  to  day  &  to 
nyst  &  to  seint  fcyj>folde  J>at  he  kepe  vs  &  cure  horn  from 
alle  maner  of  wyckede  nemys  be  J>e  grace  &  by  J>e  power 
of  oure  lady  seynte  marie. 


the  Gospel  of  Nicodemun,  I,  chap.  10,  the  penitent  thief  is 
called  Dystnas,  the  name  of  the  other  not  being  given. 
Later  on  in  this  same  gospel,  however,  pt.  II,  chap.  10, 
the  names  of  both  are  given  as  Dysmas  and  Gistas.  In 
the  Story  of  Joseph  of  Arimathta,  chap.  3,  the  names  appear 
as  Demas  and  Gestas.  See  further  La  Leyende  Doree 
(Wyzewa),  Paris,  1902,  p.  198  ;  and  Longfellow's  version 
of  the  incident  in  his  Golden  Legend.  In  Brand's  Popular 
Antiquities,  London,  1900,  p.  198,  St.  Dismas  is  mentioned 
as  the  patron  saint  of  thieves. 

1  In  the  MS.  the  whole  is  printed  continuously  as  prose. 

3  This  Jordan  charm  was  originally  used  only  for 
staunching  blood,  (Ebermann,  Slut-  und  Wundseyen, 
Pattfslra,  xxi v,  34),  but  was  later  extended  to  thieves, 
fire,  snakes,  and  other  such  objects  or  elements  whose 
course  might  be  stopped  by  the  virtue  of  the  words. 


June,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


169 


jif  any  l>eues  hider  take* 
h*  )>ei  stande  stille  as  any  stake 
as  euer  J>er  was  any  y  bounde 

&  as  euer  was  l>e  mulston.     Ihn  of  nazaret  kyng  of 
jewys  be  w*  us  now  &  euer.     Amen. 

Ms.    Bibl.    Bodl.    Ashm.    1378,    fol.    61-62, 
(beg.  xvi  cent.), 
fol.  61  : 

+  As  yu  lord  dyddest  slope  &  stave  5 

for  thy  chosen  poepell  the  red  sea, 
+  the  ragyng  see  waves  lacking  ther  course 

tyll  they  had  passed  pharoos  forse  ; 

and  as  at  Josue  his  Invocation 

ye  son  abode  over  gabaon, 

the  raone  abode  &  made  hir  staye 

in  aialon  that  valleye  ; 

&  as  thy  sone  Jesus  did  appease 

the  wynd  &  see  &  made  them  sease, 

when  his  disciples  w*  fearefull  spryte 

from  his  shape  ded  hym  excyte  ; 

So  lorde  of  hosts  staye  eche  one 

of  those  that  seake  my  confusyon  ; 

make  them  stonde 

as  styll  as  stone, 

wl  owt  corporall  moving, 

Vntyll  my  stretched 

arme  shall  make 

a  syne  to  them 

ther  way  to  take 

As  moses  stretched 

the  Red  sea  moved 

to  show  his  course 

as  be  hoved 

As  thou  lord  arte 

the  king  of  blesse 

lord  messyas 

grante  me  this 
then  saye 

Dismas  et  gismas  medioque  devina  potcstas 

Summa  petit  dismas 

Infelix  ad  Infima 
Gismas 

nos  et  res  nostras 

Salvet  devina 
potestas. 
finis 

fol.  62  (also  fol.  77,  margin). 

Dismas  et  gismas  medioque' 
devina  potestas 

4  On  margin  in  later  hand  is  written  />e  way,  showing 
ignorance  of  the  meaning  of  the  word  take,  "betake 
themselves." 

•  A  mutilated  copy  of  this  charm  appears  in  Bibl.  Bodl. 
Douce  MS.  116,  fol.  1. 

•See  also  Bibl.  Bodl.  Rawlinson  MS.  C.  814,  fol.  3. 


Summa  petit  dismas 
Infelix  ad  Infima  Gismas 
nos  et  res  nostras 
Salvet  divina  potestas.  finis. 

B.  M.  MS.  Addit.  36,674,  fol.  89,  xvn  cent. 

This  charme  shall  be  said  at  night  or  against 
night  about  ye  place  or  feild  or  about  beasts 
without  feild,  &  whosoever  conieth  in,  he  goeth 
not  out  for  certaine. 

On  3  crosses  of  a  tree ' 
3  dead  bodyes  did  hang, 
2  were  theeves,  ye  3d  was  Christus, 
on  whom  our  beleife  is  ; 
Dismas  &  Gesmas 
Christus  amidst  them  was  ; 
Dismas  to  heauen  went, 
Gesmas  to  heauen  [hell]  was  sent. 
Christ  y*  died  on  yl  roode, 
for  Maries  loue  that  by  him  stood, 
&  through  the  vertue  of  his  blood, 
Jesus  save  vs  &  our  good, 
within  &  without, 
&  all  this  place  about, 
&  through  the  vertue  of  his  might, 
lett  no  theefe  enter  in  this  night, 
nor  foote  further  fro 
this  place  that  1  upon  goe, 
but  at  my  bidding  there  be  bound  to  do 
all  things  that  I  bid  them  do, 
starke  be  their  sinewes  therewith, 
&  their  lims  mightless, 
&  their  eyes  sightless, 
dread  &  doubt 
en  [v]  elope  about ; 
as  a  wall  wrought  of  stone, 
so  be  the  crampe  in  the  tone, 
crampe  &  crookeing 
&  fault  in  their  footing, 
the  might  of  the  Trinity, 
haue  those  goods  &  me, 
In  ye  name  of  Jesus,  holy  benedicite 
all  about  our  goods  bee, 
within  &  without, 
&  all  place  about, 

then  say  5  pater  nosters  5  aves,  &  1  creed  in 
honorem  5  plagaruni  Christi  &  12  Apostolorum. 

Bibl.  Bodl.  Ashm.  MS.  1447,  fol.  34b  (xv 
cent.). 

A  carme  for  J>«veys  8 


'In  the  MS.  there  is  no  division  into  lines,  but  all  is 
written  as  prose. 

8  This  charm  appears  also  in  Camb.  Univ.  Lib.  MS.  Dd. 
vi  29,  fol.  78b.  See  note  3,  above. 


170 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


Yu  bedlyeme  God  was  borne  bytweene  to  bests  he  was  layd 
yn  that  place  wasse  never  beffe  no  man  but  the  holy  gost  • 
trenytte  J;'  ylke  selve  god  J>*  ther  was  borne  defend  your 
bodye  &  housse  &  dwell9  fro  thevys  and  al  maner  rays- 
chevys  &  harmys  wher  so  ever  we  wyend  be  land  or  by 
watr  by  night  or  by  day  by  tyde  or  by  tyme.  Amen 
purchryte. 

Bibl.  Bodl.  e  Mus.  243,  fol.  34. 
Theeves  to  wthstande. 

In  Bethlehem  god  was  borne,  between  2  beastes  to  rest  he 
was  layd  in  y*  sted  ther  was  no  man  but  ye  holy  trinite, 
the  same  god  y*  ther  was  borne  defende  our  bodies  &  our 
cattell  from  theves  &  all  maner  of  mischeeves  &  barmes 
whersoever  we  wend  ether  by  water  or  by  land  by  night 
or  by  day. 
Amen/ 

God  was  iborn  in  bedlem 

Iborin  he  was  to  Jerusalem 

Ifolewid  (  =  ifulwed)  in  J>e  flurn  iordan 

J>er  nes  inemned  ne  wulf  ne  >ef. 

Ashburnham  MS.  of  12th  cent. 
See  K.  Priebsch,  Academy,  May  23,  1896,  428. 

Bibl.    Bodl.   MS.    e    Mus.   243  fol.   36  (xvn 
cent. ) 

Another  night  spell  [red  ink]. 

In  nomine  patris  et  filii  et  spin'fus  sancti.     Amen. 

I  beseeche  ye  holy  ghost  this  place  y*  heare  is  sett,10 

wth  ye  father  &  ye  sonne  theeues  for  to  lett, 

yf  there  come  any  theeves  any  of  thes  goods  away  to  fett, 

ye  trinite  be  ther  before  &  doe  them  lett, 

&  make  them  heare  to  abyde  till  I  agayne  come, 

through  the  vertue  of  ye  holy  ghost,  ye  father  &  yc  sonne 

Now  betyde  what  will  betyde 

through  the  vertue  of  all  y6  saints  heare  you  shall  abyde, 

&  by  ye  vertue  of  mathewe  mark  luke  &  John, 

ye  4  Evangelists  accordinge  all  in  one, 

y'  you  theeves  be  bounde  all  so  sore 

as  St.  Bartholomewe  bounde  the  devell  w"1  ye  heare  of  his 

heade  so  hore 

Theeves,  theeves,  theeves,  stande  you  still  &  here  remain 
till  to  morowe  y*  I  come  agayne 
&  bid  you  be  gone  in  god  or  the  devels  name, 
&  come  no  more  here  for  doubt  or  for  further  blame/ 

then  say  In  principio  erat  verbum,  etc. 

Bibl.  Bodl.  MS.  Ashm.  1378,  fol.  60. 

•  Erased  in  MS. 

10  In  the  MS.  there  is  no  division  into  lines,  but  all  is 
written  as  prose.  A  fragment  of  this  same  charm  appears 
in  Bibl.  Bodl.  MS.  Ashm.  1378,  fol.  77 ;  see  also  Bibl. 
Bodl.  Douce  MS.  116,  103. 


Here  I  ame  and  fourthe  I  moste 
&  in  Ihus  Criste  is  all  my  trust 
no  wicked  thing  do  me  no  dare 
nother  here  nor  elles  whare 
the  father  w*  me  the  sonne  w*  the 
the  holly  goste  &  the  trinite 
be  bytwyxte  my  gostlely  enemies  &  me 
In  the  name  of  the  father  &  the  sonne 
And  the  holly  goste.     Amen 
Amen 


Bibl.  Bodl.  MS.  Ashm.  1378,  fol.  73. 

To  binde  a  house 
a  gaynste  theffes 

tSainte  wynwall  and  sainte  braston  and  sainte  tobas  " 

and  sonne  that  shineth  so  bright 

in  heuen  [s]on  highe 

he  fetched  his  light 

in  the  daye  and  nyght 

to  dystroy  all  poyson  w'  his  beames  so  bright. 


J.  M.  McBRYDE,  JR. 


Sweet  Briar  Institute,  Va. 


THE    USE    OF    CONTRASTS  IN  SUDER- 
MANN'S  PLAYS. 

Allusions  made  by  Bulthaupt,  Friedmann, 
Kawerau,  Landsberg,  Heilborn,1  and  others,  to 
contrasts  in  Sudermann's  plays  attracted  my  at- 
tention to  this  subject,  and  I  venture  to  present 
here  a  part  of  the  results  of  a  renewed  survey  of 
the  field  made  with  the  intention  of  closely  observ- 

11  In  the  MS.  written  as  prose. 

1  H.  Bulthaupt,  Dramaturgic  des  Schauspiek.  Band  IV, 
Oldenburg,  1901.  S.  Friedmann,  Das  deulsche  Drama  des 
Neunzehnten  Jahrhunderte.  2.  Auflage,  Leipzig,  1904,  Band 
ii.  W.  Kawerau,  H.  Svdermann,  2.  Auflage,  Leipzig, 
1899.  H.  Landsberg,  Moderns  Essays  zur  Kunsl  u.  Lit. 
Sudennann,  Berlin,  190] .  E.  Heilborn,  Reviews  of  Slider - 
manu's  plays  in  Die  Nation,  Berlin. 


June,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


171 


ing  this  detail  of  Sudermann's  workmanship.  I 
entertain  the  hope  that  a  record  of  my  study  may 
aid  those  who  are  seeking  signs  of  increase  or 
decline  in  the  artificiality  of  Sudermann's  work, 
and  that  it  may  prove  interesting  to  those  who  are 
watching  the  development  of  his  dramaturgic  art. 

To  some  it  might  seem  that  such  a  task  were 
one  of  supererogation,  for,  from  the  time  of  Soph- 
ocles down  to  the  present  day,  dramatists  have 
consciously  or  unconsciously  followed  the  dictates 
of  their  artistic  sense  and  have  sought  to  increase 
the  effectiveness  of  their  productions  by  presenting 
variety  in  the  personalities  that  move  before  us, 
and  by  appealing  to  the  varied  emotions  that  stir 
the  human  heart.  "Diversity  in  unity"  was 
long  ago  regarded  as  one  of  the  essentials  of 
beauty  ;  and  "  it  is  a  secret  law  of  all  artistic 
creation  that  the  subject  invented  calls  for  its 
contrast,  the  chief  character,  for  an  opposing 
player,  one  scenic  effect,  for  another  quite  dif- 
ferent. The  Germanic  races,  in  particular,  feel 
the  need  of  carefully  infusing  into  all  their  cre- 
ations a  certain  totality  of  feeling."  * 

Every  reader  will  judge  for  himself  and  will 
draw  the  lines  to  suit  his  taste  in  marking  off  the 
boundaries  of  what  is  natural  and  what  is  affected  ; 
but  I  do  not  seriously  doubt  that  after  reading 
again  some  of  Sudermann's  plays,  it  will  be  felt 
that  the  author's  eyes  were  always  searching  for 
antitheses,  perhaps  I  ought  to  say  for  contrasts, 
and  that  now  and  then  his  method  is  decidedly 
too  plain,  that,  in  some  instances,  the  charge  of 
artificiality  so  frequently  brought  against  him  is 
somewhat  justifiable. 

In  his  first  play,  Die  Ehre  (1889),  that  brought 
Sudermann  immediate  and  unquestioned  renown 
as  a  playwright,  antithesis  is  abundant.  In  fact, 
it  has  been  said  that  the  play  probably  owed  its 
decisive  success  to  the  force  and  sharpness  with 
which  social  contrasts  were  presented.3 

The  rich,  and,  in  their  own  estimation,  for  the 
most  part,  righteous  family  of  Miiblingks  in  the 
manor  house  ( Vorderhaus~),  the  poor,  depraved 
and  vulgar  family  in  the  tenement  (Hinterhaus), 
furnish  at  once  two  scenes  of  action  and  two  sets 
of  characters  as  different  as  possible.  They  are 

2  Gustav    Freytag,    Technik  des   Dramas.     7.   Auflage, 
Leipzig,  1894,  p.  72. 
8  Friedmann,  n,  333. 


brought  before  us  with  the  precision  of  alterna- 
tion :  first  act,  Hinterhaus  ;  second  act,  Vorder- 
haus  ;  third  act,  Hinterhaus  ;  fourth  act,  Vorder- 
haus.  In  the  Vorderhaus  there  are  husband  and 
wife,  son  and  daughter  ;  in  the  Hinterhaus  there 
is  practically  the  same  thing.  On  both  sides  the 
husband  and  wife  are  about  on  a  plane  of  moral- 
ity ;  one  child  is  good,  the  other  is  bad  ;  in  the 
Vorderhaus  the  daughter  is  good,  the  son  is  bad  ; 
in  the  Hinterhaus  the  son  is  good,  the  daughter  is 
bad. 

Graf  Trast,  a  rich  aristocrat  returns  after  years 
of  absence  to  find  himself  wholly  out  of  touch  and 
sympathy  with  the  ideas  of  honor  among  his  own 
class  of  people  ;  Robert  Heinecke,  the  plebeian, 
returns  to  find  himself  after  years  of  absence 
wholly  at  variance  with  the  notions  of  decency 
such  as  his  family  entertain.  Indeed,  when  one 
stops  to  think,  one  has  before  one  what  looks  like 
contrasts  carefully  calculated  and  balanced. 

Much  might  be  said  in  detail  as  to  the  contrasts 
presented  by  Vorderhaus  and  Hinterhaus  regard- 
ing manners,  morality,  and  ideas  of  what  consti- 
tutes honorable  behavior,  as  to  the  contrasting 
personalities  of  Alma  Heinecke  and  Lenore  Miih- 
lingk,  of  Robert  Heinecke  and  Curt  Muhlingk, 
as  to  Lenore,  the  counter  of  her  family,  the  Mtih- 
lingks  ;  as  to  Robert  and  his  own  family,  the 
Heineckes  ;  but  it  is  all  quite  evident,  and  I  shall 
dwell  no  longer  on  this  play.  Most  of  these  par- 
ticulars have  been  spoken  of  incidentally  by  Han- 
stein,  Landsberg,  Friedmann  aud  others.  As 
might  naturally  be  expected  in  the  incipient 
stages  of  dramatic  activity,  indications  of  arti- 
ficiality are  somewhat  plainer,  the  marks  of  crafty 
workmanship  are  not  sufficiently  concealed,  and 
when  the  light  of  criticism  is  turned  on,  the  con- 
scious effort  to  set  polarities  before  us,  is  noticeable. 
This  is  intentional,  of  course,  in  the  matter  of 
social  distinctions  and  as  to  what  constitutes  ideals 
of  honor  in  different  spheres  of  life  ;  but  it  is  per- 
haps not  intended  to  be  so  conspicuous  in  other 
component  parts  of  the  play. 

"Sodoms  Ende  (1891),  bears  the  same  rela- 
tion," says  Landsberg  (p.  50),  "to  Die  Ehre  as 
a  painting  in  which  the  colors  pass  imperceptibly 
into  one  another  bears  to  a  harsh  engraving  which 
has  been  made  with  the  special  intent  of  empha- 
sizing contrasts."  On  closer  investigation,  the 


172 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  JVb.  6. 


contrasts  presented  in  Sodoms  Ende  come  out 
almost  as  clearly  as  in  Die  Ehre,  and  I  do  not 
think  that  Landsberg  goes  quite  far  enough  in  his 
comparison.  Sodoms  Ende  is  replete  with  con- 
trasts, though  they  may  be  less  noticeably  juxta- 
posed than  in  Die  Ehre,  and  the  shading  a  trifle 
less  abrupt.  Instead  of  pitting  against  each  other 
two  different  castes  in  society,  such  as  Vorderhaus 
and  Hinterham  in  Die  Ehre,  we  are  now  con- 
fronted with  two  utterly  distinct  and  antagonistic 
phases  of  a  single  caste,  that  of  the  upper  middle 
class.  The  first  act  introduces  the  smart,  witty 
circle  of  shallow,  immoral  social  butterflies  that 
swarm  in  the  pestilential  atmosphere  of  the  luxu- 
rious residence  owned  by  Adah  Barczinowsky, 
who  is  a  sort  of  spiritualized  Messalina,  the  adul- 
teress immediately  responsible  for  the  utter  decay 
of  Willy  Janikow's  genius  and  morality.  Here 
we  face  a  shocking  set  that  puts  a  premium  on 
mock  witticism  and  contempt  for  all  that  is  ac- 
counted pure  and  good.  But  what  a  different 
spectacle  confronts  us  in  the  second  act  when  the 
lifting  of  the  curtain  reveals  the  plain  surround- 
ings of  the  humble  abode  of  Janikow's  parents, 
who  have  previously  suffered  financial  shipwreck 
and  are  now  eking  out  a  scant  existence,  sacrificing 
self  and  all  but  honor  in  order  that  their  talented 
but  "invertebrate"  son  may  meet  his  social 
obligations.  The  pitiful  and  unselfish  mother, 
who,  in  addition  to  all  her  drudgery,  keepa  a 
pension  and  gives  private  lessons,  the  somewhat 
blunted  old  father  who  gets  up  at  four  o'clock  on 
cold  winter  mornings  to  attend  to  his  duties  as  an 
overseer,  Willy  Janikow's  faithful  friend,  Kramer, 
who  has  squandered  his  little  meaus  on  Willy  and 
now  shares  with  him  the  paltry  pittance  secured 
by  tutoring,  and  Klarchen,  the  intended  bride  of 
Kramer,  whose  only  thought  is  of  others, — thus 
the  picture  of  a  world  of  immorality,  of  wealth, 
of  cynicism,  of  wit,  of  selfishness  is  shut  out  from 
our  vision  and  in  its  stead  comes  one  of  love,  of 
duty,  of  devotion,  of  self-sacrifice.  This  scene  is 
continued  through  the  third  act,  but,  in  the 
fourth,  we  are  brought  back  again  to  the  sur- 
roundings of  the  first  act.  A  brilliant  ball  is 
going  on  to  heighten  the  effect.  No  greater  dif- 
ference could  well  be  devised.  The  curtain  sinks 
at  the  close  of  the  third  act  on  a  darkened  and 
deserted  stage.  Willy  Janikow,  in  a  state  of  half 


intoxication  and  nervous  derangement,  has  just 
sneaked  into  Klarchen' s  bed-chamber,  and  while 
he  is  enacting  a  brutal  crime  at  the  silent  hour  of 
late  night,  the  almost  inaudible  tones  of  Kramer's 
voice  are  heard  repeating  the  lines  of  a  speech  he 
is  laboriously  learning  to  deliver  the  next  evening, 
proclaiming  in  exalted  praise  Willy  Janikow's 
greatness  and  genius.  The  sublimity  of  Kramer's 
devotion  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  beastly,  un- 
speakable ingratitude  of  Willy  Janikow  on  the 
other,  stir  us  profoundly  by  their  tragic  contrast 
in  the  awe-inspiring  stillness  and  darkness  of  the 
night ;  and  when  the  curtain  rises  on  the  next 
scene  of  capricious  and  lavish  elegance  in  Adah 
Barczinowsky's  salon  while,  through  the  half- 
opened  portieres  at  the  rear  we  catch  glimpses  of 
the  flitting  feet  of  brilliant  dancers  in  a  blaze  of 
light,  keeping  step  to  joyous  strains  of  music  inter- 
mingled with  merry  peals  of  laughter,  it  is  unde- 
niable that  colors  as  distinct  and  different  as  pos- 
sible have  been  juxtaposed  in  this  appalling 
picture. 

There  are  three  prominent  personages  in  Adah's 
world, — herself,  her  ward  and  niece,  Kitty,  whom 
she  will  marry  to  Willy  Janikow  in  order  to  keep 
him  in  her  net,  and  Dr.  Weisse,  the  raisonneur. 
These  three  are  genuine  contrasts  to  three  others 
that  we  find  at  Janikow's,  Mrs.  Janikow,  Klar- 
chen and  Riemann.  Willy  Janikow  stands  alone 
in  that  he  is  the  embodiment  of  characteristics  the 
opposites  of  which  are  found  in  his  two  friends, 
Riemann  and  Kramer.  He  is  such  a  contempti- 
ble weakling  that  to  call  him  the  hero  of  the  play 
might  be  misleading.  This  spoiled  and  degenerate 
son,  who  squanders  the  hard-earned  money  of  his 
impoverished  parents  and  of  his  self-sacrificing 
friend,  Kramer,  rewards  the  latter  by  seducing 
his  (Kramer's)  fiancee,  his  own  foster-sister,  de- 
fenceless Klarcheu.  He  is  so  basely  ungrateful, 
so  lascivious  and  so  remorseless,  so  unmindful  of 
duty  and  morality,  that  one's  heart  sickens  with 
disgust  at  him.  His  lack  of  purpose  and  energy 
contrasts  most  sharply  with  the  indefatigable 
probity  of  his  artist  friend,  Riemann,  and  his 
immeasurable  selfishness,  with  the  supreme  self- 
effacement  of  Kramer.  Thus  all  the  prominent 
characters  are  provided  with  the  contrasting  back- 
ground that  Sudermann  feels  they  need. 

The  social  contrasts  of  Die  Ehre  and  Heimat 


June,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


173 


bear  a  certain  resemblance  and  yet  are  quite  dif- 
ferent. In  the  former,  the  rich  young  son,  after 
years  of  absence  spent  in  luxury  and  refinement 
during  which  he  has  become  a  polished  man  of 
the  world,  returns  to  a  family  that  is  and  has 
been  sunk  too  deep  in  corruption  and  coarseness 
ever  to  be  elevated  therefrom  and  he  must  finally 
repudiate  them  with  a  sense  of  intense  relief.  In 
Heimat  (1891)  it  is  the  daughter  who  after  years 
of  adventure  has  become  a  great  prima  donna  and 
comes  back  to  find  herself  utterly  beyond  accord 
with  the  strict  and  straight-laced  ideas  of  morality 
and  propriety  entertained  by  her  father  and  his 
friends.  Her  flight  would  have  been  just  as  in- 
evitable, too,  had  not  a  stroke  of  apoplexy  re- 
moved the  inexorable  old  man  just  soon  enough 
to  prevent  a  tragedy  or  her  departure. 

"Two  worlds  are  again  contrasted, — the  con- 
servatism of  old  times,  and  the  fermentation  of 
the  new,  the  conventions  of  provincial  morality 
and  the  looseness  of  the  metropolis,  the  traditional 
spirit  of  caste  in  a  pious  military  circle  and  the 
impetuous  desire  for  freedom  and  life  in  an  artistic 
personality."  (Landsberg,  p.  51.)  The  conflict 
is  very  severe  ;  the  "altruistic  morality  of  old 
time  family  life  defends  itself  with  the  savage 
fierceness  of  a  lawful  owner  vindicating  his 
rights." 

Magda,  who  when  a  young  girl  of  seventeen 
years,  was  driven  from  home  and  finally  disowned 
by  her  father  because  of  her  refusal  to  marry 
young  Pastor  Heffterdingk,  has  fought  desper- 
ately and  gained  for  herself  a  splendid  position 
of  renown  and  independence  in  the  great  world 
of  art  outside:  "das  Leben  im  grossen  Stil, 
Betatigung  aller  Krafte,  Auskosten  aller  Schuld, 
was  In-die-Hohe-kommen  und  Geniessen  heisst." 
She  has  obeyed  none  but  herself  and  has  developed 
her  personality  to  the  utmost.  She  is  a  represen- 
tative of  individualism,  of  the  right  to  live  for 
one's  self:  "Ich  bin  ich  und  durch  mich  selbst 
geworden  was  ich  bin."  But  her  aged  father, 
Colonel  Schwartze  a.  D.  represents  the  strict  old 
moral  code,  "die  gute,  alte,  sozusagen  familien- 
hafte  Gesittung."  His  house  and  family  are 
absolutely  governed  by  his  inexorable  will  that  is 
always  determined  by  strict  observance  of  duty  as 
he  sees  it.  He  is  proud  of  his  soldierly  sternness, 
and  believes  that  his  old  regiment  still  trembles 


when   it  thinks  of  him.     He  has  become,  as  he 
imagines,  a  dauntless  defender  of  altruism. 

Pastor  Heffterdingk  is  the  possessor  of  a  noble 
and  lofty  soul,  and  to  him  alone  is  due  the  little 
sweetness  and  charm  infused  into  the  gloom  that 
has  settled  about  old  Colonel  Schwartze.  He 
teaches  self-sacrifice,  obedience  to  authority,  love  ; 
and  his  example  is  a  justification  of  the  Christian 
principles  he  imparts.  His  evangelic  simplicity 
and  his  deep  insight  into  the  workings  of  the 
human  heart  form  a  fitting  relief  for  Magda' s 
inconsiderate  frankness  and  candor,  for  her  indi- 
vidualism and  love  of  liberty.  These  two  figures 
in  opposing  worlds  of  ideals  have  been  likened  to 
"Christ  and  Nietzsche's  Antichrist."*  As  a 
contrast,  too,  to  the  fierce,  domineering  self-as- 
sertive figure  of  Magda,  the  sweet,  submissive, 
self-effacing  sister,  Maria,  fills  in  the  circle  of 
those  who  by  their  diametric  difference  furnish  all 
the  shades  needful  in  the  picture  to  set  off  the 
brilliance  of  Magda,  the  wayward  artist.  For 
purposes  of  illustration,  passages  might  be  quoted 
from  scenes  in  which  Magda  is  opposed  to  her 
father  and  the  ladies  of  the  committee  on  the  one 
hand,  and  on  the  other,  where  she  meets  her 
former  lover,  Pastor  Heffterdingk.  Contrasts  in 
personality  and  ideals  could  not  be  more  emphati- 
cally marked  and  they  pervade  the  play  from  its 
beginning  to  its  end. 

The  three  one-act  plays  entitled  Mbrituri,  of  the 
year  1897,  are  more  conspicuous  for  contrasts 
when  compared  with  one  another.  They  repre- 
sent the  conduct  of  those  who  are  doomed  to  die 
but  under  circumstances  totally  dissimilar,  and 
in  utterly  different  spheres  of  life. 

Teja  is  a  historical  personage  of  the  sixth  cen- 
tury, he  is  in  the  midst  of  historical  setting,  his 
death  is  to  result  from  circumstances  that  reflect 
nothing  but  honor  on  him,  he  will  die  a  soldier's 
death,  since  his  little  band  of  Goths  is  hopelessly 
encompassed  by  the  Romans  and  Byzantines. 
Fritzchen,  on  the  other  hand,  is  modern  to  the 
last  degree,  and  he  dies  a  disgraceful  death,  the 
result  of  extraordinary  folly.  He  is  a  man  who 
faces  an  end  that  is  in  his  opinion  the  only  escape 
from  intolerable  shame.  In  Teja  almost  the  whole 
of  a  historical  race  perishes,  in  Fritzchen  only  one 

4  See  Friedmann,  pp.  344-349. 


174 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[  Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


man,  the  victim  of  sin,  but  not  a  hero.  The 
mockery  and  play  of  Das  Ewig-Mannliche  fur- 
nishes an  enlivening  contrast  to  the  two  painful 
tragedies  that  precede  it,  a  sort  of  satyr-play  as  of 
old,  and,  as  has  been  said,  somewhat  like  the 
clown  of  the  Shakespearean  plays,  to  relieve  the 
strain  put  upon  the  nerves  by  relentless  tragedy. 

In  the  last  scenes  of  Teja  we  behold  the  grim, 
relentless  warrior,  whose  hands  have  been  stained 
with  the  blood  of  cruel  discipline,  into  whose  life 
no  gleam  of  sunshine  has  ever  come  before,  romp- 
ing gleefully  with  his  bonny  bride  on  the  very 
brink  of  destruction. 

In  regard  to  Fritzchen,  Friedmann  (p.  360) 
remarks  that  instead  of  the  heroic  and  antique 
style  in  Teja  we  now  have  the  modern  and  natur- 
alistic, instead  of  the  force  and  strength  of  old, 
the  lamentable  weakness  of  modern  times  and  the 
mendacity  of  our  morals.  Besides  this,  there  is 
the  contrast  between  the  perfect  outward  polite- 
ness and  the  inner  brutality  of  military  circles, 
between  the  external  polish  of  the  nobleman  and 
the  ravenous  beast  within  his  heart  ever  ready  to 
pounce  upon  its  victim.  Of  course  these  remarks 
are  true  only  in  a  limited  sense.  Perhaps  it  may 
be  pardonable  to  give  a  few  lines  of  the  closing 
scene  wherein  Fritzchen  bids  farewell  forever  to 
his  delicate  mother.  Jauntily  waving  adieu  from 
the  terrace  in  the  background,  he  cries  with  coun- 
terfeit gaiety:  "Wiedersehn,  wiedersehn,"  and 
goes  straightway  to  his  disgraceful  doom.  As  the 
curtain  sinks  upon  the  harrowing  close,  his  mother, 
with  a  happy  smile  upon  her  face,  gazes  out  into 
the  distance  and  relates  a  vision  of  the  preceding 
night :  She  says,  "  Heavens,  the  boy  !  How  hand- 
some he  looks,  so  brown  and  healthy.  You  see, 
he  looked  just  so  last  night.  No,  there  can  be  no 
deception  in  it.  But  I  told  you  how  the  Emperor 
brought  him  into  the  midst  of  all  the  generals  ! 
And  the  Emperor  said  ..."  The  curtain  falls, 
and  we  are  left  with  the  pathetic  contrast  in  the 
mother's  happy  illusion  and  the  pitiless  end  await- 
ing the  boy. 

The  collection  known  as  Morituri  may  not  con- 
tain the  best  exemplifications  of  antitheses  in 
Sudermann's  work,  but  because  of  the  very  high 
rank  taken  by  Teja  and  Fritzchen,  I  have  thought 
it  best  to  say  something  about  them  in  my  paper. 

Johannis  (1898)  is  a  play  of  marked  contrasts. 


Its  tragedy  and  its  action  are  based  on  the  antith- 
esis of  the  teaching  of  Jesus  and  that  of  John. 
John,  the  preacher  of  penitence  and  severity,  of 
uncompromising  punishment  to  be  inflicted  on  the 
sinner,  is  confounded,  disarmed  and  delivered  to 
his  enemies  in  consequence  of  impotence  resulting 
from  the  effect  of  the  message  of  love  from  Jesus  : 
"Love  your  enemies,"  etc.,  just  as  he  is  about  to 
lead  his  disciples  in  stoning  Herod  and  his  adul- 
terous wife  to  death.  John  is  the  embodiment  of 
austerity  and  solemnity,  whereas  Herod  is  the  one 
around  whom  skepticism  has  made  a  void  in  which 
resounds  the  hollow  laugh  of  witticism.  Self-in- 
dulgence is  the  only  law  by  which  he  is  governed. 
Vitellius,  the  Roman  commisssoner  at  Herod's 
court,  is  a  fitting  complement  in  the  contrast. 
Sensual  and  self-indulgent  too,  he  is  a  glutton  of 
renown,  a  Roman  swelled  to  the  point  of  bursting 
with  the  contemptuous  pride  of  his  race.  Vitel- 
lius and  Herod  taken  together  make  a  background 
against  which  the  Forerunner  of  Jesus  stands  out 
most  prominently.  And  what  could  illumine  more 
glaringly  the  marmorean  purity  of  the  Forerun- 
ner's character  than  the  corruption  in  Herod's 
court?  Adulterous  Herodias  and  Herod,  proud 
and  gluttonous  Vitellius,  beautiful  and  lascivious 
Salome  are  dressed  in  all  the  colors  of  sin,  whereas 
John  is  clothed  in  the  spotlessness  of  stern  aus- 
terity. Fair  and  fake  Salome  has  her  counterpart 
too,  in  the  gentle,  pure,  unselfish  Miriam  whose 
life  goes  out  in  humble  sacrifice  for  love  of  John 
and  his  exalted  teaching.  Salome  is,  moreover, 
in  possession  of  a  personality  in  itself  a  contrast, — 
beautiful,  joyous,  fascinating,  poetical,  she  is  false 
as  she  is  fair,  as  venomous  as  she  is  beautiful,  as 
sensuous  as  she  is  gay,  as  shameless  as  she  is  cap- 
tivating. Now  what  could  be  more  apparently 
incongruous  than  that  so  young  and  romantic  a 
maiden  who  sings  of  the  rose  of  Sharon  and  of  the 
lily  of  the  valley  should  ofi'er  illicit  love  to  savage 
and  repellant  John  ?  Act  4,  scene  6,  Salome  says  : 
"I  have  made  thank  offerings  as  she  did  of  whom 
the  song  tells,  and  I  have  performed  secret  vows. 
Then  I  went  out  into  the  twilight  to  seek  thy 
countenance  and  the  flash  of  thine  eye.  Come, 
let  us  enjoy  love  until  the  morning.  And  my 
companions  shall  watch  upon  the  threshold  and 
greet  the  early  morning  with  their  harps."  John  : 
"Truly  thou  art  mighty  ...  for  thou  art  sin." 


June,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


175 


Salome  :  "  Sweet  as  fin  am  I."  John  :  "  Go  ! " 
Salome:  "Dost  thou  drive  me  away?"  (She 
rushes  through  the  gate. ) 

Of  the  setting  of  the  various  acts  it  may  be 
noticed  that  the  Vorspiel  is  enacted  in  a  wild  and 
rocky  region  in  the  vicinity  of  Jerusalem.  It  is 
night  and  the  moonlight  gleams  dimly  through  the 
broken  clouds.  In  the  distance,  on  the  horizon 
may  be  seen  the  fire  of  the  altar  of  burnt  offering. 
Dark  figures  are  passing  in  the  background.  The 
second  act  introduces  us  into  Herod's  palace,  then 
comes  the  shoemaker's  house  in  the  third  act,  then 
the  Temple.  In  the  fourth  act,  a  prison  in  a 
Galilean  town,  and  lastly,  in  the  fifth  act,  the 
gorgeous  banquet  scene  and  dazzling  close  in 
Herod's  palace. 

Die  drei  Eeiherfedern  (1898)  is  very  clearly 
a  drama  of  contrast,  for  the  truth  it  teaches  in  its 
symbolism  is  that  strength  and  firmness  of  purpose, 
will,  determination  and  unrelenting  energy  will 
win  and  control  ;  that  a  dreamy,  visionary  and 
romantic  nature,  with  its  insatiable  longings  and 
fancies,  its  instability  and  indecision,  cannot  avail. 

Hans  Lorbass,  the  strong-willed,  practical  man 
of  energy,  is  placed  as  a  companion  and  contrast 
by  the  side  of  the  vacillating,  romantic  dreamer, 
Prince  Witte,  "the  unwearying  child  of  desire," 
and  when  the  latter' s  idle  roaming  in  search  of  his 
ideal  is  done,  when  his  death  comes  as  a  result  of 
his  failure  to  grasp  and  comprehend  his  ideal 
while  in  possession  of  it,  then  Hans  Lorbass  the 
practical  worker,  the  energetic  realist,  survives 
the  dreamer,  will  assume  his  duties  and  responsi- 
bilities, and  will  control  the  realm  the  former 
should  have  governed.  The  words  that  flow  from 
his  lips  in  the  first  scene,  and  in  the  last,  contain 
the  substance  of  the  play  and  reveal  alike  the 
destiny  of  both  men  : 

Denn  bei  jcdem  grossen  Werke, 
Daa  auf  Erden  wird  vollbracht, 
Ilerrschen  soil  allein  die  Stiirke, 
Herrschen  soil  allein  wer  lacht. 

Niemals  herrschen  soil  der  Kummer, 
Nie  wer  zornig  uberschaumt, 
Nie,  wer  Weiber  braucht  zutn  Schlummer 
Und  am  mindesten,  wer  traumt. 

And  at  the  end,  — 

Meins  (mem  Werk)  muss  neu  beginnen  1 

Gern  scharwerkt'  ich  welter  und  hetzte  mich  wund 


Als  meines  Lieblings  Henker  und  Hund, 
Doch  weil  das  nimmer  gcschehen  kann, 
So  tret'  ich  nunmehr  sein  Erbe  an  : 

Dort  driiben  gibt's  ein  verlottertes  Land, 
Das  braucht  eine  rachende,  rettende  Hand, 
Das  braucht  Gewalttat,  das  braucht  ein  Eecht  ; — 
Zum  Herru — werde  der  Knecht ! 

Certain  other  contrasts  may  be  mentioned 
which,  though  existing,  are  not  necessarily  the 
result  of  intention.  Prince  Witte' s  wife  is  the 
personification  of  the  self-sacrificing  instinct, 
Widwolf,  the  Duke  of  Gotland,  the  personifica- 
tion of  self-seeking.  Hans  Lorbass  is  the  faithful 
attendant  on  his  master,  Witte  ;  whereas  Skoll 
can  scarcely  be  accounted  true  to  his  lord,  the 
Duke  of  Gotland.  The  queen  is  the  very  essence 
of  virtue  and  purity,  but  her  lady  in  waiting, 
Unna  Goldhaar,  succumbs  readily,  for  all  we 
know,  to  Witte' s  adulterous  weakness.  Finally, 
one's  attention  is  arrested  by  the  great  contrast  in 
scenery  afforded  by  the  first  and  by  the  last  acts. 
The  first,  on  the  lonesome  Norse  sea-shore  skirted 
by  the  silent  graves  of  unknown  dead,  colored 
with  the  mist  of  somber  symbolism  ;  and  the 
second,  third  and  fourth  acts  in  the  castle  with 
all  the  pomp,  splendor,  bustle  and  excitement  of 
court  life.  In  the  fifth  act  we  return  to  the  scene 
of  the  first,  that  has  grown  more  somber  in  the 
interval.  The  first  act  is  the  embarcation  of 
Witte  and  Lorbass  on  the  sea  of  life,  high  hopes 
swelling  the  sails  of  their  idealism  ;  the  last  act  is 
the  end  of  life,  after  all  the  disillusions  of  expe- 
rience. 

Es  lebe  das  Leben,  the  most  successful  of  Suder- 
mann's  more  recent  plays,  is  reported  to  have 
been  decidedly  the  theatrical  event  of  the  season, 
(1902).  Bulthaupt  (p.  473)  remarks  that  "the 
contrast  between  man  and  woman  which  is  dis- 
closed in  Johannisfeuer,  particularly  in  the  third 
act,  is  again  exhibited  here  in  an  ennobled  and 
refined  form."  That  is  true  in  a  sense,  for  the 
feelings  and  conduct  of  the  heroine,  Beate  v. 
Kellinghausen,  are  the  converse  of  those  of  her 
guilty  associate,  Richard  v.  Volkerlingk,  in  the 
face  of  exposure  and  death.  He  is  driven  to 
despair  by  the  consciousness  of  guilt  and  the 
wrong  done  his  friend.  He  believes  that  his 
strength  is  gone  and  that  the  harmony  of  his  life 
is  destroyed.  Beate  exults  in  the  happiness  she 


176 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[  Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


has  had  and  believes  she  has  done  the  best  she 
could.  Part  of  a  conversation  between  her  and 
Richard  in  the  eleventh  scene  of  the  fourth  act 
will  evince  this.  Beate  (referring  to  a  famous 
speech  just  delivered  by  Richard  in  the  Reichstag 
in  defence  of  the  sanctity  of  the  marriage  tie) 
says:  "I  laugh  because  you  denied  us  to-day 
and  all  our  long  silent  happiness  before  the  people. 
Wait,  dear  friend,  the  hour  will  come  when  the 
cock  will  crow  thrice,  then  you  will  weep  bitterly. 
I  do  not  reproach  you.  It  is  not  your  conscience. 
It  is  the  conscience  of  everybody  that  haunts  you. 
I  am  a  foolish  woman.  What  do  /  care  about 
everybody.  It  seemed  to  you  a  sin,  to  me  it  was 
a  step  upward  to  myself,  to  the  infinite  fulfillment 
of  the  harmony  which  nature  had  in  view  with 
me.  And  because  I  felt  that ' '  — Richard  inter- 
rupts her  :  "So  you  deny  all  guilt  in  our  case ?  " 
Beate  replies  :  "I  deny  nothing.  I  afRrm  nothing. 
I  stand  on  the  other  shore  of  the  great  stream,  and 
laugh  across  at  you.  0  you,  you  !  (laughs)  Re- 
nunciation !  .  .  .  Now  that  it's  all  at  an  end,  I'll 
confess  it  to  you.  I  have  never  been  resigned. 
I  longed  for  you  day  and  night,  feverishly,  dis- 
tressfully .  .  when  you  were  with  me,  when  you 
were  away,  always,  always.  I  played  the  part  of 
the  cool  friend  and  bit  my  lips  till  they  were  sore, 
my  heart  was  broken  with  sorrow  .  .  and  yet  I  was 
happy,  unspeakably,  inhumanly."  In  the  eighth 
scene  of  the  third  act  Richard  had  said  in  regard 
to  his  coming  speech  :  "You  call  it  (my  feeling) 
conscience,  I  call  it  a  joint  or  common  feeling.  I 
say  to  myself  constantly  :  how  can  I  answer  for 
what  I  am  going  to  say  there  before  God  ajid  the 
world,  if  that  which  I  live  and  do  screams  mock- 
ery in  His  face  ? .  .  .  The  sanctuary  of  matrimony, 
in  all  its  moral  exaltation,  as  the  divine  pillar,  to 
a  certain  extent,  of  all  human  society,  I  am  to 
bring  before  the  eyes  of  the  cynics  in  the  party 
opposed  to  us.  ...  And  this  pillar  in  me  is  broken 
...  I  find  intellectual  justification  for  you  and  for 
myself,  only  in  case  I  think  just  as  materialistically 
and  cynically  as  those  who  are  enemies  to  our 
order.  .  .  And  not  even  that.  What  we  call 
God  is  for  them  'social  expediency.'  And  this 
pseudo-God  is  even  more  merciless,  if  possible, 
than  Jehovah  of  the  old  covenant  was.  With  the 
convenient  device  :  '  Conform  to  my  words  and 
not  to  my  works.' — I  cannot  manage.  .  .  What 
I  give,  I  must  give  without  inner  contradiction, 


harmonious.  And  so  my  every  thought  runs 
away  to  nothing,  thus  from  every  premise  flows 
the  contrary  of  that  which  I  will  and  must  con- 
clude .  .  and  whithersoever  my  natural  judgment 
would  force  me,  if  it  were  not  influenced  by—- 
by—  .  .  .  Pardon  me,  I  am  so  tired.  My  brain 
will  furnish  no  more  evidence.  First  the  tor- 
ments of  yesterday  evening  when  a  single  recoiling 
wince  might  have  hurled  us  both  into  destruction. 
Then  the  long  night  of  labor  over  my  desk.  .  . 
In  the  first  place  it  cost  me  a  desperate  bit  of  will- 
power to  concentrate  my  thoughts  after  what  I 
have  experienced.  But  then  theoretical  consid- 
erations got  such  power  over  me  that  I  awoke  not 
until  that  moment  as  if  from  a  dream,  and  asked 
myself :  What  is  to  happen  ?  .  .  .  Oh,  Beate, 
truth,  truth.  To  be  once  again  in  harmony  with 
myself.  For  the  bare  right  of  having  again  a 
conviction,  I  would  joyfully  throw  everything 
away,  my  little  bit  of  personal  existence,  my 
life, — everything."  How  different  from  the  spirit 
of  the  woman  who  drinks  a  toast  to  the  joys  of 
life  just  before  committing  suicide  to"  save  her 
friend  and  family  from  scandal  and  ruin.  Before 
assembled  friends  at  her  table  she  says  :  "Just 
see,  dear  friends,  you  are  always  crying  :  '  Long 
may  he  live,  long  may  he  live  ! '  But  who  really 
lives  ?  Who  dares  live  ?  (Somewhere  something  is 
in  bloom,  and  a  glimpse  of  its  color  comes  over  to 
us,  and  then  we  secretly  shudder  like  criminals.  .  . 
That  is  all  that  we  have  of  life.  Why,  do  you 
believe  that  you  live,  or  do  I  ?  (Standing  up 
with  a  sudden  inspiration).  Yes,  I  do.  My  exist- 
ence has  been  for  my  body  and  soul  nothing  but  a 
long  struggle  against  death.  I  am  scarcely  ac- 
quainted with  sleep  any  longer.  Every  free 
breath  I  draw  is  a  gift  of  mercy  .  .  and  yet  I  have 
never  forgot  laughter, — and  in  spite  of  it  all  I 
have  been  full  of  thankfulness  and  happiness. 
And  I  lift  this  glass  and  cry  out  of  the  fulness  of 
my  soul  :  (almost  in  a  whisper)  "  Es  lebe  das 
Leben,  meine  Lieben  Freunde  !  " 

Apart  from  this  fundamental  difference  in  the 
two  leading  characters  and  the  passages  quoted, 
contrasts  by  no  means  unnatural,  forced  or  theat- 
rical, nothing  else  has  been  found  to  speak  of  here, 
so  that,  in  regard  to  the  subject  under  consider- 
ation, of  the  plays  as  yet  written  by  Sudermann, 
this  is  one  of  the  freest  from  artificiality. 

Of  Stein  unter  Steinen  (1905),  Heilborn   re- 


June,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


177 


"marks  in  Die  Nation  (1905-6):  "Beside  the 
criminal,  Biegler,  who  has  been  released,  and  who 
has  now  become  a  watchman  at  a  stone  mason's 
yard,  there  stands  a  girl  who  has  a  child  by  one 
of  the  journeymen.  She  has  been  kept  subser- 
vient to  him  by  false  promises  of  marriage  and 
has  been  brutally  treated.  For  both  of  the  chief 
characters,  Sudermaun's  flexible  fancy  has  created 
contrasting  figures.  By  the  side  of  that  discharged 
convict  who  is  struggling  hard  with  life  and  fate, 
is  placed  another  discharged  convict,  Struve,  a 
comic  figure,  who  speaks  with  enthusiasm  of  life 
in  the  house  of  correction,  aud  he  would  not  be 
unwilling  to  return  to  it.  The  heroine  sighs  over 
the  shame  of  having  given  birth  to  an  illegitimate 
child  ;  her  friend,  a  poor,  deformed  creature,  the 
daughter  of  the  master  stone  mason,  longs  for  love 
and  a  child,  even  if  the  latter  were  the  fruit  of 
thousandfold  shame.  And,  furthermore,  the  mas- 
ter himself  is  a  philanthropist,  and  is  glad  to  ofier 
refuge  to  released  criminals.  The  police  commis- 
sioner who  visits  him  boasts  of  his  own  kindly 
feelings  for  criminals,  but  does  not  hesitate  a 
moment  to  expose  publicly  the  secret  of  the  man 
who  lias  just  succeeded  in  getting  honorable  work. 
One  may  say  that  for  contrasts  care  has  been  well 
taken,  the  antithetical  skeletons  are  skillfully  cov- 
ered with  flesh  and  blood." 

Some  marked  contrasts  may  be  pointed  out  in 
Das  Blumenboot  (1905),  but  perhaps  not  many 
more  than  would  ordinarily  be  found  in  a  play  of 
serious  purpose  having  so  many  in  the  dramatis 
persona.  There  must  be  variety  in  order  that 
deadly  monotony  be  avoided.  Of  the  characters, 
I  have  only  time  to  say  that  there  are  several 
contrasting  sets  and  that  the  moral  standards  and 
ideals  that  govern  them  are  opposed.  Illustrations 
would  require  many  pages.  The  four  acts  take 
place  in  the  handsome  residence  of  the  Hoyers, 
whereas  the  Zwischenspiel  between  the  second  and 
third  acts  is  in  a  low  club  of  ultra  Bohemian  type, 
patronized  by  an  ordinary  set  of  actors  and  artists 
from  variety  theaters.  It  is  called  Das  Meer- 
schu-einchen,  and  to  this  Fred  Hoyer  takes  his 
young  wife  on  the  night  of  their  wedding,  as  he 
had  promised  the  curious  and  advanced  young 
lady  he  would  do.  So,  we  get  a  glimpse  of  two 
different  faces  of  vice  :  the  repulsive  and  repellent 
one  in  the  Meersehiceinchen,  the  polished  and  re- 


fined visage  in   the  town-residence  belonging  to 
the  Hoyers  and  in  their  villa  near  Berlin. 

I  do  not  care  to  pronounce  judgment  with  con- 
clusiveness,  but  if  Stein  unter  Steinen  be  conceded 
to  be  an  important  criterion,  then  it  must  be 
admitted  that  Sudermann  is  still  as  fond  of  the 
artifice  of  contrast  as  he  was  at  first,  and  that  he 
uses  it  to  almost  as  great  an  extent.  But  Johan- 
nisfeuer  (1900),  Es  lebe  das  Leben,  even  Stunn- 
geselle  Socrates  (1903),  and  Da*  Blumenboot, 
point  rather  toward  a  diminution  in  the  glaring 
extent  to  which  the  ingenious  device  is  employed. 
Es  lebe  das  Leben,  which,  in  a  way,  has  as  little 
of  it  as  any  of  the  plays  yet  published  by  Suder- 
mann, is  the  only  one  of  his  most  recent  works 
that  has  achieved  marked  success  in  Germany. 
But  the  fact  that  Die  Ehre  and  Ileimat,  in  which 
contrasts  play  the  greatest  role,  have  also  had 
the  greatest  success,  tends  to  bear  out  Ibsen  in 
the  statement  that  "the  personages  of  a  play 
must  be  sharply  contrasted  in  character  and  in 
purpose." 


C.  C.  GLASCOCK. 


Yale  University. 


SHAKSPERE  AND  THE   CAPITOL. 

The  Capitol  of  Roman  antiquity  was  the  temple 
of  Jupiter  Capitolinus  on  the  Moris  Tarpeius  :  in  a 
wider  sense,  the  whole  hill,  including  the  temple 
and  the  citadel.  With  the  deterioration  of  clas- 
sical Latin  we  find  the  word  used  for  any  heathen 
temple  (  "  In  Capitoliis  enim  idola  congests,  erant. ' ' 
S.  Hieronymm  adversus  Luciferianos.  cap.  I. , 
cited  by  Ducange) ;  then  in  the  sense  of  a  place 
of  justice  ("aedes  in  qua  jus  dicitur."  Glaus. 
Saxon.  Aelfrici,  cited  by  Ducange) ;  and,  finally 
for  the  meeting  place  of  the  Senate  (Jo.  de  Janua, 
' '  Capitolium  dicitur  a  Capitulum  quia  ibi  con- 
veniebant  Senate  res  sicut  in  Capitulo  claustrales," 
cited  by  Ducange). 

According  to  Mommsen  (Bk.  i,  vii)  the  ori- 
ginal meeting  place  of  the  Senate  was  within  the 
area  of  the  Capitol,  but  it  was  removed  in  very 
early  days  to  the  space  where  the  ground  falls 
away  from  the  stronghold  to  the  city,  and  there 
was  erected  the  special  Senate  house  called  from 


178 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


its  builder  Curia  Hostilia.  Here  then  the  Senate 
met  except  under  extraordinary  circumstances, 
when,  indeed,  they  could  and  did  assemble  in  any 
consecrated  building.  At  the  time  of  Caesar' s  as- 
sassination the  Curia  Hostilia  was  in  process  of 
reconstruction,  under  his  orders,  and  meetings 
were  held  in  Pompey's  theatre.  In  North's  Plu- 
tarch Csesar  is  said  to  have  been  murdered  in  the 
Senate  house,  though  there  is  one  allusion  which 
undoubtedly  refers  to  the  temporary  meeting 
place  : — "The  place  where  the  murther  was  pre- 
pared, and  where  the  Senate  were  assembled,  and 
where  also  there  stood  up  an  image  of  Pompey 
dedicated  by  himself  amongst  other  ornaments 
which  he  gave  unto  the  theatre. ' ' 

That  Shakspere  places  the  scene  of  the  tragedy 
in  the  Capitol  is  usually  regarded  as  an  instance 
of  conscious  and  deliberate  variation  from  North's 
Plutarch.  But  is  it  not  possible  that  Shakspere 
in  thinking  of  the  setting  of  his  great  scene  had 
no  intention  of  departing  from  the  narrative  which 
had  so  strong  an  attraction  for  him  and  to  which 
he  was  so  deeply  indebted  ?  May  it  not  have  been 
that  to  his  mind  "Capitol"  was  only  another 
name  for  the  Senate  house  ? 

There  was  undoubtedly  a  very  general  impres- 
sion that  the  Senate  did  meet  in  the  Capitol,  and 
consequently  that  the  Capitol  was  the  scene  of 
Caesar's  death.  It  will  be  remembered  that  in 
Hamlet,  III,  ii,  108,  Polonius,  recalling  his  stu- 
dent days  when  he  did  enact  Julius  Caesar,  says  : 

I  was  kill'd  i'  th'  Capitol :  Brutus  kill'd  me. 

an  indication  that  in  some  University  play  familiar 
to  Shakspere,  (possibly  Dr.  Edes'  Ccesaris  Inter- 
fecti,  acted  at  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  1582),  the 
scene  of  the  assassination  was  placed  in  the  Capitol. 
The  idea  is  found  in  the  thirteenth  century. 
In  the  Life  and  Acts  of  the  most  victorious  Con- 
queror Robert  Bruce,  King  of  Scotland,  by  John 
Barbour,  Archdeacon  of  Aberdeen,  we  have  : — 

Julius  Csesar  als,  that  wan 
Britain  and  France,  as  doughty  man, 
Africke,  Arabe,  Egypt,  Syry, 
And  all  Europe  also  hailly, 
And  for  his  worship  and  valour, 
Of  Kome  was  made  first  Emperour. 
Syne  in  his  Capitol  was  he, 
Through  them  of  his  counsel  privie 
Slain  with  punsoun  right  to  the  dead  ; 


And  when  he  saw  there  was  no  read, 

His  e'en  with  his  hand  closed  he, 

For  to  die  with  more  honesty.        II.  537-550. 

In  the  Lincoln  MS.,  Morte  Arthure,  1400?,  the 
word  occurs  three  times,  once  speaking  of  the 
Capitol  as  a  distinct  building,  and  twice  as  the 
meeting  place  of  the  Senate. 

Thei  couerde  be  capitoile,  and  keste  doun  J>e  walles. 

M.  M.  Banks,  1.  280. 

That  on  Lammesse  daye  thare  be  no  lette  founden, 
pat  thow  bee  redy  at  Borne  with  all  thi  rounde  table, 
Appere  in  his  prest-ns  with  thy  price  knyghtez, 
At  pryme  of  the  daye,  in  payne  of  jour  lyvys, 
In  e  kydde  Capytoile  before  )>e  kyng  selvyn, 
When  he  and  his  senatours  bez  sette  as  them  lykes. 

Id.,  11.  92-97. 

Also  : — 

Now  they  raike  to  Rome  the  redyeste  wayes, 
Knylles  in  the  capatoylle,  and  comowns  assembles, 
Souerayngez  and  senatours. 

Id.,  11.  2352-2354. 

Chaucer  expresses  the  same  notion  : — 

This  Julius  to  the  Capitolie  went 
Upon  a  day,  as  he  was  want  to  goon  ; 
And  in  the  Capitolie  anon  him  hente 
This  false  Brutus  and  his  othere  foon. 

MonVs  Tale. 

Coming  back  to  Shakspere  we  find  in  Julius 
Ccesar,  I,  ii,  187,  188  :— 

As  we  haue  seene  him  in  the  Capitoll 

Being  crost  in  Conference,  by  some  Senatours. 

which  would  seem  to  imply  the  scene  of  a  regular 
senatorial  debate.  In  Titus  Andronicu-s  and  in 
Coriolanus  it  becomes  perfectly  evident  that  Shak- 
spere conceived  of  the  Capitol  as  a  building  in 
which  the  meetings  of  the  Senate  took  place  : 

Keepe  then  this  passage  to  the  Capitoll : 
And  suffer  not  Dishonour  to  approach 
Th'  Imperiall  Seate  to  Vertue  ; 

Titus  Andronicus,  I,  i,  32-14. 

And  again  : — 

And  in  the  Capitoll  and  Senates  right, 
Whom  you  pretend  to  Honour  and  Adore, 
That  you  withdraw  you. 

Id.,  I,  i,  41-43. 

Later  in  the  same  scene  there  is  the  stage  direction 
(F.i)  "Flourish.  They  go  up  into  the  Senat 
house. ' ' 


June,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


179 


Coriolanus  (III,  i,  239)  speaks  of  "th'  Porch 
o'  tli'  Capitoll  :"  and  again  (II,  i,  90-93)  Brutus 
says  to  Menenius  : — 

Come,  come,  you  are  well  vnderstood  to  bee  a  perfecter 
gyber  for  the  Table,  then  a  necessary  Bencher  in  the 
Capitoll. 

This  scene  ends  :  — 

Brutus.   Let's  to  the  Capitoll, 

And  carry  with  us  Eares  and  Eyes  for  th'  time, 

But  Hearts  for  the  euent. 
Scicin.  Haue  with  you. 

Act  II,  ii,  begins  with  the  stage  direction  (F.1): — 

Enter  two  Officers,  to  lay  cushions,  as  it  were,  in  the 
Capitoll. 

After   a   discussion   between  them   the   direction 
goes  on  : — 

A  Sennet.  Enter  the  Patricians,  and  the  Tribunes  of  the 
People,  Lictors  before  them  :  Coriolanus,  Menenius, 
Cominius  the  Consul :  Sciciniusand  Brutus  take  their 
places  by  themselues  :  Coriolanus  stands. 

Later  in  the  same  scene  Coriolanus  goes  away 
rather  than  hear  his  deeds  discussed.  When  he 
re-enters  he  is  greeted  with — 

Menen.    The  Senate,  Coriolanus,  are  well  pleas' d 
To  make  thee  Consul!. 

II,  ii,  96,  97. 

Later,  II.  iii,  151-154,- 

The  People  doe  admit  you  and  are  summon'd 
To  meet  anon  vpon  your  approbation. 

Corio.  Where  ?  at  the  Senate-house  ? 

Scicin.  There,  Coriolanus. 

We  have  also,  Id.,  V,  iv,  1-7  :— 

Menen.  See  you  yond  Coin  o'  th'  capitol,  yon'd  corner- 
stone? 

Sciein.     Why,  what  of  that  ? 

Menen.  If  it  be  possible  for  you  to  displace  it  witli  your 
little  finger,  there  is  some  hope  the  Ladies 
of  Rome  especially  his  Mother,  may  preuaile 
with  him. 

That  Shakspcre  shared  this  idea  with  at  least 
one  other  Elizabethan  dramatist  may  be  deter- 
mined by  turning  to  Thomas  Hey  wood's  Rape  of 
Lucrece.  Here  we  have  the  same  use  of  "Capi- 
tol ' '  for  the  Parliament  house  : — 

Tarqmn.    The  King  should  meet  this  day  in  parliament 
With  all  the  Senate  and  Estates  of  Home. 


Lucretius.    May  it  please  thee,  noble  Tarquin,  to  attend 
The  King  this  day  in  the  high  Capitol? 


In  discussing  the  prospects  for  this  day,  Valerius 
says  — 

I  divine  we  shall  see  scuffling  to-day  in  the  Capitol. 

I,  i. 

Brutus  arising  to  address  the  assemblage  says  — 

I  claim  the  privilege  of  the  nobility  of  Rome,  and  by 
that  privilege  my  seat  in  the  Capitol.  I  am  a  lord  by 
birth,  my  place  is  as  free  in  the  Capitol  as  Horatius, 
thine  ;  or  thine,  Lucretius  ;  thine,  Sextus  ;  Aruns 
thine  ;  or  any  here.  —  -I,  ii. 

And  again  the  idea  of  a  splendid  building  — 

Think  how  that  worthy  prince,  our  kinsman  king, 
Was  butchered  in  the  marble  Capitol.  II,  i. 

Is  it  not  possible  that  so  general  a  conception 
points  to  some  common  source,  some  definite, 
albeit  incorrect  notion  of  Roman  archeology  ?  Can 
we  turn  to  a  possible  source  of  this  general  error  ? 

About  the  time  that  the  attempt  was  made  in 
the  twelfth  century  to  restore  the  Senate  to  Rome, 
a  guide  book  was  put  forth  for  the  use  of  pilgrims 
to  the  Eternal  City.  It  was  a  compilation  by 
some  one  unknown,  and  was  entitled  Mirabilia 
Urbis  Romae  :  the  earliest  extant  copy  is  of  the 
twelfth  century,  and  is  in  the  Vatican  library. 
It  proved  immensely  popular,  going  through 
many  editions  and  translations  in  the  succeeding 
centuries,  and,  of  course,  losing  no  whit  of  its 
wonderfulness  at  the  hands  of  monkish  copyists. 
A  MS.  of  the  thirteenth  or  fourteenth  century,  with 
additions,  omissions,  aud  rearrangements  is  in  the 
Lauren  tian  library  at  Florence,  and  being  entitled 
Graphia,  Aurea  Urbis  Romae,  is  ordinarily  dis- 
tinguished as  the  Graphia. 

Says  Gregorovius,  in  History  of  the  City  of  Rome 
in  the  Middle  Ages  (M.  A.  Hamilton)  :  — 

"The  twelfth  century  favoured  the  earliest  studies  of 
Roman  archeology.  The  Senators,  who  flattered  them- 
selves that  they  had  restored  the  republic  on  the  Capitol, 
calling  to  mind  the  monumental  splendours  of  ancient 
Rome,  rebuilt  in  imagination  the  city  of  wonders  of  their 
ancestors  .....  At  the  time  of  the  restoration  of  the 
Senate,  the  Graphia,  and  Mirabilia,  assumed  the  form  in 
which  they  have  come  down  to  us  ;  they  were  henceforth 
disseminated  in  transcripts,  but  were  also  reduced  to 
absurdity  by  ignorant  copyists,  ,  ,  .  The  piecemeal  origin 


180 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


of  the  MirMlia,  at  any  rate,  cannot  be  denied  ;  neverthe- 
less the  original  recension  is  missing.  .  .  . 

"  In  this  curious  composition,  written  by  an  unknown 
scholar,  concerning  The  Wonders  of  the  City  of  Rome, 
Roman  archaeology,  which  has  now  attained  such  ap- 
palling proportions,  puts  forth  its  earliest  shoots  in  a 
na'ive  and  barbarous  form  and  in  a  Latin  as  ruinous  as  its 
subject.  .  .  . 

"The  book  .  .  .  contains  nothing  more  or  less  than  the 
archeological  knowledge  of  Rome,  in  an  age  when  Italy 
made  courageous  effort  to  shake  off  the  barbarism  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  the  rule  of  priests,  and  the  tyranny  of  the 
foreigner,  at  one  stroke.  The  book  of  the  Mimbilia  con- 
sequently appears  the  logical  consequence  of  the  archae- 
ological restoration  of  the  ancient  city  in  the  time  of  the 
formation  of  the  free  commune." 

Qregorovius,  iv,  653-664. 

As  the  Mirabilia  and  Oraphia  accounts  of  the 
Capitol  show  some  differences  it  may  be  permis- 
sable  to  quote  both  : — 

Capitolium  quod  erat  caput  mundi,  ubi  consules  et 
senatores  morabantur  ad  gubernandum  orbem,  cuius  facies 
cooperta  erat  muris  altis  et  firmis  diu  super  fastigium 
montis  vitro  et  auro  undique  coopertis  et  miris  operibus 
laqueatis.  Infra  arcem  palatium  fuit  miris  operibus  auro 
et  argento  et  aere  et  lapidibus  pretiosis  perornatum,  ut 
esset  speculum  omnibus  gentibus. 

Templa  quoque  quae  infra  arcem  fuere,  quae  ad  memo- 
riam  ducere  possum,  sunt  haec.  In  summitate  arcis  super 
porticum  crinorum  fuit  templum  lovis  et  Monetae,  sicut 
repperitur  in  marthirologio  Ovidii  de  faustis.  In  partem 
fori  templum  Vestae  et  Caesaris,  ibi  fuit  cathedra  ponti- 
ficum  paganorum,  ubi  senatores  posuerunt  lulium  Cae- 
sarem  in  cathedra  sexta  die  infra  mensem  Martium.  Ex 
alia  parte  Capitolii  super  Cannaparam  templum  lunonis. 
iuxta  forum  publicum  templum  Herculis,  in  Tarpeio  tem- 
plum Asilis,  ubi  interfectus  fuit  lulius  Caesar  a  senatu. 
.  .  .  Ideo  dicebatur  aureum  Capitolium,  quiaprae  omnibus 
regnirf  totius  orbis  pollebat  sapientia  et  decore.1 

Mirabilia,  Cod.  Vaticanus  3973. 


1  The  Capitol  is  so  called,  because  it  was  the  head  of  the 
world,  where  consuls  and  senators  abode  to  govern  the 
Earth.  The  face  thereof  was  covered  with  high  walls  and 
strong,  rising  above  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  covered  all 
over  with  glass  and  gold  and  marvellous  carved  work. 

Within  the  fortress  was  a  palace  all  adorned 

with  marvellous  works  in  gold  and  silver  and  brass  and 

costly  stones,   to  be  a  mirror  to  all  nations ; 

Moreover  the  temples  that  were  within  the  fortress,  and 
which  they  can  bring  to  remembrance,  be  these.  In  the 
uppermost  part  of  the  fortress,  over  the  Porticus  Crinorum, 
was  the  temple  of  Jupiter  and  Moneta,  as  is  found  in 
Ovid's  Martyrology  of  the  Fasti,  wherein  was  Jupiter's 
image  of  gold,  sitting  on  a  throne  of  gold.  Towards  the 
market-place,  the  temple  of  Vesta  and  Caesar  ;  there  was 
the  chair  of  the  pagan  pontiffs,  wherein  the  sepators  had 


Capitoliura  erat  caput  mundi  ubi  consules  et  senatores 
morabantur  ad  gubernandum  orbem.  Cuius  facies  coop- 
erta erat  muris  altis  et  fermis  super  fastigio  montis  vitro 
et  auro  undique  coopertis  et  miris  operibus  laqueatis  ut 
esset  speculum  omnibus  gentibus.  In  summitate  arcis 
super  porticum  crinorum  fuit  templum  jovis  et  monete. 
In  quo  erat  aurea  statua  jovis  sedens  in  aureo  trono.  In 
tarpeio  templum  asilum  ubi  interfectus  est  Julius  cesar  a 
senatu. 

Graphia,  Laurentian  MS.1 

In  connection  with  the  last  sentence  quoted  it  is 
suggestive  that  the  title  of  Dr.  Edes'  play,  men- 
tioned above,  should  have  been  Ccesaris  Interfecti. 
It  Is  difficult,  however,  to  imagine  just  what  idea 
was  conveyed  by  the  sentence  as  a  whole.  The 
"templum  asilum "  is  probably  the  temple  of 
which  Plutarch  speaks: — "Furthermore,  when 
their  cittie  beganne  a  litle  to  be  setled,  they 
made  a  temple  of  refuge  for  all  fugitives  and 
afflicted  persones,  which  they  called  the  temple 
of  the  god  Asylaeus.  Where  there  was  sanctuary 
and  safety  for  all  sortes  of  people  that  repaired 
thither,"  North's  Plutarch,  Romulus,  Nutt's 
reprint,  ed.  Wyndham.  But  why  should  it  have 
been  supposed  to  be  the  scene  of  Caesar's  death? 
Unless,  indeed,  there  was  some  notion  that  he  fled 
there  for  sanctuary  which  was  violated  by  the  con- 
spirators. At  all  events,  English  literary  tradi- 
tion seems  to  have  ignored  the  templum  asilum, 
but  to  have  clung  to  the  conception  of  the  Capitol 
as  a  distinct  and  imposing  building,  the  meeting 
place  of  the  Senate.  One  reason  for  this  may  be 
that  the  templum  asilum  is  not  mentioned  in  the 
passage  of  the  Polychronicon  quoted  below. 

Considering  the  popularity  of  this  precursor  of 
Baedeker  it  is  not  hard  to  account  for  the  wide- 
spread notion  of  the  Capitol  as  the  scene  of  Csesar's 
death.  But  the  Mirabilia  influenced  English  lit- 
erature through  another  channel  than  the  Latin 
text  itself.  The  Polychronicon  of  Ralph  Higden, 
c.  1327,  has  a  description  of  Rome,  transferred  in 

set  Julius  Caesar  on  the  sixth  day  of  the  month  of  March. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  Capitol,  over  Cannapara,  was  the 
temple  of  Juno.  Fast  by  the  public  market-place  the 
temple  of  Hercules.  In  the  Tarpeian  hill,  the  temple  of 

Asilis  where  Julius  Caesar  was  slain  of  the  Senate 

And  it  was  therefore  called  Golden  Capitol,  because  it 
excelled  in  wisdom  and  beauty  before  all  the  realms  of  the 
whole  world.— Tr.  F.  M.  Nicholls,  1889. 

'These  extracts  from  the  Mirabilia  and  Graphia,  are 
{tomCodes  UrbesBomae  Topographicia.  C.  L.  Urlichs,  1871. 


June,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


181 


large  measure,  with  due  credit  to  one  "Master 
Gregorius,"  from  the  Mirabilia.  To  the  suffi- 
ciently amazing  statements  of  the  Mirabilia  are 
appended  extra  absurdities,  such  as  might  come 
from  the  gossip  of  pilgrims.  Of  the  Polychronicon 
there  are  more  thau  one  hundred  Latin  MSB.  ex- 
tant, besides  translations  into  English  of  the  four- 
teenth, fifteenth,  and  sixteenth  centuries.  It  was 
printed  by  Caxton,  1482,  and  by  Wynkin  de 
Worde,  1495,  and  a  glance  at  the  few  words 
therein  devoted  to  the  Capitol  will  demonstrate 
the  connection  with  the  Mirabilia  : 

"  Item  in  Capitolio,  quod  erat  altis  muris  vitro  et  auro 
coopertis,  quasi  speculum  mundi  sublimiter  erectum,  ubi 
consules  et  senatore  mundura  regebant,  erat  templum 
Jovis  in  quo  statua  Jovis  aurea  in  throno  aureo  erat 
sedens." 

This  passage  in  the  translation  of  John  Trevisa, 
1387,  runs  as  follows  : 

"  Also  >e  Capitol  was  arrayed  wi|>  big  walles  i-heled 
wi>  glas  and  wi{>  gold,  as  it  were  J>e  mirrour  of  all  )>e 
world  aboute.  pere  consuls  and  senatours  gouernede  and 
rulede  al  J>e  world,  as  moche  as  was  in  here  power  ;  and 
)>ere  was  lupiters  temple,  and  in  J>e  temple  wer  lupiters 
ymage  of  golde,  sittynge  in  a  trone."  3 

That  Heywood  was  indebted  to  the  Polychron 
icon  rather  than  to  the  Mirabilia  itself  is  shown  in 
a  speech  in  The  English  Traveller,  I,  i : 

Sir,  my  husband 

Hath  took  much  pleasure  in  your  strange  discourse 
About  Jerusalem  and  the  Holy  Land  : 
How  the  new  city  differs  from  the  old, 
What  ruins  of  the  Temple  yet  remain, 
Or  whether  Sion,  and  those  hills  about, 
With  the  adjacent  towns  and  villages, 
Keep  that  proportioned  distance  as  we  read  ; 
And  then  in  Borne,  of  that  great  pyramis 
Beared  in  the  front,  on  four  lions  mounted  ; 
How  many  of  those  idol  temples  stand, 
First  dedicated  to  their  heathen  gods, 
Which  ruined,  which  to  better  use  repaired  ; 
Of  their  Pantheon  and  their  Capitol — 
What  structures  are  demolished,  what  remain. 

Higden  mentions  Mt.  Sion  and  the  Temple  on 
its  side  and  goes  on  to  the  relative  positions  of  the 
Mt.  of  Olives,  Calvary,  and  Golgotha,  and  also 
the  villages  of  Bethpage  and  Bethany.  The  good 

'The  quotations  from  the  Polychronicon  and  Trevisa's 
translation  are  taken  from  the  edition  of  Churchhill 
Babington. 


monk  was  also  responsible  for  the  motion  of  the 
pyramis  on  four  lions  mounted,  a  traveller's  tale 
concerning  the  obelisk  in  front  of  St.  Peter's,  of 
which  he  says  :— 

Hanc  autem  pyramidem  super  quattuor  leones  f undatam 
peregrini  mendosi  acum  beati  Petri  appellant,  mentiun- 
turque  ilium  fore  mundum  a  peccatis  qui  sub  saxo  illo  lib- 
erius  potuit  repere. 

With  all  due  allowance  for  the  high  color  of  a 
guide  book,  whether  in  the  twelfth  or  the  twen- 
tieth century,  the  reader  naturally  wonders  what 
this  edifice  may  have  been  which  the  Mirabilia 
describes  as  of  such  dazzling  splendour.  Gregoro- 
vius  is  of  the  opinion  that  it  was  really  the  Tabu- 
larium  that  the  Middle  Ages  regarded  as  the 
Senate  house  : 

"  Among  the  ruins  of  ancient  monuments  on  which  the 
eye  rested  on  the  Capitol,  there  were  none  mightier  than 
the  ancient  office  of  State  Archives,  or  the  so-called  Tabu- 
larium,  belonging  to  republican  times,  with  its  gigantic 
walls  of  peperino,  its  lordly  halls,  and  its  vaulted  cham- 
bers. The  author  who  described  the  city  in  the  twelfth 
century,  and,  in  his  cursory  enumeration  of  the  hills,  only 
mentioned  the  Palatium  of  the  Senators,  must  undoubtedly 
have  thereby  understood  this  mighty  building.  The  popu- 
lace, looking  on  the  marvelous  work,  imagined  that  the 
ancient  Consuls  or  Senators  had  dwelt  within  it,  and  the 
nobility  of  the  twelfth  century,  beyond  the  church  of  Ara- 
coeli,  found  no  more  fitting  spot  for  its  meetings  ;  neither 
did  the  populace  discover  one  more  suitable  when  they 
determined  to  reinstate  the  Senate.  We  must  consequently 
suppose  that  -the  Tabularium,  which  later  became  the 
actual  Senate-House,  had  already  been  adapted  to  the 
uses  of  a  Senate.  It  was  here  that  the  shadow  of  the  Boman 
republic  reappeared  in  1143,  hovering  fantastically  over 
the  ruins — itself  a  legend  or  a  vision  of  the  antiquity 
whose  remembrance  gladdened  the  hearts  of  its  degenerate 
descendants. 

Gregorovius,  IV,  477. 

And  in  a  note  to  the  above — 

"Arnold  of  Brescia  (d.  1155)  summoned  the  Bomans 
to  restore  the  Capitol ;  could  this  mean  anything  but  to 
restore  the  greatest  ruin,  the  Tabularium,  as  the  meeting 
place  of  the  Senate,  and  also,  perhaps,  to  restore  the 
Arx?" 

This  conception  of  the  Capitol  was  not  only 
widespread,  but  it  persisted  even  while  the  men 
of  the  New  Learning  had  a  clear  understanding 
of  the  matter.  Taking  the  date  of  Julius  Caesar 
as  1601  and  Heywood's  Lucreee  as  1608,  we  have 
in  1604  Julius  Ccesar  by  William  Alexander,  Lord 
Stirling.  This  is  a  dreary  Senecan  waste,  but  the 


182 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


Messenger  who  describes  the  tragedy  to  Calpurnia 
is  perfectly  correct  in  his  archeology  :— 

Then  Caesar  march'd  forth  to  the  fatall  place  ; 
Neere  Pompeys  Theatre  where  the  Senate  was. 

And  Ben  Jonson  in  Sejanus,  1603,  and  in  Gala- 
line,  1611,  shows  his  exact  knowledge  in  making 
the  Capitol  the  Arx  or  citadel,  and  in  having  the 
Senate  meet  in  any  consecrated  building.  However, 
Ben  Jonson  whisks  the  Senate  about  to  an  extent 
which  would  seem  to  exaggerate  the  facts,  for 
authorities  agree  that  meetings  outside  the  regular 
Senate  house,  the  Curia  Hostilia,  now  covered  by 
the  church  of  S.  Adriano,  took  place  only  under 
special  conditions,  such  as  prevailed  on  the  fatal 
Ides  of  March. 

In  Sejanus,  III,  i,  Tiberius  swears— 

By  the  Capitol 
And  all  our  gods, 

and  Cataline,  IV,  i,  opens  in  "A  Street  at  the 
foot  of  the  Capitol." 

In  Sejanus,  V,  x,  the  Temple  of  Apollo  is  given 
as  the  scene  of  the  Senate's  meeting,  and  later  in 
the  same  scene  we  have — 

Tertntius.  The  whilst  the  senate  at  the  temple  of  Concord 
Make  haste  to  meet  again. 

In  Cataline  IV.  ii  the  Praetor  says,— 

Fathers,  take  your  places. 
Here  in  the  house  of  Jupitor  the  Stayer, 
By  edict  from  the  consul  Marcus  Tullius, 
You're  met,  a  frequent  senate. 

There  is  something  restless  and  uncomfortable, 
a  certain  lack  of  dignity,  in  this  picture  of  a  peri- 
patetic body,  meeting  hither  and  yon  all  over 
Rome.  Perhaps  the  early  poets  and  Shakspere 
and  Heywood  had  the  best  of  it,  romantically 
speaking,  in  their  imposing  vision  of  an  imperial 
building  with  high  walls  and  strong,  rising  above 
the  top  of  the  hill,  and  the  glitter  and  splendour 
of  the  covering  of  glass  and  gold  and  marvellous 
carved  work. 

As  farre  as  doth  the  Capitoll  exceede 
The  meanest  house  in  Rome  ;  so  farre  my  Soune 
This  Ladies  Husband  heere,  this,  (do  you  see) 
Whom  you  have  banish'd,  does  exceed  you  all. 

Condemns,  IV.  ii,  39-42. 

LIZETTE  ANDREWS  FISHER. 
Extension  Teaching,  Columbia  University. 


Molitre.     A  Biography.    By  H.  C.  CHATFIELD- 
TAYLOR.     Button  and  Co.,  New  York,  1906. 

Unlike   Shakespeare,    Moliere   is   so    well   ac- 
counted for,  both  as   a  poet  and  as  a  man,  that 
a   genuine    Moliere-question    has   never   existed. 
Though  there  has  been  much  theorizing  on  the 
nature   of  his  art,  speculative  criticism  has  had 
little  concern  with  the  mam  facts  of  his  life,  or 
with  that  favorite  theme  of  critics,  the  order  of 
his    works.      Contemporary   chronicle,    allusions 
laudatory  and  libelous,  the  Lij'e  by  Grimarest  in 
1705,   and  the    very  valuable  '  Registre '  of  the 
actor  La  Grange— are  quite  sufficient  to  explain 
all  essential  points  in  his  career.     Thus,  the  bio- 
grapher's task  here  would  appear  simple,  were  it 
not  that  biography  depends  as  much  on  interpre- 
tation as  on  document,  and  that  good  interpreters 
are  rare.     As  Renau  once  said  to  Tennyson  :   "la 
ve'rite  est  dans  une  nuance."     To  wring  from  the 
documents  this  illusive  quality,  to  give  to  each 
detail  its  proper  shade  or  color,  and  thereby  to 
reanimate  the  facts — this  in  itself  requires  analytic 
and  imaginative  powers  of  a  high  order. 

Apparently  Mr.  Chatfield-Taylor  is  alive  to  this 
responsibility,  for  he  attempts,  above  all,  to  recon- 
struct the  personality  of  Moliere.  As  he  states  in 
his  preface,  his  intention  is  to  interpret,  for  English 
readers,  "  Moliere' s  life  by  his  plays  and  his  plays 
by  his  life. ' '  One  cannot  quarrel  with  him  for 
thus  delimiting  his  subject.  He  has  chosen  the 
kernel  from  which  all  study  of  the  poet  should 
proceed  ;  and — it  may  at  once  be  said — he  has 
handled  his  subject  in  a  stimulating  way.  We 
are  given  a  vivid  picture  of  the  poet's  early  sur- 
roundings :  his  father's  comfortable  bourgeois- 
home  in  the  rue  St.  Honor6,  and  the  respectable  but 
cramped  existence  for  which  it  stood  ;  of  the  young 
Poqueliu's  longing  for  greater  freedom,  and  his 
consequent  flight  to  the  stage.  Then  follow  his 
period  of  apprenticeship  with  the  'Illustre  The'- 
atre '  and  its  light-hearted  companions  —  the 
Bejarts,  the  storm-and-stress  years  in  the  pro- 
vinces, so  fertile  in  experience  :  as  comedian  first 
to  the  Duke  of  Epernon  and  then  to  the  Prince 
of  Couti,  that  fickle  friend  of  Moliere' s  school- 
days. And  finally  we  read  of  the  return  to  Paris, 
the  'Precieuses  Ridicules'  in  1659,  the  poet's 
worldly  success  and  the  friendship  of  the  King, 


June,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


183 


the  culmination  of  a  momentous  struggle  in  '  Tar- 
tuffe, '  and  the  sudden  heroic  death.  All  of  these 
events,  a  drama  in  themselves,  Mr.  Taylor  sets 
vividly  before  the  mind's  eye,  adorned  with  ample 
incident  and  anecdote,  and  expressed  in  an  inter- 
esting and  often  brilliant  style. 

If  there  is  a  general  criticism  to  be  made  of  Mr. 
Taylor's  treatment,  it  is  that  his  enthusiasm,  a 
valuable  asset  in  a  biography,  often  oversteps  the 
mark  and  inspires  statements  difficult  of  substan- 
tiation. As  when  he  speaks  of  the  trio — Louis 
XIV,  Mazarin  and  Moliere — as  "the  greatest 
despot,  the  greatest  knave,  and  the  greatest  genius 
of  France."  Or,  again,  when  comparing  'Tar- 
tuffe, '  '  Don  Juan  '  and  the  '  Misanthrope, '  he 
refers  to  the  last-mentioned  as  "the  greatest  unit 
in  this  trilogy  of  unrivalled  brilliance."  Or  in 
citing,  without  proper  qualifying  adjectives,  the 
opinion  of  Coquelin  that  Moliere  is  Shakespeare's 
"equal  in  fecundity,  his  superior  in  truth."  Such 
statements  are  not  only  unscholarly,  being  in- 
capable of  proof,  but  prejudice  an  argument  which 
is  otherwise  logical  and,  in  general,  convincing. 

To  consider  more  specific  questions  :  Mr.  Taylor 
takes  the  subjective  view  that  Moliere' s  plays  are 
mainly  an  expression  of  his  own  life,  an  epitome 
of  his  personal  experience.  This  playwright,  we 
are  made  to  think,  is  distinctive  in  that  he  placed 
his  personal  and  family  history  on  the  boards  for 
public  contemplation.  It  is  doubtless  true  that 
Moliere,  like  Shakespeare  and  Goethe,  blended 
his  life  with  his  art,  incorporating  into  his  works 
bits  of  his  own  experience.  And  yet,  probably 
no  great  writer  ever  generalized  more  on  mankind 
in  order  to  render  men  broadly  and  permanently 
human.1  Superiority  over  self  is  the  mark  of  a 
great  soul,  and  it  is  one  of  the  traits  of  genius  to 
transcend  the  bounds  of  personality  and  become 
universal.  Boileau's  favorite  expression  for  Mo- 
liere was  :  "  le  grand  contemplateur  ' ' ;  whereby 
he  meant  not  that  his  eye  was  turned  inwardly 
upon  himself  but  outwardly  on  the  world  of  men 
in  which  he  lived.  Thus,  though  the  '  Misan- 
thrope' may  in  parts  reflect  the  misogyny  of  the 
lover  of  Armande  Bejart,  Alceste  is  preeminently 

'The  question  of  Moliere' s  subjectivity  is  ably  discussed 
by  Ph.  Aug.  Becker  in  the  Zeitsch.  filr  vergl.  Literatur- 
geschichte,  xvi  (1905),  pp.  194-221.  See,  also,  E.  Kigal, 
Revue  d'histoire  litt.,  ix  (1904),  pp.  1-21. 


the  sentimentalist  ill  at  ease  in  the  indifferent, 
intellectual  atmosphere  of  court  circles.  That  is 
why  the  character  appealed  so  strongly  to  the 
Rousseau  of  a  later  age,  but  evoked  so  little  sym- 
pathy from  the  poet's  contemporaries.  Comedy, 
as  George  Meredith  so  convincingly  points  out  in 
his  well-known  essay,  is  distinctly  the  product  of 
society  ;  and  it  is  from  a  deep  and  broad  observa- 
tion of  the  great  society  about  him  that  Moliere' s 
comedies  arose.  Few  critics,  it  seems,  will  there- 
fore admit  with  Mr.  Taylor,  that  Mascarille, 
Eraste,  Alceste  and  Argan  "are,  part  by  part, 
Moli&re  himself,  concealed  little  more  than  the 
ostrich  with  its  head  in  the  sand." 

Moliere' s  relationship  to  Louis  XIV  is  set  forth 
in  Chapter  ix,  perhaps  the  most  interesting  chap- 
ter hi  the  book,  and  certainly  one  of  the  most 
important.  This  curious  friendship  between  the 
absolute  sovereign  and  the  social  outcast — for  an 
actor  was  necessarily  that — has  always  been  a 
favorite  theme  of  discussion.  After  reviewing  the 
opinion  of  others,  Mr.  Taylor  cleverly  escapes  the 
dilemma  by  saying  :  "it  was  the  talent  of  the 
one  to  kindle,  and  of  the  other  to  be  warmed  by, 
the  fire  of  honest  fun  which  made  these  geniuses 
of  comedy  and  kingship  understand  each  other." 
In  other  words,  he  repeats  that  typically  French 
apothegm  :  "  ce  qui  produit  la  familiarity,  ce  ne 
sorit  pas  les  douleurs  partagees,  c'est  la  gaiet6  en 
commun,"  but  leaves  the  real  question  unex- 
plained. For  it  seems  probable  that  Louis  did 
not  regard  his  comedian  as  any  ordinary  jester, 
and  that  his  sympathy  for  him  sprang  from  a 
deeper  source  than  mere  laughter — from  some  sin- 
cere emotional  or  intellectual  kinship  with  him. 
Moliere,  we  know,  was  a  disciple  of  Rabelais  and 
Montaigne.  His  life  shows  his  unswerving  confi- 
dence in  Nature  as  the  soul's  guide.  Obey  the 
law  of  your  own  being,  "fais  ce  que  voudras" — 
as  Rabelais  had  said — and  the  problem  of  exist- 
ence is  solved.  It  is  unnecessary  to  elaborate  the 
point.  Thus  it  becomes  evident  at  once  why  the 
youthful  Moliere  was  drawn  to  Lucretius.  He 
was  an  epicurean  in  an  age  of  formalism.  But 
was  not  Louis  just  as  free  ?  A  moulder  of  con- 
vention for  lesser  men,  he  himself  obeyed  the 
impulses  of  genius ;  whereas  Moliere  reflected 
convention  as  in  a  mirror.  Hence  a  common 
spiritual  freedom  united  the  two  men.  Now,  as 


184 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


long  as  Molierc  ridiculed  the  foibles  of  humanity, 
Louis  could  but  rejoice.  It  must  have  pleased 
him  to  have  his  whimpering  marquesses  held  up 
to  scorn.  But  when  with  '  Tartuffe '  the  mighty 
fabric  of  the  church  was  shaken,  the  King  was 
compelled  to  protest,  for  the  church  was  the  main- 
stay of  his  realm.  And  so  it  happened,  for  political 
rather  than  personal  reasons  that  Louis  withdrew 
his  public  support  from  Moliere  after  1669. 

Mr.  Taylor  has  the  usual  Saxon  preference  for 
the  '  Misanthrope, '  which  to  him  represents  the 
apogee  of  Moliere' s  power.  However  excellent 
this  play  may  be,  it  is  questionable  whether  Mo- 
liere's  power  ever  waned  ;  in  the  opinion  of  many 
he  died  in  his  intellectual  prime.  It  is  worth 
noting  also  that  M.  Coquelin,  whom  Mr.  Taylor 
cites  in  another  connection,  places  '  Don  Juan  '  at 
the  head  of  the  poet's  plays  (International  Quar- 
terly, 1903,  pages  60  ff.).  Certainly  the  latter 
comedy  has  something  Shakespearian  in  its  breadth 
and  scope,  without  lacking  any  of  its  creator's 
sense  of  reality.  M.  Coquelin  further  makes  clear 
Don  Juan's  similarity  to  Richard  III — the  great 
diiference  being  that  Don  Juan's  weapon  is  im- 
pertinence and  that  Richard's  is  irony.  This  trait 
explains  Don  Juan's  pretended  hypocrisy,  the 
stumbling-block  of  so  many  Moliere  commenta- 
tors, with  whom  Mr.  Taylor  here  allies  himself. 
In  addition,  the  analogy  of  '  TartufFe '  and  the 
'  Malade  Imaginaire, '  which  Mr.  Taylor  men- 
tions, is  upheld  by  a  comparison  of  Argan  with 
Organ,  the  former  of  whom  seeks  to  insure  the 
welfare  of  his  body,  the  latter  that  of  his  soul  as 
^11,  — both  being  types  of  extreme  selfishness. 

From  minor  errors  of  detail  the  book  is  singu- 
larly free.  M.  Abel  Lefranc*  has  recently  made 
out  a  good  case  for  dating  the  '  Etourdi '  in  1655, 
instead  of  1653  as  Mr.  Taylor  argues.  The  Ar- 
nauld  d'Andilly  mentioned  on  page  213  is  evi- 
dently a  slip  for  Antoine  Arnauld,  who  was  the 
true  leader  of  the  Port-Royalists.  The  Bibliog- 
raphy, which  contains  only  works  that  had  been 
specially  consulted  in  preparation  of  the  book, 
should,  it  seems,  have  included  :  Coquelin' s  essay 
mentioned  above,  Brunetiere's  article*  on  the 

'Revue  des  Cours  et  Conferences,  15th  year,  1st  series, 
1906. 

*In  his  Andes  crit.  sur  I'histoire  de  la  litterature  franfaise, 
4e  ner.,  1891,  pp.  179-242. 


philosophy  of  Moliere,  Weiss' s  lectures*  on  him, 
and  Stapfer's  '  Moliere  et  Shakespeare  ' 5 — all  of 
which  are  of  general  interest  and  value. 

On  the  whole,  the  work  is  very  well  done, 
down  to  the  minor  details  of  execution.  In  this 
the  biographer,  the  illustrator  and  the  printer  all 
had  a  share.  Professor  Crane,  whose  pupil  Mr. 
Taylor  was,  contributes  an  interesting  introduc- 
tion. In  closing,  be  it  said  that  the  blank-verse 
translations  of  Mr.  Taylor  are  the  best  rendering 
we  have  of  Moliere  in  English.  Let  us  hope  that 
he  will  see  fit  to  complete  them,  so  that  English 
literature  may  permanently  possess  the  master- 
pieces of  the  greatest  modern  comic  genius. 


WM.   A.  NITZE. 


Amherst  College. 


Moliere,  by  MR.  H.  C.  CHATFIELI>-TAYLOE. 
Duffield  and  Company,  New  York,  1906.  xxv 
and  446  pages. 

To  many  a  reader  of  this  Life  of  Moliere  will 
undoubtedly  come  the  question  which  occurred  to 
the  present  writer  :  Why  did  not  some  Fachmann 
write  this  book?  Whatever  the  answer  to  this 
question  may  be,  here  is  a  great  opportunity  lost, 
for  the  work  is  so  written  that  it  may  well  be 
called  definitive. 

The  author's  aim  has  been  "to  tell  the  story  of 
Moliere' s  life  to  English  readers  ....  to  inter- 
pret Moliere' s  life  by  his  plays  and  his  plays  by 
his  life,  rather  than  write  an  exhaustive  criticism 
of  his  dramatic  works."  It  is  true,  the  book  is 
not  an  attempt  to  catalogue  and  analyse  fully  the 
Italian,  Spanish,  or  Latin  sources  of  all  the  plays 
that  lend  themselves  to  this  treatment.  Faithful 
to  the  object  he  set  out  to  attain,  the  author  does 
not  wander  very  far  from  Moliere' s  life.  Yet  a 
deal  of  this  source-discussion  is  scattered  through 
the  book.  Some  of  the  foreign  sources  have  been 
only  cursorily  indicated,  but  there  is  enough  infor- 
mation on  this  subject  given  to  suit  all  the  pur- 
poses of  the  ordinary  seminar  work  in  Moliere. 
Besides,  there  is  exhaustive  criticism  in  more  than 

•Paris,  1900  (Calmann  Levy). 
55th  ed.,  Paris,  1905. 


June,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


185 


one  instance,  notably  in  the  discussion  of  Les 
Prieieuses  ridicules,  L' Ecole  desfemmes,  Don  Juan, 
Le  Tartuffe,  Le  Misanthrope,  and  the  group  of 
plays  satirising  the  physicians.  A  practically  com- 
plete bibliography,  a  chronology,  and  an  index 
cooperate  in  making  a  scholarly  work  of  unusual 
merit  and  usefulness. 

The  author  divides  Moliere's  plays  into  five 
groups,  based  upon  the  manner  in  which  "the 
poet's  muse  was  affected  by  his  life."  The  Italian 
period  includes  his  firstlings,  only  four  of  which 
have  been  preserved,  viz.  :  La  Jalousie  du  Bar- 
bouille,  Le  Medecin  volant,  L' Etourdi  and  Le 
Depit  amoureux.  In  the  "Gallic"  group  he  is 
no  longer  bound  by  Italian  fetters.  Now  he  needs 
' '  only  to  study  society, ' '  and  he  produces  Sgana- 
relle,  Les  Precieuses  ridicules,  L' Ecole  den  marls, 
L' Ecole  des  fernmes,  and  Le  Medecin  malgre  lui. 
His  success  in  amusing  the  King  brings  forth  such 
comedies  as  Les  Fdcheux,  Le  Manage  force,  L' Im- 
promptu de  Versailles,  Le  Favori,  La  Princesse 
d' Elide,  Melicerte,  Le  Sicilien,  Monsieur  de  Pour- 
ceaugnac,  Les  Amants  magnifiques,  Psyche  and  La 
Comtesse  d' Escarbagnas,  which  the  author  classes 
under  the  heading  of  "  time-serving."  The  plays 
in  which  Moliere  seriously  attacks  the  foibles  of 
contemporary  society  are  called  "militant"  and 
include  Le  Tartuffe,  Le  Misanthrope,  L' Amour 
medecin  and  Le  Malade  imaginaire,  while  such 
works  as  Amphitryon,  George  Dandin,  L'Avare, 
Le  Bourgeois  gentilhomme,  Les  Fourberies  de 
Scapin  and  Les  Femmes  savantes,  written  for 
business  reasons,  are  classed  as  "histrionic." 

This  classification  is  intimately  connected  with 
the  author's  object  as  before  stated.  In  inter- 
preting Moliere's  life  by  his  plays  and  his  plays 
by  his  life,  Mr.  Chatfield-Taylor  appears  to 
develop  the  thesis  that  Moliere,  the  greatest 
author  of  comedy,  brought  to  bear  upon  his  most 
objective  of  arts  a  most  subjective  nature,  and 
that  he  succeeds  best  where  a  comedy  is  the  direct 
expression  of  his  subjectivity.  In  other  words, 
Les  Preeieuses  ridicules,  L'  Ecole  des  maris,  L' Ecole 
desfemmes,  Le  Tartuffe,  Le  Misanthrope  and  some 
of  his  doctor-plays  contain  Moliere's  most  notable 
work.  That  this  subjectivity  takes  the  form  of 
polemics  upon  a  broad  scale  is  a  corollary,  for, 
according  to  the  author's  definition,  comedy  is 
criticism  in  lighter  vein  and  in  dramatic  form  of 
the  foibles  of  contemporary  society.  When  his 
polemics  stoops  to  "Billingsgate  warfare,"  as  in 


La  Critique  de  I'ecole  des  femmes  and  in  L' Im- 
promptu de  Versailles,  the  result  is  poor  comedy. 
Where,  as  in  L'Avare  and  Le  Bourgeois  gentil- 
homme, the  foundation  of  the  personal  experience 
is  lacking,  we  admire  Moliere's  consummate  art, 
his  perfect  workmanship,  but  our  hearts  are  not 
stirred,  we  are  only  amused. 

A  distinct  feature  of  the  book  is  the  sympathy, 
as  well  as  the  faithful  accuracy  with  which  the 
intimate  life  of  Moliere  is  portrayed.  Trollope's 
Life  of  Moliere,  accurate  and  brimful  of  facts  as 
it  is,  lacks  this  sympathetic,  this  literary  touch. 
It  is  a  book  of  reference.  But  Mr.  Chatfield- 
Taylor' s  work,  while  possessing  the  merits  of 
Trollope's  Moliere,  is  readable  from  beginning  to 
end.  Here  and  there  are  touches  of  humour  and 
pathos  which  can  come  only  from  one  who  is 
endowed  with  the  literary  instinct.  Any  one 
reading  Chapter  xvin  cannot  help  being  im- 
pressed with  the  dramatic  value  of  Moliere's  life, 
of  all  life.  The  metrical  translations  of  illustrative 
passages  show  excellent  mastery  over  that  most 
subtle  of  poetic  forms,  blank  verse. 

Great  pains  have  been  taken  to  make  the  illus- 
trations historically  exact.  The  artist,  Jacques 
Onfroy  de  Breville  (JoB),  examined  the  original 
documents  and  plates  contained  in  the  archives  of 
the  Comedie  francaise,  the  Bibliotheque  nationale, 
etc.  The  costumes  of  the  Comedie  francaife  and 
the  Thedtre  de  C  Odeon  were  placed  at  his  dis- 
posal. The  famous  fauteuil  de  Moliere  and  the 
interior  of  Gely's  barbershop  have  for  the  first 
time  been  reproduced  together.  For  the  drawing 
representing  Moliere  and  the  poet  Bellocq  making 
the  King's  bed  at  Versailles  the  original  archi- 
tect's drawing  in  the  Estampes  nationales  was  used, 
because  the  room  itself  was  considerably  altered 
in  1701.  In  the  sketch  depicting  Armande  B6- 
jart  in  Moliere's  room,  the  furniture  and  effects 
have  been  reproduced  from  the  description  given 
in  the  inventory  of  the  poet's  property,  made  a 
few  weeks  after  his  death. 

For  his  Moliere  scholarship  Mr.  Chatfield-Tay- 
lor has  already  been  recognised  in  France,  where 
he  has  been  made  Officier  de  V  Instruction  Pu- 
blique '  and  given  the  cross  of  the  Legion  d'  hon- 

1  Spain  and  Portugal  had  already  rewarded  the  author 
for  his  studies  of  Spanish  life  with  the  decorations,  re- 
spectively, of  "  Chevalier,  Order  of  Isabella  the  Catholic" 
and  "  Chevalier,  Order  of  St.  lago."  His  bagage  litteraire 
consists  of  seven  novels  and  many  articles  in  periodicals. 


186 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  JVo.  6. 


neur.  Wherever  possible  all  statements  have 
been  verified  from  first-hand  sources.  In  building 
the  book  the  author  has  collected  a  Moliere  library 
not  equalled  by  many  college  libraries  in  the 
United  States. 

Professor  Crane,  of  Cornell  University,  has 
given  the  work  an  instructive  and  appreciative 
introduction. 


F.  C.  L.  VAN  STEENDEREN. 


Lake  Forest  University. 


English  Literature  from  the  Norman  Conquest  to 
Chaucer.  By  WILLIAM  HENRY  SCHOFIELD, 
Ph.  D. ,  Professor  of  Comparative  Literature  in 
Harvard  University.  New  York  :  The  Mac- 
millan  Company,  1906. 

Middle  English  literature  has  had  to  wait  a 
long  time  for  a  satisfactory  historian.  However 
laudable  for  the  time  which  produced  them  may 
have  been  the  chapters  on  the  subject  in  Warton's 
History  of  English  Poetry,  and  however  conve- 
nient those  in  Morley's  English  Writers,  both 
works  are  mainly  descriptive,  give  little  aid  to  au 
understanding  of  the  subject,  and  are  quite  un- 
trustworthy as  regards  facts.  ten  Brink's  His- 
tory of  English  Literature,  for  all  its  judiciousness, 
and  M.  Jusserand's  Literary  History  of  the  English 
People,  for  all  its  charm,  are  neither  exhaustive 
nor  otherwise  adequate  to  the  needs  of  the  special 
student  or  the  capable  general  reader.  Therefore, 
Professor  Schofield's  book,  while  in  no  sense  a 
great  one  and  necessarily  not  a  final  one,  is  even 
more  indispensable  than  it  is  excellent. 

The  arrangement  of  the  book  is  the  feature 
which  most  obviously  calls  for  comment.  Fol- 
lowing the  example  of  the  late  Gaston  Paris  and 
of  other  French  writers,  the  author  has  divided 
his  material  not  chronologically  but  according  to 
its  literary  genres  or  subject-matter.  He  has  even 
improved,  if  one  may  be  permitted  to  say  so, 
on  the  arrangement  adopted  by  the  great  French 
scholar  in  his  Litterature  Francaise  au  Moyen  Age, 
by  making  his  own  less  mechanical.  After  the 
introduction  come  chapters  on  Anglo-Latin,  and 


Anglo-Norman  and  Anglo-French  literature,  the 
English  language,   romance,  tales,   historical,  re- 
ligious and  didactic  works,  and  songs  and  lyrics, 
followed  by  a  conclusion,  a  suggestive  chronolog- 
ical table,  an  excellent  working  bibliography  and 
a  full  index. '     In  view  of  the  present  state  of  our 
knowledge  and  the  prevalent  unfamiliarity  with 
medizeval  literary  categories,   such   a  division  of 
the  material  was  certainly  the  best,  and  is  one 
reason  why  the  book  will  be  far  more  useful  than 
ten  Brink's.     But  the  fact  should  not  be  disre- 
garded that  this  is  largely  au  expository,  almost  a 
pedagogical,  device  ;  that  it  is  untrue  to  nature 
and  unfair  ;    that  it  greatly  exaggerates  what  the 
author  calls  the  static  character  of  mediaeval  lit- 
erary types.     We  may  hope  that  the  time  will 
come  when  the  literary  history  of  mediaeval  Eng- 
land may  be  written  in  such  a  way  as  will  make 
its   intellectual   and   artistic    changes    from    the 
twelfth  to  the  fifteenth  century  nearly  as  plain  as 
those   of   any   later  period.     Professor  Schofield 
himself  says  (p.  24),  "Study,  however,  shows  one 
century    developing    naturally   out    of    another. 
From   the    barbarity   of    the   dark    ages  to   the 
affectations  of  the  pre-Renaissance  epoch  is  a  long 
but  steady  progression."     He  actually  does  make 
an  attempt  (on  pp.  28  and  98)  at  a  chronological 
characterization   of  the   Latin   literature   of  the 
period.     Would  it  not  even  have  been  well,  per- 
haps, if  his  final  chapter  had  been  a  chronological 
retrospect  ?     This  would  have  afforded  an  admir- 
able prelude  to  the  treatment  of  Chaucer  and  his 
contemporaries,  to  which  all  students  are  looking 
forward  in  Dr.  Schofield's  next  volume. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  and  illuminating 
chapters  in  the  book  is  the  introduction,  on  the 
conditions  under  which  Middle  English  literature 
came  into  existence  ;  on  the  linguistic,  political, 
ecclesiastical,  and  social  peculiarities  of  mediaeval 
England,  and  on  such  classes  of  men,  significant 
for  literary  history,  as  the  clerks  and  minstrels. 
One  might  suggest  that  the  five-page  conclusion, 
on  similar  subjects,  and  the  five-page  Chapter  iv, 

1  The  omission  here  of  the  romance  of  Atltehtone  may  be 
noted,  however  (see  p.  275).  The  suggestion  maybe  made 
that  it  would  save  much  fingering  of  pages,  if  the  reference 
to  the  main  treatment  of  each  subject  were  printed  in 
heavy-faced  type. 


June,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


187 


on  the  English  language,  might  well  have  been 
worked  in  with  it.  Such  a  point  as  this  illustrates 
the  lack  of  final  and  mature  revision  and  verifica- 
tion which  one  frequently  notices  in  the  book. 
In  these  chapters,  however,  and  usually,  indeed, 
throughout,  the  writer  has  kept  constantly  in  mind 
how  much  assistance  the  ordinary  reader  requires 
for  the  comprehension  of  mediaeval  literature,  and 
has  given  it  in  a  living  way. 

A  novel  feature  of  the  book  is  the  amount  of 
space  (a  quarter  of  the  whole)  given  to  Anglo- 
Latin  and  Anglo-French  literature.  In  the  at- 
tempt to  be  at  once  condensed,  exhaustive,  and 
vivid,  the  first  and  longer  of  these  chapters 
(especially  its  second  half)  is  somewhat  desultory 
and  rambling  ;  indeed,  other  parts  of  the  book 
possibly  leave  something  to  be  desired  in  per- 
spicuity and  significance  of  transitions  and  minor 
arrangement.  In  consequence  of  this,  and  also  of 
the  author's  familiarity  with  Old  Norse  literature, 
he  is  not  seldom  in  these  chapters  betrayed  into 
irrelevancies."  But  the  presence  of  these  chapters 
seems  an  admirable  feature,  and  that  for  two 
reasons.  They  call  attention  to  the  amount  of 
characteristic  and  meritorious  intellectual  and 
artistic  work  which  the  mediaeval  English  did 
in  other  languages,  and  to  the  neglected  prob- 
lems in  literary  histoiy  which  it  involves.  And 
they  should  help  to  kill  the  old  notion  that  from 
the  Conquest  to  Chaucer's  day  England  was  an 
intellectual  desert  merely  because  literature  in 
English  was  ill-written  and  only  for  the  uncritical 
classes.  More  than  this,  it  may  even  be  said  that 
a  historian  of  this  period  gives  a  false  impression 
and  neglects  his  duty  who  confines  himself  to 
literature  in  the  English  language.  For  this 
reason,  it  seems  to  the  reviewer  that  Professor 
Schofield's  book  might  much  more  properly  have 
been  called  The  Literary  History  of  England  than 
English  Literature.  De  facto,  that  is  what  it  is. 

By  far  the  most  interesting  and  valuable  chap- 
ter is  that  on  Romance,  which  fills  more  than  a 
third  of  the  volume.  This  vast,  intricate  and  far- 
reaching  subject  few  living  men  could  have  treated 
with  more  thoroughness,  discrimination,  and  fresh- 
ness than  we  find  here.  Dr.  Schofield  has  been 
fairly  conservative,  and  (it  seems  to  the  reviewer) 

'E.g.,  on  pp.  62,  65,  71,  75,  89,  90,  105-6,  125 ;  even 
later,  as  well,  on  pp.  151-3  and  368  ( last  paragraph ). 


has  refrained  from  brilliant  guesses  and  immature 
decisions  quite  as  much  as  one  could  expect.  He 
has,  of  course,  treated  the  romantic  cycles  geneti- 
cally, from  the  point  of  view  of  French  romance 
and  its  origins.  At  times  his  fondness  for  me- 
diceval  French  sophistication  and  refinement  has 
made  him  a  little  less  than  appreciative  of  the 
native  English  spirit ;  it  is  singular  that  one  who 
has  written  so  much  on  King  Horn  should  not  do 
more  justice  to  that  admirable  poem.  But,  on 
the  whole,  this  chapter  is  one  of  the  most  useful 
and  illuminating  treatments  of  romance  to  be 
found  anywhere  ;  and  is  certainly  the  best  to  be 
found  in  English.3 

In  the  last  five  chapters  there  is  a  noticeable 
falling  off  in  both  matter  and  manner.  However 
it  may  be  with  the  chapter  on  tales,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  a  writer's  enthusiasm  should  wane 
perceptibly  before  the  reading  and  writing  in- 
volved by  the  chapters  on  historical,  religious, 
and  didactic  works,  and  that  somewhat  desultory 
and  even  arid  subject,  the  Middle  English  songs  and 
lyrics.  One  cannot  but  regret,  however,  that  the 
book  was  not  delayed  till  a  more  finished  treatment 
of  these  subjects  had  been  possible,  for  which  we 
should  have  been  all  the  more  grateful  because 
of  its  difficulty. 

In  a  book  of  this  compass  it  is  inevitable  that 
small  slips  and  inaccuracies  should  occur  ;  in  this 
book  they  are  possibly  unduly  frequent.  Trifling 
though  many  of  the  following  are,  perhaps  they 
are  worth  noting  : — Page  111,  line  11.  For  "two 
hundred  years,"  read  "three  hundred." — Page 
112,  foot.  The  "agreement  of  John  and  Philip 
Augustus"  seems  hardly  to  represent  the  facts 
accurately. — Page  116.  Is  it  quite  accurate  to 
speak  of  Thomas'  Tristan  as  an  "  Arthurian 
romance?" — Page  130.  Schofield  has  confused 
the  dogma  of  the  Immaculate  Conception  of  Mary, 
which  was  never  defide  until  1854,  with  the  feast 
of  her  Conception. — Page  191.  It  certainly  seems 
probable  that  Emare  was  carried  not  to  Wales  but 
to  Galicia  ;  the  legend  of  the  miraculous  voyage 
of  the  body  of  St.  James  to  Compostella  would 
help,  and  we  may  observe  (on  the  principle  which 

3  In  connection  with  Schofield's  mention  of  Marie  de 
France's  Guingamor  (pp.  192,  199),  a  curiously  close 
parallel  to  that  lay  may  be  noted  in  the  Japanese  Lay  of 
Urashima  ;  see  F.  V.  Dickins'  Primitive  and  Mediaeval 
Japanese  Texts  (Oxford,  1906),  pp.  136-146. 


188 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


Schofield  uses  in  his  essay  on  Horn  and  Rymen- 
hild),  that  it  is  only  a  week's  sail  from  Rome  (see 
Gough' s  edition,  pp.  22,  36).— Page  236.  Surely 
it  was  not  Caxton  who  gave  its  name  to  Malory's 
Morte  Darthur  ;  see  his  colophon. — Page  246. 
Does  not  Dr.  Schofield  miss  the  essential  point  in 
the  story  of  the  begetting  of  Galahad  ?  Lancelot 
was  far  from  indulging  ' '  a  guilty  love  for  the 
daughter  of  the  Grail-King."  See  Malory,  xi, 
2,  3. — Page  260.  What  evidence  has  Dr.  Scho- 
field shown  earlier  for  an  "Anglo-Saxon  version 
of  the  Tristram-story  ? ' '  The  extremely  inter- 
esting parallel  between  Marie's  lay  of  Chievrefoil 
and  what  the  Grein-Wiilcker  Biblioihek  calls  Die 
Botschaft  des  Gemahls,  which  he  points  out  on 
pages  201-2,  can  hardly  be  called  such. — Page 
265.  There  is  a  strange  error  in  saying  "there 
still  exist  three  French  redactions  of  the  story  of 
Horn,  .  .  .  from  which  were  derived  three  corres- 
ponding English  versions."  The  first  of  these 
French  redactions  certainly  does  not  exist  now, 
and  some  would  deny  that  it  ever  did.  Nor  do 
we  know  that  ' '  the  hero  in  the  first  English  ver- 
sion was  a  Norseman  "  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  the 
Saracens  who  drove  him  out  who  were  originally 
Norsemen.  — Page  281.  Edward  I  isoddly  confused 
with  Edward  III.  See  Hoccleve's  De  Regimine 
Pnneipum  (Roxb.  Club),  p.  92.— Page  304.  The 
Foray  of  Gadderis  does  not  occupy  ' '  some  14, 000 ' ' 
lines  in  the  Scottish  Bulk  of  Alexander,  but  less 
than  a  quarter  of  that  amount  (cf.  page  303).— 
Page  318.  "  George  a  Green,  Pindar  of  Wake- 
field  ' '  are,  of  course,  one  and  the  same  tale  ;  as 
no  one  would  infer  from  Schofield' s  punctuation. 
— Page  321.  It  is  difficult  to  see  why  the  Squire's 
Tale  is  omitted  from  the  list  of  Canterbury  Tales 
which  are  "Oriental  in  character." — Page  324. 
Is  it  desirable  or  even  reasonable  to  represent 
Chaucer's  motive  for  including  coarse  stories  in 
his  great  collection  as  a  sense  of  obligation  ?  Cer- 
tainly no  parts  of  the  Canterbury  Tales  force  on 
us  more  the  impression  of  having  been  written 
con  amore. — Page  334.  The  summary  of  The  Vox 
and  the  Wolf  seems  to  mistake  two  delightful 
touches,  in  lines  27-40,  249-50  ;  the  fox  eats 
three  of  the  hens,  and  rejoices  that  Segrim  has 
made  a  holy  end. — Page  336.  The  creature 
called  a  "mereinan"  in  the  Bestiary  is  obviously 
what  we  call  a  mermaid. — Page  340.  The  incor- 


rect statement,  at  the  bottom  of  the  page,  about 
Chaucer  and  Lydgate  seems  to  be  due  to  a  con- 
fused recollection  of  what  was  said  on  page  296 
about  Lydgate's  Story  of  Thebes.— Page  343. 
Chauntecleer's  "forty  lines,  or  more,"  on  dreams 
are  really  more  than  four  times  forty. — Page  344. 
Why  is  the  Seven  Sages  called  "one  of  the  ear- 
liest Middle  English  poems?"  And  why  is  it 
attributed  to  the  thirteenth  century?  Cf.  Scho- 
field's  own  table,  page  463,  and  pages  37-8  of 
Dr.  Killis  Campbell's  dissertation. — Page  346. 
In  no  version  of  the  Husband-Shut-Out  story  in 
the  above  romance  that  the  reviewer  can  find  is 
the  husband  "put  to  death  for  his  pains." — Page 
361.  It  surely  is  hardly  proper  to  call  the  Historia 
Britomim  "Geoffrey's  Brut."—  Pages  362,  412. 
Why  perpetuate  the  custom  of  calling  Robert  Man- 
ning of  Brunne,  instead  of  Bourne,  the  modern 
name  of  the  place  ?  We  do  not  speak  of  "William 
of  Malmesberie. " — Page  383.  Since  the  accurate 
eccentricity  of  Orm's  spelling  is  dwelt  on,  it  is  a 
pity  that  in  the  five  quoted  lines  there  are  five 
mistakes  in  reproducing  it. — Page  401.  It  is  also 
a  pity  that  the  paragraph  on  the  Vi-non  of  Thur- 
kill  did  not  more  accurately  follow  Dr.  Becker's 
dissertation,  from  which  most  of  it  is  derived  ; 
even  if  the  original  was  not  consulted.  The  knight 
•was  not  vainglorious,  nor  could  the  theatre  in 
which  the  damned  perform  very  well  be  ' '  purga- 
torial." This  is  only  one  of  rather  frequent  errors 
or  loosenesses  of  language  as  to  ecclesiology  ;  e.  g. , 
monks,  friars  and  canons  are  all  called  "  monks." 
— Page  413.  Robert  Manning  was  not  the  heretic 
and  precursor  of  Wyclif  which  Dr.  Schofield  im- 
plies that  he  was.  He  declares  that  the  priest 
selected  to  offer  masses  for  the  dead  ought  to  be 
"  good  and  clean, "  but  hardly  makes  their  effi- 
cacy depend  on  his  being  so  (see  E.  E.  T.  S.,  line 
10,500).— Page  423.  The  "Sidrac"  whom  Dr. 
Schofield  enrolls  among  "  worthies  of  antiquity  " 
is  "Syrac"  or  "Syrak  "  in  the  poem  under  dis- 
cussion, and  is  really,  of  course,  Jesus  the  son  of 
Sirach.  Most  of  his  sage  words  there  quoted  may 
easily  be  found  in  the  book  Ecclesiasticux. — Page 
430.  The  Elizabethan  dialogue,  and  the  like,  is 
surely  descended  rather  from  the  Italian  dubbio, 
the  Platonic  dialogue  and  the  Virgilian  eclogue 
than  from  the  mediaeval  debate. — Page  437.  In 
the  last  line  of  Godric's  song,  should  we  not  read, 


June,  1907.] 


MODEItN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


189 


with  one  of  the  MSS.,  wunne  for  winne"! — Page 
438,  bottom.  In  the  form  in  which  the  hymn  to 
Mary  is  printed,  even  the  special  student  cannot 
see  that  the  lines  are  of  seven  accents. — Pages 
444_5.  In  the  CucJcoo  and  Aliaoun  songs,  swike 
here  certainly  means  cease,  and  not  deceive  ;  lud 
seems  much  more  likely  to  mean  sound  or  voice 
(M.  E.  lude)  than  land  (M.  E.  lede,  lud,  which 
means  people,  nation  :  N.  E.  D. ),  and  hendy  cer- 
tainly does  not  mean  strange,  but  always  pleasant. 

Page  451.     Lajamon's  Brut  does  not  exist  in  a 

unique  MS.  ;  cf.  pages  459,  461. — Page  462.  The 
Popes  were  at  Avignon  only  till  1377  ;  after  1378 
only  the  antipopes  were  there.  —Misprints  may  be 
noted  on  pages  92  (line  7,  read  "slyding"), 
325  (line  9),  347  (line  27,  read  "Novelle"), 
382  (line  6,  read  "Henry  II"),  383  (line  5, 
read  "fohhtesst "),  470  (line  32).  Pages  174 
and  175  are  unluckily  turned  about. 

The  best  thing  about  the  book  is  no  doubt  the 
amount  of  condensed,  accessible  information  which 
it  contains.     Some  might  perhaps  criticize  it  for 
a   lack   of  philosophical   generalization,    for   not 
extracting  more  tangibly,  at  times,  the  spiritual 
characteristics  of  the  Middle  Ages.     But  it  can 
hardly  be  denied  that  for  a  history  it  errs  on  the 
right  side,  and  from  what  it  does  give  us  we  can 
form  our  reflections  for  ourselves.   After  the  world 
has  talked  so   long  about  the   Middle   Ages  in 
ignorance  of  some  of  their  most  significant  pro- 
ducts, there  may  well  be  a  truce  to  generalization. 
This  vast  amount  of  fact  is  communicated  hi  a 
style  which,  though  at  times  not  without  oddity, 
is  clear,  nervous,  and  animated.     And  the  reader 
is  frequently  struck  by  the  freshness  and  justness 
of  the  author's  criticisms  on  subjects  on  which 
many  writers  could  have  offered  no  criticisms  at 
all ;    by  the  grasp   and  penetration  which  have 
enabled  him  to  go  to  the  heart  of  a  subject,  and 
through  the  thick  veil  of  mediaeval  literary  con- 
vention and  literary  helplessness  to  seize  upon  a 
writer's  essential  character. 


JOHN  S.  P.  TATLOCK. 


University  of  Michigan. 


An  Anthology  of  German  Literature  (Part  1),  by 
CALVIN  THOMAS,  LL.  D.  Boston  :  D.  C. 
Heath  &  Co.,  1907.  8vo.,  vi  and  195  pp. 

The  tasks  that  Professor  Thomas  sets  himself  in 
his  publications  are  all  worth  while.  The  present 
volume  is  no  exception.  MaxMiiller's  German 
Classics  has  done  good  service  and  will  not  be 
supplanted  by  the  Anthology,  but  where  an  inex- 
pensive and  condensed  survey  of  German  liter- 
ature is  desired  preference  will  be  given  to  the 
newer  work.  Part  1  oifers  39  selections,  ranging 
from  the  Hildebrandslied  to  Johann  Geiler  and 
Sebastian  Brant  and  covers  therefore  a  period  of 
some  seven  centuries.  As  the  Anthology  is  in- 
tended for  students  who  ' '  would  like  to  know 
something  of  the  earlier  periods  but  have  not 
studied,  and  may  not  care  to  study  Old  and 
Middle  German,"  the  language  used  is  in  all 
cases  modern  German.  The  translations  or 
adaptations  are  in  part  by  Sim  rock,  Botticher 
and  other  literati  and  scholars,  in  other  cases 
Professor  Thomas  has  relied  upon  his  own  skill. 

The  editor' s  ' '  first  principle  "  :  "to  give  a  good 
deal  of  the  best  rather  than  a  little  of  everything  " 
will  certainly  command   universal  approval  and 
no  one  will  question  that  the  selections  given  show 
good  judgment  and  sense  of  proportion.     Doubt- 
less almost  everyone  acquainted  with  early  Ger- 
man literature  will  miss  one  or  more  old  friends 
whom  he  would  like  to  see  included.     That,  how- 
ever, is  unavoidable  in  a  volume  of  this  compass. 
But  if  the  writer  may  make  a  suggestion  for  a 
second  edition,  I  would   enter   a  plea   for  Frau 
Ava,  especially  if  Hrotswitha  is  to  be  excluded. 
It  is  not  without  significance  for  the  culture  of 
the  age  that  now  and  then  a  woman  essayed  to 
express  herself  in  verse.     If  the  limits   of  the 
present  volume  must  be  observed  we  could  sac- 
rifice  the   Old   Saxon   Genesis,    as   long   as   the 
Heliand   and   Otfried   are   so    well   represented. 
The  brief  historical  and  explanatory  remarks  that 
introduce  each  selection  or  set  of  selections  contain 
much  information  that  will  prove  helpful  to  the 
students  for  whom  the  work  is  intended.     Here 
and   there,   however,   these   paragraphs   seem    to 
have  been  prepared  in  too  great  haste  or  without 
proper   regard  for    the   effect   they   are   sure   to 
produce  upon  minds  unable  from  lack  of  iude- 


190 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[  Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


pendent  study  to  do  aught  but  accept  the  judg- 
ments they  here  find  ready  at  hand.  Thus  it  is 
manifestly  unfair  to  Gottfried  von  Strassburg  to 
describe  him  as  "  a  graceful  and  cunning  psy- 
chologist of  sensual  passion  ' '  — this  and  nothing 
more.  If  the  same  unqualified  statement  were 
returned  to  an  instructor  by  a  student  the  former, 
I  imagine,  would  make  haste  to  show  that  Gott- 
fried was  neither  a  " psychologist "  nor  "cun- 
ning ' '  in  the  modern  acceptance  of  the  terms. 
Certainly,  also,  the  average  student  will  place  too 
high  a  value  upon  Brant's  Narrenschiff  when  he 
reads  that  "it  was  Germany's  first  important 
contribution  to  world-literature."  I  am  inclined 
to  believe  also  that  the  advantage  gained  by 
employing,  even  occasionally,  twentieth  century 
colloquial  English  is  more  than  offset  by  the 
danger  of  becoming  unhistorical.  Tho  the  fact 
may  be  as  stated,  is  it  not  in  a  deeper  sense 
untrue  to  say  that  Thomasiu  of  Zirclaere,  in 
choosing  for  his  poem  the  title  Der  wahche  Cast, 
was  making  a  "bid"  for  the  hospitable  reception 
of  his  book  in  Germany  ?  And  does  it  not  force 
the  note  a  little  to  describe  the  simple  tho 
vigorous  comic  figures  in  the  Vienna  Easter  Play 
as  a  "peripatetic  quacksalver,"  his  "cantank- 
erous wife  ' '  and  ' '  scapegrace  clerk  "  ?  A  ques- 
tion of  a  different  kind  that  suggests  itself  is,  why 
is  no  resume1  of  the  Nilelwtgenlied  given  when 
Gudrun  is  epitomized  so  successfully  in  fourteen 
lines?  The  footnotes  are  helpful,  but  I  doubt 
whether  even  the  most  careful  reader  would  secure 
a  clear  idea  of  the  poem  from  the  material  given. 
Misleading,  it  seems  to  me,  is  the  translation  of 
the  title  of  Heinrich  von  Melk's  well-known  poem 
of  satire  and  admonition  as  ' '  Remembrance  of 
Death."  By  Erinnerung  an  den  Tod  is  surely 
meant  memento  mori. 

I  find  myself,  alao,  unable  to  agree  with  Pro- 
fessor Thomas  in  interpreting  the  line  from  the 
strophe  introductory  to  the  Ezzoleich  : 

Ezzo  begunde  scriben,  Wille  fant  die  wise 

as  "  Ezzo  began  to  write,  will  found  the  way 
(i.  e. ,  the  meter)."  It  is  true  that  where  there 
is  a  will  there  is  a  way,  but  the  absence  of  the 
demonstrative  with  Wille  and  the  forced,  if  not 
impossible  explanation  of  wise  as  "way"  con- 
strain me  to  accept  the  safer,  even  tho  less 
ingenious  interpretation  : 


Wille  composed  the  melody. 

Fra  Wille,  therefore,  was  more  successful  than 
our  editor  in  following  out  Mephisto's  advice  : 

Associiert  Euch  mit  einem  Poeten, 

tho,  as  our  volume  proves,  Professor  Thomas 
is  quite  equal  to  the  task  of  producing  a  pleasing 
and  scholarly  Anthology  even  when  he  is  obliged 
to  combine  versifex  and  editor  in  one  person. 


H.  Z.  KIP. 


Vanderbilt  University. 


La,  Chanson  de  Roland.  A  Modern  French 
Translation  of  Theodor  Miiller's  Text  of  the 
Oxford  Manuscript,  with  Introduction,  Bibli- 
ography, Notes  and  Index,  Map,  Illustrations, 
and  Manuscript  Readings,  by  J.  GEDDES,  JK. 
New  York  and  London  :  Macmillan,  1906. 
12mo.,  cloth,  pp.  clx.  316.  90  cents  net. 

The  present  volume  belongs  to  Macmillan' s 
French  Classics.  In  care  of  preparation  and  of 
execution,  the  volume  deserves  a  place  in  the 
front  rank  of  American  publications.  While  the 
scholarship  displayed  is  largely  assimilative,  it  is 
also  in  many  ways  original.  The  editor  has  made 
thoroughly  his  own  the  vast  mass  of  Roland  liter- 
ature, has  coordinated  and  sorted  it  out,  judged 
it  and  placed  it  before  us.  The  opinions  which 
he  expresses  are,  with  very  few  exceptions  indeed, 
conservative  and  sound.  The  author's  style,  both 
in  his  critical  comments  and  in  the  translation,  is 
clear,  direct  and  worthy  of  the  subject  of  the 
poem.  One  thing  which  deserves  especial  com- 
mendation, is  the  distinctly  sympathetic  attitude 
of  the  editor  towards  his  subject.  There  is 
here  none  of  the  omniscience  and  condescension 
which,  absurdly  enough,  characterize  much  of 
our  editing.  The  editor's  pen  knows  how  to  write 
such  words  as  may,  perhaps,  possible. 

The  colored  Carte  topographique  de  la  Chanson 
de  Roland,  which  precedes  the  Introduction,  is 
one  of  the  valuable  features  of  the  volume,  and 
will  come  to  most  readers  as  a  revelation.  The 
Index  at  the  back  of  the  book  is  extremely  ser- 
viceable. A  careful  examination  will  show  it  to 
be  almost  without  error. 


June,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


191 


The  following  observations  are  modestly  offered 
in  a  spirit  of  comment  rather  than  of  criticism  : 

On  page  xx,  the  translator  says  that  the  version 
of  the  Oxford  Roland  is  thought  to  date  from 
about  1080,  but  that  older  texts  probably  once 
existed,  since  the  hero  "must  have  been  a  subject 
of  general  interest  during  the  three  centuries  pre- 
ceding." This  language  squares  well  with  the 
probable  facts,  but  the  same  can  hardly  be  said 
of  that  used  on  pages  xlix-li,  where  it  is  stated 
that  the  original  text  from  which  comes  the 
Oxford  version  was  not  much  earlier  than  the 
date  of  the  Norman  conquest  of  England.  This 
statement,  to  be  sure,  is  in  accord  with  the  opinions 
usually  expressed  on  this  subject,  but  it  seems  to 
me  that  any  sound  theory  of  popular  epic  poetry 
necessitates  our  supposing  that  the  Oxford  version 
— like  every  other — came  in  a  direct  and  probably 
uninterrupted  genesis  from  poems  sung  in  the 
ninth  century  or  from  the  close  of  the  eighth. 
The  fact  that  the  language  of  these  remote  periods 
was  " elementary  and  rude"  (cf.  page  1)  simply 
means  that  the  poetry  partook  of  these  qualities, 
and  can  not  be  taken  to  mean  that  there  was  no 
poetry.  The  editor  well  says,  on  page  Ixxxi, 
"that  an  epic  is  more  than  the  work  of  a  man, 
and  is  the  production  of  many  generations  of 
primitive  civilization."  To  my  mind,  the  pro- 
cess of  development  was  so  gradual  that,  at  no 
stage  of  the  operation  could  one  say  :  ' '  Here 
begins  the  Oxford  version." 

The  sentence  beginning  in  the  fourth  line  of 
page  Ixxxi  might  be  clearer  if  it  read  :  "The 
possibility  that  the  earlier  literature  of  France 
possessed  epic  poems  did  not  even  occur  to  the 
men  of  letters. ' ' 

The  statement  of  the  order  of  publication  of 
the  volumes  of  the  second  edition  of  Gautier's 
Epopees  is  correctly  given  on  page  xcii.  Numerous 
errors  are  made  in  other  handbooks  concerning 
this  edition  :  see  even  the  excellent  Ouwages  de 
Philologie  Romane  et  Textes  d'Ancien  Franfais 
faisant  Partie  de  la  Bibliotheque  de  M.  Carl 
Wahhmd,  Upsal,  1889,  page  xii. 

In  line  2,  page  cxxi,  correct  189  to  180.  On 
page  cxxxvii,  under  No.  261,  correct  1865  to 
1885,  and,  on  the  same  page,  under  No.  263, 
correct  1889  to  1890.  On  page  cliii,  under  No. 
338,  after  the  colon,  add  :  Parte  n,  1900.  The 


seventh  edition  of  G.  Paris'  Extraits  de  la  Chan- 
son de  Roland  is  given  (page  cxix)  as  of  the 
year  1903.  The  date  is  given  as  1902  in  the 
Bibliographic  des  Travaux  de  Gaston  Paris,  1904, 
page  57.  I  do  not  know  which  date  is  the  right 
one. 

The  translation  offered  by  Professor  Geddes  is 
in  prose,  and,  as  such,  attempts  no  poetic  orna- 
mentation. It  is  simple,  clear,  and  not  lacking 
in  the  dignity  which  the  lofty  subject  comports. 
In  his  rendering  of  line  735,  the  editor  has  aban- 
doned the  reading  of  Mu'ller  ;  he  has  probably 
done  well  in  so  doing,  but  it  would  have  been  wise 
to  indicate  by  a  note  his  preference  for  sevent  over 
set.  Elegant  as  is  the  translation  of  line  744,  it 
seems  to  me  better  to  keep  a  little  closer  to  the 
meaning1  of  the  word  vasselage.  In  rendering 
ajustee  of  line  1461,  I  should  prefer  to  treat  the 
word  as  a  past  participle,  and  to  so  indicate  it. 
The  translation  "pas  de  lache  pensee  !  "  for  the 
words  "u'en  alez  mespensant"  of  line  1472, 
although  following  the  accepted  meaning  of  the 
line,  seems  to  me  erroneous. 

The  explanatory  notes  constitute  one  of  the  best 
constructed  parts  of  the  new  volume.  I  add  a  few 
words  with  regard  to  several  of  these  notes.  The 
language  concerning  Balaguer,  on  page  168,  is 

somewhat  confusing:    "unknown   place 

the  farthest  eastern  point  which  Roland's  arms 
reached,  is  in  Catalonia,  about  three  miles  from 
Lerida."  In  fact,  many  maps  show  this  town  : 
vid.,  for  example,  Parallela  Geographies,  by  P. 
Brietius,  Paris,  1648,  Vol.  i,  p.  309.  The  place 
is  not  mentioned  in  the  atlas  of  Ptolemy  dated 
1462,  but  appears  in  other  editions.  The  imme- 
diate surroundings  of  Balaguer  include  Lerida, 
Fraga,  and  the  Segre,  and  are  rich  in  legends. 
A  distinction  should  probably  be  made  between 
Balaguer  and  les  ports  de  Balaguer,  which  are 
named  in  many  poems.  The  latter  place  seems 
to  me  to  be  the  important  pass  in  the  Col  de 
Balaguer,  which  is  the  name  of  a  chain  of  hills  on 
the  road  from  Tarragona  to  Tortosa  :  vid.  Romania, 
xxxiv,  page  240,  Note  1.  Some  ancient  maps 
show  a  town,  Balaguer  or  Balaer,  on  the  sea  at 
this  point,  vid.  La  Geografia  di  Claudia  Tolomeo 
Aletsandmno,  translated  by  Ruscelli,  Venice,  1561. 
The  editor  is  doubtless  aware  of  all  of  these  facts, 
but  chooses,  for  reasons  not  clear  to  me,  to  con- 


192 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


sider  the  town  of  Balaguer  to  be  unknown.  The 
remark  of  Professor  Geddes  on  page  182,  where 
he  says  that  the  mention  of  Cerdagne  in  line  856 
(terre  Certeine)  does  not  satisfy  the  conditions  of 
the  passage,  is  justified.  The  name  appears  in  a 
number  of  poems,  sometimes  perhaps  under  the 
form  Certeine  terre.  In  the  uncertain  condition 
of  our  present  knowledge  of  the  geography  of 
Catalonia,  it  would  be  unwise  to  speculate  on  the 
possible  real  application  of  this  name.  The  same 
remark  may  be  made  with  regard  to  Hire  and 
Imphe  (see  the  celebrated  lines  3995-98  of  the 
Roland).  The  editor  does  well  to  reject  (page 
234,  cf.  page  cvi)  the  jaunty  identification  pro- 
posed by  K.  Hofmanu,  Romaniscke  Forschungen, 
i,  page  429.  The  most  valuable  suggestion  that 
has  been  made  on  this  subject  is  perhaps  that  of 
G.  Paris,  Orson  de  Beauvais,  pages  182-183. 
There  is  other  evidence  to  give  weight  to  the  sug- 
gestion of  G.  Paris,  but  this  is  not  the  occasion 
for  a  long  discussion.  The  editor  shows  again 
good  judgment  in  placing  Naples  and  Commibles 
among  the  unknown  places.  He  might  have 
mentioned  among  the  interesting  discussions  of 
these  names  that  of  G.  Paris,  Romania,  xi,  page 
489.  Paris  favors  the  variant  Morinde  instead  of 
Commibles,  and  rejects  the  suggestion  of  Moranda 
as  not  fitting.  This  latter  name  in  the  form  given 
does  not  of  course  suit  the  assonance,  but  a  town 
Moranda  seems  to  have  been  known  to  some 
ancient  geographers,  if  we  may  judge  by  a  map 
in  my  possession,  dated  at  Lyons  in  1538  and 
showing  evidence  of  having  been  copied  from  a 
much  older  map.  A  town  Moranda  appears  on 
this  map  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  Ronns- 
vallis.  The  reading  Commibles,  as  Paris  says, 
would  probably  indicate  Coimbre,  which  seems  to 
me  a  perfectly  good  reading,  in  spite  of  the  objec- 
tions that  have  been  brought  against  it.  Or,  one 
might  see  in  the  reading  Commibles  a  derived 
form  of  the  Spanish  Colibre,  a  coast  town  not  far 
from  Perpignan,  whose  name  is,  according  to  P. 
de  Marca,  derived  from  an  aucieut  Caucoliberum 
or  Caueoliberis,  according  to  others  from  Illiberis. 
The  phrase  on  page  184  :  "Throughout  the 
period  known  as  the  Cycle  de  Guillaume  (tenth 
and  eleventh  centuries),"  is  unfortunate.  Perhaps 
the  following  wording  would  better  render  the 
thought  :  ' '  period  whose  events  are  celebrated  in 


poems  of  the  Cycle,"  etc.  ?  On  page  187,  the 
sentence  beginning  in  the  second  line  seems  to 
need  some  slight  qualification,  such  as  :  "Traces 
or  possible  imitations  of  this  episode  are  to  be  seen 
in,"  etc. 

The  refutation  of  the  Chronique  de  Turpln  by 
Leibnitz  is  mentioned  on  page  xcii.  The  earlier 
refutation  by  Claude  Fauchet  might  have  been 
mentioned  also  :  Oeuvres,  i,  page  229  b.  The 
statements  made  on  page  206  concerning  la  breehe 
de  Roland  find  confirmation  in  the  Codex  de  St. - 
Jacques-de- Compostelle,  edited  by  Fita  and  Vin- 
sou,  Paris,  1882,  pages  15  and  43.  We  are  told 
in  these  passages  that  the  stone  cut  by  Roland  was 
preserved  in  a  church  at  the  entrance  of  the  valley 
of  Roncevaux.  The  supposed  date  of  the  Codex 
is  about  1130.  The  editor  speaks  of  the  Peleri- 
nage  de  Charlemagne  and  of  the  Voyage  de  Char- 
lemagne •  see  the  index.  It  would  be  better  to 
adopt  one  of  these  names, — the  former  preferably. 
On  page  211,  he  ascribes  this  poem  to  the  twelfth 
century.  Although  its  date  is  still  somewhat 
problematic,  the  arguments  for  the  eleventh  cen- 
tury seem  to  me  to  have  the  greater  weight.  The 
reference  to  Rabel  in  the  index,  page  302,  seems 
to  contain  an  error.  The  word  Willehalm  is  mis- 
printed on  pages  cxl  and  315.  The  reference,  on 
the  latter  page,  should  read  ' '  p.  cxl. ' ' 


RAYMOND  WEEKS. 


University  of  Missouri. 


The  Complete  Dramatic  and  Poetic  Works  of  Wil- 
liam Shakespeare,  edited  by  WILLIAM  ALLAK 
NEILSON.  Boston  and  New  York  :  Houghton, 
Mifflin&Co.,  1906. 

The  mechanical  excellences  of  this  edition  of 
Shakespeare  deserve  especial  notice.  All  the 
plavs  and  poems  are  comprised  in  a  single  vol- 
ume, which,  altho  extending  to  1250  pages,  is 
convenient  for  either  reading  or  reference.  The 
line  numbers  of  the  Globe  edition  are  retained  ; 
the  page  is  open  ;  the  type  clear  and  of  fair  size  ; 
the  printing  and  and  the  proof-reading  excellent ; 
everything  contributes  to  make  this  easily  the  best 
one-volume  edition  of  Shakespeare. 


June,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


193 


The  volume  is  also  notable  for  many  merits 
other  than  the  mechanical.  The  biographical 
sketch  and  the  introductions  to  the  separate  plays 
are  models  of  judicious  condensation  aud  compre- 
hensiveness. Nothing  of  importance  in  the  entire 
field  of  Shakespearean  research  seems  to  have 
escaped  the  editor.  His  few  pages  of  comment 
must  be  regarded  as  constituting  not  only  valuable 
introductions  to  the  reading  of  the  plays,  but  also 
singularly  competent  summaries  of  the  results  of 
Shakespearean  criticism  up  to  the  present  time. 
His  esthetic  comments  in  particular  are  compact, 
suggestive,  and  sane  to  a  degree  rarely  attained. 
He  has  also  attacked  with  scholarly  thoroughness 
the  enormous  task  of  editing  the  text.  As  a  result 
we  have  the  first  American  edition  for  many  years 
that  is  based  upon  an  independent  examination  of 
folio  and  quartos  ;  and  a  text  that  in  many  par- 
ticulars presents  improvements  upon  that  of  any 
preceding  edition  of  the  complete  works. 

The  text  of  each  play  is  based  on  a  single 
source,  quarto  or  folio  as  the  case  may  be,  and  all 
additions  from  another  source  are  bracketed.  Con- 
sequently the  integrity  of  the  text  is  clearly  indi- 
cated ;  and  we  are  never  in  doubt  whether  we  are 
reading  quarto  or  folio,  or  a  modern  composite  of 
the  two.  The  exact  stage  directions  of  the  original 
editions  are  also  preserved  ;  and  all  additions  to 
stage  directions,  or  designations  of  act  or  scene 
due  to  later  editors  are  bracketed.  These  dis- 
tinctions, so  essential  for  all  students  of  the  early 
drama,  are  of  no  little  importance  for  the  ordinary 
reader  of  the  plays,  who  ought  certainly  to  be 
informed  what  is  original  and  what  sophisticated. 
Similarly  in  accord  with  the  best  methods  of 
textual  criticism  is  the  editor's  conservatism  in 
retaining  the  reading  of  the  early  edition  wherever 
it  is  intelligible  in  preference  to  later  emendation. 

In  one  respect  this  adherence  to  the  folio  may 
excite  some  doubt.  The  large  number  of  cases  in 
the  folio  where  ed  is  printed  instead  of  'd  leads 
Professor  Neilson  to  conclude  that  the  ed  was 
sounded  more  frequently  than  we  are  accustomed 
to  hear  it,  and  that  a  different  elision  was  made 
from  that  usual  to-day  ;  hence,  for  example,  he 
prints  threat' '  ned  rather  than  threaten' d.  It  is  to 
be  hoped  that  Professor  Neilson  will  publish  a  full 
analysis  of  his  data  bearing  on  this  question,  since 
it  is  one  of  considerable  importance  for  the  meter 
of  the  plays. 

In  another  -matter,  that  of  punctuation,  he  has 
made  a  still  more  radical  departure  from  pre- 
ceding editors.  The  punctuation  of  the  Folio  is 
inconsistent  and  often  absurd,  and  certainly  does 
not  represent  Shakespeare's  own  usage.  It  does, 
however,  preserve,  along  with  the  idiosyncracies 
of  the  compositors  and  the  exigencies  of  the 
printing  office,  certain  practices  prevailing  in 
Shakespeare's  time  and  different  from  our  own. 


In  all  critical  editions  the  punctuation  has  been 
greatly  changed  and  modernized  ;  but,  as  these 
critical  editions  began  early  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, and  as  each  editor  has  retained  much  of  the 
punctuation  of  the  preceding  editors,  the  result  is 
that  the  Cambridge  or  Globe  or  more  recent  edi- 
tions present  a  peculiarly  composite  punctuation, — 
sometimes  that  of  late  nineteenth  century,  some- 
times of  the  early  years,  sometimes  that  of  eigh- 
teenth century  editors,  Pope,  Theobald,  or  John- 
son, and  sometimes  reminiscent  of  the  Elizabethan 
punctuation  as  represented  in  the  Folio.  Eealizing 
all  this,  and  realizing  that  our  practices  in  punc- 
tuation are  still  changing  and  by  no  means  arrived 
at  auy  general  agreement,  the  editor  of  Shake- 
speare finds  the  problem  of  punctuation  a  complex 
and  difficult  one.  Professor  Neilson  has  solved  it 
by  re-punctuating  throughout  frankly  according 
to  modern  usage. 

In  many  instances  this  is  an  improvement. 
Commas  and  semicolons  appear  with  greater  in- 
telligibility and  less  inconsistency  than  in  most 
other  editions.  In  other  cases  the  gain  is  not  so 
apparent.  The  dash,  used  sparingly  by  preceding 
editors  and  restricted  by  Dyce  to  indicate  either 
an  unfinished  speech  or  a  change  in  the  person 
addressed  by  the  speaker,  is  used  by  Professor 
Neilson  to  indicate  any  abrupt  break  in  the  sense. 
For  example,  in  the  119  lines  of  Act  n,  Scene  1 
of  Hamlet,  where  it  is  PO  used  but  once  in  the 
Cambridge  or  Oxford  editions  and  not  once  in  the 
Folio,  it  is  so  used  four  times  in  the  present 
edition.  On  the  whole,  the  more  restricted  use 
of  earlier  editors  seems  to  have  ths  advantage  ; 
for  the  dash  is  likely  to  be  over-used  in  dramatic 
dialogue,  unless  conventional  restrictions  are  ad- 
hered to. 

It  is,  however,  the  substitution  of  the  period  for 
the  coloa  that  produce:;  the  most  noticeable  alter- 
ations in  the  text.  The  colon  in  Elizabethan 
usnge,  as  Ben  Jonson  tells  us  in  his  Grammar, 
marked  "a  pause,"  "a  distinction  of  a  sentence, 
though  perfect  in  itself,  yet  joined  to  another," 
and  further  distinguished  from  "  a  period."  This 
usage  prevailed  in  the  eighteenth  century  ;  but 
to-day  the  colon  has  been  largely  replaced  by  the 
semicolon  on  the  one  hand  and  the  period  on  the 
other.  The  substitution  of  a  semicolon  for  a  colon 
makes  little  difference  to  the  eye  ;  but  the  substi- 
tution of  a  period  changes  the  entire  appearance 
of  the  sentences.  Instead  of  a  piece  of  discourse, 
broken  by  stops  but  continuous  to  the  eye,  we  may 
have  a  series  of  short  sentences  apparently  equally 
disconnected  from  one  another. 

A  few  lines  from  Hamlet's  best  known  soliloquy 
may  illustrate  the  difficulties  of  punctuating 
Shakespeare  and  the  importance  of  the  treatment 
of  the  colon.  The  letters,  F,  C,  N  represent  the 
Folio,  Cambridge  Editors,  Neilson.  When  F  is 


194 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


omitted,  there  is  no  punctuation  at  that  place  in 
the  Folio  : 

To  be,  or  not  to  be  (F,  C  :  N  :)  that  is  the  question  (F  : 
C:N.) 

That  flesh  is  heir  to  (F?  C,  N.  )  'Tis  a  consummation 
Devoutly  to  be  wish'd.     To  die  (C,  N ;)  to  sleep  (F,  C; 

N;— ) 

To  sleep  (F.  C  :  N?)  Perchance  to  dream  (F;  C  :  N  !) 
Ay,  there's  the  rub  (F,  C ;  N  ;) 

Must  give  us  pause  (F.  C  :  N.  )  There's  the  respect 
That  makes  calamity  of  so  long  life  (F  :  C  ;  N. ) 

In  these  six  lines  there  are  eight  places  in  which 
Professor  Neilson  punctuates  differently  from  the 
Cambridge  editors.  Once  he  restores  the  period 
of  the  F.  for  the  colon  of  later  editors  ;  but  twice 
he  substitutes  a  period  for  the  colon  of  F.,  and 
once  an  exclamation  mark  and  once  an  interro- 
gation for  colons  of  C.,  and  a  comma  and  semi- 
colon of  F. 

It  would  seem  that  modernization  of  punctuation 
ought  to  rectify  obvious  errors,  to  supplant  the  old 
when  it  is  misleading  in  accord  with  modern  usage, 
and  to  rectify  sophistication  due  to  editorial  pecu- 
liarity or  to  by-gone  fashions  ;  but  that  one  should 
hesitate  to  adopt  changes  that  alter  distinctly  the 
appearance  of  lines  or  suggest  a  change  in  em- 
phasis. The  colon  marking  a  pause  might  still 
be  generally  retained  in  Shakespeare  as  it  is  in 
editions  of  Addison  or  De  Foe. 

This  matter  of  the  colon,  tho  not  of  great  im- 
portance in  itself,  may  illustrate  the  thoroughness 
of  Professor  Neilson' s  editorial  work  and  the  im- 
portance which  it  must  have  for  Shakespearean 
students  and  editors.  It  may  also  serve  as  an 
example  of  the  numerous  questions  of  detail  in  the 
text  of  Shakespeare  that  still  await  authoritative 
determination.  It  cannot  be  said  that  the  labors 
of  the  textual  critics  have  resulted  in  a  text  of 
Shakespeare  that  is  an  authoritative  one.  The 
monumental  works  of  Dr.  Furness  and  of  Messrs. 
Clark  and  Wright  deserve,  of  course,  all  respect. 
But  the  Variorum  does  not  attempt  to  supply  a 
text  for  the  general  reader  ;  and  the  Cambridge 
Shakespeare  is  now  forty  years  old,  and  its  later 
revisions  have  left  it  still  defective  in  many  re- 
spects, which  any  competent  editor  to-day  would 
alter.  A  new  text  is  needed  for  a  standard  library 
edition,  for  the  use  of  scholars,  and  indeed  as  a 
basis  for  the  school  editions  which  yearly  multiply. 
The  general  principles  which  should  guide  its 
editing  are  well  determined,  but  many  matters 
remain  that  can  be  decided  only  by  a  representa- 
tive body  of  scholars. 

A  committee  which  would  decide  on  debatable 
questions  and  which  would  supervise  the  editorial 
work  of  individual  members  might  successfully 
undertake  the  task.  At  a  time  when  editions  of 


Shakespeare  are  so  numerous,  and  when  elaborate 
reproductions  of  original  editions  are  so  readily 
undertaken,  and  when  collaborative  undertakings 
in  criticism  are  in  fashion,  the  opportunity  for  a 
standard  text  of  Shakespeare  seems  ripe. 


A.  H.  THORNDIKE. 


Columbia  University. 


La  Vie  Seint  Edmund  le  Rei :  An  Anglo-Norman 
Poem  of  the  Twelfth  Century,  by  DENIS 
PYRAMUS,  edited,  with  Introduction  and  Crit- 
ical Notes,  by  Florence  Leftwich  Ravenel. 
Philadelphia,  1906.  (Bryu  Mawr  College 
Monographs,  Vol.  v,  edited  by  a  committee 
of  the  Faculty  :  President  M.  C.  Thomas,  ex- 
officio  •  Professors  E.  P.  Kohler,  D.  Irons,  and 
H.  N.  Sanders.) 

The  basis  of  this  monograph  is  a  new  copy  of 
the  unique  London  manuscript,  executed  for  the 
editor,  we  are  told,  by  Mr.  E.  A.  Herbert,  and 
reviewed  by  Miss  E.  Fahnestock.  The  editor's 
work  consists  chiefly  in  a  study  of  the  language  of 
the  Vie  Saint  Edmund  for  the  purpose  of  deter- 
mining the  date  of  the  author,  Denis  Pyramus. 
The  conclusion  reached  is  that  the  Vie  Saint 
Edmund  was  written  between  1190  and  1200  ; 
G.  Paris  previously  had  placed  the  work  ' '  at  the 
end  of  the  twelfth  century."  The  language  of 
copyist  and  author  are  carefully  distinguished, 
and  a  comparison  of  the  latter  is  made  with  the 
language  of  the  Lois  Guillaume  and  the  Cam- 
bridge Psalter,  of  Adgar,  Chardri,  and  Frere 
Augier.  "In  general,"  remarks  the  editor,  "the 
language  of  Adgar  corresponds  strikingly  with 
that  of  our  text."  At  first  sight  this  opinion 
seems  to  accord  but  ill  with  the  date  1190-1200, 
for  Adgar  is  named  (p.  48)  as  of  "  about  1170," 
— a  generation  earlier.  Mrs.  Ravenel,  however, 
might  have  cited  Grober,  who  places  Adgar  in  the 
last  decade  of  the  twelfth  century. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  Vie  Saint  Ed- 
mund had  been  edited  in  part  by  Michel,  in  1838, 
and  in  full  by  T.  Arnold,  in  1892.  Mr.  Arnold's 
edition  was  that  of  a  historian  who  included  the 
French  poem  among  the  voluminous  "Memorials" 
— mostly  in  Latin — of  St.  Edmund's  Abbey.  The 
present  editor  reproduces,  with  some  fullness,  G. 
Paris'  severe  remarks  upon  Mr.  Arnold's  lack  of 
preparation  for  the  task  of  editing  an  Old  French 
text.  Mrs.  Ravenel  adds  some  strictures  of  her 
own,  complaining  that  Mr.  Arnold  neglected  ob- 
vious emendations,  that  he  often  emended  where 
the  manuscript  is  right,  and  finally  that  some  of 
his  conjectures,  definitions  and  notes  were  absurd. 
In  the  interest  of  fairness  it  seems  necessary  to 


Jane,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


195 


show  that  Mrs.  Ravenel  lays  herself  open  repeat- 
edly to  the  same  reproaches,  and  to  some  others 
no  less  serious. 

Chief  among  these  is  that  the  editor  has  gener- 
ally failed  to  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  linguistic 
questions  involved.  Of  these,  we  may  select  two 
as  of  particular  importance  :  (1)  the  question  of 
metre,  and  (2)  the  question  as  to  the  reduction 
of  ie  to  e. 

Did  Denis  Pyramus,  as  Grober  affirms,  con- 
struct metrically  correct  lines,  or  not  ?  Mrs.  Rave- 
nel's  answer  is  unsatisfactory.  She  seems  unaware 
that  in  an  Anglo-Norman  poem,  presumably  writ- 
ten in  octosyllables,  a  verse  in  which  a  ninth  or  a 
tenth  is  the  last  tonic  syllable  is  on  a  very  different 
footing  from  that  of  a  verse  in  which  the  last  tonic 
is  the  seventh,  or  even  the  sixth.  In  the  text 
before  us,  lines  often  remain  too  long  by  one  or 
two  syllables  ;  others,  often  easily  emended,  are 
left  too  short.  203  MS.  and  editor  :  II  sentre  de- 
manderent  quil  aunt ;  obviously,  II  s'  entredeman- 
dent  qu'il  (or  qui}  sunt.  1158,  Ke  la  dame  ert 
de  grant  age  (read  eagre).  Similarly  :  20,  met- 
terai  for  meirai  •  149,  pussent  for  peussent ;  266, 
Oirent  for  Oent  or  Oient  ;  308,  poines  (?)  for 
poinz  ;  627,  Son  offerande  for  s'offrande  ;  1164, 
of  le  for  al ;  2113,  gelins  (!)  for  gelines  ;  1443, 
oiz  for  oez ;  2284,  gemist  probably  for  geinst,  etc., 
etc.  Is  hiatus  found  in  mid-verse  (e.  g.,  981, 
2187,  2722,  3416,  etc.)?  The  editor  does  not 
raise  this  question. 

These  are  cases  where  a  judicious  change  might 
have  restored  the  author's  metre  :  The  editor  fre- 
quently inserts  or  discards  a  syllable  to  the  detri- 
ment of  the  metre.  135  MS.:  Epusjesque  Uter- 
pendragun  ;  editor:  Pusjesque,  etc.  1281  MS.: 
Si  est  mult  grant  signifiance  ;  editor  :  Si  eat  [de] 
mult,  etc.  3414  MS.  :  Par  force  leu  unt  en  nefs 
mis ;  editor  :  en  [7«r]  nefs,  etc.  So  1455,  2722, 
etc.  Moreover,  Mrs.  Ravenel  seems  not  to  un- 
derstand the  proper  use  of  the  sign  of  dieresis  : 
103,  Saisnes  (Saisnes  correctly  419);  1438,  ait 
HABEAT  ;  2404,  traiatrent ;  794,  resceut ;  2889, 
dulceiir  (!),  etc. 

Still  more  serious  liberties  are  taken  with  cor- 
rect readings  of  the  manuscript  in  the  supposed 
interest  of  metre,  or  of  grammar  :  ne  is  often 
altered  to  ni  (148,  1731,  2798,  etc.);  departir  is 
transferred  to  the  First  Conjugation  (381  ;  the 
rime-word  lotir  is  well  known) ;  miedi  is  replaced 
by  midi  (1181,  1449);  iel,  and  other  adjectives 
of  Declension  II,  are  forced  to  appear  as  tele,  etc. 
(1441,  1545-6,  2899,  2900);  respons  is  changed 
to  response  (2328) ;  requeste  to  requist  (?)  (3483) ; 
coinle  to  coint  (510,  1047,  1343);  le  boelin  to  la 
boeline  (1381),  altho  boelin  occurs  in  rime  at 
1455  ;  occement  to  ocisent  (2342) ;  pain  *  must  be 

1  By  a  confusion  of  ideas,  Mrs.  Kavenel  refers  to  the 
word  pctis  (p.  17)  as  one  containing  "  a  true  diphthong." 


read   as  one   syllable    (1973);   the  Old  French 
word-order  is  le  vus2  not  vus  le  (2238),  etc.,  etc. 

The  French  language,  unfortunately  for  the 
poets  but  happily  for  scholars,  has  never  possessed 
this  high  degree  of  elasticity  :  the  editor's  seint- 
ment  (1654)  must  —  not  may — be  seintement; 
errantement  (3416,  3427)  and  entendantement 
(1832)  cannot  stand  ;  soventement  (2874)  is  in- 
admissible as  well  as  unnecessary  ;  vaslez  (3659), 
introduced  instead  of  the  obscure  vasez  of  the 
manuscript,  did  not  rime  in  the  twelfth  century 
with  desvez,  nor  has  the  difference  between  the 
two  vowels  involved  disappeared  from  modern 
French. 

For  the  matter  of  the  date  of  Denis  Pyramus 
and  his  work,  the  question,  Had  or  had  not  ie 
been  reduced  to  e?  has  its  importance.  As  is 
known,  compositions  not  showing  this  change  were 
placed  by  Suchier  in  the  first  period  of  Anglo- 
Norman  literature.  Mrs.  Ravenel  states  (p.  18) 
that  in  the  Vie  St.  Edmund  "  not  more  than  half 
a  dozen  "  examples  are  found  where  ie  and  e  rime  : 
"187,  bacheler  :  conqucster "  (this,  of  course,  is 
not  a  case  in  point,  bacheler  being  good  Old 
French) ;  "  1553  [error  for  1653]  justiser  :  mer" 
(a  suspicious  couplet,  and  cp.  715,  justitsier  :  mes- 
tier,  and  771,  jmtisiers  :  dreituriers') .  A  rapid 
review  of  the  rimes  in  question  reveals  some  290 
pairs  with  e  unmixed,  and  about  120  with  ie  un- 
mixed. There  remain,  however,  3189  cessez : 
jugiez,  869  uiaimenter  :  conseillier,  and  3133 
enfundrer :  drecier,  a  percentage  so  small  as 
hardly  to  warrant  the  exclusion  of  the  Vie  saint 
Edmund  from  Suchier' s  first  group.  Equally  in 
need  of  a  more  thorough  examination,  because  of 
their  bearing  upon  the  question  of  date,  were  the 
rimes  like  2974,  mertifte  :  conqueste  (add  681,  877, 
1343,  3965,  2720).  Here,  it  seems,  Denis  Pyra- 
mus is  to  be  classed  with  Wace  and  Guillaume  le 
Clerc,  while  in  Marie's  Lais  we  find  a  case  of  the 
later  merciier.3 

Two  or  three  other  questions  of  language  *  are 
dismissed  either  with  a  hasty  generalization,  or 
overlooked.  At  page  18  the  editor  states  that 
"  -ant  does  not  rhyme  regularly  with  -ent  :  cp., 
however,  1459,  talent :  portant. "  Mrs.  Ravenel 
omits  to  mention  that  at  1587  we  have  talent : 
orient,  and  that  orient  (not  orianf)  seems  assured 
for  the  author  (cp.  400,  1179,  1471,  2090).  A 
glance  into  Suchier's  Grammar  (p.  67)  would 
have  shown  that  the  Norman  poets,  including 

2  The  editor  leaves  unchanged  throughout  the  incorrect 
li  (tonic  masculine)  in  spite  of  the  rather  broad  hint  of 
the  rime  hi  :  ambedui  (3443,  and  3603). 

8Cp.  Suchier's  Orammatik,  p.  24. 

1 1  refer  to  the  questions  (1)  as  to  the  metrical  value  of 
words  of  the  type  of  eiistes,  empereiir,  decoleiir,  etc.,  in 
which  syneresis  would  be  surprising  indeed  ;  (2)  as  to  the 
metrical  value  olmatadie.  veraie,  -eient,  etc.;  (3)  as  to  the 
word  evesque,  which  Denis  Pyramus  seems  at  times  to  use 
as  a  word  of  two  syllables. 


196 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


Marie,  employ  talent  and  talant ;   to  these  Denis 
Pyramus  should  have  beeii  added. 

Insufficient  care  has  been  given  to  the  punctu- 
ation. At  times  a  dependent  phrase  is  cut  off 
from  the  principal  clause  (1685-6),  or  from  its 
verb  (1841).  Indeed,  the  editor  not  infrequently 
places  a  period  in  the  beau  milieu  of  a  sentence 
(1297,  2119,  2122,  2309). 5 

As  a  linguistic  study  the  work  is  somewhat  pre- 
tentious and,  on  the  whole,  superficial.  It  can 
hardly  be  said  to  be  worthy  of  the  tradition  estab- 
lished by  Prof.  Meuger  at  Bryn  Mawr  College. 
Had  the  author  omitted  nearly  all  the  introduc- 
tory matter  ;  had  she  attacked  the  text  soberly 
and  carefully,  aiming  to  assemble  and  arrange  all 
the  material  furnished  (much  of  it  is  of  great 
interest) ;  had  she  then  succeeded  in  formulating 
satisfactory  answers  to  a  few  of  the  more  important 
questions  of  metre  and  grammar  ;  had  she  ap- 
pended to  the  whole  a  fairly  complete  glossary — 
a  real  and  important  service  would  have  been  ren- 
dered to  Romance  studies.  As  the  work  lies  before 
us,  there  is  doubt  whether — aside  from  the  new 
copy  of  the  manuscript  (executed  by  others)  and 
with  the  further  possible  exception  of  the  asso- 
ciation of  Denis  Pyramus  with  Adgar,  as  men- 
tioned above — this  effort  on  the  part  of  the  editor 
has  led  to  any  important  results.  In  fact,  as  G. 
Paris  said  of  Mr.  Arnold's  edition  of  the  Vie  Saint 
Edmund,  "  This  edition  can  render  but  very  little 
service  during  the  period  which  must  elapse  before 
a  better  one  appears. ' ' 


T.  ATKINSON  JENKINS. 


University  of  Chicago. 


The  King's  English  [Preface  signed  H.  W.  F. 
and  F.  G.  F.].  Second  edition.  Oxford, 
Clarendon  Press,  1906. 

The  King's  English,  the  second  edition  of  which 
follows  immediately  on  the  first,  is  a  new  instance 
of  an  old  and  well-known  type  of  composition. 
Its  title  might  have  been  Five  Thousand  Errors  of 
English  Speech  •  for  it  takes  its  place  with  that 
long  list  of  books  which  strive  to  teach  one  how  to 
ppoak  and  write  English  by  telling  what  one  may 
not  do.  The  compilers  have  shown  great  industry 
and  not  a  little  judgment  in  collecting  their  ex- 
amples. Among  British  sources,  the  newspapers 
and  a  few  modern  authors  such  as  Stevenson, 
Huxley,  Benson,  Miss  Corelli,  etc.,  are  chiefly 

5  The  line  references  in  the  Introduction  are  provokingly 
inexact.  On  page  18,  out  of  19  references,  seven  are  in- 
correct. In  a  cursorv  reading,  serious  misprints  were 
noted  in  11.  145,  563,  1611,  1818,  2327,  3840. 


drawn  upon.  The  British  citations  have  thus  the 
pertinency  of  contemporary  use.  The  same  can- 
not be  said  for  the  examples  from  American  Eng- 
lish, Emerson  and  Prescott  being  the  only  Amer- 
ican writers  from  whom  frequent  illustrations  are 
taken.  These  authors  serve  fairly  well,  however, 
to  point  the  compilers'  moral,  which  is  the 
viciousuess  of  American  usage.  The  material  of 
the  book  is  well  ordered,  so  that  one  inclined  to 
use  it  can  do  so  conveniently  and  rapidly. 

The  one  canon  of  use  which  the  book  recog- 
nizes is  correctness.  It  assumes  a  sort  of  hard 
and  fast  standard  etiquette  of  English  speech, 
familiar,  of  course,  to  the  compilers  but  assumedly 
unknown  to  the  rest  of  the  world.  This  etiquette 
the  compilers  graciously  set  forth  for  the  guidance 
of  others  less  fortunate  than  they.  Much  of  their 
counsel  is  undoubtedly  good,  as  indeed  is  true  of 
most  conventional  books  of  etiquette  ;  but  the  tone 
of  authority,  not  to  say  superiority,  with  which  it 
is  presented  is  surely  calculated  to  drive  all  except 
the  most  humble-minded  into  a  perverse  rebellion 
against  even  such  of  their  decisions  as  are  innocent. 
There  are,  however,  instances  enough  which  offer 
ground  for  reasonable  difference  of  opinion.  Open- 
ing the  book  at  random,  we  find  illustrations  on 
almost  every  page.  Thus  the  following  sentence, 
from  the  London  Times,  "  A  boy  dressed  up  as  a 
girl  and  a  girl  dressed  up  as  a  boy  is,  to  the  eye 
at  least,  the  same  thing, ' '  we  are  told  must  have 
the  verb  in  the  plural.  Yet  on  logical  grounds 
how  easy  it  is  to  defend  either  singular  or  plural 
in  the  sentence.  In  the  following  sentence  from 
Stevenson,  ' '  But  though  I  would  not  willingly 
part  with  such  scraps  of  science,  I  do  not  set  the 
same  store  by  them,"  the  compilers  ask  us  to 
change  would  to  should.  Thackeray  is  chastised 
for  writing  that  instead  of  whether  in  the  sentence, 
"  I  doubt,  I  say,  that  Becky  would  have  selected 
either  of  these  young  men."  For  the  sentence, 
What  wonder  that  the  most  docile  of  Russians 
should  be  crying  out,  '  how  long  ! '  we  are  told 
that  the  '  correct '  punctuation  would  be  :  — 
long  ?  "  ?  If  this  is  correct,  let  us  even  dwell 
in  our  error  ! 

The  defenders  of  King's  English  are — not  un- 
expectedly though  quite  gratuitously—  the  sworn 
enemies  of  American  English,  Mr.  Kipling,  for 
his  sins,  being  classed  with  the  Americans.  The 
compilers  admit  that  Mr.  Kipling  is  "a  very 
great  writer,"  but  strongly  fear  that  "he  and  his 
school  are  Americanizing"  the  British  public. 
This  Americanization  is  shown  in  "  a  sort  of  re- 
morseless and  scientific  efficiency  in  the  choice  of 
epithets."  Several  illustrations  are  quoted  which 
are  said  to  be  "extremely  efficient" — their  effi- 
ciency apparently  being  their  defect.  The  com- 
pilers wisely  attempt  no  logical  defense  of  their 
position,  but  conclude  with  the  following  familiar 


June,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


197 


echo  of  insular  British  opinion  :  ' '  Any  one  who 
agrees  with  us  in  this  will  see  in  it  an  additional 
reason  for  jealously  excluding  American  words  or 
phrases.  The  English  and  the  American  lan- 
guage and  literature  are  both  good  things  ;  but 
they  are  better  apart  than  mixed." 

Despite  some  wise  remarks  about  cheap  and 
slang  phraseology,  the  compilers  use  such  English 
as  "  reach-mo-down  archaisms  "  ;  neglecting  their 
own  advice  with  respect  to  the  sparing  use  of 
foreign  quotations,  within  the  space  of  two  pages 
they  employ  four  trite  Latin  phrases,  mutatis 
'niutandin,  ex  officio,  corpus  vile,  and  reductio  ad 
absurdam  (twice) ;  and  in  the  face  of  their  own 
severe  strictures  on  polysyllabic  humor  and  the 
use  of  the  big  word,  they  have  not  been  saved 
from  speaking  of  ' '  bad  hypertrophy  of  the  gram- 
matical conscience." 


GEORGE  PHILIP  KRAPP. 


Columbia  University. 


The  Plays  and  Poems  of  Robert  Greene.  Edited 
with  Introduction  and  Notes  by  J.  CHURTON 
COLLINS,  Litt.  D.  Oxford  :  Clarendon  Press, 
1905.  2  vols.,  8vo.,  xii  +  319  and  415  pp. 

That  the  value  of  an  edition  of  this  kind  will 
depend  almost  altogether  on  the  faithfulness  with 
which  the  original  text  is  reproduced,  or  else  the 
care  with  which  it  is  freed  from  obvious  errors,  is 
a  truth  which  is  fully  realized  by  Professor  Col- 
lins. "  P^ach  play,"  he  tells  us  in  the  preface, 
"was  transcribed  literally  from  the  oldest  Quarto 
extaut ;  .  .  .  and  to  the  text  of  these  Quartos  my 
text  scrupulously  adheres,  except  where  the  read- 
ing of  some  of  the  later  Quartos  either  makes  sense 
of  nonsense  or  presents  a  reading  which  is  obvi- 
ously and  strikingly  preferable."  Criticising  pre- 
vious editions  of  Greene,  he  states  that  no  other 
edition  would  have  been  necessary  had  Dyce 
"adhered  faithfully  to  the  original,  had  he  been 
thorough  in  collation,"  and  less  sparing  in  his 
notes  and  introductions.  Grosart's  judgment 
' '  was  unhappily  not  equal  to  his  enthusiasm,  his 
scholarship  to  his  ambition,  or  his  accuracy  to 
his  diligence."  Accordingly  when  to  Professor 
Collins  was  entrusted  the  preparation  of  this  edi- 
tion, he  determined,  he  says,  ' '  to  spare  no  pains 
to  make  it,  so  far  at  least  as  the  text  was  con- 
cerned, a  final  one. ' ' 

If,  then,  the  reviewer  of  this  work  lays  stress 
on  the  correctness  or  incorrectness  of  the  text,  no 
injustice  will  be  done  thereby.  The  criticisms 
which  follow  are  based  on  independent  exami- 
nation of  several  of  the  Quartos,  most  of  which 


are  to  be  found  in  the  British  Museum,  and  a 
careful  comparison  of  their  text  with  that  of 
Professor  Collins.  It  is  believed  that  very  few 
of  the  errors  cited  here  have  been  noted  elsewhere 
in  print.1 

Many  textual  errors  are  merely  misprints.  So 
apparently  are  to  be  judged  in  the  text  of  Alphon- 
tus,  1.  86, ' '  little  "  for  "  litle  "  ;  275,  "  renowne  ' ' 
for  "reuowme";  306,  "than"  for  "then"; 
489,  "to"  for  "do";  569  and  615,  "Atropos" 
for  "Attropos";  f.  u.  to  p.  96,  "Micos"  for 
"Milos";  in  Orlando  Furioso,  1.  86,  f.  n.,  "Cal- 
vars"  for  "Caluars";  in  James  IV,  1.  652,  f.  n., 
"tombe"  for  "tomb";  2451,  f.  n.,  "learns" 
for  ' '  Icarue. ' '  In  spite  of  the  exercise  of  every 
precaution  misprints  will  creep  into  all  published 
works,  but  certainly  in  the  reprinting  of  exceed- 
ingly rare  Elizabethan  texts,  scholars  have  a  right 
to  demand  that  the  number  of  such  errors  be 
reduced  to  a  minimum. 

In  many  other  places  the  editor  or  the  tran- 
scriber silently  corrects  the  reading  of  his  original. 
Throughout  James  IV  the  names  of  the  speakers 
occur  in  very  different  form  from  that  of  the 
Quarto.  For  example,  the  first  three  speeches 
are  assigned  to  "Boh.",  "Ober.",  and  "Boh." 
respectively,  where  the  Quarto  spells  out  each 
word.  In  the  same  play  1.  1691,  the  Quarto  has, 
"car  vous  est  mort,"  but  Professor  Collins  prints 
without  note,  "  car  uous  estes  morte."  Again,  1. 
627,  Q.  reads  "  tene  " ;  Collins  silently  changes 
to  "leuy."  In  Friar  Bacon,  354,  occurs  the 
word  ' '  price ' '  in  the  text,  and  in  a  footnote, 
' '  prize ' '  is  cited  as  a  variant  of  Dyce  and  Ward  ; 
but  it  is  nowhere  stated  that  the  three  quartos  of 
the  play  consistently  read  "prise."  At  1.  412  of 
the  same  play  we  have  "vale  of  Troy,"  where 
again  all  the  quartos  read  "vale  by  Troy,"  and 
the  correction  is  silently  made.  George  a  Greene, 
208,  Collins  reads  "  <  and  >  Sir  Nicholas  Man- 
nering."  Since  conical  brackets  are  used  in  this 
edition  to  indicate  the  insertion  of  words  not  found 
in  the  Quartos,  one  is  surprised  in  turning  to  the 
Quarto  to  see  the  words,  ' '  and  Nicholas ' '  in  place 
of  the  three  words  expected.  In  the  same  play, 
lines  56-60,  64-66,  79-82,  114-115,  119-121, 
125-128,  134-138,  140-144  ;  and  in  James  IV, 
lines  1127-1129,  1154-1155,  1168-1171,  and 
1179-1182,  all  of  which  the  Quartos  print  as 
verse,  are  silently  changed  to  prose.  Perhaps 
Professor  Collins  was  justified  in  making  each  one 
of  these  changes,  but  his  readers  should  have  been 
notified  of  the  fact  that  they  are  changes. 

If  Dyce  is  to   be  criticised  for  not  adhering 


1  For  a  more  extended  review  of  the  book  and  another 
Jist  of  textual  blunders,  the  reader  is  referred  to  the 
article  of  W.  W.  Greg  in  the  Modern  Language  Review, 
Cambridge,  Eng.,  i,  238-251. 


198 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


"faithfully  to  the  original,"  one  would  not  expect 
to  find  in  this  text  even  minor  errors  due  to  delib- 
erate carelessness  on  the  part  of  the  editor  or  of  the 
transcriber.  Yet  one  cannot  read  through  the 
plays  without  gaining  the  impression  that  words 
have  been  capitalized  entirely  at  random,  and 
according  to  no  fixed  principle.  That  this  is  not 
due  to  the  editor's  faithful  adherence  to  the 
original  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  in  the  text  of 
Alphomus,  for  example,  capitals  are  employed 
where  they  are  not  used  in  the  Quarto  at  lines  23, 
43,  45,  116,  187,  235,  274,  275,  281,  305,  372, 
394,  434,  etc.  In  the  same  play,  "and"  is 
printed  in  place  of  the  "  &  "  of  the  Quarto  at 
lines  47,  127,  415,  933,  etc.  This  last  mistake 
occurs  again  in  James  IV  at  lines  37,  49,  272, 
295,  748,  1481,  etc. ;  but  the  complementary 
blunder,  the  printing  of  the  ampersand  for  the 
"and"  of  the  Quarto,  is  found  in  James  IV, 
195,  224,  254,  255,  283,  285,  1111,  1115,  1420, 
1426,  1437,  1471,  etc.  When  errors  like  these 
occur  with  such  frequency,  one's  faith  in  the 
finality  of  this  text  is  rudely  shaken. 

But  after  all,  these  may  be  matters  of  detail 
which  of  themselves  are  of  little  importance. 
Carelessness  becomes  more  reprehensible  when  it 
leads  an  editor  into  absolute  misstatements  of  fact 
concerning  the  texts  to  which  he  asserts  that  his 
own  text  "scrupulously  adheres."  Such  a  mis- 
statement  occurs  in  the  Alphoiisus  with  reference 
to  the  stage  direction  after  line  174.  In  a  foot- 
note Professor  Collins  says  that  in  the  Quarto  the 
words  are  not  italicized  but  are  printed  ' '  as  part 
of  text."  An  examination  of  the  Quarto  in  ques- 
tion will  show  that  the  words  there  are  italicized 
and  are  not  printed  as  part  of  the  text.2  In 
George  a  Greene,  line  87,  Professor  Collins  cor- 
rects the  spacing  of  the  verse  in  the  Quarto, 
stating  in  a  footnote  that  the  Quarto  spacing  is 
"bonnet  |  To  the  bench."  In  reality,  the  spacing 
of  the  Quarto  is  "  bonnet  to  |  The  bench."  Inas- 
much as  the  sole  purpose  of  the  note  is  to  give  the 
line  in  its  original  spacing,  the  error  is  worthy  of 
remark.  Orlando  Furioso,  line  37,  "Sauours"; 
Dyce  is  accredited  with  the  variant,  ' '  favours, ' ' 
which  in  fact  is  the  reading  of  both  Quartos  of 
the  play.  James  IV,  590  reads  :  ' '  For  by  the 
persons  sights  there  hangs  some  ill."  A  footnote 
informs  readers  that  in  the  Quarto  the  word  next 
to  the  last  in  the  line  reads  "from,"  but  that 
Grosart  prints  it  ' '  som  ....  as  if  from  Q. "  In 
a  further  note  on  the  line  in  the  same  volume, 
page  354,  Professor  Collins  observes  :  "This  is 
very  difficult  ;  the  '  from  '  plainly  makes  no  sense. 
Dyce  silently  prints  '  some '  and  Dr.  Grosart 
'  som.'  '  Grosart' s  silence  is  commendable,  since 


*  Mr.  Greg,  in  his  review,  calls  attention  to  a  precisely 
similar  vnisstatemeut  as  to  the  stage  direction  after  1.  334. 


"som"  is  the  exact  reading  of  the  Quarto,  and 
the  ' '  from  "  is  of  modern  manufacture. 

Thus  it  may  be  gathered  that  in  spite  of  the 
editor's  declaration  of  his  scrupulous  adherence 
to  the  originals,  his  text  is  carelessly  printed  from 
beginning  to  end.  Of  the  thoroughness  of  his 
collation,  even  less  is  to  be  said.  A  very  few 
illustrations  will  suffice  to  make  clear  his  short- 
comings in  this  respect. 

In  the  first  twenty  lines  of  the  Looking  Glasse 
it  is  not  stated  that  in  the  opening  stage  direction 
Qq.  2,  3,  read  "  Greet  "  ;  that  in  line  1,  Q.  3  gives 
the  speaker's  name,  "Rasiii,"  and  Qq.  2,  4,  read 
"triumphant"  for  "  tryumphant "  ;  that  inline 
2,  Qq.  3,  4,  have  ' '  pompe ' ' ;  that  in  line  4,  Qq. 

2,  4,  read  "  Caualieres  "  ;   that  in  line  5,  Qq.  2, 

3,  4,  read  ' '  Rasnies ' ' ;    that  in  line  7,  Q.  2  has 
"fortuns";    that  in  line   8,    Qq.    2,   3,  4,  have 
"Rasnies,"   Q.  2,  "excellency,"   Q.  3,  "  excel- 
lencie  "  ;  that  in  line  10,  the  reading  of  Qq.  2,  3, 

4,  is  "streames";  that  in   line    11,   Q.  4  reads 
"City";    that  in   line    12,   Q.  4  reads   "dayes 
iourneyes  "  ;  that  in  line  17,  the  same  Quarto  has 
"  footstoole,"  and  in  line  18  has  "  feet."  Similar 
confusion  may  be  observed  in  the  variants  given 
for  the  text  of  the  same  play,  on  page  157  of  the 
first  volume.     There  as  to  line  407   it  is  stated 
that  "so"  is  the  reading  of  Qq.  2,  3,  5  ;    it  ia 
also  the  reading  of  Q.  4.     In  line  411  "  Remi- 
lias  "  is  the  reading  of  Qq.  2,  4  as  well  as  of  Q.  5. 
In  line  412  "  excellencie "   is  found  not  only  in 
Q.  5,  as   stated,  but  also  in   Qq.  2,  3.     In  line 
417  "  eye"  is  the  reading  not  alone  of  Qq.  2,  5, 
but  of  Qq.  3,  4  as  well.     In  line  420  "plac'd" 
is  the  reading  of  Q.  3,  "plaste"  of  Q.  4,  where 
the  reverse  statement  is  made.     In  line  424,  Qq. 
2,  3,  4,  contain  the  variant  "Mustering"  though 
the  fact  is  not  noted.     One  effect  of  all  these  omis- 
sions is  to  make  the  text  of  Q.  5,  which  "  was 
apparently  unknown  to  Dyce, ' '  seem  much  more 
important  than  it  really  is.     Throughout  this  play 
Professor  Collins  has  apparently  noted  nowhere 
that  Q.  3  reads  consistently  "Remelia,"  when  all 
the  other  quartos  have  ' '  Remilia. ' ' 

Another  illustration  of  the  thoroughness  with 
which  the  collating  has  been  done,  may  be  taken 
from  the  text  of  Friar  Bacon,  vol.  n,  page  19. 
Variants  given  on  this  page  are  :  "  63,  surpast, 
Q.  3  ;  66,  than]  then,  Qq.  2,  3  ;  69,  Court  of 
Loue,  Qq.  2,  3  ;  78,  Pallas,  Qq.  2,  3."  These 
variants  are  not  mentioned  :  64,  Damsel,  Q.  3  ; 
65,  townes,  Qq.  2,  3  ;  67,  honors,  Qq.  2,  3  ;  70, 
selfe,  Q.  2  ;  76,  Milkehouse,  Q.  2  ;  80,  chees,  Q. 
3  ;  81,  cristall,  Q.  2,  cristal,  Q.  3  ;  86,  work,  Q. 
3  ;  87,  Tarquin,  Q.  3,  Rome,  Qq.  2,  3  ;  88,  louely 
maid,  Q.  2,  lovely  maid,  Q.  3  ;  93,  learn,  Q.  3  ; 
96,  diuells,  Q.  2,  devils,  Q.  3.  It  is  acknowledged 
that  each  one  of  the  variants  omitted  indicates 
merely  a  difference  in  spelling  among  the  various 


June,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


199 


Quartos,  but  if  the  editor  does  not  care  to  note 
orthographic  differences,  why  should  he  include 
in  his  brief  list  the  variants  "than  "  for  "  then  " 
and  "Pallas"  for  "  Pallace  "  ?  The  inclusion 
of  such  variants  leads  the  reader  to  believe  that  a 
thorough  collation  has  been  attempted.  Textual 
omissions  or  errors  like  these  might  be  cited  from 
almost  every  page  of  the  edition.  Those  men- 
tioned have  been  chosen  practically  at  random. 

Other  features  of  this  work  must  be  passed  over 
briefly.  The  elucidatory  notes,  though  judicious, 
will  not  prove  especially  illuminating  to  ordinary 
students.  The  special  introductions  to  the  plays 
are  apparently  products  of  haste  and  frequently 
contradict  statements  made  elsewhere  in  the  vol- 
umes.3 To  the  General  Introduction  the  editor 
would  probably  attach  more  value  than  to  any 
other  part  of  the  work.  His  discussion  of  Greene's 
life  and  writings,  while  not  marked  by  brilliancy 
of  form  or  treatment,  displays  sanity  in  dealing 
with  questions  which  have  certainly  provoked  the 
exercise  of  other  qualities  in  the  past.  In  par- 
ticular, his  rejection  of  Grosart's  theories  as  to 
Greene's  ordination  to  the  ministry  and  the  au- 
thorship of  Selimus  will  command  general  assent. 
It  is  to  be  regretted  that  Professor  Collins  did  not 
know  that  he  was  anticipated  in  both  cases,  as 
well  as  in  his  proposed  chronological  order  of 
Greene's  plays,  by  Professor  Gayley,  whose  in- 
troduction to  the  Friar  Bacon*  is  the  most  sen- 
sible and  accurate  discussion  of  Greene's  work  that 
is  now  in  print.  Professor  Collins' s  similar  ignor- 
ance of  Professor  Manly' s  text  of  the  James  IV* 
with  the  emendations  there  proposed,  is  another 
cause  for  regret. 

But  most  of  those  who  are  attracted  to  the 
book,  especially  that  large  class  of  scholars  to 
whom  the  original  Quartos  are  inaccessible,  will 
be  disposed  to  welcome  the  publication  primarily 
as  an  authoritative  text  of  Greene's  plays.  Their 
expectations  will  not  be  realized.  For  the  state- 
ments made  in  the  preface  as  to  the  fidelity  and 
care  with  which  the  most  important  part  of  the 
task  has  been  undertaken,  are  totally  misleading. 


ROBERT  ADGEK  LAW. 


University  of  Texas. 


s  For  example,  opinions  expressed  concerning  the  date 
of  Alphorusux,  I,  70,  74-75  are  inconsistent  with  I,  39-42 
on  the  same  subject. 

4  Representative  English  Comedies,  New  York,  1903,  pp. 
397  ff. 

6  Specimens  of  ike  Pre-Shakespearcan  Drama,  Boston, 
1900,  n,  327  3. 


CORRESPONDENCE. 
TELL  ME,  WHERE  is  FANCY  BRED. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — Has  the  immediate  source  ever  been 
pointed  out  of  the  song  in  Merchant  of  Venice, 
in,  2  : 

Tell  me,  where  is  fancy  bred, 
Or  in  the  heart  or  in  the  head  ? 
How  begot,  how  nourished? 

Keply,  reply. 

It  is  engender' d  in  the  eyes, 
With  gazing  fed  ;  etc.  ? 

A  remote  source  is  certainly  the  sonnet  of  Jacopo 
da  Lentino,  quoted  by  d'Ancona  in  his  Manuele 
della  Letteratura  Italiana,  Florence,  1904, — i,  62: 

NATURA  E  OBIOINE  D'AMOEE. 

Amore  e  nn  disio  che  vien  dal  core, 
Per  1'abbondanza  di  gran  piacimento  ; 
E  gli  ocelli  in  prima  generan  1' Amore, 
E  Jo  core  li  da  nutricamento. 

Bene  e  alcuna  fiata  uomo  amatore 
Senza  vedere  suo  'nnamoramento  ; 
Ma  quell'  amor,  che  stringe  con  furore, 
Da  la  vista  de  gli  ocelli  ha  nascimento. 

Che  gli  occhi  rappresentano  a  lo  core 
D'ogni  eosa  che  veden  bono  e  rio, 
Com'  e  formata  naturalemente. 

E  lo  cor  che  di  cio  e  concepitore, 
Immagina  ;  e  piace  quel  disio  ; 
E  questo  Amore  regna  fra  la  gente. 

Perhaps  some  student  of  sources  and  of  the 
various  versions  of  conventional  themes  will  find 
an  interest  in  tracing  the  origins  of  this  thirteenth 
century  sonnet,  and  the  links  between  it  and 
Shakespeare's  song. 

L.  M.  HARRIS. 

College  of  Charleston. 


MARY  LUCRETIA  DAVIDSON. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — I  beg  to  call  to  the  attention  of  your 
readers  a  biography  of  the  American  poetess, 
Mary  Lucretia  Davidson,  in  Italian,  with  selec- 
tions from  her  poems,  by  Professor  G.  V.  Calle- 
gari  of  the  University  of  Padua.1  It  is  nothing 
new  that  the  study  of  English  literature  should  be 
cultivated  by  learned  Italians,  but  that  an  author 
so  little  known  in  her  own  country  as  Lucretia 
Davidson  should  be  made  the  subject  of  special 
study  is  remarkable.  Some  explanation  is  to  be 
found  in  the  preface  to  this  edition,  from  which 
one  gathers  that  there  is  a  personal  and  senti- 
mental element,  connected  with  the  play  by  Gia- 

1  Lucrezia  Maria  Davidson,  con  un  saggio  delle  sue 
poesie.  Padma,  Verona,  Drucker,  1906. 


200 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  6. 


cometti  in  which  the  life  of  the  poetesg  is  drama- 
tized, in  the  making  of  the  book.  It  is,  therefore, 
a  labor  of  love,  but  none  the  less  creditable  to  the 
author  and  his  nation,  as  evidence  of  their  far- 
reaching  interest  in  literature,  and  flattering  to  us. 


J.  E.  SHAW. 


Johns  Hopkins  Univernty. 


AN  UNNOTED  SOURCE  OF  L' Allegro. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — The  various  editors  of  the  works  of 
Milton  have  determined  many  of  the  sources  of 
L' Allegro,  but  one  source  seems  to  have  been 
unobserved.  I  refer  to  the  introductory  verses 
of  the  narrative  lyric,  '  The  Sunne  when  he  had 
spred  his  raies,'  which  appeared  in  the  second 
edition  of  Tottle's  Miscellany,  among  the  poems 
attributed  to  'Unknown  Authors.'  The  opening 
verses  of  the  poem  read  as  follows  : 

The  Sunne  when  he  had  spred  his  raies, 

And  shewde  his  face  ten  thousand  waies, 

Ten  thousand  things  do  then  begin, 

To  shew  the  life  that  they  are  in. 
5    The  heanen  shewes  liuely  art  and  hue, 

Of  sundry  shapes  and  colours  new, 

And  laughes  vpon  the  earth  anone. 

The  earth  as  cold  as  any  stone, 

Wet  in  the  teares  of  her  own  kinde  : 
10     Gins  then  to  take  a  ioyfull  minde. 

For  well  she  feeles  that  out  and  out, 

The  sunne  doth  warrae  her  round  about, 

And  dries  her  children  tenderly, 

And  shewes  them  forth  full  orderly, 
15    The  raountaines  hye  and  how  they  stand, 

The  valies  and  the  great  maine  land, 

The  trees,  the  herbes,  the  towers  strong, 

The  castels  and  the  riuers  long. 

And  euen  for  ioy  thus  of  his  heate, 
20    She  shevreth  furth  her  pleasures  great. 

And  sleepes  no  more  but  sendeth  forth 

Her  clergions  her  own  dere  worth, 

To  mount  and  five  vp  to  the  ay  re, 

Where  then  they  sing  in  order  fayre, 
25     And  tell  in  song  full  merely, 

flow  they  haue  slept  full  qnietly 

That  night  about  their  mothers  sides. 

And  when  they  haue  song  more  besides, 

Then  fall  they  to  their  mothers  breastes, 
30     Where  els  they  fede  or  take  their  restes. 

The  hunter  thensoundes  out  his  home. 

And  rangeth  straite  through  wood  and  cornc. 

On  hillos  then  shew  the  Ewe  and  Lambe, 

And  euery  yong  one  with  his  dambe. 
35    Then  loners  walke  and  tell  their  tale, 

Both  of  their  blisse  and  of  their  bale, 

Anil  how  they  serue,  and  how  they  do, 

And  how  their  ladv  loues  them  to. 

(Arber's  reprint,  p.  230.) 

The  general  similarity  of  this  succession  of 
morning  pictures  to  those  in  L' Allegro  is  of 
course  apparent,  but  the  correspondence  is  not 


merely  a  general  one.  Thus  with  verses  1-6, 
compare  L' Allegro  60-62  : 

Where  the  great  Sun  begins  his  state, 
Robed  in  flames  and  amber  light, 
The  clouds  in  thousand  liveries  dight. 

With  verses  15-18,  compare  L' Allegro  73-78  : 

Mountains  on  whose  barren  breast 
The  labouring  clouds  dp  often  rest ; 
Meadows  trim,  with  daisies  pied  ; 
Shallow  brooks,  and  rivers  wide  ; 
Towers  and  battlements  it  sees 
Bosomed  high  in  tufted  trees. 

With  verses  31-32,  compare  L' Allegro  53-56  : 

Oft  listening  how  the  hounds  and  horn 
Cheerly  rouse  the  slumbering  morn, 
From  the  side  of  some  hoar  hill. 
Through  the  high  wood  echoing  shrill. 

With  verses  35-38,  compare  L' Allegro  67-68  : 

And  every  shepherd  tells  his  tale 
Under  the  hawthorn  in  the  dale. 

Ever  since  Warton  first  proposed  that  'the 
word  tale  does  not  here  imply  stories  told  by 
shepherds,  but  that  it  is  a  technical  term  for 
numbering  sheep,'  opinion  has  been  divided  as  to 
the  meaning  of  this  last  couplet.  In  support  of 
his  position,  Warton  cites  W.  Browne,  Shep- 
heard's  Pipe  (1614),  Egl.  v.  : 

Where  the  shepheards  from  the  fold, 
All  their  bleating  charges  told; 
And,  full  careful,  search' d  if  one 
Of  all  the  flock  was  hurt  or  gone  ; 

and  Dry  den,  Vergil,  Bucol.  3,  33  : 

And  once  she  takes  the  tale  of  all  my  lambs. 

(Todd,  Milton's  Poet.  Wks.  (1842)  3,  394). 

On  the  other  hand,  the  more  popular  interpreta- 
tion, that  the  shepherd  talks  of  love,  is,  as  Masson 
observes,  '  more  pleasing, '  and  it  is  a  custom  as 
old  as  the  Greek  pastoral  life.  This  interpretation 
receives  weighty  support  from  the  comparison 
instituted  above.1 

FREDERICK  M.  PADELFORD. 

University  of  Washington. 


'Gavin  Douglas's  Prolong  of  the  twell  bulk  (cf.  Wartpn, 
ill,  220  f. ),  which  for  other  reasons  should  be  kept  in  mind 
in  connection  with  the  poem  cited  from  Tottle's  Miscdlany, 
is  also  sympathetic  with  that  other  '  tale'  that  always  will 
be  told  : 

And  thochtful  luffaris  rowmys  to  and  fro 
To  leis  thar  payne,  and  plene  thar  joly  wo  ; 

but  the  satisfaction  of  a  'more  pleasing'  conclusion,  the 
abettor  of  many  a  popular  fallacy,  must  be  restrained  when, 
as  in  the  present  instance,  there  is  no  escape  from  the 
tamer  satisfaction  of  advocating  what  is  indisputably  clear. 
— J.  W.  B. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES 


VOL.  XXII. 


BALTIMORE,   NOVEMBER,    1907. 


No.  7. 


ALL  OF  THE  FIVE  FICTITIOUS  ITALIAN 
EDITIONS  OF  WRITINGS  OF  MACHI- 
AVELLI  AND  THREE  OF  THOSE  OF 
PIETRO  ARETINO  PRINTED  BY  JOHN 
WOLFE  OF  LONDON  (1584-1589).  III. 

Oiie  striking  point  of  this  list  is  the  absence  of 
licenses  for  all  books,  whether  Psalms  of  David  or 
Ragionamenti  of  Pietro  Aretiuo  from  1584  up  to 
the  Arte  della  Querra,  s.  a.  and  1587,  and  then 
again  their  regular  presence  in  all  cases,  whether 
religious  books  or  Machiavelli  and  Pietro  Aretino, 
after  that  time.  The  explanation  for  this  is  found 
in  the  Star  Chamber  Decree  of  June,  1586,  men- 
tioned above.  For  while  the  Lambard  draft  of 
an  Act  of  Parliament1  in  1580  did  not  wish  to 
meddle  with  unpatented  books  printed  in  a  foreign 
language,  this  decree  does  not  recognize  any  ex- 
ception as  far  as  the  language  is  concerned  and 
demands  'that  no  person — shall  ymprint — any 
booke — Except  the  same  book — hath  been  heereto- 
fore  allowed,  or  hereafter  shall  be  allowed  before 
the  ympriutinge  thereof,  accordinge  to  th[e] 
order  appoynted  by  the  Queenes  raaiesties  Iniunc- 
tyons,  And  been  first  seen  and  pervsed  by  the 
Archbishop  of  CANTERBURY  and  Bishop  of  LON- 
DON;' reservations  being  only  made  for  her 
Majesty's  service.  The  Arte  della  Querra  can 
only  apparently  be  posterior  to  this  date  because 
there  is  no  reason  to  assume  that  an  application 
for  a  license  would  have  been  refused,  since  even 
the  English  translation  of  it  could  appear  re- 
peatedly and  had  been  dedicated  to  the  Queen  in 
person.  Hence  its  preparation  had  probably  been 
began  before  the  issue  of  that  decree  and  its  print 
may  have  been  completed  in  1586  because  the  title 
page  with  1587  is  a  substitute  for  the  original  one 

'This  draft  proposed  to  establish  Governors  of  the 
English  Print,  without  whose  permission  no  work  or 
writing  'eyther  in  the  Inglishe  tongue  only,  or  in  any 
other  language  and  the  Inglishe  tongue  iointly'  should 
henceforth  be  printed.  It  was  designed  to  check  the  bad 
moral  effects  of  the  ever  increasing  print  of  light  literature. 


and  therefore  does  not  prove  that  the  book  itself 
was  printed  in  that  year.  The  Historic  which 
likewise  bear  the  d:ite  of  1587  are  later  than  it 
and  presuppose  its  existence.2  The  Pastor  Fido, 
on  the  other  hand,  may  have  been  exempted  from 
the  requirement  of  a  license  because  it  was  destined 
for  a  royal  wedding  and  not  printed  at  Wolfe's 
but  at  the  editor's  expense. 

Another  striking  thing  is  the  absolute  indiffer- 
ence towards  actual  fact  in  dating  not  only 
reprints  but  also  original  publications  from  a 
foreign  place,  or  even  from  two  different  places  at 
the  same  time,  e.  g.,  the  Historie  from  Piacenza, 
the  Descrittione  from  Anversa,  the  Asino  d '  Oro 
from  Roma,  the  Columbeis  from  Londinum  and 
Lugdunum,  the  Arte  della  Guerra  from  Palermo 
and  nowhere.  The  reason  for  such  a  singular  pro- 
ceeding lay  in  business  considerations.  As  Lon- 
don was  located  in  the  '  ultime  parti  di  Europa ' 
and  as  in  particular  the  printing  of  Italian  books 
there  was  still  such  a  new  thing,  London  pub- 
lishers were  afraid  that  the  date  of  London  might 
put  their  books  at  a  discount  in  Italy  and  other 
parts  of  the  continent.  Testimony  to  this  effect  is 
borne  by  no  lesser  man  than  Giordano  Bruno  in 
the  interrogatory  to  which  he  was  subjected  by  the 
Holy  Inquisition  at  Venice  in  1592. 3  Inter  [rega- 
ins] :  Se  li  libri  stampati  sono  in  effetto  stati  stam- 
pati  nelle  ciita  e  luochi  secondo  I' impression  loro, 
o  pur  altrove.  Resp  \ondit\  — tutti  quelli  che  dicono 
nella  impression  loro,  che  sono  stampati  in  Venetia, 
sono  stampati  in  Inghilterra,  etfu  il  stampator,  che 
wise  metterve  che  era.no  ttumpati  in  Venetia  per 

2The  Arte  is  the  only  volume  of  the  series  which 
appeared  without  a  preface  to  the  Reader  and  with  so 
many  misprints  that  it  does  not  seem  to  have  enjoyed  the 
same  supervision.  The  Preface  to  the  Hwlorie  does  not 
include  the  Arle  in  the  enumeration  of  the  writings  of 
Machiavelli  which  still  remain  to  be  published.  This 
proves  that  it  must  have  been  printed  before. 

3  The  original  documents  [perhaps  with  slight  moderni- 
zations of  spelling?]  are  published  from  the  Venetian 
Archives  by  Domenico  Berti  in  his  most  interesting  work : 
Bruno  da  Nola,  Sua  Vita  e  Sita  Dottrina,  Nuaw  Ediisione, 
1889,  p.  399. 


202 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


{Vol.  xxii,  No.  7. 


venderli  piti  facilmente,  et  acdb  havessero  maggior 
esito,  perche  qtiando  s'havesse  detto,  che  fossero 
stampatiin  Inyhilterra, piii difficilmente  se  haveriano 
venduti  in  quelle  parti,  et  quasi  tutti  li  altri  ancora 
sono  stampati  in  Inghilterra,  ancor  che  dicano  a 
Parigi,  o  altrove.'  In  fact,  type,  spacing,  initials 
and  other  ornaments  all  tend  to  show  that  his  De 
I' infinite  uniuerso  et  Mondi  and  De  la  causa,  prin- 
elpio,  et  Vno,  both  Stampati  in  Veneiia,  as  well  as 
his  Spaccio  de  la  Beatia  Trionfante,  Stampato  in 
Parigi,  De  Gl'Heroici  Furori  and  Cabala  del 
Cavallo  Pegaseo,  both  Parigi,  Appresso  Antonio 
Baio  and  La  Cena  de  le  Ceneri,  s.  1.,  are  all 
products  of  the  same  London  press  which,  in  spite 
of  expert  opinion  to  the  contrary  quoted  in  the 
Quarterly  Keview,  October,  1902,  p.  495,  I  still 
hold  to  have  been  that  of  Vautrollier  rather  than 
that  of  John  Wolfe  or  somebody  else.4 

If  other  London  printers  had  no  scruples  about 
putting  the  names  of  foreign  places  on  their  books 
in  order  to  have  a  better  sale  for  them,  there  was 
no  reason  why  John  Wolfe  should  have  had  any, 
and  we  see  how  he  even  carried  his  shrewdness 
so  far  as  to  issue  the  same  book  under  two  differ- 
ent titles,  one  for  the  foreign  market  and  one  for 
home  consumption.  Not  the  copy  of  Stella's  Co- 
lambeis  with  London  on  its  title,  but  that  with 
Lyons  was  sent  to  the  Frankfort  fair,  just  as  in 
the  case  of  the  Arts  della  Guerra,  not  the  copies 
with  Palermo,  which  did  not  enjoy  a  special  repu- 
tation as  a  place  of  printing  on  the  continent,  but 
those  sine  loco  were  sent  to  Frankfort6  and  are 

4  A  detailed  proof  is  out  of  question  in  this  article.     I, 
therefore,  confine  myself  to  saying  that  John  Wolfe  who 
is  the  only  other  London  printer  who  could  possibly  be 
considered  as  the  printer  of  Giordano  Bruno,  does  not 
seem  to  me  to  have  printed  these  volumes.     Not  only 
tradition  and  the  fact  that  he  was  a  Frenchman  speak  in 
favor  of  Vautrollier,  but  also  typographical  reasons.    Thus 
the  italics  and  the  spacing  of   the   lines  in  the  stanza 
beginning  :  '  Mio  poseur  solitario '  in  the  llpisiola.  Proemiale 
of  Bruno's  De  V  infinite  vniucrso  et  Mondi  are  identical  with 
those  in  Alexander  Dicsonus  a  lectori  S.  in  Alexandra  Dicsoni 
Arelii  de  wnbra  rationis  et  iudicij,  etc.     Londini,  Excudebat 
Thomas  Vautrotterius  Typographic,  1583. 

5  Collectio  in  unum  corpus  omnium  librorum  Hcbraxn-um, 
Grcecorum,  Latinorum  necnon  Germanize,  Italice,  Gallice  & 
Hispanice  scriplorum,  qui  in  nundinis  Francofurtensibus  ab 
anno  1564  usque  ad  nundinas  Autumiialcs  anni  1592,  partim 
noui,  partim  noua  forma,  &  diuersis  in  locis  cditi,  vcnides 
extiterunt. —  in  tres   Tomos  distincta — Francofurti — Ojficina 


found   to  this  day  in  most  continental  libraries. 
The  licenses  in  the  Stationers'  Eegisters  which 
appear  to  be  either  inexact  or  transferred  to  others 
or  not  used  at  all  are  the  following  : 

1.  The   hutorie  of  China,   both   in    Italian    and 
English,  Sept.  13,  1587. 

2.  A   booke   in    Italyan,   Intytuled   Libretto   de 
Abacho.     To  be  prynted  in  Italyan  and  Eng- 
lishe |  April  9,  1589. 

2*.  to  be  printed  in  Englishe  and  Italian  |  Libretto 
Di  Abacho  per  far  imparare  gli  fighioli,  gli 
principii  Dell' Aritlimetica  \  Aug.  27,  1590. 

3.  Essame   degli  Ingegn[o]s,    to   be   printed   in 
Italian  and  Englishe,  Aug.  5,  1590. 

4.  a  letter  sente  to  Don  BERNARDIN  DI  MEN- 
DOZZA,  with  th[e]   advertisementes  out  of  Ire- 
land, in  the  Italyan  tongue,  Oct.  23,  1588. 

5.  II  decamerone  di  BOCCACCIO     in  Italian  .  .  . 
Authorised  by  Th[e]  archbishop  of  CANTER- 
BURY, Sept.  13,  1587. 

6.  Lettere   di   PIETRO    ARETINO    (no   language 
stated).     (Oct.  14,  1588.) 

In  the  case  of  No.  1  Wolfe  seems  to  have  pre- 
sented a  Spanish  instead  of  an  Italian  original,  for 
he  printed  in  the  following  year  for  Edward  White: 
The  Historic  of  the  great  and  mightie  Mngdome  of 
China,  etc.,  Translated  out  of  Spanish  byR.  Parke. 
As  for  Nos.  2  and  2*,  which  are  apparently  iden- 
tical, I  am  inclined  to  suspect  that  the  book  itself 
was  printed  in  English  and  that  only  the  title  was 
both  in  Italian  and  in  English,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  Italian  grammar  of  Scipio  Lentulo,  translated 
by  Henry  Granthan,  reprinted  by  Vautrollier  in 
1587. 6  A  copy  of  Wolfe's  Libretto  does  not  exist 

Nicolai  Bassei  M.D.XCII.  I,  586  Julii  Ctesaris  Stella;,  Nob. 
Rom.  Columbeidos  libri  primes  duo.  Lugd.  1586.  A  (t.  e. 
autumn  fair  of  1586)  and  in,  28  :  / sette  libri  delCarte  della 
ffnerra,  etc.,  1588.  V.  (i.  e.  lenten  fair  of  1588).  This 
collective  catalogue,  as  well  as  some  of  the  separate  fair 
catalogues,  show  that  Wolfe  sent  his  Latin  and  Italian 
books  there  very  diligently.  I  have  only  failed  to  find 
those  of  1584  ;  the  Asino  d'  On,  which  is  omitted  in  this 
Collection,  is  contained  in  a  catalogue  of  the  lenten  fair 
of  1589. 

eLa  Grammatica  \  di  M.  Scipio  Lenlule  \  Napolitano  da 
lui  in  latina  lingua  Scritta,  \  &  hora  nella  Italiana,  &  Inglese  \ 
tradottada  H.  G.  \  An  Italian  Grammer  \  written  in  Latin 
by  Sci-  |  pio  Lentulo  a  Neapolitans :  And  tur-  \  ned  into  Eng- 
lishe by  Hen-  \  ry  Granthan.  \  device  |  Imprinted  at  London 


November,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


203 


in  the  British  Museum,  but,  if  it  corresponded  to 
the  Libretto  de  Abaco,  printed  by  Francesco  dc 
Tomaso  di  Salo  e  compagni,  Venetia,  s.  a.,  it  con- 
tained only  sixteen  octavo  pages  of  multiplication 
tables  and  the  like  which  did  not  call  for  an  edition 
in  two  languages.  No.  3  was  apparently  trans- 
ferred to  Adam  Islip  arid  printed  by  him  in  Eng- 
lish for  R.  Watkins  under  the  title  :  Juan  de  Dios 
Huarie  Navarro,  Examen  de  Ingenios.  The  Ex- 
amination of  men's  wits — Translated  out  of  the 
Spanish  tongue  by  M.  C.  Camilli.  Englished  out 
of  his  Italian  by  R[ichard~]  C[arew],  etc.  1594. 
The  time  is  the  same  when  the  other  transfers  from 
Wolfe  to  Islip  occurred,  which  were  discussed  at 
some  length  in  note  2.  A  reprint  of  the  Italian 
text  in  England  seems  to  be  out  of  the  question, 
because  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  compete 
with  Aldo  and  other  Italian  publishers  who  were 
printing  it  at  the  time.7 

No.  4  appears  to  have  been  ceded  to  Vautrollier 
and  printed  in  English  only,  unless  the  'Essempio 
d'una  lettera  mandata  d' Ing hilterra  a  Don  Ber- 
nardin  di  Mendozza,  etc.,  in  8°,  In  Leida,  found 
in  a  Frankfort  lenten  fair  catalogue  of  1589 
should  be  printed  by  Wolfe,  which,  in  view  of  an 
edition  with  a  similar  title  given  in  the  British 
Museum  Catalogue  with  another  publisher's  name, 
Is  not  likely.  The  title  of  the  English  edition — 
there  is  more  than  one — printed  by  Vautrollier  for 
Field,  which  Mr.  Arundell  Esdaile  of  the  British 
Museum  has  kindly  looked  up  for  me,  reads  : 
'  The  Copie  of  a  Letter  sent  out  of  England :  to  Don 
Bernardin  Mendoza  Ambassadour  in  France  for 
the  King  of  Spaine,  Declaring  the  state  of  England 
.  .  .  Whereunto  are  adioyned  certaine  late  Adver- 
tisements [out  of  Ireland],  concerning  the  losses 
and  distresses  happened  to  the  Spanish  Nauie 

by  Thomas  Vautrollier  \  dwelling  in  the  Blackefriers  \  1587. 
The  first  edition  printed  in  1575  has  only  an  English  title. 
Since  I  have  been  obliged  to  cite  this  grammar,  I  will  add 
a  phonetic  item  from  the  first  edition,  page  17:  'Neither 
will  I  omyt  how  farre  the  pronunciation  of  vouclles,  is  to 
be  obserued :  O  and  E  are  pronounced  somtymes  more 
darkely  and  somtymes  more  clearly.  And  most  darkely  in 
these  wordes,  Amore,  Colbre,  Ardure,  and  such  like.  But 
E  is  pronounced  more  clearly  in  this  vvorde  Erba  :  and  O, 
in  this  vvorde  Ottima.  Neuerthelesse  the  manner  of  pro- 
nouncing cannot  be  shewed  by  writing  :  vvherfore  it  is 
to  be  learned  of  him,  that  hath  th'  Italian  tonge.' 
7  Aldo  in  1590,  others  in  1582  and  1586. 


[i.e.,  the  famous  Armada],  etc.'  Our  theory 
that  Wolfe  transferred  his  licenses  in  the  case  of 
this  book  and  the  preceding  to  VautrolHer  and 
Islip  becomes  practically  a  certainty  by  the  fact 
that  no  license  is  recorded  for  either  of  the  latter. 
The  Beadle  of  the  Company  would  not  have 
brooked  any  attempt  at  an  infringement  of  his 
rights. 

Nos.  5  and  6,  finally,  have  as  it  seems,  neither 
been  printed  by  Wolfe  nor  by  any  other  London 
printer.  As  for  the  Decamerone  a  more  careful 
consideration  of  the  financial  side  of  the  question 
may  have  sufficed  to  induce  Wolfe  to  abandon  the 
project.  For  while  in  the  cases  of  Machiavelli 
and  Pietro  Aretino  all  of  whose  works  had  been 
forbidden  by  the  Roman  church  there  was  not 
only  no  Italian  competition  but  an  Italian  demand, 
here  the  reverse  was  the  case.  New  editions  of 
the  Decamerone  were  appearing  constantly  and  even 
if  Wolfe's  colaborer  had  succeeded  in  obtaining  a 
better  text  than  Salviati's,8  it  is  not  probable  that 
it  could  have  competed  with  the  Italian  texts  of 
the  day.  It  is,  therefore,  hardly  necessary  to 
account  for  the  apparent  non-existence  of  Wolfe's 
Decamerone  by  the  assumption  that  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  retracted  his  consent,  as  a  little  over 
thirty  years  later  a  license  granted  for  '  Decameron 
of  Master  John  Boccace '  was  '  recalled  by  my  lord 
of  Canterburyes  command'  March  22,  1620  (in, 
667). 

In  the  case  of  the  Letters  of  Pietro  Aretino  there 
was  no  Italian  competition  to  be  feared,  yet  either 
a  realization  of  the  magnitude  of  the  enterprise 
which  far  surpassed  any  he  had  undertaken  yet, 
or  a  disagreement  with  his  colaborer  regarding 
the  details  of  the  plan  may  have  caused  Wolfe  to 
abandon  the  matter.  For  in  the  Paris  edition  of 

8  //  |  Decamerone  \  di  Messer  \  Giovanni  Boccacci  \  Oilta- 
din  Fiorentino,  \  Di  nuouo  ristampato,  e  riscontrato  in  \ 
Firenze  con  tefti  antichi,  &  alia,  sva  \  vera  lezione  ridolto  \  dal  \ 
Cavalier  Limiardo  Salviati  \  etc.  Secor.dii  Editions  \  flower- 
de-luce  in  elaborate  setting  |  In  Firenze  Del  mese  d '  Otto- 
bre.  |  Nella  stamperia  </<.'  Oiunli,  M.D.I.XXXII.  It  is  doubt- 
less to  one  of  Salviati's  editions  that  Barbagrigia  (Rayiona- 
menti,  1584)  refers  when  he  says  of  his  own  prospective 
edition  of  the  centonouelle  :  '  Le  quali  anchora  vn  giorno 
spero  di  darui  a  Icggere,  cost  compiute,  come  egli  le  compose, 
&  non  lacerate,  come  hogyi  i  •vostri  Fiorenlini  ve  le  danno  a 
leyyere,  con  miile  eiancie  loro,  per  farui  credere  dthauerlc 
ritornate  a  la  prima  leilura.' 


204 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  7. 


1609'  'tlis  letters  fill  six  octavo  volumes  and  bis 
colaborer's  plan  to  classify  the  letters  according 
to  their  contents  under  the  heads  of  '  Consolanti, 
Confortanti,'  etc.,  cannot  be  called  a  felicitous  one 
if  it  was  feasible  at  all.  Whatever  may  have 
induced  Wolfe  to  give  up  his  project,  it  cannot  be 
supposed  that  he  really  carried  it  out  in  view  of 
the  fact  that  the  British  Museum  does  not  possess 
a  single  volume  of  it  and  that  a  Paris  bookseller 
could  undertake  the  sumptuous  publication  twenty 
years  later. 

The  Fictions  of  Barbagrigia  and  Antoniello  degli 

Antonielli  and  the  Personality  of  Wolfe's 

Italian  Colaborer. 

Barbagrigia  is  not  an  invention  of  John  Wolfe's 
colaborer  but  of  Annibale  Caro,  the  author  of  the 
Commento  di  Ser  Agresto  da  Ficaruolo  sopra  la 
prima  ficata  del  Padre  Siceo  and  the  Nasea.10 
Yet  while  Caro  puts  his  graceful  poetic  preface  in 
the  mouth  of  this  fictitious  person  in  order  to 
forego  the  necessity  of  writing  two  prosy  ones,  Wolfe 
and  his  colaborer  use  Barbagrigia  and  his  double, 
Antoniello  degli  Antonielli,  and  their  Heirs  merely 
in  order  to  conceal  their  own  names.  Nor  do  they 
take  pains  to  adhere  to  this  fiction  very  logically, 
for  the  Heirs  of  Antoniello  publish  the  Discord 
and  the  Prencipe  in  1584  and  Autoniello  himself 
the  Arte  delta  Guerra  three  years  later  ;  Barba- 
grigia's  own  preface  to  the  JRagionamenti  I  &  II  is 
dated  October  21,  1584,  that  of  his  Heir  to  the 
Commento  di  Ser  Agresto  January  12  of  the  same 
year.  Then  both  Barbagrigia  and  Autoniello  and 
their  Heirs  disappear  from  the  scene  and  other 
stampatori  with  and  without  a  name  take  their 
places  ;  with  Machiavelli  first,  the  Heirs  of  Gio- 
lito,  then  a  printer  without  a  name,  with  Pietro 
Aretino  first  a  nameless  man,  then  Andrea  del 
Melagrano.  Even  if  these  changes  of  printers 

9  There  is  only  one  print  of  this  edition,  but  there  exist 
two  different  title-pages  of  the  first  and  fourth  volumes  ; 
on  one  of  the  latter  the  year  is  M.D.C.VIII.   instead  of 
M.D.C.IX. 

10  The  original  edition  seems  to  be  the  one  of  1539,  which 
contains  besides  the  leaf  with  the  title  77  numbered  and 
20  unnumbered   pages.     On   the  lust  :  Siampata  in  Bal- 
dacco  per  Barbagrigia  da  Bengodi:  con  Gratia,  &  Priuilegio 
della  bizzarissima  Acadcmia  de   Vertuosi — alia  prima.  acgua 
d'Agosto,  I' Anno.  JI.D.XXXIX. 


were  not  accompanied  by  several  changes  of  type, 
of  which  four  different  kinds  are  used  in  our  eight 
editions,  it  would  be  clear  that  it  was  Wolfe's 
desire  to  offer  fresh  inducements  to  foreign  pur- 
chasers and  not  to  advertise  himself  exactly  as  the 
printer  of  the  much  decried  Discord  and  Prencipe 
and  such  a  piece  of  pornographical  literature  as 
the  Ragionamenti  i  &  n.  I  say  to  advertise, 
because  the  whole  fictions  were  too  transparent 
not  to  be  known  to  the  initiated  in  London  and, 
as  we  have  seen  above,  he  did  not  refrain  from 
using  the  device  of  the  palm-tree,  the  guardian  of 
the  secret,  anew  when  five  and  six  years  later  he 
printed  the  books  of  Gabriell  and  Richard  Harvey 
for  which  it  seemed  particularly  appropriate. 

But  who  was  Wolfe's  colaborer?  and  do  Bar- 
bagrigia and  Antoniello  conceal  the  same  person  ? 
As  to  the  second  question,  I  think  there  can  be  no 
serious  doubt  that  it  is  one  and  the  same  person, 
however  much  the  prefaces  of  the  Ragionamenti 
I  &  ii  and  of  the  Commento  may  differ  in  tone  in 
some  of  their  parts  from  that  of  the  Discord. 
Special  points  in  common  are,  above  all,  first  the 
desire  of  publishing  as  complete  a  set  as  possible 
of  their  respective  authors'  works,  and  then  the 
effort,  or  at  least  the  pretense  at  an  effort,  to 
obtain  as  good  texts  as  possible.  The  printer  to 
the  Heirs  of  Antoniello  speaks  of  having  tried  to 
obtain  the  authors'  autograph  manuscript  of  the 
Difcorsi  and  mentions  the  editions  used  by  him, 
and  Barbagrigia  and  his  successor  always  lay  stress 
upon  their  wish  to  present  a  text  that  is  exactly  as 
the  author  has  composed  it  and  the  latter  likewise 
mentions  the  texts  used  by  him  in  case  of  the 
Comedie.  To  be  sure  these  would  be  matters  of 
course  to-day,  but  they  are  unique  in  the  whole 
history  of  the  reprints  and  translations  of  Machi- 
avelli from  1532  to  1660.  If,  then,  the  two  stand 
for  one  and  the  same  person,  who  was  it  ?  Cer- 
tainly a  native  Italian  of  literary  taste.  That  is 
evident  from  the  character  of  the  language,  from 
the  whole  tenor  of  the  prefaces  and  when  he  speaks 
of  London  as  a  place  (per  altro  nobile  &  illustre') 
nella  quale  non  ci  £  per  I'adietro  giamai  itampata 
(che  io  mi  sappi)  cosa  aleuna  di  conto,11  which  a 
patriotic  Englishman  would  never  have  said. 
Among  the  native  Italians  with  whom  Wolfe  is 

11  Preface  of  the  Discorsi. 


November,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


205 


known  to  have  entertained  business  relations 
scarcely  more  than  one  man  can  seriously  come 
into  question.  Giacopo  Castelvetri,  the  editor  of 
the  Columbeis  and  the  Pa-stor  Fido  was  too  distin- 
guished ;  the  same  would  be  true  of  Alberico  Gen- 
tili 1!  and  his  brother  Scipio,  who  besides  writes  a 
very  different  style.  Battista  Aurellio,  a  man  of 
most  earnest  religious  interests,  and  Francesco 
Betti,  a  sufferer  for  faith'  sake  who  probably  never 
saw  English  soil,  cannot  have  lent  Wolfe  a  hand 
at  all.  This  leaves  only  Mauelli,  the  translator  of 
Tacitus'  Agricola,  of  whose  circumstances  and  life 
in  England  unfortunately  nothing  is  known  to 
me ;  and  Petruccio  Ubaldino,  the  author  of  Wolfe's 
first  Italian  book,  in  whose  life,  character  and  style 
of  writing  there  is  nothing  that  would  forbid  us  to 
see  in  him  the  colaborer  for  whom  we  are  looking, 
unless  it  be  that  he  would  not  have  made  the  dis- 
paraging statement  about  books  printed  in  London 
in  view  of  the  recent  publication  of  his  own  Vita 
di  Carlo  Magno. 

Petruccio  Ubaldino  does  not  only  usher  in  and 
herald  Wolfe's  publication  of  Italian  books,  but 
his  transfer  of  his  patronage  from  Wolfe  to  Field, 
whether  after  a  difference  of  opinion  about  the 
Letters  of  Pietro  Aretiuo,  or  other  matters,  or  after 
a  peaceable  separation,  marks  also  the  end  of  it, 
for  no  Italian  book  has  left  Wolfe's  press  after 
1591.  Under  such  circumstances  it  may  perhaps 
be  regarded  as  more  than  a  mere  coincidence  that 
the  editor  of  Wolfe's  last  work  of  Aretino  speaks 
of  presenting  it  'in  guisa  dinouella  phenice'  and 
that  a  new  phenix  is  the  very  device  which  Ubal- 
dino henceforth  uses  on  all  his  books  save  his 
Rime."  Furthermore  we  know  that,  though  he 
had  originally  come  to  England  to  find  employ- 
ment in  military  service,  he  was  obliged  to  make 
a  living  with  his  pen  during  the  years  of  his 
business  connection  with  Wolfe  and  had  a  hard 
time  doing  so.  In  his  Descrittione  del  Regno  di 

"Alberico  Gentili  was  one  of  the  most  noted  professors 
of  law  of  his  time.  Two  books  of  his  printed  by  Wolfe 
are  mentioned  by  Arber,  v,  127  and  147. 

"The  device  of  the  new  phenix  is  found  on  the  titles  of 
the  following  five  books  :  Parte  Prima  ddle  breui  dimostra- 
tioni  etprecelti  vtiluiimi,  etc.,  1592  ;  Lo  Slnto  ddle  ire  Corti, 
etc.,  1594  ;  Scella  di  alcune  atlioni  et  di  varii  accident!,  etc., 
1595;  Militia  del  Oranduca  di  Thoscana,  etc.,  1597,  and 
La  Vita  di  Carlo  Magno,  etc.,  1599.  The  device  of  the 
Rime,  etc.,  1596,  is  an  adder  which  has  struck  its  teeth  in 
a  finger  and  is  held  over  a  fire. 


Scotia,  dedicated  to  Sir  Christopher  Hatton,  Count 
of  Leicester  and  Sir  Francis  Walsingham,  1588, 
he  speaks  of  the  '  continouata  procella '  of  his 
'  nemica  fortima'  and  implores  them  to  aid  him 
'con  libera  mano'  or  'con  chariteuole  opera.' 
Three  years  later  in  his  Vite  delle  Donne  Illustri, 
dedicated  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  the  last  book  of  his 
printed  by  Wolfe,  he  reminds  the  Queen  of  his 
past  services  to  the  Crown  and  describes  his  recent 
condition  saying  :  'sono  stato  costretto  per  non 
passare  il  tempo  in  vn'otio  biasimeuole;  et  per 
nutrir  la  mia  famiglia,  lontana  affatto  da  ogni 
essereitio  otioso,  ad  essercitar  la  penna, '  an  appeal 
which,  by  the  way,  does  not  seem  to  have  been 
fruitless  because  some  of  his  following  books  are 
dated  'Delia  Corte.'  Nevertheless  he  never  be- 
came quite  happy  again,  annoyed  by  the  misty 
air  of  England  which  Elizabeth  alone  can  make 
serene  : 

Voi  sola  in  me  seren  polete,  e  chiaro 
Render  t  aer  graualo  hoggi  da  nebbia 
Noiosa  a  gli  occhi  miei,  acre,  e  mordace. H 

troubled  by  the  gout  which  makes  life  a  burden  to 
him15  and  not  always  free  from  pangs  of  conscience 
about  his  former  doings  and  writings.  Nor  would 
it  be  a  surprise  if  the  same  man  who  as  Barba- 
grigia  contemptuously  referred  to  the  '  Masticatori 
di  Pater  nostri,  et  Caccatori  di  Auemarie '  and 
who  as  his  Heir  in  introducing  the  Commento  di 
Ser  Agresto  said  :  lascia  gracchiare  i  Cornacehioni, 
che  non  seruono  hoggimai  d'altro  nel  mondo,  che  di 
spauentari  bamboli,  et  le  donniciuole,  che  si  crede- 
rebbono,  leggendo  somigliante  galanterie,  di  douer 
coder  tutte  fredde  ne  le  bollente  caldaie  di  satanas- 
so,'  should  speak  at  another  time,  as  Ubaldino 
does  in  one  of  his  sonnets  to  God  : 16 

Deh  wglia  il  Cid,  ch'  in  qwsli  vltimi  oiorni, 
Doppo  tanli  atmi  rei  passuti,  e  vissi: 
QuanCio  malfeci,  ahi  lasso,  e  quanfio  scrim 
Corregga,  efugya  di  Sathan  gli  scorni. 

Oradisci,  6  Padre,  6  Dio,  ch'io  homairitomi 
Soltv'l  soaue  yioyo :  e  i  psnsierjissi 
Da  qui  innanzi  habbia  in  te  sempre,  e  gli  abissi 
Apri  di  tua  pietH  senza  soggiorni. 

"Rime,  First  Sonnet. 

10  Militia  del  Oranduca,  etc.    Dedication  to  Elizabeth. 

16  Rime,  Carta  E,  3  back.  The  chronology  of  this  sonnet 
is  offering  difficulty  because,  if  Ubaldino  states  his  age 
correctly  as  11J  lustri,  f.  e.,  about  58  years,  it  cannot  very 
well  have  been  composed  after  1585  when  he  had  only 
published  one  out  of  the  nine  books  of  l.;  •.  own. 


206 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  7. 


Finally,  there  are  a  number  of  stylistic  pecu- 
liarities in  which  Petruccio  Ubaldino  and  the 
writer  of  the  prefaces  to  the  editions  of  Machi- 
avelli  and  Pietro  Aretino  resemble  each  other, 
such  as  the  frequent  use  of  the  parenthesis,  the 
inclination  to  assume  an  air  of  modesty  by  insert- 
ing s'io  non  erro  or  s'io  non  m'inganno,  and  a 
pronounced  didactic  tendency.  Thus  Ubaldiuo 
says  in  the  Aggiunta  al  Lettore  in  his  Vile  delle 
Donne  III :  '  Et  si  sono  fatte  V  annotationi  per 
tutta  opera  in  margine,  parte  per  memoria  delle 
cose  auuenute,  &  parte  per  prccetti,  &  ammaestra- 
menti  necessary  a  chi  legge  historie,'  and  the 
writer  of  the  Preface  of  the  Ragionamenti  in  : 
'  Oltre  a  eio  saran  in  margine  notate  le  di  lui  belle 
e  proprie  maniere  di  scriuere,  tutte  le  compara- 
tioni  e  tutti  i  prouerbi  .  .  .  le  quali  (t.  e. ,  maniere 
di  dire)  se  ne  le  mentl  vostre  noterete,  come  vo  cre- 
dere, vi  Jaranno  tanto  honore,  e  tanto  vtile  vi 
recheranno  ne  lo  scriuere,  e  nel  comporre,  etc.' 

All  these  things  make  a  pretty  strong  chain  of 
circumstantial  evidence  that  Petruccio  Ubaldiuo 
was  John  Wolfe's  colaborer  in  the  eight  editions 
of  Machiavelli  and  Pietro  Aretino.  A  direct  ad- 
mission on  his  part  that  he  wielded  his  pen  also  in 
that  line  is  lacking. 

Editions  of  Pietro  Aretino  and  Machiarelli  pub- 
lished in  Italy  during  the  first  half  of 
the  following  century. 

Although  the  works  of  both  Pietro  Aretino  and 
Machiavelli  were  so  strictly  prohibited  in  Italy 
that  an  open  reproduction  of  them  was  entirely 
out  of  question,  there  were  subterfuges  by  means 
of  which  it  was  possible  to  reprint  them  that  were 
far  from  being  as  innocent  as  the  fictions  of 
Barbagrigia  and  Antoniello  degli  Antonielli  and 
the  names  of  Italian  cities  and  London  title-pages. 
On  the  one  hand  some  of  the  works  of  Pietro 
Aretiuo  were  issued  under  different  titles  as  the 
works  of  other  actual  authors,  on  the  other  the 
names  of  Pietro  Aretino  and  Nicolo  Machiavelli 
were  transformed  into  Partenio  Etiro  and  Amadio 
Niecollucci,  and  then  a  number  of  their  works 
with  their  original  or  more  or  less  altered  titles 
published  under  the  names  of  those  fictitious 
authors.  In  addition  to  this  the  texts  were  more 
or  less  tampered  with  and,  while  Wolfe's  colaborer 
had  at  least  aimed  at  obtaining  the  very  best  texts 
and  refrained  from  making  any  changes  which  he 


did  not  deem  corrections,  now  sometimes  in  a 
downright  insipid  way  not  only  everything  that 
actually  touched  the  representatives  of  the  church 
and  religion  was  removed,  but  also  innocent  refer- 
ences to  Popes  and  other  church  dignitaries  were 
changed  or  omitted. 

Thus  Pietro  Aretino' s  Marescalco  and  Hipocrito 
are  issued  as  the  Cavallarizzo  and  Finto  of  Luigi 
Tansillo,  Vicenza,  1601  and  1610,  and  the  Corti- 
giana  as  the  Sciocco  of  Cesare  Caporali  '  [n]o«a- 
mente  data  in  luce  da  Francesco  Suonafede  (//),' 
Venetia,  1604.  A  Vita  di  "Maria  Vergine  by 
Parteuio  Etiro  appears  in  Venetia,  1628  ;  Le  Carte 
Parlanti:  Dialogo  nel  quale  si  tratta  del  Giuoco 
con  moralita  piaceuole  by  Parteuio  Etiro,  Venetia, 
1650  ;  and  besides  several  more  works  of  Partenio 
Etiro  De'  Discorsi  Politici,  e  Militari  Libri  Tre, 
scielti/ra  grauissimi  Scrittori  da  Amadio  Niecollucci 
Toscano,  Venetia,  1630,  and  again  1648.  While 
Le  Carte  Parlajdi  aud  the  Cavallarizzo,  apart  from 
one  apparently  involuntary  long  omission,  show 
comparatively  few  alterations,  the  Cortigiana  and, 
as  maybe  imagined,  more  still  the  Hipocrito,"  the 
Tartuffo  of  the  Italian  Renaissance,  have  suffered 
considerably  and,  not  to  speak  of  minor  omissions 
and  transpositions,  some  whole  chapters  have  been 
omitted  from  Machiavelli' s  Discorsi.  The  absence 
of  other  works  of  Machiavelli  is  probably  due  both 
to  their  being  fewer  in  number  and  less  adapted  to 
disguise  and  to  the  appearance  of  the  Testina 
which  tried  the  trick  of  a  false  date.  In  Mod. 
Lang.  Notes,  vol.  xxi  (1906),  p.  197,  I  have 
shown  its  terminus  post  quern  was  1588  (1581  was 
of  course  a  misprint),  now  I  can  say  that  its 
second  print  is  posterior  to  1609,  but  that  it 
certainly  existed  in  1637  when  it  is  found  in  the 
catalogue  of  a  private  library  in  Lyons. 

A.  GERBER. 

Oottingcn,  Germany. 


"In  the  Hipocrito,  e.  g.,  the  Hipocrito  is  a  man  '  che 
pendc  tral prete,  e  tral  frale,'  'che  affige  il  visa  in  terra,  e  col 
breuial  sotto  al  braccio.'  He  is  staying  '  o  per  le  chiese  o  per 
le  librarie,'  and  when  addressed,  interrupted  in  his  '  diuo- 
tioni.'  In  the  Finlo  the  Finto  is  a  person  'che  pende  Ira 
il  grauissimo,  &  il  leygerissimo,'  '  che  afflge  il  visa  in  terra,'  the 
'breuial'  being  omitted.  He  is  found  '  o  per  librarie,  o  sit 
cantoni'  and  is  merely  interrupted  in  his  '  quiete.'  All  the 
pointedness  of  Pietro  Aretino' s  characterization  has  disap- 
peared. 


November,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


207 


MISCELLANEOUS  NOTES. 
CHAUCER,  Knight's  Tale  810-811. 

This  couplet  runs  (cf.  1668-9): 

Yet  somtyme  it  shal  fallen  on  a  day 

That  falleth  not  eft  witliinne  a  thousand  yere. 

On  this  Skeat's  note  is  :  'From  the  Teseide,  v. 
77.  Compare  the  medieval  proverb: — "Hoc 
facit  uua  dies  quod  totus  denegat  annus." 
Quoted  iu  Die  alteste  deutsche  Litteratur  ;  by  Paul 
Piper  (1884);  p.  283.' 

The  lilies  in  the  Teseide  are  : 

Ma  come  noi  veggiara  venire  in  ora 
Cosa  die  in  mill'anni  non  avviene. 

Froissart  puts  a  similar  expression  into  the 
mouth  of  John  of  Gaunt  (A.  D.  1386).  It  forms 
the  conclusion  of  a  little  story  (  (Euwes,  ed.  Ker- 
vyn  de  Lettenhove,  11.  344):  '  "  Messire  Thom- 
as," dist  le  due,  "  soies  une  autre  fois  plus  advis6, 
car  ce  advient  en  une  heure  on  en  ung  jour,  qui 
point  n' advient  en  cent." 

That  the  expression  was  proverbial,  at  least  iu 
the  Elizabethan  period,  is  indicated  by  its  occur- 
rence, in  a  somewhat  modified  form,  in  Henry 
Porter's  Two  Angry  Women  of  Abimjton  (1599), 
where  it  is  put  iuto  the  mouth  of  Nicholas,  the 
serving-man,  otherwise  known  as  'Proverbs,' 
because,  as  another  of  the  characters  says,  he  is  a 
'  proverb-book  bound  up  in  folio. '  Here  it  runs 
(4.  3)1  :  '  Well,  that  happens  in  an  hour  that 
happens  not  in  seven  years. ' 

'  Leaf  en. ' 

In  Herman  Melville's  Typee  (pp.  170,  271  of 
John  Lane's  edition),  the  word  leaf  en  occurs  in 
a  sense  not  recognized  by  NED. ,  namely,  '  made 
of  leaves.'  The  passages  are  :  '  Others  were  ply- 
ing their  fingers  rapidly  in  weaving  leafen  baskets 
in  which  to  carry  the  fruit.'  'Fruits  of  various 
kinds  were  likewise  suspended  in  leafen  baskets. ' 

1 1  owe  this  reference  to  Miss  Elizabeth  W.  Mamvaring, 
graduate  student  in  English  at  Yale  University. 


Dream  of  the  Rood  54. 

On  forfteode  I  say  in  my  edition  :  '  Kemble  and 
Grein  treat  this  as  a  transitive  verb  of  which 
sciman  is  the  object.  Kemble  translates  "in- 
vaded ' ' ;  Grein  renders  in  the  Sprachschatz  by 
"  opprimere,  subigero, "  adducing  OHG.  farduh- 
ian,  and  in  the  Dichtungen  by  "  unterdriickt," 
(  "  es  hatte  der  Schatten  uuterdriickt  den  Schein 
der  Sonue  "  ) .  Dietrich  renders  by  ' '  supprimere, ' ' 
and  Stephens  by  ' '  fell  heavy. ' ' 

It  seems  to  me  now  that  forftcode,  which  has 
caused  scholars  so  much  difficulty,  may  be  a 
scribe's  blunder  for  siveftrode  (-ede,  swiftrode,  -ede, 
-edon,  -odon~).  Cf.  the  following  : 

Gen.  133-4  : 

Geseah  deorc  scendo 
sweart  swi'Srian. 

Exod.  113  : 

scinon  scyldhreo'San,  sceado  swi'Sredon. 
Gu.  1262  : 

scan  scirwered  ;  scadu  swel>redon. 
But  especially  An.  836-7"  : 

scire  scinan.     Sceadu  swe'Serodon 
wonn  under  wolcnum. 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  association  of  sceadu  and 
siveSrian,  sclr  and  sivefirian,  and  even  scinan, 
sceadu,  and  sweSrian,  is  not  unexampled  in  Old 
English.  The  nearest  parallel  to  our  passage  is 
that  from  Andreas.  If  with  this  we  compare 

scirne  sciman  ;  sceadu  sweSrode 
wann  under  wolcnum, 

(sweSrode  instead  of  forfeode'),  we  shall  see  how 
natural  the  substitution  appears.  If  now  we  con- 
sider the  individual  letters,  we  discover  that  of  the 
eight  involved,  five — r,  S,  and  -ode — are  common, 
and  that  the  manuscript  forms  of  s  and  /  are  almost 
identical  (cf.  MS.  crce-tfga  for  crceftga,  Chr.  12). 
We  might  picture  the  evolution  somewhat  as  fol- 
lows :  sweSrode  >  *swer¥>ode  >  *fwer$ode  >  *fwrS- 
eode  ^>for8eode.  This  does  not,  of  course,  imply 
that  each  of  these  blunders  was  actually  made. 
If  the  original  form  were  sweo^(e}rode  (cf. 
An.  465),  the  eo  of  the  second  syllable  might  be 
still  more  easily  accounted  for. 


208 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[  Vol.  xxii,  No.  7. 


SPENSEK,  F.  Q.  1.  1.  1.  6. 

In  the  line, 

His  angry  steede  did  chide  his  foining  bitt, 

none  of  the  senses  of  chide  in  NED.  is  satisfac- 
tory. Chiding  implies  noise,  and  what  noise 
would  a  horse  employ  to  signify  dissatisfaction 
with  his  bit  T1  If  Spenser  had  employed  '  champs,' 
instead  of  '  chide, '  it  would  have  seemed  more 
appropriate.  He  evidently  is  imitating  Virgil, 
JEn.  4.  135 2 : 

Stat  sonipes,  ac  frena  ferox  spumantia  mandit, 

though  no  one  appears  to  have  noticed  the  fact. 
This  is  translated  by  Phaer  (1558),  'on  the 
fomy  bit  of  gold  with  teeth  he  champes.'  Bar- 
naby  Googe  (1577)  has  (Husb.  3.  115): 

There  stamping  staudcs  the  steed,  and  foomy  bridell  fierce 
he  champes. 

Stanyhurst  (1583)  renders,  'on  byt  gingled  he 
chaumpeth.'  Another  imitation  seems  to  be  in 
Quarles  (1621),  Hadassa,  Int.  222  ( Works,  ed. 
Grosart,  2.  45): 

There  stands  a  Steede,  and  champes  his  frothy  steele. 

Sylvester,  Du  Bartas's  Fourth  Part  of  the  First 
Day  of  the  Second  Weeke  (  Works,  ed.  Grosart,  1. 
126),  has  : 

But  tli'  angry  Steed,  rising  and  reining  proudly, 
Striking  the  stones,  stamping  and  neighing  loudly, 
Cals  for  the  Combat  ;  plunges,  leaps  and  praunces, 
Befoams  the  path,  with  sparkling  eyes  he  glaunces  ; 
Champs  on  his  burnisht  bit.  .  .  . 

Where  Ariosto,  Orl.  Fur.  27.  70,  has 

Et  eran  poi  venuti  ove  il  destriero 
Facea,  mordendo,  il  ricco  fren  spumoso, 

Harington's  rendering  (1591)  is  (27.  56): 

While  he,  that  stately  steed  Fi-onlino  vew'd, 
That  proudly  champing  stood  upon  his  bit, 
And  all  his  raines  with  snowlike  fome  bedew"  d. 

'Dry den  (Pal.  ar.d  Arc.  3.  457)  has  : 

The  courser  pawed  the  ground  with  restless  feet, 
And  snorting  foamed,  and  champed  the  golden  bit. 

Would  this,  perhaps,  warrant  us  in  assuming  that  Spen- 
ser' s  chide  means  '  snort  ? ' 

'Other  lines  which  might  be  compared  (besides  JEn.  7. 
279)  are :  yEschylus,  Prom.  Sound  1009  ;  Apollonius 
Bhodius,  Arg.  4.  1604-5  ;  Tibullus  1.  3.  42  ;  Ovid,  Art. 
1.  20  ;  Am.  1.  2.  15  ;  2.  9.  29,  30  ;  Statius,  Theb.  3.  268. 


Milton's  (P.  L.  4.  858-9) 

But,  like  a  proud  steed  reined,  went  haughty  on, 
Champing  his  iron  curb, 

may  be  from  Aeschylus,  Prom.  1009-10  : 

SA.KVIIIV  Si 


Dryden  (1697)  has  : 

—  Paws  the  ground, 
And  champs  the  golden  bit,  and  spreads  the  foam  around, 

and  for  a  similar  line  (JEn.  7.  279)  : 

With  golden  trappings,  glorious  to  behold, 

And  champ  betwixt  their  teeth  the  foaming  gold, 

where  the  original  is  : 

Tecti  auro,  fulvum  mandunt  sub  dentibus  aurum. 

On  the  other  hand,  Caxton  has  the  verb  gnaw 
(Eneydos  (1490),  E.  E.  T.  S.  Extra  Series,  No. 
57):  '  .  .  .  gnawynge  his  bytte  garnysshed  wyth 
botones3  of  golde,  all  charged  wyth  the  scume  of 
the  horse.'  Chaucer's  (L.  G.  W.  1208) 

The  fomy  bridel  with  the  bit  of  gold, 

does  not  help   us   as   respects   the   verb,  but  his 
(K  T.  1648-9) 

The  fomy  stedes  on  the  golden  brydel 
Gnawinge 

shows  what  verb  he  prefers.-    The  latter,  though 
it  translates  Boccaccio,  Tes.  1.  97, 

Quivi  destrier  grandissimi  vediensi 
Con  selle  ricche  di  argento  e  di  oro, 
E  yii  spumanti  lorfreni  rodiensi, 

may  be  ultimately  referred  to  Virgil. 

As  Caxton  and  Chaucer  have  gnaw,  Gawin 
Douglas  has  gnyp,  as  a  variant  of  runge  (cf.  Fr. 
ronger~).  Thus,  for  sEn.  4.  135,  Buddiman 
(1710)  gives  us,  from  the  Ruthven  MS.  : 

Gnyppand  the  fomy  goldin  bit  gingling, 
where  Small  reads  (Elphynstoun  MS.): 

Bungeand  the  fomy  goldin  bitt  jingling, 

and   the   edition  (from   the   Trinity   MS.)  of  the 
Banuatyne  Club  (1.  196.  11): 

Kungeand  the  fomy  goldyn  byt  gynglyng. 
For  2En.  1.  279  Small's  edition  has  : 

Thai  runge  the  goldin  mollettis  burneist  brycht, 

8  Douglas'  mollettis,  below. 


November,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


209 


the  variants  being  :  Ruddiman,  rang  ;  Euddiman, 
burnist ;  Bannatyne,  burnyst  bright. 

Gower,  though  he  knows  the  verbs  r(o~)unge 
and  gnaw,  as  shown  by  Con/.  Am.  2.  520  : 

For  evere  on  hem  I  rounge  and  gnawe, 

prefers  chew  with  reference  to  the  bit  (which  he 
calls  bridle).  Thus,  Con/.  Am.  3.  1629  : 

Betre  is  upon  the  bridel  chiewe  ; 

and  6.  929-30  : 

— upon  the  bridel 
I  chiewe. 

Fairfax  prefers  the  verb  eat.  Where  Tasso  writes 
(Ger.  Lib.  10.  15), 

Fumar  li  vedi  ed  anelar  nel  corso, 

E  tutto  biancheggiar  di  spuma  il  morgo, 

Fairfax  translates  : 

The  coursers  pant  and  smoke  with  lukewarm  sweat, 
And  foaming  cream,  their  iron  mouthfuls  eat. 

Shakespeare,  too,  goes  his  own  way  (  Ven.  and 
Adon.  269) : 

The  iron  bit  he  crushcth  'tween  his  teeth. 

In  none  of  these,  save  possibly  in  Dryden,  as 
quoted  in  the  first  foot-note,  do  we  find  any  war- 
rant for  Spenser's  chide. 

Did  the  bit  jingle,  as  well  as  the  bridle?  It 
would  seem  so,  from  Douglas'  and  Stany hurst's 
translations.  Skeat  (on  Cant.  Tales  A  170)  ex- 
plains 

And,  whan  he  rood,  men  mighte  his  brydel  here 
Ginglen  in  a  whistling  wind — 

as  due  to  '  the  habit  of  hanging  small  bells  on  the 
bridles  and  harness,'  and  this  seems  borne  out  by 
B  3984  and  the  other  passages  he  quotes.  In- 
stances, indeed,  occur  as  early  as  Greek  times 
(Aristophanes,  Frogs  963  (the  amusing  com- 
pound, K<uSo)vo<£aAapo7r<uA.ovs)  ;  Euripides,  Rhes. 
307.  On  the  other  hand,  Gascoigne  (1576)  has 
rings  in  mind  ( Complaint  of  Philomene :  Steele 
Glas,  ed.  Arber,  p.  90  ;  Worte,  ed.  Hazlitt,  2. 
223): 

And  in  hir  left  a  snaffle  Bit  or  brake, 
Bebost  with  gold,  and  many  a  gingling  ring. 

The  i/ioAiw,  sometimes  translated  '  bit, '  and  by 
some  considered  to  be  a  curb-chain,  is  interpreted 
by  Daremberg  and  Saglio's  Did.  des  Antiqq.,  as 


a  cavisson.  In  any  case,  it  produced  a  sound 
when  the  horse  was  iu  motion  (Aristophanes, 

Peace  155  :  ^vao^aXiviav  Trarayov  tl/a.\L<av  ',  -ZElian, 
Hist.Anim.  6.10:  i/<aAiW  KpoYov  K<U  ^a/WoC  KTVTTOV. 

The  Diet,  des  Antiqq.  says  (p.  1336):  'II  est 
facile,  en  efiet,  de  comprendre  qu'il  devait 
retentir  en  heurtant  les  auneaux  de  la  longe  et  les 
divers  accessoires  suspendus  autour  de  la  tfite.' 

SPENSER,  F.  Q.  1.  Int.  3.  5. 

Did  Jonson,  when  writing  (in  'Queen  and  hunt- 
ress, chaste  and  fair  ' ) 

Lay  thy  bow  of  pearl  apart, 
have  in  mind  Spenser's 

Lay  now  thy  deadly  Heben  bowe  apart  ? 


ALBERT  S.  COOK. 


Yale  University. 


THE  PLAYS  OF  PAUL  HERVIEU. 

M.  Hervieu  is  the  author  of  nine  plays,  which 
bear  the  following  titles  and  dates  of  production  : 

Les  Paroles  restent,  1892. 

Les  Tenailles,  1895. 

La  Loi  de  I' homme,  1897. 

La  Course  du  flambeau,  1901. 

L'Enigme,  1901. 

Point  de  Lendemain,  1901. 

Theroigne  de  Mericourt,  1902. 

Le  Dedale,  1903. 

Le  Reveil,  1905. 

Point  de  Lendemain,  though  first  produced 
before  the  Cercle  de  I 'union  artistique  in  1890, 
was  not  given  real  publicity  till  1901,  when  it 
was  presented  at  the  Odeon. 

If  we  had  only  the  first  of  these  plays  before  us 
we  might  ascribe  to  the  author  an  originality  all 
his  own,  independent  of  any  source,  and  indebted 
to  his  time  only  for  the  setting  and  subject  of  his 
drama.  At  the  outset  of  his  dramatic  career  the 
critics  were  unanimous  in  characterizing  his  talent 
as  original  and  even  singular,  not  to  say  unique. 
His  success  was  heightened  by  the  novelty  of  his 
subject.  In  Les  Paroles  restent  he  has  made  a 


210 


MODERN   LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  7. 


tragedy  of  which  gossip  is  the  mainspring  and  the 
hero.  I  know  of  no  other  play  based  so  entirely 
on  this  motif,  and  I  know  of  no  author,  in  novel 
or  in  drama,  who  has  been  so  successful  in  subor- 
dinating the  element  of  love,  which  nearly  all  lit- 
erature in  these  two  genres  teaches  us  to  regard  as 
the  paramount  human  interest.  Nay,  I  should 
except  one  surpassing  genius,  Balzac,  who  had  the 
profaning  power  to  substitute  the  god  of  money  in 
the  shrine  of  love.  And  let  me  assert  here,  though 
I  find  my  opinion  corroborated  by  no  critic — 
indeed,  French  critics  do  not  always  trouble 
themselves  about  sources — that  Balzac  is  beyond 
doubt  one  of  the  literary  ancestors  of  Hervieu,  in 
his  realism  of  objective  observation,  no  less  than 
in  his  inability  at  times  to  suppress  his  own  ego, 
in  his  characters  moved  each  by  some  single  domi- 
nant passion,  even  in  his  style,  qui  choquait  les 
habitudes  prises,  and  the  merits  of  which  were 
contested  till  the  critics  understood  that  a  new 
message  needed  a  new  language,  and  recognition, 
at  first  withheld,  was  forced.  Let  me  quote  from 
the  classic  and  reactionary  Bruuetiere  in  his  review 
of  Les  Tenailles1 :  "  II  y  a  des  defauts  qui  u'en 
sont  plus  des  qu'ils  sont,  je  ne  dis  pas  la  rangon 
ou  1'envers  mais  la  condition  de  certain es  qualites 
— et  tel  est  bien  le  cas  de  ceux  que  Ton  reprenait 
chez  M.  Paul  Hervieu.  Si  Ton  a  pu  s'y  tromper 
jadis,  nous  ne  craignons  plus  que  Ton  s'y  m6prenne 
apres  le  succes  des  Tenailles,  et  nous  nous  en  re- 
jouissons  pour  1'auteur,  mais  encore  plus  pour 
nous,  et  pour  1'art." 

We  need  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that  chari- 
table friends  attempted  to  deter  Hervieu  from  the 
dramatic  career.  They  told  him  that  his  play, 
plunging  as  it  does,  in  medias  res,  neglected  the 
rule  that  le  theatre  est  I' art  des  preparations. 
They  complained  of  his  rudeness  of  attack  and  his 
too  vigourous  touch.  "Ce  style  solide  et  con- 
tourne', ' '  says  Larroumet,  *  "  d'  un  relief  me'tallique 
et  coupant,  paraissait  a  beaucoup  le  contraire  d'un 
style  de  theatre."  We  may  rejoice  to  know  that 
the  author  did  not  sacrifice  his  originality  upon 
the  altar  of  this  well  meaning  but  stupid  friend- 
ship. 

Les  Paroles  restent  shows  us  a  society  of  idlers, 


1  Revue  des  deux  mondts,  1895,  page  953. 

2  Eevue  de  Paris,  1897,  page  139. 


biases,  ennuyes,  finding  their  chief  interest  in  the 
flirts  of  the  members  of  their  set  and  in  destroying 
if  possible  the  reputation  of  the  women  concerned. 
One  woman,  Regine  de  Vesles,  is  depaysee  in  this 
atmosphere  of  virulent  gossip,  but  is  unable  to 
escape  its  poison.  She  moves  along,  unwitting, 
with  her  reputation  in  ruins  about  her.  Nohan, 
indiscreet  author  of  the  scandal,  atones  by  his 
remorse  and  love,  and  their  passion,  elevated  by 
her  nobleness  and  purified  by  suffering,  is  about 
to  attain  consummation  when  malicious  gossip, 
envious  of  so  chaste  a  union,  destroys  the  lover's 
life.  "Les  paroles  resteut — et  elles  tuent "  is 
the  climax  of  the  play. 

I  repeat,  the  play  is  original,  it  is  even  dis- 
turbing in  its  originality.  We  may  imagine  re- 
semblances to  other  authors  ;  thus  Regine  recalls 
Ren6e  de  Mauperin,  the  Comte  de  Ligueil  might 
be  a  Don  Ruy  Gomez  togged  out  in  modern 
clothes  ;  Lady  Bristol  is  the  typical  English  sil- 
houette of  French  literature.  But  amid  doubts 
certain  features  stand  out  clearly.  The  play  is 
logical,  it  is  lacking  in  hors  d'cnmre,  it  is  a  play 
with  a  purpose,  that  purpose  is  a  moral  one,  and 
in  spite  of  the  oddity  of  the  subject  that  purpose 
is  clear  :  it  is  a  defense  of  marriage,  or  rather  an 
attack  upon  conditions  that  mar  the  married  state. 
We  need  not  seek  further  for  the  immediate  an- 
cestry of  Hervieu.  Dumas  fils  is  his  parent,  per- 
haps with  a  collateral  descent  from  Augier,  but 
Dumas  fils,  the  initiator  of  the  modern  play,  with 
its  direct  observation  of  life,  its  rapidity  of  dia- 
logue, its  logic  and  simplicity  of  means,  lives 
again  in  Hervieu,  and  with  a  more  complete  rein- 
carnation in  that  Hervieu  adopts  also  the  morality 
of  purpose  which  Dumas  had  transmitted  to  no 
previous  heir. 

If  any  doubt  remains  it  is  dispelled  by  Les 
Tenailles.  Never  did  Dumas  advance  a  problem 
with  more  boldness  or  in  clearer  terms.  With 
Les  Tenailles,  too,  the  manner  of  Hervieu,  a  little 
uncertain  yet  in  Les  Paroles  restent,  is  fixed.  In 
the  latter  play  there  are  some  accessory  roles,  there 
is,  as  in  Dumas,  an  effort  to  please.  But  in  Les 
Tenailles  we  have  the  acme  of  restraint,  of  so- 
briety. There  are  only  the  actors  indispensable 
to  the  plot.  Five  characters  suffice  for  the  dis- 
cussion of  a  moral  and  social  problem,  for  the 
tragic  exposition  of  a  duel  between  two  wills. 


November,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


211 


This  struggle  between  two  wills,  hedged  in  by  the 
law,  which  is  a  fortress  for  one,  a  prison  for  the 
other,  and  exasperated  on  the  one  hand  by  selfish- 
ness, on  the  other  by  suffering,  such  is  the  theme 
of  Les  Tenailles,  a  theme  which  is  to  be  repeated 
with  variations,  in  La  Loi  de  F  homme  and 
FEnigme.  We  face  the  problem  in  the  opening 
speeches  of  the  two  women  in  the  play. 

Pauline.  Enfin,  qu'est-ce  que   tu   reproches   a 

ton  mari  ? 
Irene,  avec  force.  Je   lui   en    veux   de   ne   pas 

1' aimer. 

It  is  a  thunderbolt  hurled  at  the  legal  violation  of 
marriage,  a  la  Dumas  fils  ;  but  the  subtler  nature 
of  the  problem  bears  witness  to  the  passage  of 
Bourget  and  the  feminism  of  modern  France, 
while  the  realism  of  the  chief  characters,  dramati- 
cally foreshortened  each  to  a  single  dominant 
passion,  is  stamped  with  the  influence  of  Balzac 
and  his  successors.  Fergan,  with  his  passion  for 
mastery  and  being  always  in  the  right,  and  Irene, 
with  her  enthusiasm  for  the  ideal,  represent  the 
opposing  poles  of  an  irremediable  incompatibility. 
It  is  but  natural  that  she  should  find  in  another 
that  happiness  hitherto  denied  her,  natural,  too, 
that  the  consequences  of  this  fatal  union  should 
wreck  the  lives  of  both  in  inevitable  tragedy.  I 
know  of  no  more  tragic  climax  than  the  end  of 
Les  Tenailles.  Irene,  to  keep  her  son  with  her, 
confesses  to  Fergan  that  he  is  not  the  father  of  her 
child.  The  husband's  pride  is  broken,  he  de- 
mands the  divorce  which  he  formerly  refused  to 
grant.  But  Irene  in  her  turn  refuses.  "  Je  ne 
1'accepte  plus.  Ma  jeunesse  est  passee,  mes  es- 
pe>ances  sont  abolies,  mon  avenir  de  femme  est 
mort."  "  Alors,  qu'est  ce  que  vous  voulez  que 
je  devienne,  ainsi,  face  a  face  avec  vous,  toujours, 
toujours?  Quelle  existence  voulez- vous  que  je 
m6ne?"  "  Nous  sommes  rives  au  mSme  boulet. 
Mettez-vous  enfin  a  en  sentir  le  poids  et  a  le  tirer 
aussi.  II  y  a  assez  longtemps  que  je  le  traine 
toute  seule." 

I  have  said  that  the  subject  of  Leg  Tenailles 
is  also  that  of  La  Loi  de  I' homme.  But  it  is 
here  still  more  tragic  and  more  painful.  A 
woman,  deceived  by  her  husband,  is  unable  to 
find  in  the  law  the  means  whereby  to  prove  her 
grievance,  though  in  a  like  case  of  fault  on  the 


part  of  the  wife  the  husband  would  be  amply  pro- 
tected. She  must  content  herself  with  a  separation 
a  I' amiable,  which  leaves  her  her  daughter  but 
takes  her  fortune.  The  purpose  of  the  play  is  to 
show  the  iniquity  of  the  law,  and  it  is  well  shown. 
The  logic  of  the  situation  leads  to  an  inevitable 
denoument  and  an  equally  inevitable  quod  erat 
demonstrandum.  The  faithless  husband  keeps  his 
mistress ;  the  abandoned  wife  brings  up  her 
daughter.  But  the  mistress  has  a  son  born  in 
honourable  wedlock,  and  during  a  visit  of  Isabelle 
to  her  father  the  two  young  people  meet  and  love. 
To  prevent  this  marriage,  which  appears  to  her  in 
the  light  of  an  unnatural  union  and  one  which 

O 

delivers  her  daughter  into  the  hands  of  her  ene- 
mies, Mine  de  Raguais  reveals  the  iniidelity  of 
her  spouse.  D'Orcieu,  the  husband  of  the  latter' s 
mistress,  after  the  first  spasm  of  rage  and  despair, 
insists  on  saving  appearances  from  the  wreck  of 
honour,  and  decrees  that  Mine  de  Raguais  shall 
return  to  her  consort,  as  he  himself  will  continue 
to  live  with  his  faithless  wife.  Thus  is  the  heroine 
doubly  a  victim,  and  must  take  up  her  heavy 
burden  and  bear  it  in  agony  and  without  resig- 
nation to  the  end.  The  triumph  of  the  young 
lovers,  rising  flower-like  from  this  morass  of  im- 
morality, only  serves  by  contrast  to  emphasize  the 
ruin  of  their  parents'  happiness. 

But  so  truly  are  we  the  children  of  our  works, 
in  literature  as  well  as  in  character,  that  the  epi- 
sode which  ends  so  dramatically  La  Loi  de  I'  homme 
becomes  the  germ  of  the  next  play,  to  my  mind 
the  greatest  the  author  has  yet  produced.  The 
sacrifice  of  parents  to  children  is  the  subject  of 
La  Course  du  flambeau.  Here  again  Hervieu  has 
distinguished  himself,  as  in  Les  Paroles  restent,  by 
the  originality  of  his  theme,  and  by  the  power  to 
maintain  its  interest  at  the  expense  of  the  ever- 
recurring  topic  of  love.  The  reference  of  the  title 
is  to  the  \a/j.Tra.8r)4>opuu.  of  the  Greeks,  in  which 
citizens  in  relays  ran  and  transmitted  one  to  the 
other  a  torch  kindled  at  the  altar  of  the  divinity 
whose  feast  they  celebrated.  ' '  Chaque  concurrent 
courait,  sans  un  regard  en  arriere,  n'ayant  pour 
but  que  de  preserver  la  flamme  qu'il  allait  pour- 
tant  remettre  aussitot  a  un  autre.  Et  alors  des- 
saisi,  arre'te',  ne  voyant  plus  qu'au  loin  la  fuite  de 
l'6toilement  sacr6  il  1'escortait,  du  moins,  par 
les  yeux,  de  toute  son  anxie'te  impuissante,  de 


212 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[  Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


tous  ses  vceux  superflus.  On  a  reconnu  dans  cette 
Course  du  flambeau  1' image  meme  des  generations 
dela  vie."  But  Hervieu  is  impartial.  This  is 
evidently  his  own  view,  but  he  shows  us  the 
reverse  of  the  medal  in  the  reply  of  Sabine  to  the 
speech  just  quoted  :  "  Je  ne  coi^ois  pas  ainsi  les 
relations  de  famille.  A  mon  point  de  vue  rece- 
voir  la  vie  engage  autant  que  la  donner  .... 
Puisque  la  nature  n'a  pas  permis  aux  enfants  de 
se  fabriquer  tout  seuls,  je  dis,  moi,  qu'elle  a  done 
eu  F  intention  de  leur  imposer  une  dette  envers 
ceux  qui  les  mettent  au  monde."  These  views 
form  the  motives  for  action  of  the  principal  char- 
acters of  the  play,  who  are  more  numerous  than 
usual  with  Hervieu.  Mme  Fontenais's  thought 
is  all  for  Sabine,  Sabine'  a  for  Marie- Jeanne, 
Marie- Jeanne's  for  her  husband  ;  childless  as  she 
is,  he  is  to  her  et  marl  et  en/ant.  At  the  supreme 
moment  of  choice  Sabine  kills  her  mother  for  her 
child,  who  in  turn  abandons  her  without  hesi- 
tation. There  is  something  of  the  fatalism  of  the 
old  Greek  play  about  this  piece,  yet  not  the  fate 
predestined  by  the  gods,  external  and  superior  to 
humanity,  but  a  fate  inherent  in  human  nature, 
and  all  the  more  terrible  in  that  it  does  not  relieve 
its  victims  of  responsibility.  The  subject  is  simply 
treated,  logically  developed  toward  the  final  catas- 
trophe ;  nothing  is  superfluous,  though  the  num- 
ber of  interests  involved  has  led  to  greater  length 
than  usual.  There  is  in  this  play  un  grand  souffle 
de  tragedie  which  sweeps  everything  before  it,  even 
our  preconceived  notions  of  the  duties  of  parents 
and  children,  and  leaves  us  convinced,  for  the 
moment  at  least,  of  the  truth  of  the  author's  thesis. 
While  La  Course  du  flambeau  is  long  and  some- 
what difficult  of  analysis,  L'Enigme  is  the  very 
essence  of  brevity  and  conciseness.  There  are  but 
two  acts,  the  plot  is  extremely  simple,  the  style 
clear-cut  and  devoid  of  ornament.  The  play 
opens  in  the  hunting-lodge  of  the  two  brothers 
Raymond  and  Gerard  de  Gourgiran,  where  they 
are  sojourning  with  their  wives,  Giselle  and  Lco- 
nore,  the  Marquis  de  Neste,  their  cousin,  and 
Vivarce,  a  friend.  Neste,  left  alone  with  Vivarce, 
shows  him  that  he  is  aware  of  the  latter' s  intrigue 
•with  one  of  the  wives,  which  one,  he  does  not 
know.  They  are  alike  in  manner,  calm  and  un- 
disturbed. Their  husbands  are  equally  serene  in 
their  conjugal  bliss,  in  which,  however,  there  is 


little  of  the  ideal,  their  natures  being  rather 
coarse  than  subtle,  characterized  by  a  devotion  to 
sport  and  to  the  careless,  frivolous  life  which  their 
social  position  makes  possible.  Vivarce  denies  at 
first,  but  to  no  purpose.  Neste  seeks  to  dissuade 
him  from  continuing  the  intrigue.  But  it  is  not 
a  commonplace  liaison  ;  it  is  a  grande  passion.  / 

A  general  conversation  later  in  the  evening,  a 
propos  of  a  fait  divers  in  the  newspaper,  reveals  to 
us  the  views  on  the  violation  of  marriage  of  the 
different  actors  in  this  drama.  Raymond  thinks 
that  deception  deserves  death  ;  his  sense  of  prop- 
erty seems  the  dominant  trait  in  his  character,  and 
he  would  slay  the  thief  of  his  wife's  affection  as 
he  would  the  poacher  trespassing  on  his  preserves. 
Giselle  and  L£onore  think  the  punishment  too 
severe.  Gerard  would  spare  the  erring  wife  but 
slay  the  traitor.  Vivarce  agrees  with  him.  Neste 
preaches  forgiveness  of  human  frailty. 

Subsequently,  Vivarce  is  discovered  and  sui- 
cides. Leonore,  whose  lover  he  was,  betrays  her- 
self by  her  emotion.  Gerard  is  true  to  his  theory. 
"  Je  ne  te  tuerai  pas  !  .  .  .  Je  ne  te  chasse  pas 
non  plus.  Je  te  garde  pour  te  forcer  a  vivre  ! ' ' 
Can  we  say  that  the  deeper  enigma  is  solved  when 
Gerard  declares  that  "Ce  sont  les  hommes  de 
notre  espcce  qui,  a  travers  les  temps,  assurent  le 
regne  du  mariage,  en  veillant  sur  lui,  les  armes  a 
la  main,  comme  sur  une  majest6,"  and  when 
Neste  in  the  closing  words  of  the  play  retorts  : 
"C'estpar  nous  autres,  amis  fer vents  et  respec- 
tueux  de  la  vie,  c'est  par  nous,  p6cheurs,  qui, 
dans  la  creature,  soutenons  notre  soeur  de  fai- 
blesse,  c'est  par  nous  que  finira  pourtant  le  regne 
deCain"? 

Point  de  Lendemain,ren\\y  his  first  play,  though 
little  known  until  its  production  at  the  Odeon  in 
1901,  is  a  dainty  episode  of  gallantry.  Though 
scarcely  more  than  a  literary  trifle  it  is  interesting 
and  important  as  showing  very  clearly  the  influ- 
ence of  Bourget. 

Theroigne  de  Mericourt  is  difficult  of  analysis, 
with  its  complex  historical  tableaux  of  the  Revo- 
lution. It  shows  the  misinterpretation  by  the  mob 
of  the  lofty  ideals  of  reform.  I  am  not  so  sure  of 
the  classification  of  this  drama.  Hervieu  has 
been  eclectic  ;  one  is  reminded  in  turn  of  Hugo's 
Cromwell,  of  L'Aiglon,  of  le  Theatre  libre,  and 
it  may  be  that  in  the  crucible  of  his  magic  talent 


November,  1907]. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


213 


these  and  other  dramatic  elements  have  been  fused 
into  a  new  variety.  The  technic  of  the  stage  is 
so  important  in  this  play  that  one  would  need  to 
see  it  acted  in  order  to  form  an  intelligent  criti- 
cism. It  is  a  work  a  part. 

No  such  doubt  arises  in  considering  his  1903 
production,  Le  Dedale.  He  returns  again  to 
Dumas  fils  and  his  dramatic  evolution  is  accen- 
tuated anew.  The-  title  is  well  chosen.  The 
Cretan  labyrinth  wrought  by  Daedalus,  the  cun- 
ning artificer,  was  not  more  difficult  to  trace  than 
the  psychic  mazes  whose  involutions  we  here 
thread  under  the  artist's  guidance,  nor  did  the 
youths  and  maidens,  Attica's  tribute,  look  with 
greater  horror  on  the  bull-headed  monster  to 
whom  they  were  sacrificed  than  do  these  victims 
of  their  self-wrought  fate  upon  the  dread  phan- 
toms their  frenzied  consciences  conjure  up.  Her- 
vieu's  "Labyrinth"  is  a  puzzle  made  of  the 
delicate  interrelations  of  men  and  women  in  the 
world  to-day,  and  his  Minotaur  is  Divorce. 

The  elements  of  the  problem  are  simple  :  their 
arrangement  is  the  impasse.  Max  de  Pogis  and 
his  wife,  Marianne,  are  divorced  because  of  an 
infidelity  of  the  former,  committed  in  a  moment 
of  caprice  through  no  weakening  of  love  for  his 
wife.  The  latter,  though  her  happiness  lies  in 
ruins  about  her,  lives  on  for  the  sake  of  her  child, 
sustained  by  pride  and  by  the  friendship  of  Guil- 
laume  Le  Breuil,  a  man  who  comes  to  love  her 
truly,  purely,  to  give  her  his  whole  life,  and 
eventually  to  win  her  hand  through  friendship, 
pity,  and  also  because  she  must  save  her  repu- 
tation in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  which  has  begun 
to  couple  her  name  with  his.  The  pain  of  her 
first  love  is  deadened  ;  in  respect  for  her  new 
husband  and  love  for  her  boy  she  finds  a  sem- 
blance of  peace,  which,  however,  is  rudely  dis- 
turbed by  the  reappearance  on  the  scene  of  Max 
de  Pogis,  who  sets  up  a  claim  to  a  share  in  the 
education  and  guardianship  of  their  son.  The 
woman  for  whom  he  had  deserted  his  wife  is 
dead,  and  the  child  is  now  to  him,  as  to  her,  the 
only  real  interest.  Meeting  at  the  bedside  of  the 
little  Pierre  during  a  dangerous  illness,  the  old 
love  blossoms  anew.  Marianne  discovers  that 
Max  has  always  loved  her  and  he  wins  her  back 
to  his  arms.  She  cannot  now  go  back  to  her  loyal 
second  husband  ;  that  would  be  a  double  degra- 


dation. She  cannot  divorce  him  and  re-marry  her 
first  husband — that  is  contrary  to  the  law  of 
France.  Guillaume  learns  the  situation,  and, 
though  heart-broken,  consents  to  renounce  Mari- 
anne if  Max  will  do  likewise,  but  the  latter  re- 
fuses, knowing  that  she  loves  him.  Marianne 
determines  to  reject  both  and  to  live  on  for  her 
child,  but  De  Pogis  comes  to  persuade  her  to 
leave  France  with  him.  He  meets  Le  Breuil  ;  a 
quarrel  and  struggle  ensue,  at  the  end  of  which 
the  second  husband  drags  the  first  over  a  precipice 
into  a  whirlpool  beneath  in  which  both  meet  their 
death. 

The  climax  has  been  criticised  as  melodramatic, 
but  it  evolves  naturally  from  the  intense  jealousy 
of  the  two  lovers  and  from  the  determination  of 
the  first  husband  not  to  give  up  his  wife,  knowing 
that  he  is  loved  by  her.  It  is  a  fitting  end  to  the 
play,  but  not  by  any  means  a  solution  of  its  prob- 
lems. For  these  indeed  we  feel  that  there  can  be 
none. 

There  is  a  sub-plot  and  counterpart  to  the  story 
of  Max  and  Marianne  in  the  domestic  affairs  of 
the  Saint-Erics,  whose  course  touches  the  main 
plot  sufficiently  to  be  not  merely  episodic,  but  an 
integral  part  thereof.  Here  it  is  the  wife  who  is 
fickle.  She  is  brought  to  her  senses  by  the  death 
of  her  child,  a  victim  of  the  same  epidemic  of 
diphtheria  which  so  nearly  carries  off  the  little 
Pierre  de  Pogis.  She  is  utterly  broken,  but  the 
great  heart  of  Marianne,  though  bearing  bitter 
burdens,  has  yet  room  for  comfort  and  sympathy 
for  her  friend.  The  frail,  frivolous  black  figure 
in  the  arms  of  Marianne  is  shaken  by  a  great  gust 
of  tragedy. 

In  point  of  art,  the  stark  simplicity  and  gran- 
deur of  ^Eschylus  or  Sophocles  are  equalled  here. 
In  point  of  human  interest,  Greek  tragedy  with 
its  externally  intervening  fate,  blind,  undeserved, 
seems  pale  and  trivial  beside  this  tragedy  from 
within,  this  drama  of  responsibility  more  dread 
than  an  Erinnys,  resulting  in  a  hell  on  earth  com- 
pared to  which  the  fields  of  Asphodel  were  para- 
dise. 

Have  we  not  here,  too,  one  of  the  essential  dif- 
ferences between  antiquity  and  the  Christian  era  ? 
The  gay  and  sensuous  life  of  Greece  and  Rome 
may  not  now  be  lived  with  impunity,  because  we 
feel  that  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  this  life  are  not 


214 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  7. 


caprices  of  the  gods,  the  one  great  gift  of  Deity 
being  the  choice  and  the  opportunity  to  make  or 
mar  our  fates. 

Though  in  this  play  we  tread  with  Hervieu 
upon  pestilential  ground  there  rises  lily-like  from 
its  bosom  the  flower  of  the  sanctity  of  marriage. 
This  is  the  lesson  he  inculcates,  though  to  do  so, 
instead  of  holding  up  a  good  example,  he  seeks  to 
deter  us  by  showing  us  an  evil  one.  In  spite  of  an 
almost  perfect  art  Hervieu  is  no  apostle  of  art  for 
art's  sake  ;  he  instructs  as  well  as  pleases ;  a 
moralist,  continuing  the  tradition  of  his  literary 
ancestor,  Dumas  fils,  he  makes  of  the  stage  a 
pulpit  whence  he  addresses  the  congregation  of 
the  world. 

LeReveil  is,  as  its  title  indicates,  an  awakening, 
the  awakening  to  duty — or  shall  we  say  to  neces- 
sity ? — of  a  pair  who  for  a  moment  believed  they 
might  forget  the  world  and  break  loose  from  all 
the  complex  bonds  fettering  them  to  their  re- 
spective spheres  and  enjoy  the  fruition  of  an  ideal 
love  at  the  expense  of  a  family  and,  on  his  side,  of 
a  nation.  Therese  de  M6gee,  though  married  and 
herself  the  mother  of  a  marriageable  daughter,  has 
never  known  love.  It  comes  to  her  in  the  guise 
of  a  young  prince  of  a  Balkan  state,  whose  family 
has  been  banished  as  the  result  of  a  revolution. 
The  father  of  Prince  Jean  hopes  to  restore  not 
himself  but  his  son  to  the  throne,  and  lias  made 
all  arrangements  for  the  necessary  political  up- 
heaval, in  which  Jean  is  to  lead.  He  refuses, 
preferring  The'rese.  Touched  by  the  sacrifice, 
and  her  resistance  beaten  down  by  his  pleadings, 
she  is  ready  to  give  herself  to  him.  A  clandestine 
meeting  is  arranged.  But  the  old  Prince  Gr6- 
goire  discovers  the  lovers,  separates  them  by  vio- 
lence, aud  allowing  Therese  to  believe  that  Jean 
is  dead,  he  sends  her  home  to  her  family.  The 
suffering  of  this  followed  by  the  comforting  care 
of  her  husband  reawakens  her  to  a  sense  of  duty. 
She  realizes  as  if  for  the  first  time  the  devotion  of 
her  husband  and  the  disgrace  she  was  about  to 
bring  upon  him  and  their  child.  It  becomes 
necessary  in  the  interests  of  the  latter  to  attend 
that  very  evening  a  dinner  at  the  house  of  her 
prospective  parents-in-law.  Therese,  after  a  strug- 
gle, rises  to  the  occasion,  and  as  she  appears  in  her 
drawing-room  in  evening  attire,  Jean  who  has 
finally  escaped  from  the  custody  of  his  father, 


enters.  "Vous  m'avez  cru  mort,  et  vous  vous 
faisiez  belle!"  he  cries.  "Vousn'avez  pas  as- 
siste  a  mon  calvaire,"  she  replies.  Both  realize 
that  a  happy  consummation  of  their  love  is  impos- 
sible and  both  yield  to  the  fate  of  circumstances. 

In  this  most  recent  play  Hervieu  attained  a 
new  triumph,  both  in  the  applause  of  the  public 
and  in  that  of  the  critics,  though  a  few  of  the 
latter  (M.  Emmanuel  Arene,  in  the  Figaro,  M. 
Frangois  de  Nion  in  the  Echo  de  Paris,  M.  Emile 
Faguet  in  the  Debate*),  from  a  truly  French  point 
of  view,  regret  the  subordination  of  psychology  to 
action. 

I  have  already  indicated  some  of  the  sources 
from  which  I  consider  Hervieu  to  derive.  But 
his  talent  is  too  complex  thus  summarily  to  be 
dismissed.  Throughout  his  works,  novels  as  well 
as  dramas,  we  see  the  evidences  of  an  erudition 
which  modesty  only  partially  conceals.  One  is 
sure  that  he  has  carefully  studied  not  only  the 
great  masters  of  seventeenth  century  France,  but 
also  that  antiquity  from  which  they  drew  their 
early  inspiration.  His  dramatic  style  may  truly 
be  called  classic,  in  its  purity  and  simplicity  as 
well  as  in  its  geometric  logic  of  construction.  In 
his  novels,  such  as  Flirt,  L'Exorcisee,  L' Arma- 
ture, his  solidity  is  disguised  by  a  mystic  subtlety 
of  analysis  which  belongs  at  once  to  the  psycholo- 
gist and  to  the  symbolist,  recalls  Bourget  and 
Maeterlinck.  But  the  drama,  compelling  brevity 
and  clearness,  has  caused  the  author  to  abandon 
all  oddity  of  phrase.  By  his  irony  and  the  ten- 
derness we  feel  beneath  it,  by  his  voluntary  logic 
and  his  mastery  of  the  stage  he  places  himself  in 
the  direct  line  of  descent  from  the  elder  Corneille, 
with  whose  situations,  indeed,  his  own  are  some- 
times strikingly  parallel.  His  plays  do  not  present 
merely  individual  adventures,  but  such  as  have 
far-reaching  social  significance. 

We  may,  I  think,  divide  his  dramas  roughly 
into  two  groups  :  the  first,  in  direct  continuation 
of  Dumas  fils,  consisting  of  Les  Tenailles,  La  Loi 
de  I' homme,  L' Enigme,  and  Le  Dedule,  whose 
manifest  purpose  is  a  general  defence  of  the  rights 
of  woman  ;  and  the  second,  more  original  in  sub- 
ject, but  perhaps  less  so  in  style,  whose  motif  is 
the  fatality  which  disengages  itself  from  environ- 
ment, comprising  Les  Paroles  restent  and  La  Course 
du  flambeau.  Atypical  forms,  representing  at- 


November,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


215 


tempts  along  lines  later  abandoned,  are  Point  de 
Lendemain  and  Theroigne  de  Mericourt,  while  Le 
Eeveil  seems  a  vigorous  fusion  of  his  two  main 
dramatic  doctrines,  the  sanctity  of  marriage  and 
the  fate  which  is  circumstance. 

M.  Hervieu  is  still  in  the  forties  and  he  has 
attained  already,  in  novel  and  in  drama,  a  sure 
and  honorable  position  in  the  history  of  French 
literature.  Though  it  is  too  soon  to  risk  a  final 
judgment,  we  feel  that  his  plays  will  live,  because 
they  represent,  above  and  beyond  their  local  and 
temporal  atmosphere,  general  characters  and  uni- 
versal problems  whose  importance  is  as  lasting  as 
the  human  race  itself. 


F.  J.  A.  DAVIDSON. 


University  of  Toronto. 


NOTES  ON  THE  SPANISH  DRAMA. 

QcJte. 
THE  CASK-' OF  CALDEEON'S  La  Vida  es  Sueno. 

THE  CLOAK  EPISODE  IN  LOPE'S  El  Honrado 
Hennano.  WAS  TIRSO  ONE  OF  THE  AU- 
THORS OF  El  Caballero  de  Olmedo  ? 

Life  is  a  dream  was  first  published  by  the 
author's  brother,  Joseph,  in  the  Primera  parte  de 
comedias  de  don  Pedro  Calderon  de  la  Barca  .  .  . 
1636  ;  the  approbation  was  signed  November  6, 
1635.  The  editor  says  in  the  dedicatory  preface 
that  he  published  the  collection,  not  so  much 
because  of  the  ' '  gusto  de  verlas  impressas,  como  el 
pesar  de  aver  visto  impressas  algunas  dellas  antes 
de  aora  por  hallarlas  todas  erradas,  mal  corregidas, 
y  muchas  que  no  son  suyas  en  su  nombre,  y  otras 
que  lo  son  en  el  ageno  ..."  There  is  no  record 
of  any  edition  whatsoever  of  La  vida  es  sueno  prior 
to  1636. 

Hartzenbusch  saw  in  Lope  de  Vega' s  El  Castigo 
sin  Venganza,  licensed  1634,  a  reference  to  Cal- 
deron's  play  ;  the  passage  is  as  follows, — quoted 
from  the  manuscript  noted  below  : 

"  Bien  dicen  que  nuestra  vida 
Es  wtfio,  y  que  toda  es  sueno, 
Pues  que  no  solo  dormidos, 
Pero  aun  estando  despicrtos, 
Cosas  imagina  un  honbre  .  .  ." 

liut  it  may  be  observed  :  firstly,  the   autograph 
copy  of  El  Castigo  sin  Venganza  in  the  Ticknor 


Library  is  dated  August  1,  1631  ;  secondly,  the 
expression,  dieen  que  nuestra  vida  es  sueno,  is 
much  too  vague  to  be  a  specific  reference  to  a 
contemporary  play  which  must  have  been  recog- 
nized at  once  as  a  masterpiece.  Had  Lope  in- 
tended an  allusion  to  his  rival's  comedia,  he 
would  have  accompanied  his  remarks  with  words 
of  ironical  congratulation  or  of  blunt  reproach. 
He  would  not  have  said  "dicen,"  nor  enlarged 
upon  the  philosophical  content  of  the  thought 
that  life  is  such  stuff"  as  dreams  are  made  of,  if 
that  thought  had  just  been  illustrated  so  tangibly 
by  Calderon.  The  concept  was,  in  sooth,  a  com- 
monplace long  before  La  vida  es  sueno  was  written. 
Two  centuries  earlier  the  translator  of  the  so-called 
Libra  de  los  Gatos  had  said  :  "  Mas  si  los  hommes 
pensasen  en  este  mondo  que  cosa  es,  e  commo  non  es 
otra  eosa  sinon  sueno.  '  '  '  The  same  thought  may  be 
contained  in  Hurtado  de  la  Vera's  Comedia  inti- 
tulada  d'el  sueno  d'  el  Mundo,  1572.  Parallel 
expressions  are  found  in  the  several  versions  of 
the  Duke  of  Burgundy  anecdote,  which  in  varied 
form  is  the  basic  element  of  Calderon'  s  main  plot. 
In  Luis  Vives'  version  reference  is  made  to  the 
vita;  somnium.  Rojas,  in  his  Viage  entretenido, 
says,  veis  aqur,  amigo,  lo  que  es  el  mundo,  todo  es 
un  sucno,  and  in  the  same  author's  play,  El  natural 
desdichado,  in  which  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  anec- 
dote was  first  dramatized  in  Spain,  occur  the  lines  : 

"  i  Veis  aquf  lo  que  es  el  mundo  ? 
Todo,  amigos,  es  un  sueno." 

Finally,  to  cite  only  one  non-peninsular  use  of 
the  expression,  the  Pomeranian,  Ludwig  Halle,  in 
1605,  published  a  dramatization  of  the  same  epi- 
sode, entitled  :  "Somnium  Vitce  Humance  das 
ist  :  Ein  Newes  Spiel  darin  aus  einer  lustigen 
Geschicht  von  Philippo  Bono  .  .  .  Gleich  in 
einem  Spiegel  gezeiget  wird  das  vnser  zeitlichs 
Lebcn  rn.it  all  seiner  Herrlichkeit  nur  ein  nichtiger 
vnd  betrueglicher  Traum  sey  .  .  ."  But  what  is 
even  more  to  the  point,  Lope  in  his  Barlan  y 
Josafd,  dated  1611,  when  Calderon  was  eleven 
years  of  age,  used  very  similar  words  : 


un  perpe'tuo  desvelo, 
Deje  un  sueno  de  la  vida 
Deje  una  imagen  fingida 
Idolatrada  del  suelo  ..." 


'Enxemplo  xxxviii. 


216 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[  Vol.  xxii,  No.  7. 


One  may  deduce  the  legitimate  conclusions  :  (1) 
dicen  que  nuestra  vida  need  not  imply  a  reference 
to  a  contemporary  comedia ;  (2)  had  Calderon's 
play  been  written,  and  had  Lope  intended  an 
allusion  to  it,  he  would  not  have  used  such  a 
vague  expression  as  "  dicen  "  ;  (3)  in  view  of  the 
excellence  of  La  vida  es  sueno,  of  its  author's 
prominence  by  this  time  and  of  Lope's  knowledge 
of  all  that  his  rival  was  producing,  we  may  con- 
clude, it  seems,  that  the  play  in  question  had  not 
been  written,  or,  at  least,  had  not  appeared  in 
print,  or  on  the  stage,  by  August  1,  1631.  The 
only  posterior  date  *  that  can  be  fixed  with  any 
degree  of  certainty  is  the  date  of  the  license  of  the 
first  part  of  Calderon's  plays,  November  6,  1635. 
Again,  but  by  a  somewhat  complicated  process, 
it  may  be  shown  that  the  anterior  date  of  La  vida 
es  suefio  is  considerably  subsequent  to  November 
4,  1629.  In  Primero  soy  yo  occurs  the  passage  : 

"iQuien  pensara  que  yo  hiciera 
Pasos  de  :  La  vida  es  sueno  ?  "  * 

Primero  soy  yo  is  mentioned  in  Basta  collar  *  ;  in 
the  latter  play  allusion  is  probably  made  to  El 
galan  Fantasma.  This  last  link  is  weak,  but 
Schmidt's  conjecture6  seems  to  be  correct.  El 
galan  Fantasma  is  alluded  to  in  La  dama  duende, 
which  play,  in  turn,  refers  to  the  baptism  of 
Prince  Baltasar  Carlos,  November  4,  1620,  and 
is  the  only  work  in  the  series  that  can  be  dated 
with  certainty.  Hartzenbusch's  arguments,  to 
show  that  Basta  callar  was  written  prior  to  1635, 
are,  of  themselves,  not  conclusive.6 

Prof.  Lang  has  noted  that  a  scene  in  Life  is  a 
dream  has  a  parallel  in  Enciso's  El  Principe  Don 
Carlos,  licensed  April,  1633.  Dr.  Schevill  has 
discussed  the  suggestion  at  considerable  length, 
concluding  in  favor  of  the  priority  of  Enciso.* 
His  train  of  reasoning  seems  logical  and  his  con- 
clusion a  just  one,  but  until  the  dates  of  the  two 
plays  are  determined  beyond  controversy,  final 

2 1  have  refrained  from  making  use  of  the  Loa  sacra- 
mental de  los  titulos  de  las  comedias  de  Lope  de  Vega  Carpio, 
of  doubtful  date  and  authorship.  If,  however,  it  is  by 
Lope,  then,  as  Prof.  Harden  suggests  to  me,  we  have  a 
posterior  date,  the  death  of  Lope  August  27,  1635,  refer- 
ence being  made  in  the  Loa  (1.  80)  to  Calderon's  play. 

sEd.  Kivad.,  iv,  20.  *!&«?.,  in,  256. 

6  Die  S.  Calderon's,  p.  107.  «Ibid.,  IV,  671. 

.,  1903,204ft. 


judgment  must  be  deferred.8  Granted  that  Cal- 
deron  plagiarized  in  ninety-nine  cases,  nothing  is 
proved  for  the  hundredth.  Even  though  the 
scene  in  Enciso's  play  harks  back  to  the  original 
history  of  Don  Carlos,  the  parallel  scene  in  Life 
is  a  dream  is  quite  natural  and  dramatically 
appropriate.  There  is  always  a  possibility  that 
Enciso  may  have  turned  to  Calderon's  play  when 
dramatizing  the  similar  situation  in  the  life  of 
Prince  Carlos. 

*  #  *  # 

Stiefel  has  recently  studied,  with  wonted  thor- 
oughness, the  cloak  episode  in  Lope's  El  Honrado 
Hermano."  He  suggests  as  a  possible  source, 
Timoneda's  ElSobrcmesay  Alivio  de  Caminantes, 
and  adds  two  shorter  versions  from  Pinedo's  Liber 
facetiarum,  likewise,  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
Leite  de  Vasconcellos  has  since  published  a 
modern  Portuguese  version.10  The  story  occurs 
in  another  libra  de  chistes,  Melchior  de  Sancta 
Cruz's  Floresta  de  apotheghmas,  first  published  in 
1574,  and  frequently  afterwards,  although  the 
work  is  now  exceedingly  rare.  Sancta  Cruz's 
version  is,  in  the  main,  like  Timoueda's,  but  if 
Lope  recurred  to  a  printed  text  for  his  form  of 
the  episode,  it  was,  if  we  may  judge  from  the 
close,  to  Timoneda's.  Sancta  Cruz's  version  is 
as  follows  : 

' '  Vii  escudero  fue  a  uegociar  con  el  Duque  de 
Alua  don  N.  y  como  no  le  diessen  silla,  quitose 
la  capa,  y  asseutose  en  ella.  El  Duque  le  mando 
dar  silla.  Dixo  el  escudero  :  vuestra  senoria  per- 
done  mi  mala  criauya,  que  como  estoy  acostum- 
brado  en  mi  casa  de  asseiitarme,  desuanecioscme 
la  cabeya.  Como  vuo  negociado,  saliose  en  cuerpo, 
sin  cobijarse  la  capa.  Trayendosela  vn  page,  le 
dixo,  seruios  della,  que  a  mi  ya  me  ha  seruido  de 
silla,  y  no  la  quiero  lleuar  mas  acuestas."  " 


8  Since  writing  the  above  I  have  secured  a  copy  of  the 
1774  edition,  as,  also,  Schaeffer's  translation  of  the  play 
(Leipzig,  1887),— not  consulted  by  Dr.  Schevill.  One 
needs  must  agree  with  Schaeffer's  conjecture  (p.  7),  that 
one  form  of  the  play  was  written  between  1G21  and  1(329. — 
Of  the  plays  in  Dr.  Schevill's  bibliographical  list  (p.  199) 
I  have  nos.  5  and  6  (two  copies). 

»ZRPh.,  1905,  333. 

"Ibid.,  1906,  332. 

11  Septima  parte,  capitula  primero,  No.  xxvii,  ed.  Brus- 
selas,  1629.  See  now,  Menendez  y  Pelayo,  Orfgines  de  la 
Novela,  n,  XLVI,  n. 


November,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


In  his  edition  of  Oclio  comedian  desconocidas 
(1887),  Schaeffcr  published  an  anonymous  play, 
El  Caballero  de  Olmcdo,  in  which  the  final  words 
of  leave-taking  are  : 

"  Carrero,  Telles  y  Salas  pide 
perdonen  Vs  M  ." 

Schaeffer,  remembering  that  the  text  is  lamentably 
corrupt,  and  believing  that  three  authors  were  re- 
ferred to,  changed  pide  to  piden.     He  knew  of  no 
Telles,  and  no  Carrero,  but  Salas  might  be  Salas 
Barbadillo.     Stiefel  took  exception  to  the  emen- 
dation, for  Spaniards  often  have  three  names.12 
At  the  same  time  he  called  attention  to  a  dramatist 
Carrero,  mentioned  by  Schack  and  Barrera.     In 
his   edition   of  Lope's   play   of   the   same   title, 
Menendez   y    Pelayo    suggests    the    emendation 
Claramonte  pide.     Restori   while   reviewing   the 
Spanish  scholar's  study, I3  passes  over  the  emen- 
dation, refers  to  the  play  as  by  ires  ingenios,  and 
'  Ma  non  credo  che  i  cappricciosi  nomi  di 
Carrero,  Telles  y   Salas  del  versi  finali  sieno  di 
comici:  Salas  ve  ne  sono  parecchi,  ma  ignoro  vi 
fossero    dei     Carrero    (ne     Porto    carrero)    e   di 
Tellez  [/]  trovo  solo  una  Catalina  nella  eompagnia 
del  Balbin  al  1°  settembre  1629  ..." 

Two  considerations  may  be  offered  here  ;  if 
they  do  not  solve  the  problem,  they  may,  at  least, 
be  interesting  in  and  for  themselves.  Critics  have 
all  been  aware  of  the  manuscript  of  the  play, 
dated  1606.  Through  the  kindness  of  Sr.  Paz  y 
Melia,  it  is  possible  to  quote  here  the  final  lines  : 


217 

nothing  whatsoever  to  preclude  a  reference  to  him 
by  his  real  name  ;  Lope,  for  instance,  referred  to 
him  as  Tellez.     That  we  should  have  the  form 
Telles  need  cause  no  anxiety.     The  confusion  is 
easily  explained.    In  Barrera  (585)  will  be  found 
Tellos,  for  Tellez  (de  Meneses).    In  Claramonte's 
Letania  moral,  approved   1610,  Tirso  is  referred 
to  as  Telles.    This  note  will  have  served  a  purpose 
if  it  calls  attention  to  the  importance   of  Clara- 
monte's work  for  the  history  of  a  most  obscure 
and  intricate  period  of  Spanish  literature.     Up  to 
the  present  only  the  inquiridon  de  los  ingenios  in- 
vocados,  and  the  few  quintillas  cited  by  Gallardo 
have  been  used.     In  the  inquiridon  Tirso  appears 
is  fray  Gabriel  Tellez.     Folio  364,  in  a  poem  to 
Sancte  Ramon  non  nat,  patron  of  childbirth,  we 
read  : 

La  lengua  6  Eamon  moued  .... 
Mas  si  soys  Merced  por  dos 

Eamones,  en  las  acciones 

otro  Eamon  os  da  Dios 

para  que  de  tres  Earaones 
aya  trinidad  en  vos. 

El  con  inrnortal  decoro 
Os  cante,  sino  despierta 
Telles  su  aoento  sonoro, 
mas  dexad  que  perlas  vierta 
por  sus  labios  Pico  de  oro  .  .  . 


"Oy  Elvira  se  despide 
de  ti,  y  Morales  pide 
perdon,  a  vuestras  mercedes." 

It  will  be  noticed  that  the  lines  differ  from  the 
Schaeffer  text,  *nd  that  Carrero,  Telles  and  Salas 
are  not  mentioned  at  all.  Morales  may  be  Alonso 
de  Morales,  actor  and  playwright,  but  the  name 
is  a  common  one  in  the  annals  of  the  Spanish  stage. 
Returning  to  the  Schaeffer  version,  printed 
probably  before  the  end  of  the  second  decade  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  there  were  undoubtedly 
dramatists  by  the  name  of  Carrero  and  Salas,  and 
of  course  there  was  a  Tellez.  Gabriel  wrote  under 
the  pseudonym  Tirso  de  Molina,  but  there  is 

"LBIGRPh.,  1889,  309. 
"ZRPh.,  1905,  358. 


The  Ramon  alluded  to  is  Alonso  Ramon  or 
Remon.  Barrera  says  :  "  El  padre  Remon  debi6 
de  entrar  en  la  religion  Mercenaria  poco  antes  del 
ano  de  1611."  »  Now,  as  the  Letania  moral  was 
approved  May  23,  1610,  it  must  be  inferred  that 
he  had  entered  the  order  as  early  as  1608  or 
'  Pico  de  oro  '  was  Fray  Hernando  de  San- 
tiago, identified  as  follows  in  Mercurim  Trimeqis 
.  .  .  Patone  1621,  fol.  165  :  «  Todo  esto  es  de 
*rai  Hernando  de  Santiago,  llamado  por  su  bien 
decir  Pico  de  oro." 

*  *  * 

The  Caballero  de  Olmedo  was  written  in  1605 

806,  as  reference  is  made  (p.  329)  to  Lope's 

La  Noche  Toledana,  written  after  April  8    1605 

The  only  accessible  text  is  unusually  corrupt,  and 

this  ought  to  have  saved  it  from  the  severe  criti- 

Q  which  Lope's  editor  and  apologist  metes  out 

14  Catdlogo,  p.  316. 

^Eemon  was  a  Mercenano  as  early  as  1605  ;  ef.  Comedias 
de  1W  de  Mohno,  ed.  Cotarelo  y  Mori,  1906,  p.  viii. 


218 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  7. 


to  it.  The  subject  is  disagreeable  in  the  extreme, 
reminding  one  of  Kyd's  The  Spanish  Tragcdie. 
But  the  exposition  of  the  constancy  of  Elvira  and 
of  the  villainy  of  the  English  count  is  powerful. 
Certain  parts  would  be  a  credit  to  even  such  a 
master  as  Tirso.  It  must  be  confessed,  however, 
that  the  wing  flags  all  too  often.  One  might  be 
pardoned  for  insisting  upon  the  archaeological  in- 
terest of  the  scene  at  the  bull  fight.  How  modern 
are  the  cries  of  the  aguador  and  frutero  ! 

"  |  Agua  y  anis,  galanes  :  i  quien  la  bebe?  .  .  . 
[  A  ocho  ciruela  regafiona ! 
j  Avellanas  tostadas,  cabal  leros  ! 
|  Oh  qu£  rico  turron  !  Es  de  Alicante, 
y  lo  doy  &  cincuenta  y  dos  la  libra  ..." 


MILTON  A.  BUCHANAN. 


University  of  Toronto. 


THE  DATE  OF  COLERIDGE'S 

MELANCHOLY.1 

Coleridge' s  ' '  Melancholy  :  a  Fragment, ' '  was 
printed  in  Sibylline  Leaves,  1817,  with  the 
statement  that  it  was  ' '  First  published  in  the 
Morning  Chronicle,  in  the  year  1794."  Campbell 
in  the  Globe  edition  gives  that  date,  but  with  a 
question  mark,  adding  that  he  ' '  searched  the  M. 
Ch.  of  1794  for  the  verses,  but  without  success." 

Two  years  after  the  Globe  edition  was  published 
appeared  Mr.  E.  H.  Coleridge's  two-volume  col- 
lection of  his  grandfather's  Letters,  including  many 
that  had  not  before  been  printed.  Among  these 
is  one  from  Coleridge  to  Wm.  Sotheby,  dated  Aug. 
26,  1802,  which  seems  to  confirm  the  early  date  of 
the  verses,  though  another  paper  is  named  as  the 
place  of  first  publication.  Coleridge  is  acknowl- 
edging the  receipt  of  a  volume  of  Bowles's  poetry 
that  Sotheby  had  sent  him  : 

".  .  .  .  I  well  remember  that,  after  reading 
your  '  Welsh  Tour, '  Southey  observed  to  me  that 
you,  I,  and  himself  had  all  done  ourselves  harm 

1  This  note  was  written  and  sent  to  the  Editors  of  M.  L.  N. 
before  I  knew  that  Mr.  Coleridge  had  found  the  lines  in 
the  Morninj  Post.  I  have  attempted  to  recast  it  in  the 
proof,— not,  I  feel,  very  successfully. 


by  suffering  an  admiration  of  Bowles  to  bubble 
up  too  often  on  the  surface  of  our  poems.  In 
perusing  the  second  volume  of  Bowles,  which  I 
owe  to  your  kindness,  I  met  a  line  of  my  own 
which  gave  me  great  pleasure,  from  the  thought 
what  a  pride  and  joy  I  should  have  had  at  the 
time  of  writing  it,  if  I  had  supposed  it  possible 
that  Bowles  would  have  adopted  it.  The  line  is, — 

Had  melancholy  mused  herself  to  sleep. 

I  wrote  the  lines  at  nineteen,  and  published  them 
many  years  ago  in  the  '  Morning  Post '  as  a  frag- 
ment, and  as  they  are  but  twelve  lines,  I  will 
transcribe  them  : 

Upon  a  mouldering  abbey's  broadest  wall, 
Where  ruining  ivies  prop  the  ruins  steep — 
Her  folded  arms  wrapping  her  tatter'd  pall 
Had  Melancholy  mused  herself  to  sleep. 
The  fern  was  press'd  beneath  her  hair, 
The  dark  green  Adder's  Tongue  was  there ; 
And  still  as  came  the  flagging  sea  gales  weak, 
Her  long  lank  leaf  bow'd  fluttering  o'er  her  cheek. 
Her  pallid  cheek  was  flush'd  ;  her  eager  look 
Beam'd  eloquent  in  slumber  !  Inly  wrought, 
Imperfect  sounds  her  moving  lips  forsook, 
And  her  bent  forehead  work'd  with  troubled  thought. 

"I  met  these  lines  yesterday  by  accident,  and 
ill  as  they  are  written  there  seemed  to  me  a  force 
and  distinctness  of  image  in  them  that  we  e  buds 
of  promise  in  a  schoolboy  performance." 

The  expression  "  I  met  these  lines  yesterday  by 
accident"  and  the  indefiniteness  of  the  date  of 
publication  ("many  years  ago")  suggest  that  he 
had  the  fragment  before  him  in  the  shape  of  an 
undated  clipping  from  the  Morning  Post  while  he 
wrote.  Guided  perhaps  by  this  suggestion,  the 
editor  of  the  Letters  has  since  found  the  earliest 
known  print  of  Melancholy — in  the  Morning  Post 
for  December  12,  1797.8  The  five  years  between 
1797  and  1802  may  well  have  seemed  many  to 
Coleridge.  Bearing  in  mind  the  lapse  of  time,  the 
established  tendency  of  romantic  poets  in  general 

!E.  H.  Coleridge,  "S.  T.  Coleridge  as  a  Lake  Poet," 
Trans,  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Literature,  xxiv,  110.  It  had 
escaped  the  notice  of  Campbell,  who  had  "not  detected 
any  of  Coleridge's  contributions  to  the  Morning  Post  before 
the  beginning  of  1798"  ;  and  Dr.  Haney  in  his  Coleridge 
bibliography  (1903)  seems  to  have  followed  Campbell, 
listing  Fire,  Famine  and  Slaughter,  Jan.  8,  1798,  as  Cole- 
ridge's first  contribution  to  the  Post. 


November,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


219 


and  Coleridge  in  particular  to  assign  early  dates  to 
their  compositions,  and  the  fact  that  Coleridge  did 
print  no  less  than  ten  poems  in  the  Chronicle  in 
1794,  we  have  probably  a  sufficient  explanation  of 
the  assertion  in  Sibylline  Leaves  that  the  fragment 
was  first  printed  in  the  Chronicle  in  1794.  1797 
is  pretty  certainly  the  date  of  the  first  appearance 
of  Melancholy.  The  same  year  is  also,  notwith- 
standing what  Coleridge  wrote  to  Sotheby  about 
the  lines  being  a  "schoolboy  performance,"  the 
probable  date  of  their  composition. 

The  dating  of  so  slight  a  fragment  as  Melancholy 
would  not  justify  this  lengthy  note,  even  to  a  Cole- 
ridge student,  were  it  not  that  the  lines  bear  some 
internal  evidence  of  belonging  to  a  later  period 
than  Coleridge  assigns  them  to,  — to  the  most  in- 
teresting and  important  period  of  his  whole  poetical 
career.  The  "fern,"  the  "dark  green  Adder's 
Tongue,"  the  "long  lank  leaf,"  are  strongly  sug- 
gestive of  that  ash-tree  dell  at  Nether  Stowey  which 
made  so  deep  an  impression  on  the  poet's  imagi- 
nation in  the  years  1796  and  1797.  Professor 
Dowden  has  pointed  out*  the  chief  instances  of 
its  appearance  in  Coleridge's  verse, — in  This  Lime 
Tree  Bower  my  Prison,  in  Oaorio,  and  in  Fears  in 
Solitude.  Copies  of  the  first-named  poem  sent  to 
Southey  and  Lloyd,  in  the  summer  of  1797,  shortly 
after  it  was  composed,  describe  the  "  plumey 
ferns"  "sprayed  by  the  waterfall";  in  Osorw 
(composed  the  same  summer)  the  plumey  fern  has 
become  "  the  long  lank  weed,"  and  so  it  appears 
in  the  printed  form  of  This  lAme-  Tree,  Bower — 
"the  dark  green  file  of  long  lank  weeds."  The 
adder's  tongut  is  not  mentioned  in  any  of  these 
poems,  but  that  the  "ferns"  and  "weeds" 
mean  the  same  plant  that  is  named  in  Melancholy 
is  shown  by  an  entry  in  Dorothy  Wordsworth's 
Journal  (Feb.  10,  1798):  "Walked  to  Wood- 
lands, and  to  the  waterfall.  The  adder's  tongue 
and  the  ferns  green  iu  the  low  damp  dell."  It  is 
further  shown  by  two  botanical  notes.  When 
Coleridge  printed  This  Lime-Tree  Bower  in  the 
Annual  Anthology  for  1800,  he  annotated  1.  17 
as  follows  : 

'"Of  long  lank  weeds. '     The  Asplenium  scolo- 
pendrium,  called  in  some  countries  the  Adder's 

*  "Coleridge  as  a  Poet,"  NewStvdieg in  Literature, 313  2. 


tongue,  in  others  the  Hart's  tongue  :  but  Wither- 
ing gives  the  Adder's  tongue  as  the  trivial  name 
of  the  Ophioglossum  only." 

This  note  was  retained  in  Sibylline  Leave?,  and 
afterwards.  In  Sibylline  Leaves  also  1.  7  of 
Melancholy  has  this  note  : 

' '  A  botanical  mistake.  The  plant,  I  meant,  is 
called  the  Hart's  Tongue  ;  but  this  would  un- 
luckily spoil  the  poetical  effect.  Cedat  ergo 
Botanke  ; ' ' 

which  is  merely  a  modification  of  the  note  origi- 
nally printed  in  the  Post : 

"A  plant  found  on  old  walls,  and  in  wells  and 
moist  edges. — It  is  often  called  the  Hart's- 
tongue."  4 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that,  at  least  when  this 
note  was  written,  the  "fern,"  the  "dark  green 
Adder's  Tongue,"  and  the  "long  lank  leaf"  of 
Melancholy  were  identified  in  Coleridge's  mind 
with  the  "plumey  ferns,"  the  "dark  green  file 
of  long  lank  weeds,"  that  so  impressed  his  im- 
agination in  the  ash-tree  dell  at  Nether  Stowey. 
In  view  of  the  fact  that  no  one  has  found  the 
fragment  in  print  earlier  than  December,  1797, 
we  are  I  think  justified  in  believing  that  Melan- 
choly in  the  form  in  which  we  have  it  was  not  "a 
schoolboy  performance,"  and  that  its  "  force  and 
distinctness  of  image ' '  are  a  product  of  the  great 
year  at  Stowey. 

This  date  accords  also  with  Bowles's  alleged 
borrowing  mentioned  in  the  letter  to  Sotheby. 
But  as  a  matter  of  fact  Bowles  was  probably  think- 
ing of  another  poem  of  Coleridge's  rather  than  of 
Melancholy. 

The  passage  to  which  Coleridge  refers  is  in 
Bowles's  Coombe  Ellen  : 

"Here  Melancholy,  on  the  pale  crags  laid, 
Might  muse  herself  to  sleej) ;  or  Fancy'  come, 
Witching  the  mind  with  tender  cozenage, 
And  shaping  things  that  are  not." 

Coombe  Ellen  was  "written  in  Radnorshire, 
September,  1798,"  and  published  the  same  year — 

*  In  the  version  of  This  Lime-tree  Sower  sent  to  Southey 
in  July,  1797,  Coleridge  had  already  commented  in  a  note 
on  the  "plumy  ferns"  : — "The  ferns  that  grow  in  moist 
places  grow  five  or  six  together,  and  form  a  complete 
'Prince  of  Wales' s  Feathers,' — that  is,  plumy." 


220 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


a  year  after  the  appearance  of  Coleridge's  frag- 
ment in  the  Morning  Post.  The  resemblance  is 
evident,  and  rather  striking.  ' '  Pale  Melancholy  ' ' 
has  "sat  retired  "  since  Collins  so  stationed  her  in 
1748,  but  she  first  "mused  herself  to  sleep"  in 
Coleridge's  imagination.5  Not,  however,  for  the 
first  time  in  the  fragment  under  consideration. 

In  the  autumn  of  1796  Coleridge  and  Lloyd 
spent  a  week  with  Poole  at  Nether  Stowey,  the 
result  of  which  was  a  poem  to  Lloyd,  published  in 
the  Poems  of  1797  under  the  title  ToaYoung  Friend 
on  his  Proposing  to  Domesticate  with  the  Author. 
It  is  an  enthusiastic  description,  very  slightly  alle- 
gorized, of  the  beauties  of  nature  that  will  sur- 
round the  poet  and  his  disciple  when  they  are 
settled  at  Stowey.  The  dell  is  not  pictured 
sharply  and  definitely  as  it  was  to  be  later,  in  the 
poems  of  1797-8,  but  it  is  a  part  of  his  recollection 
of  the  place,  recurring  more  than  once  in  the  poem. 
And  this  poem  it  is  that  one  constantly  recalls 
while  reading  Coombe  Ellen.  In  it  are  to  be 
found  a'most  all  the  concrete  items  of  Bowles's 
description  :  the  dashing  torrent,  the  red  berries 
of  the  ash,  the  sheep  wandering  on  the  perilous 
cliff,  the  towering  crag.  I  should  have  to  copy  a 
large  part  of  both  poems  to  show  all  the  relations 
and  resemblances.  Finally,  in  it  occurs  the  very 
fancy  that  Coleridge  mentions  in  the  letter  to 
Sotheby,  and  in  the  same  language,  save  that  a 
synonym  is  used  : 

"Calm  Pensiveness  might  muse  herself  to  sleep." 

Here,  then,  is  a  sufficient  Coleridgean  antece- 
dent for  Bowles's  line,  indeed  for  his  whole  poem, 
in  a  piece  he  is  rather  more  likely  to  have  seen 

5  Tho  it  was  from  Bowles,  apparently,  that  he  learned  to 
feel  a  special  delight  in  the  verb  muse.  It  is  the  best-loved 
word  in  Bowles's  vocabulary,  and  became  scarcely  less  a 
favorite  with  his  young  admirers  the  Pantisocrats.  It 
occurs  five  times  in  the  first  ten  sonnets  in  Gilfillan's 
edition  of  Bowles,  frequently  in  association  with  an  evening 
landscape,  a  cliff  or  a  hillside  with  a  castle  (cf.  first  t'.vo 
lines  of  MtlancMy).  It  gave  a  name  for  Coleridge's 
magnum  opus  of  those  days,  the  Religions  Musings  ;  it  comes 
in  characteristically  in  the  Monody  on  the  Death  of  Cltuttcr- 
ton;  a  sonnet  of  Lovell's  quoted  by  Cottle  ( Reminiscences, 
p.  3,  Araer.  ed.  of  1848)  cannot  avoid  it ;  and  Coleridge 
himself  took  occasion  to  ridicule  it  as  a  mannerism  of  the 
school  in  the  first  of  the  Higginbotham  sonnets.  It  goes 
back  of  course  to  Collins's  Ode  to  Evening. 


than  he  is  to  have  seen  Melancholy,  tho  of  course 
he  may  well  enough  have  seen  both.  ' '  About  the 
6th  of  September  [1797],"  says  Campbell,  "hav- 
ing completed  Osorio  to  the  middle  of  the  fifth  act, 
[Coleridge]  took  it  over  to  Shaftesbury  to  exhibit 
it  to  the  '  god  of  his  idolatry,  Bowles.'  '  This  was 
his  first  meeting  with  the  sonneteer.  No  doubt  he 
took  with  him,  if  he  had  not  already  sent,  a  copy 
of  the  1797  Poems  •  very  likely  he  read  to  Bowles 
the  lines  To  a  Young  Friend,  &c.,  very  likely  also 
the  first  draft  of  Thin  Lime-Tree  Sower,  in  connec- 
tion with  the  scenes  in  Osorio  in  which  the  same 
material  had  been  used.  Coleridge  was  an  impres- 
sive reader,  especially  of  his  own  poetry.  Bowles 
doubtless  studied  Coleridge' s  verse  with  enthusiasm 
after  that  meeting ;  and  when,  a  year  later,  he 
found  himself  in  Radnorshire  in  the  midst  of 
scenery  such  as  Coleridge  had  celebrated,  he  imi- 
tated the  lines  to  Lloyd  in  Coombe  Ellen. 

Melancholy,  I  believe,  is  no  more  a  schoolboy 
performance  than  is  Time  Real  and  Imaginary. 
Very  likely  the  fancy  of  Melancholy  musing  herself 
to  sleep  was  early,  a  product  of  the  tune  when 
Bowles  was  in  the  ascendent.  It  has  no  necessary 
connection  with  Stowey,  tho  as  we  have  seen  he 
introduced  it  into  his  first  Stowey  poem  in  1796. 
But  the  lines  he  printed  in  the  Morning  Post  in 
December,  1797,  and  sent  to  Sotheby  in  1802  as 
a  product  of  his  nineteenth  year,  surety  took  shape 
not  in  1791  or  1794,  but  after  1796— after  he  had 
seen  the  Quantocks,  and  the  ash-tree  dell  in 
particular. 

H.  M.  BELDEN. 

University  of  Missouri. 


OE.  iverg,  werig  'ACCURSED';    wergan  'TO 
CURSE.' 

The  elder  school  of  lexicographers,  for  example, 
Ettmuller,  Lex.  An.  Sax.,  p.  97,  Bouterwek,  Ein 
An.  saclis.  Glossar.,  p.  297,  Grein,  Sprachschatz, 
ii,  662-3,  treated  werg,  werig,  wergan,  &c., 
meaning  'accursed,  to  curse,'  as  having  a  short 
vowel.  Also  the  Bosworth-Toller  marks  the 
vowel  as  short,  although — unfortunately — enter- 
ing werg,  werig,  wyrig  under  ivearg.  Kluge,  An. 


November,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


221 


s'dche.  Leseb.3  enters  wyrgan,  verb,  as  short,  but 
does  not  record  the  nominal  form  werg,  werig  ; 
doubtless  for  him  the  vowel  is  short  in  all  forms. 
Of  late  years,  however,  the  practice  lias  crept  in 
of  regarding  the  e  as  long  and  writing  the  lemma 
werig  ;  see  Cook,  Christ,  p.  290,  and  Krapp, 
Andrew,  p.  234.  To  whose  doctrine  this  paral- 
lelling of  werg,  werig  '  accursed '  with  werig 
'  weary '  may  be  due,  I  am  unable  to  say  ;  per- 
haps to  the  example  of  Sweet,  who  in  his  Stud. 
Diet,  of  An.  Sax,,  p.  205,  enters  wlerig*,  ej,  y 
'accursed.'  Clark  Hall,  Concise  A n.  Sax.  Did., 
p.  365,  col.  b  (near  top),  enters  wyrge  and  (far- 
ther down)  wyrig,  both  forms  with  short  vowel. 
Now,  although  Clark  Hall  is  unjustifiable  in  his 
uyrge  with  final  -e,  and  although  the  Bosworth- 
Toller  is  absurd  in  entering  werg,  werig  under 
wearg,  nevertheless  the  phonology  of  Ettmiiller, 
Bouterwek,  Grein,  namely  werg,  werig,  is  right 
and  the  wcrlg  of  Cook  and  Krapp  and  the  iv'erg 
of  Sweet  are  flatly  wrong.  See  the  passing  re- 
mark by  Cosijn,  Beitr.  xx,  109-110.  Concerning 
Krapp  in  particular,  I  have  grounds  for  suspecting 
that  his  personal  belief  is  against  werig. 

Every  investigation  of  the  question  should  start 
from  the  familiar  warg,  Icel.  vargr,  OE.  (WS. ) 
wearg,  OS.  ivarag.  The  ultimate  relations  of 
Germanic  warg-s  have  been  fully  discussed  by 
Kauffmaun,  Beitr.  xvm,  175-187.  I  have  not 
space  for  even  the  briefest  resume1  of  Kauffmann's 
exposition.  Let  it  suffice  to  say  that  a  warg-s  was 
a  person  who  had  committed  an  inexpiable  of- 
fence, a  parricide,  who  was  solemnly  thrust  out  of 
the  community  and  handed  over  to  the  punish- 
ment of  the  gods.  The  'wolf  (werwolf)  is  a 
Scandinavian  development.  In  OE.  the  word 
was  reduced  to  mean  a  miserable  one  in  general, 
a  wretch  to  be  shunned  and  execrated.  Hence 
the  gothic  verb  ga-wargjan  'to  condemn,  curse,' 
OE.  wiergan,  wergan. 

What,  then,  is  the  explanation  of  the  OE. 
nominal  forms  werg,  werig,  &c.  ?  That  the  Bos- 
worth-Toller  is  wrong  in  equating  them  with 
wearg,  the  breaking  of  warg,  will  be  evident  to 
one  looking  more  closely  into  the  phonology  of 
the  so-called  breakings.  In  OE.  the  broken 
vowel  begins  palatal  and  ends  guttural  ;  of  neces- 
sity consonants  after  the  vowel  are  also  in  the  gut- 
tural position.  The  clearest  utterance  on  this 


point    is   found  in    Biilbring,    Altengl.  El.buch, 
§  139  : 

"  Die  Brechung  hat  ihren  Grund  in  der  vela- 
ren,  und  wenigstens  z.  T.  vielleicht  auch  labialen, 
Artikulation  bezw.  Nebenartikulation,  welche  den 
brechenden  Konsonanteii  eigen  war :  x  [Bill- 
bring' s  sign  for  the  OE.  h  velar  spirant  §  480] 
war  jedenfalla  auch  nach  e  und  i  velar  und  ahnelte 
wohl  der  hinteren  Varietiit,  die  heutzutage  z.  B. 
von  Schweizeni  (in  iach  'ich')  gesprochen  wird  ; 
das  lauge  sowohl  als  das  gedeckte  r  wurde  mit 
Hebung  der  Hinterzunge  und  vielleicht  mit  Lip- 
penrundung  gesprochen  ;  ebenso  das  aus  dem 
Urgerm.  stammene  II  und  das  gedeckte  /,  soweit 
sie  Brechnng  hervorriefen,  d.  h.  also  wie  ne.  II 
in  hall,  full. ' ' 

From  this  it  is  clear  that  a  velar  or  labial  (non- 
palatal)  breaking  r  in  the  combination  rg,  rh, 
could  .not  have  evolved  a  parasitic  palatal  vowel 
between  the  r  and  the  g  or  h.  See  Sievers,  §  213, 
Anm.  on  byrig  (*burgi~)  and  burug.  Conversely, 
if  -rg-,  -rh-  is  non-palatal,  the  parasitic  vowel  will 
also  be  non -palatal,  an  a,  o,  u  ;  this  we  find  in 
OS.  warag.  According  to  the  Bosworth-Toller 
assumption  :  werg,  werig  =  wearg,  we  should  ex- 
pect such  forms  as  *werug,  *werag.  Yet  these 
are  precisely  the  forms  which  we  never  find  ;  we 
encounter  only  forms  of  the  -rig-  type,  e.  g., 
weriga,  ueriges,  werigra,  werigum,  wyrigra.  Es- 
pecially significant  are  such  forms  as  se  werga 
feond,  Bede  216/2  (wer'a  MS.  B,  Miller,  n,  p. 
230),  />a  wergan  gastas,  214/16  (werian  MS.  B, 
Miller,  u,  p.  229).  Too  much  importance  need 
not  be  attached  to  the  accent  in  werian.  In  a 
text  so  tangled  up  and  fitful  as  the  OE.  Bede 
accent- writing  must  be  of  the  slightest  conceivable 
significance  ;  see  unalyfedre,  110/25  (MS.  B, 
Miller,  u,  p.  101).  The  accent  in  werian  can 
indicate  nothing  more  than  a  late  OE.  length- 
ening (sporadic)  in  open  syllable,  Sweet,  H.  E.  S. 
§  392.  Of  far  greater  significance  is  the  phenom- 
enon that  the  reduction  of  werigan  to  werian,  of 
weriga  to  weria  marks  the  extreme  palatalization 
of  g  in  the  direction  of  the  y-sound. 

If  werg  is  not  —  wearg,  what  then  is  it  ?  Only 
one  explanation  suggests  itself  to  me,  namely,  to 
assume  a  stem  *wargi-  parallel  with  the  more 
usual  warg-o-s.  This  *ivargi-  would  produce  OE. 
werg,  wierg,  wyrg  in  accordance  with  the  familiar 
principles  of  OE.  phonology,  while  werig,  wyrig, 


222 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES, 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  7. 


&c.,  are  merely  the  same  forms  with  palatal  para- 
sitic vowel,  like  byrg,  byrig  from  *burgi-.  Clark 
Hall's  wyrge,  however,  with  final  -e  in  the  lemma, 
rims  counter  to  Sievers,  §§  133,  269,  302. 

On  the  negative  side  one  has  a  right  to  call 
upon  the  upholders  of  the  *wcrig  form  for  some 
explanation.  What  can  be  the  etymology  of 
*u>erig  '  accursed '  ?  OE.  e,  apart  from  a  very 
few  words  like  the  adverb  her,  is  the  i-Umlaut  of 
5  or  of  la,  eo.  Now,  if  there  are  such  stems  as 
war-  (or  wear-,  wear-')  -ig,  assuredly  they  have 
left  no  trace.  Why  Sweet  in  particular  should 
enter  wierig*  (in  his  phonology  ie  is  the  i-Umlaut 
of  ea,  eo~)  yet  enter  the  verb  wiergan  (i- Umlaut 
of  ea,  eo)  is  a  puzzle.  In  what  Ablaut  relation 
are  ea,  eo,  ea,  eo  ?  Whereas  warg-o-  and  *warg-i- 
fit  into  the  OE.  vowel  system  without  a  wrench. 
For  the  connection  between  warg-  and  Latin 
virga,  virgula,  see  Kauft'mann  ;  the  '  twig '  was 
attached  to  the  neck  of  the  parricide  as  a  symbol 
and  badge. 

A  few  words  upon  the  metrical  aspects  of 
*werig  versus  werg.  A  hemistich  of  the  type 
*jeond  |  werlgne  or  *werlgne  \  feond  would  point 
conclusively  to  *  werig.  But  there  is  no  such 
hemistich ;  the  reader  may  satisfy  himself  by 
consulting  Grein.  There  is  not  a  line  in  OE. 
poetry  which  compels  us  to  scan  *werig  ;  on  the 
contrary,  werig  is  the  almost  unavoidable  scansion. 
For  example,  werige  mid  werigum,  Andrew  615a  ; 
read  either  :  werge  mid  \  wergum  or  werige  mid  \ 
werigum,  as  unmistakably  preferable  to  werige 
mid  |  werigum,  which — according  to  Sievers,  Alt- 
germ.  Metrik,  §  78.5 — we  should  stress  :  werige 
mid  |  werigum. 

A  final  word  of  correction.  The  Bosworth- 
Toller  cites  Genesis  906  under  u'earg  'accursed,' 
although  more  than  twenty  years  ago  Sievers, 
Beitr.  x,  512,  corrected  the  MS.  werg  to  werig. 
It  will  be  well  to  examine  the  passage  in  full : 

pu  scealt  wideferhS  werij  pinura 
breostura  bearm  tredan  bradre  eorSan,  &c. 

The  emendation  bradre  for  the  MS.  brade  is  by 
Dietrich,  Zs.  f.  d.  Alt.  x,  318.  Properly  inter- 
preted, the  passage  means  :  '  Thou  (the  serpent) 
shalt  all  thy  life  weary  on  thy  breast(s)  tread  the 
lap  of  the  broad  earth.'  This  is  fairly  equivalent 
to  :  '  Upon  thy  belly  shalt  thou  go,'  Gen.  in,  14. 


Cornell  University. 


3.  M.  HAKT. 


THE  AUTHOESHIP  OF  PERICLES,  v,  1, 1-101. 

It  is  now  almost  universally  admitted  that,  with 
the  possible  exception  of  a  few  scattered  phrases, 
the  first  two  acts  of  Pericles  are  not  from  Shak- 
spere's  hand.  The  last  three,  however,  seem  to 
reveal  his  mind  and  art  at  nearly  every  point. 
Even  the  repulsive  scenes  in  the  brothel  were 
probably  revised  and  in  part  rewritten  by  the 
master,  with  the  especial  purpose  of  glorifying 
Marina's  character.  No  scene  save  these,1  in 
Acts  in-v,  has  hitherto  been  challenged. 

There  is,  nevertheless,  at  least  one  passage  of 
considerable  length— the  first  hundred  lines  of  the 
fifth  act — which  may  well  awaken  suspicion.  It 
shows  surprising  poverty  of  style  and  thought  if 
compared  with  the  portions  immediately  preceding 
and  following,  and  betrays,  furthermore,  some 
important  inconsistencies  which  demand  explana- 
tion. One  of  these  is  something  of  which  it  is 
difficult  to  believe  that  Shakspere  could  have 
been  guilty.  He  is  careful  to  represent  Marina 
as  a  model  of  young  womanhood,  and  so  well 
docs  he  succeed  that  she  is  not  unworthy  to  be 
placed  beside  those  wonderful  creations  of  his  best 
plays — Imogen,  Hermione,  Cordelia,  for  example. 
Now  Marina,  like  Cordelia,  is  attractive  in  no 
small  degree  by  reason  of  her  modesty  ;  yet  in 
the  passage  under  suspicion  she  is  given  a  speech 
which  is  wholly  out  of  accord  with  this  modesty  : 

"  I  am  a  maid, 

My  lord,  that  ne'er  before  invited  eyes, 
But  have  been  gazed  on  like  a  comet." 

If  this  is  Shakspere' s  touch,  the  only  remaining 
theory  is  that  her  character  is  drawn  in  a  glaringly 
inconsistent  fashion.  And  this  I  believe  to  be 
next  to  impossible,  for  in  1608  (the  year  in  which 
Pericles  was  probably  staged)  he  was  in  the  full 
maturity  of  his  genius. 

Another  inconsistency  is  concerned  with  Mar- 
ina's occupation.  It  was  first  noted  by  Mr.  F. 
G.  Fleay  (A  Shakespeare  Manual,  p.  210),  who, 
however,  did  not  deny  Shakspere' s  authorship  of 
the  passage  : 

"She  is  all  happy  as  the  fairest  of  all, 
And  with  her  fellow  maids  is  now  upon 
The  leafy  shelter  that  abuts  against 
The  island's  side."     ( v,  1,  49-52. ) 

1  The  Gower  prologues,  or  choruses,  however,  are  ad- 
mittedly non-Shaksperean. 


November,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


223 


In  iv.  6,  she  is  represented  as  desirous  to  ' '  sing, 
weave,  sew  and  dance,"  in  order  to  earn  money 
for  the  bawd  in  whose'power  she  has  been  placed. 
And  in  the  prologue  to  Act  v  she  is  taking  pupils 
in  singing,  dancing,  and  embroidering  : 

"And  her  gain 
She  gives  the  cursed  bawd." 

Now  it  is  true  that  Shakspere  was  sometimes  care- 
less concerning  such  details,  but  it  is  probable  that 
in  this  case  the  mistake  was  a  result  of  an  attempt 
to  graft  parts  of  two  different  versions  of  the  play. 
Such  an  attempt  is  again  suggested  by  the  fact 
that  the  proper  name,  Mytilene,  is  not  pronounced 
in  the  same  manner  in  the  hundred  lines  under 
suspicion  as  in  the  other  portions.  In  v,  1,  43, 
it  is  Mytilgn,  as  is  shown  by  the  meter,  whereas 
in  line  177  of  the  same  scene — almost  certainly  a 
Shaksperean  passage — it  has  the  ordinary  pronun- 
ciation, the  final  e  being  sounded.  In  the  closing 
couplet  of  the  Gower  prologue,  or  chorus,  to  iv, 
5,  the  pronunciation  is  again  Mj  tilgn,  as  is  proved 
not  only  by  the  meter  but  also  by  the  rime  and 
the  quarto  spelling  : 

"Patience,  then, 
And  think  you  now  are  all  in  Mytilene." 

(Quarto,  Mittelin. ) 

All  the  choruses  are  admittedly  non-Shaksperean. 
We  may  expect,  therefore,  to  find  this  shortened 
form  once  more  ;  and  in  the  prologue  to  v,  3,  we 
do  find  it  : 

"  What  minstrelsy  and  pretty  din, 
The  regent  made  in  Mytilene." 

(Quarto,  Metal  in. ) 

It  is  true  that  Shakspere  occasionally  used  two 
forms  of  the  same  word,  for  metrical  reasons  (Des- 
demona  and  Desdemdn) ;  but  it  can  hardly  be 
shown  that  he  does  so  here,  for  the  full  list  of  ex- 
amples enables  one  to  make  this  statement  :  in  the 
(probably)  non-Shaksperean  portions  we  have  the 
trisyllable  only,  four  times  (iv,  4,  51  ;  v,  1,  3  ; 
V,  1,  43  ;  v,  2,  273);  in  Shakspere's  portion,  the 
quadrisyllable  only,  also  four  times  (v,  1,  177  ; 
v,  1,  188  ;  v,  1,  221  ;  v,  3,  10).  In  two  of 
these  Shaksperean  lines  it  is  possible  to  scan  the 
word  as  a  trisyllable,  but  the  other  scansion  is  the 
more  natural.  Furthermore,  it  is  significant  that 
the  long  pronunciation  does  not  occur  even  once 
in  the  non-Shaksperean  lines  ;  and  this  must  be 


explained.  The  burden  of  proof  would  seem  to 
rest  upon  those  who  believe  Shakspere  to  be  the 
author  of  V,  1,  1-101.  Though  not  in  itself  final, 
the  inconsistency  strikingly  corroborates  the  other 
kinds  of  evidence. 

Further  proof  is  afforded  by  a  curious  break 
after  line  84  in  this  first  scene  of  the  fifth  act. 
When  Pericles  exclaims  ' '  Hum,  ha  !  "  he  shows 
extreme  anger.  Othello  uses  the  same  words 
(separately)  in  his  most  highly  wrought  states. 
Apparently,  then,  Pericles  follows  these  exclama- 
tions with  a  blow  ;  for  Gower,2  Twine,3  and  Wil- 
kins's  novel*  all  mention  it,  the  two  last  named 
adding  Marina's  lamentations.  Both  stage-direc- 
tion and  text  seem  to  have  dropped  out.  The  gap 
must  be  one  of  several  lines,  since  Marina's  first 
words,  in  the  play  as  we  now  have  it,  show  no 
lament  or  agitation.  That  there  was  a  blow, 
nevertheless,  is  shown  by  the  question  which 
Pericles  asks,  a  few  lines  beyond  (v,  1, 127-130) : 

' '  Didst  thou  not  say,  when  I  did  push  thee  back — 
Which  was  when  I  perceived  thee — that  thou  earnest 
From  good  descending?" 

And  at  another  point,  this  time  in  the  (probably) 
non-Shaksperean  portion  (v,  1,  100-101),  Marina 
herself  says  : 

"  My  lord,  if  you  did  know  my  parentage, 
You  would  not  do  me  violence." 

How  shall  we  reconcile  these  statements  with  the 
absence  of  a  stage-direction  ?  It  is  possible  that 
it  is  merely  a  careless  omission,  and  that  ten  or 
fifteen  lines  of  dialogue  have  also  perished  ;  for 
the  text  of  the  whole  play  is  hopelessly  corrupt. 
But  it  is  also  possible  that  here  again  is  an 
example  of  the  attempt  to  graft  one  version  upon 
another.  At  any  rate,  the  several  kinds  of  evi- 
dence presented,  when  taken  as  a  whole,  may 
well  give  us  pause. 

HARRY  T.  BAKER. 
Beloil  College. 


2Confessio  Amuntls  (Appolinus  the  Prince  of  Tyre),  Circ. 
1393. 

*  The  Patterne  of  Painfull  Adventures.  Laurence  Twine, 
1576. 

1  The  Painfull  Adventures  of  Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre. 
Being  the  true  History  of  the  Play  of  Pericles,  a*  it  was  lately 
presented,  etc.  1G08. 


224 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[  Vol.  xxii,  No.  7. 


FUKBKECHEN : 
WALTHER  VON   DEB  VOGELWEIDE  105-14 

(WiLMANNS2). 

In  this  well  known  Spruch,  the  poet  champions 
the  cause  of  the  Landgrave  Hermann  of  Thurin- 
gia.  In  the  face  of  the  accusations  of  the  latter' B 
enemies  and  quite  regardless  of  the  double-handed 
nature  of  the  political  game  played  by  Hermann 
in  his  attitude  to  the  imperial  throne,  Walther 
here  urges  upon  Otto's  attention  the  fairness  of 
treatment  accorded  by  Hermann  to  his  imperial 
opponent.  For  the  Thuringian  fights  in  the  open. 
He  is  no  coward.  Die  zagen  truogen  stlllen  rat : 
Sie  swuoren  hie,  sie  swuoren  dort  und  pnioften 
ungetriuwen  mart. 

In  view  ofWalther's  enthusiastic  defense  of 
Hermann  the  meaning  of  the  first  three  lines  of 
this  Spruch,  which  has  hitherto  been  in  doubt, 
seems  to  the  present  writer  clear.  The  lines  are  : 

M solder  Keistr  hUre 
fdrbrechen  durch  stn  ere 
des  lautgrdven  missetdt. 

Franz  Pfeiffer  offers  this  comment  upon  the  word 
furbrechen  :  "furbrechen  bedeutet  als  trans,  zuin 
Vorschein,  ans  Licht  bringen  ;  hier  jedoch  kaun 
der  Sinn  des  Wortes,  wenn  nicht  Verderbnis  vor- 
liegt,  nur  sein  :  nachlassen,  naeliseJien.  Bechstein 
schliigt  vor  (Germ,  xn,  476)  vergessen  "  ;  Wil- 
manns  echoes  this  view  in  his  edition  of  the  poet's 
works,  p.  364,  footnote  14,  where  he  says  :  fur- 
brechen, Lexer  im  Mhd.  Wb.  3,  585  erklart  : 
'  herauskommen  machen,  offenbaren,'  gegen  den 
Sinn,  wie  der  Zusammenhang  zeigt.  Wir  er- 
klarten  fru'her  unter  Verweisung  auf  Gr.  4,  862, 
868  furbrechen  als  gleichbedeutend  mit  brechen 
far  des  lantgraven  misset&t,  fiber  dieselbe  hinaus- 
gehen,  dariiber  hingehen.  Paul  (Beitr.  2,  553) 
wandte  ein,  dasz  fur  keine  untrennbare  Ver- 
bindung  mit  dem  Verbum  eiugehen  konne,  wie 
sie  angenommen  werdeu  miisse,  wenn  der  crford- 
erliche  Sinn  herauskommen  solle  ;  er  verlangt, 
dasz  man  verbrechen  lese,  spricht  sich  aber  u'ber 
den  Sinn  nicht  aus."  Wilmanns  then  adds  that 
ubeMt  verbrechen  occurs  iii  the  Passional  (Hahn 
S.  218,  25)  with  the  meaning  punish  (strafen). 
But  he  adds  that  this  meaning  is  out  of  place  in 


case  ofWalther's  Spruch,  and  ventures  the  con- 
jecture that  the  poet  used  a  technical  hunting 
term  ( Weidmannsworf)  here.  He  explains  that 
the  hunters  verbrechen  the  trail  of  an  animal,  by 
sticking  a  twig  into  the  ground,  as  a  sign  that 
others  are  to  refrain  from  pursuing  the  game  (cf. 
Laber,  str.  69).  The  poet's  meaning  would  be, 
then,  according  to  Wilmanns,  a  plea  that  the 
Emperor  should  act  the  part  of  huntsman  and 
yield  no  further  to  accusations  against  the  Land- 
grave. 

While  this  is  ingenious,  it  is  not  convincing,  in 
view  of  the  fact  that  it  disregards  two  serious  dif- 
ficulties. First,  the  MSS.  have  /iirbrechen  not 
verbrechen  ;  second,  the  normal  meaning  of  what 
the  MSS.  contain  is,  at  least  more  consonant  with 
the  situation  in  question  than  is  any  other  thus 
far  suggested.  For  Walther' s  zeal  as  a  champion 
of  Hermann  is  here  so  great  that  he  begins  his 
Spruch  by  a  regular'  challenge  for  the  Emperor  to 
prove  or  make  clear  (furbrechen')  the  heinousness 
of  the  Thuniigian's  actions.  "  For,"  he  adds  at 
once,  "he  was  an  honorable  (open,  above-board) 
opponent." 

''Wand  a-  was  duth  zeiodre 
sin  vlent  ofenbdre." 

The  cowards  intrigued  in  silence.  They  (like  the 
Duke  of  Bavaria  and  the  Margrave  Dietrich) 
pledged  themselves  by  oath  in  all  directions  and 
plotted  cecret  mischief.  The  case  against  them 
is  clear  ;  but  let  the  Emperor  show  wherein  the 
open  hostility  of  Hermann  was  anything  but  hon- 
orable difference  of  opinion.  This  is  the  argu- 
ment of  Walther,  and  in  the  light  of  it  Lexer's 
definition  ofjurbrechen  seems  adequate. 

Y\ralther  meets  us  here,  not  as  the  humble  apolo- 
gist for  the  acknowledged  misdeeds  of  the  Land- 
grave, but  as  the  outspoken  vindicator  of  his 
friend's  integrity.  The  proposed  interpretation 
bears  strong  incidental  testimony  to  the  inde- 
pendent attitude  of  the  poet  towards  current  poli- 
tics. Its  implications  for  the  character  of  Walther 
are  far  more  important  than  its  bearing  upon  the 
meaning  of  the  word  vurbrechen. 

STAKE  WILLARD  CUTTING. 

The  University  of  Chicago. 


November,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


225 


EGBERT  GREENE'S  WHAT  THING  is  Loust 

In  view  of  the  fact  that  Mr.  John  Churton 
Collins  in  his  recent  Plays  and  Poems  of  Robert 
Greene  has  said  nothing  of  the  poem  What  thing 
is  Love?  (except  to  refer  the  reader  to  Shake- 
speare's Sonnets,  129),  I  wish  to  point  out  the 
somewhat  interesting  history  of  the  poem. 

It  first  appeared  in  Greene's  Menaphon  (1589) 
as  follows  : ' 

What  tiling  is  Lone  ?   It  is  a  power  diuine 
That  raines  in  vs  :  or  else  a  wreakefull  law 
That  doornes  our  mindes,  to  beautie  to  encline  : 
It  is  a  starre,  whose  influence  dooth  draw 
Our  heart*  to  Loue  dissembling  of  his  might, 
Till  he  be  master  of  our  hearts  and  sight. 

Loue  is  a  discord,  and  a  strange  diuorce 
Betwixt  our  sense  and  reason,  by  whose  power, 
As  raadde  with  reason,  we  admit  that  force, 
Which  wit  or  labour  neuer  may  deuoure. 

It  is  a  will  that  brooketh  no  consent : 

It  would  refuse,  yet  neuer  may  repent. 

Loue's  a  desire,  which  for  to  waite  a  time, 
Dooth  loose  an  age  of  yeeres,  and  so  doth  passe, 
As  doth  the  shadow  seuerd  from  his  prime, 
Seeming  as  though  it  were,  yet  never  was. 

Leauing  behinde  nought  but  repentant  thoughts 
Of  daies  ill  spent,  for  that  which  profits  noughts. 

Its 3  now  a  peace,  and  then  a  sodaine  warre, 

A  hope  consurndc  before  it  is  conceiude, 

At  hand  it  feares,  and  menaceth  afarre,4 

And  he  that  gaines,  is  most  of  all  deceiude  : 
It  is  a  secret  hidden  and  not  knowne, 
Which  one  may  better  feele  than  write  vpon. 

The  poem  next  appears  in  England's  Parnassus, 
or  The  Choyseisl  Flowers  of  our  Moderne  Poets 
(1600),  p.  172.  It  had  lost  the  first  stanza, 
had  two  new  lines  substituted  at  the  end,  and 
had  been  otherwise  slightly  changed.  But,  most 
interesting  of  all,  it  was  attributed  to  the  Earl  of 
Oxford.  This  attribution  seems  not  to  have  been 
questioned  since  then.  In  the  Theatrum  Poet- 
arwns  the  poem  is  given  as  a  specimen  of  Ox- 
ford's verse.  Dr.  Grosart  included  it  in  his  col- 
lective edition  of  Oxford's  poems.8  Even  Mr. 

1 1  follow  the  reprints  of  Arber  and  of  Grosart,  which 
agree  throughout.  Mr.  Collins's  version  of  the  poem, 
though  reproducing  the  same  1589  edition,  differs  slightly. 

*  "  hearts  "—Collins.  "  "  Tis  "—Collins. 

4 "  a  farre  "  —Collins.  5  Edition  1800,  p.  88. 

'  Miscellanies  of  the  Fuller  Worthies'  Library,  IV. 


Sidney  Lee,  in  The  Dictionary  of  National  Biog- 
raphy, although  he  refers  to  the  three  poems  in 
England's  Parnassus  attributed  to  Oxford,  does 
not  note  the  mistake.  The  version  of  the  poem 
in  England's  Parnassus  is  as  follows  :' 

Loue  is  a  discord  and  a  strange  diuorce 
Betwixt  our  sence  and  rest,  by  whose  power, 
As  mad  with  reason,  we  admit  that  force, 
Which  wit  or  labour  neuer  may  diuorce. 

It  is  a  will  that  brooketh  no  consent, 

It  would  refuse,  yet  neuer  may  repent. 

Loue's  a  desire,  which  for  to  waight  a  time, 
Doth  loose  an  age  of  yeares,  and  so  doth  passe, 
As  doth  the  shadow  seuerd  from  his  prime, 
Seeming  as  though  it  were,  yet  neuer  was. 

Leauing  behind,  nought  but  repentant  thoughts, 
Of  dayes  ill  spent,  of  that  which  profits  noughts. 

It's  now  a  peace,  and  then  a  sudden  warre, 

A  hope,  consumde  before  it  is  conceiu'd  ; 

At  hand  it  feares,  and  monaceth  afarre, 

And  he  that  gaines,  is  most  of  all  deceiu'd. 

Loue  whets  the  dullest  wits,  his  plagues  be  such, 
But  makes  the  wise  by  pleasing,  dote  as  much. 

The  poem  appeared  again,  in  a  still  further 
mangled  form,  in  The  Thracian  Wonder.  The 
playwright,  of  course,  borrowed  directly  from 
Greene,  for  he  was  dramatising  the  Menaphon.* 
This  version  is  as  follows  * 

Love  is  a  law,  a  discord  of  such  force, 

That  'twist  our  sense  and  reason  makes  divorce  ; 

Love's  a  desire,  that  to  obtain  betime, 

We  lose  an  age  of  years  pluck'  d  from  our  prime  ; 

Love  is  a  thing  to  which  we  soon  consent, 

As  soon  refuse,  but  sooner  far  repent. 


JOSEPH  QUINCY  ADAMS,  JR. 


Cornell  University. 


THE  STAGEABILITY  OF  GARNIER'S 
TRAGEDIES. 

Of  all  the  classic  tragedies  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury none  perhaps  seem  to  us  moderns  so  little 
adapted  to  stage  representation  as  those  of  Gamier. 
Lansoii  admits  that  the  poet  seems  to  write  for  the 

7  Since  England's  Parnassus  is  inaccessible  to  me,  I  give 
the  poem  as  reprinted  by  Dr.  Grosart  in  Poems  of  Edward, 
Earl  of  Oxford  (Miscellanies  of  the  Fuller  Worthies'  Library, 
IV),  p.  68. 

"See  Modern  Philology,  m,  317. 

9  Tlte  Dramatic  Works  of  John  Webster,  ed.  by  William 
Hazlitt,  iv,  129. 


226 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  7. 


reader  only  and  finds  little  to  warrant  us  in 
believing  that  his  tragedies  were  played  to  any 
extent,  except  possibly  Bradamante. l  As  for  Rigal, 
he  is  of  course  quite  convinced  that  these  tragedies 
were  not  written  for  the  stage  at  all  and  finds  some 
difficulties  that  hardly  exist  to  prove  his  point. 

The  first  of  the  Gamier  tragedies  is  the  Pome, 
published  in  1568.  The  subject  of  the  play  is 
the  self-inflicted  death  of  Portia,  wife  of  Brutus, 
upon  learning  of  the  death  of  her  husband  on  the 
battlefield.  The  play  is  made  up  of  long  narra- 
tives and  monologues  and  contains  little,  very 
little,  of  dramatic  life,  but  after  all,  in  view  of  the 
literary  and  artistic  conditions  of  the  time,  that 
does  not  justify  us  in  saying  that  the  poet  has  no 
care  for  scenic  possibilities. 3  The  play  is  stageable, 
Eigal's  objections  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding. 
One  of  the  two  chief  difficulties  insisted  upon  by  him 
is  the  appearance  of  Antony  and  his  lieutenant 
along  with  a  chorus  of  soldiers  in  the  third  act 
before  the  messenger  has  had  time  to  relate  to 
Portia  the  death  of  Brutus,  "Le  lieu  adfl  changer," 
he  says,  ' '  nous  6tions  a  Rome  avec  Octavie  et  les 
femmes  romaines,  nous  voici  pres  de  Philippes  avec 
M.  Antoine  et  ses  troupes"  {op.  cit,  p.  27).  This 
amounts  almost  to  a  misrepresentation,  for  the  text 
makes  it  perfectly  clear  that  this  scene  is  laid  in 
Rome.  Antony's  first  words  are  : 

O  Beau  seiour  natal  esmerueillable  aux  Dieux     v.  1013. 
and  a  little  farther  on,  vv.  1027-1030, 

le  reuoy  maintenant  ma  desirable  terre. 

le  viens  payer  les  voeux,  qu'enuelope'  de  guerre, 

Sous  la  mercy  du  sort,  ie  fis  a  vos  autels, 

Si  ie  pouuois  domter  les  ennemis  mortels. 

He  is,  then,  just  returning  to  Rome,  and  the  unity 
of  place  is  saved.  To  introduce  an  act  containing 
these  discussions  between  the  forebodings  of  Portia 
and  their  realization  is  not  perhaps  according  to 
the  highest  dramatic  economy.  But  the  poet  was 
young  ;  a  tragedy  had  to  have  five  acts  ;  Megara's 
forecast ;  Portia's  presentiments  ;  the  messenger's 
story  of  the  death  of  Brutus,  and  the  nurse's  story 
of  the  death  of  Portia  furnished  material  for  only 
four.  To  have  inserted  this  act  of  rather  irrele- 
vant material  anywhere  else  would  have  been  even 

lRev.  d'Hist.  Litl.,  1903,  p.  416. 
"Rev.  d'Hitl.  LiU.,  5984,  p.  27. 


more  disastrous  ;  accordingly  the  poet  put  it  where 
it  would  do  the  least  harm,  leaving  the  spectators 
as  well  as  his  readers  to  assume,  if  they  chose,  that 
Antony,  the  soldiers  and  the  messenger  came  by 
the  same  boat,  or  more  likely  hoping  that  the 
clumsiness  of  it  all  would  escape  their  attention — 
if  it  did  not  his  own. 

The  other  great  difficulty  in  the  way  of  stage 
representation,  i.  e. ,  dramatic  probability  raised  by 
Rigal,  is  the  alleged  discrepancy  between  the  words 
of  the  nurse  and  those  of  her  mistress  in  the  fourth 
act.  In  this  act  the  messenger  gives  a  complete 
account  of  the  battle,  the  death  of  Brutus  and  the 
bringing  back  of  his  body  at  the  command  of 
Antony.  Thereupon  after  a  hundred  verses  or  so 
Portia  begins  to  address  her  complaints  to  the  body 
as  though  it  were  actually  upon  the  stage,  although 
nothing  in  the  text  indicates  precisely  how  or  when 
it  got  there.  But  after  all  this  is  no  great  diffi- 
culty and  the  verses  even  lend  themselves  to  a  fairly 
effective  stage-setting.  Now  in  the  fifth  act  when 
the  nurse  is  relating  the  occurrences  of  the  fourth 
to  the  chorus  she  says  :  v.  1880, 

Quand  ma  paure  raaitresse 
Eut  ENTEXDU  que  Brute,  auecque  la  noblesse 
Qui  combatoit  pour  luy  d'vn  si  louable  cueur, 
Auoit  est^  desfaict,  et  qu' Antoine  vainqueur 
Lui  renuoyoit  son  corps,  qu'a  grand'  sollicitude 
11  auoit  recherche'  parmi  la  multitude  : 
Apres  force  regrets  qu'elle  fit  sur  sa  mort, 
Apres  qu'elle  eut  long  temps  plor4  son  triste  sort, 
Retiree  en  sa  chambre,  entreprit,  demy-morte 
De  borner  ses  langueurs  par  quelque  brief  ue  sorte. 

Note.  Even  these  last  four  verses  give  difficulty  to 
Rigal,  although  the  first  two  are  a  perfectly  literal 
and  brief  description  of  what  happened  in  the 
fourth  act,  and  the  last  two  will  be  supplemented 
in  the  narrative  which  is  to  follow,  v.  1890  ff. 
In  regard  to  these  verses  Rigal  exclaims  triumph- 
antly :  ' '  Decid6ment  la  nournce  n'  a  pas  vu  le  corps 
de  Brutus  ;  elle  ne  s'  est  meme  pas  apercue  que  sa 
maitresse  fut  en  proie  a  une  hallucination  ' '  (op. 
dt.,  p.  26).  There  is  little  occasion  for  such  a  re- 
mark ;  the  nurse  says  that  Portia  had  HEARD  these 
things  (  "  eut  entendu  "  ),  and  so  she  had  through- 
out 146  verses.  That  Portia's  preoccupation  is 
the  body  of  her  husband,  which  she  SAW,  is  quite 
natural ;  that  the  nurse  should  be  more  impressed 
by  the  account  of  the  catastrophe  which  she  HEAED 
rather  than  with  the  dead  body  of  Brutus,  is  also 


November,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


227 


entirely  natural,  and  there  is  therefore  absolutely 
no  infringement  of  dramatic  probabilities  iu  the 
passage  in  question. 

Porcie  could  well  have  been  played  upon  a  stage 
representing  the  conventional  street  or  open  space 
in  front  of  the  palace  of  Portia,  the  palace  of 
Octavius,  and  possibly  the  senate.  Had  the  poet 
the  proper  means  at  his  disposal,  and  he  might 
hope  to  have  them  as  we  have  shown  (  The  Mise 
en  Scene  of  the  Italians  applied  to  the  classic 
tragedies  of  the  sixteenth  century,  p.  8),  one  ex- 
tremity of  the  stage  could  well  have  been  made  to 
represent  the  harbor.  Here  Antony  and  his  sol- 
diers would  appear  in  the  third  act  on  their  way 
to  the  palace  of  Octavius  or  the  Senate,  and  in  the 
next  act  the  messenger  would  be  seen  passing  on 
his  way  to  tell  Portia  of  her  great  bereavement. 

The  text  contains  at  least  two  indications  of  the 
action  :  one  in  the  second  act  (v.  465),  where  the 
nurse  perceives  Portia  approaching  :— 

Las  !  mais  ne  voye'-ie  pas  s'acheminer  vers  raoy 
La  fille  de  Caton  regorgeante  d'esmoy? 

Eight  verses  later  Portia  appears.  And  in  the 
beginning  of  the  last  act  the  nurse  calls  to  the 
chorus  of  citizens,  v.  1794  : — 

Accourez  Citoyens,  accourez,  hastez-vous,  etc., 

and  the  chorus  of  women  respond  : — 

Aliens  6  troupe  aimee,  aliens  voir  quel  mechef 
Ceste  pauure  maison  atterre  de  rechef. 

From  a  modem  point  of  view  there  can  be  little 
question  of  dramatic  effect  in  this  tragedy.  The 
long  speeches,  some  of  them  without  any  apparent 
connection  with  the  action  of  the  play  are  as  un- 
dramatic  as  possible  to  us,  but  not  necessarily  so  to 
the  poets  and  the  select  audiences  of  the  sixteenth 
century.  Corneille,  speaking  of  the  monologue  in 
Clitandre,  plead  in  excuse  of  its  length  : — "  Les 
monologues  sont  trop  longs  et  trop  frequents  en 
cette  piSce  ;  c'etait  une  beaute  en  ce  temps-la  ;  les 
comediens  les  souhaitaient  et  croyaient  y  paraitre 
avec  plus  d'avantage."  In  the  sixteenth  century 
that  was  even  more  true,  and  not  merely  the  actors, 
such  as  there  were,  but  especially  the  poets,  were 
fond  of  these  monologues  and  believed — "y  parai- 
tre avec  plus  d'avantage." 

After  the  Porcie  an  interval  of  nearly  five  years 
elapses  before  Gamier  produces  another  play. 


This  interruption, — due  possibly  to  discourage- 
ment, as  there  is  no  notice  of  the  representation  of 
the  Porcie, — is  broken  in  1573  and  1574  by  two 
plays,  the  Hippolyte  and  the  Cornelie.  The  first 
of  these  is  composed  in  close  imitation  of  the 
Phedra,  attributed  to  Seneca,  and  can  hardly  be 
considered  playable.  In  the  fifth  act,  for  example, 
the  messenger  tells  Theseus  of  the  death  of  his  son 
and  urges  him  to  erect  a  befitting  tomb ;  in  the 
very  next  scene  Phedre  appears  addressing  com- 
plaints to  the  body  of  the  hero,  which  is  repre- 
sented as  already  lying  in  the  tomb.  As  for  the 
Cornelie,  while  it  contains  nothing  absolutely  un- 
stageable,  it  is  composed  in  a  way  to  make  one 
agree  with  Kigal  that  "il  n'y  a  que  de  la  rh4to- 
rique  ou  de  la  poesie  desordonuee  et  un  manque  de 
realite  scenique  pen  contestable. " 

Now,  after  the  Cornelie,  there  is  another  sig- 
nificant pause  of  about  four  years  before  the  poet 
begins  a  scries  of  plays  which  appear  quite  regu- 
larly at  the  rate  of  about  one  per  annum  :  An- 
toine,  1579  ;  Antigone,  1580  ;  Bradamante,  1582  ; 
Les  Juives,  probably  in  1583. 

As  for  the  Antoine,  Rigal  finds  in  it:  "Quelques 
indications  precises"  (pp.  cit.,  p.  33),  but  believes 
that  they  were  such  as  would  have  been  naturally 
suggested  by  Plutarch's  life  of  Antony,  which 
Gamier  used  as  a  source  (p.  33).  This,  of  course, 
proves  nothing  as  to  the  author's  intention.  Alex- 
andre  Hardy,  for  example,  dramatized  the  Greek 
romance  of  Theagenes  and  Chariclea,  as  well  as 
sundry  other  romances  ancient  and  modern,  and 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  had  the  mise  en 
scene  very  much  in  mind.  The  Antoine  could 
have  been  played,  according  to  Riga],  on  a  stage 
representing  the  camp  of  Octavius  outside  of 
Alexandria,  the  palace  of  Cleopatra  and  the  ap- 
proaches and  interior  of  the  sepulchre,  but  he 
believes  that  such  a  mise  en  scene  was  quite 
beyond  the  reach  of  those  who  prepared  the  repre- 
sentations of  these  plays.  Now  this  is  again  a 
magnification  of  the  difficulties,  for  the  text  no- 
where calls  for  the  palace  of  Cleopatra.  In  the 
second  act,  where  the  queen  and  her  attendants 
appear  for  the  first  time,  the  scene  is  laid  before 
the  sepulchre  as  is  clear  from  her  own  words,  v. 
687  f. : 

Mais  ce  pendant  entrons  en  ce  sepulcre  morne, 
Attendant  que  la  mort  mes  desplaisances  borne. 


228 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[  Vol.  xxii,  No.  1. 


She  appears  but  once  more  and  that  is  in  the  fifth 
act  where,  as  before,  she  is  in  or  at  the  entrance 
of  the  tomb,  v.  1812  : 

H£  puis-ie  viure  encore 
En  ce  larual  sepulchre,  oil  ie  me  fais  enclorre? 

The  stage  setting  thus  becomes  very  simple. 
Alexandria  in  the  background,  before  the  wall  of 
which  would  be  represented  at  one  end  of  the 
stage  the  camp  of  Octavius,  and  on  the  other  the 
tomb  and  its  approaches. 

In  the  Troade,  Rigal  also  finds  that  the  first, 
third,  fourth  and  fifth  acts  possess  "  un  incontest- 
able r^alite  scenique"  (op.  cit.,  p.  36 f. ).  But, 
alas  !  the  fourth  is  entirely  out  of  harmony  with  the 
second.  Now  this  is  the  whole  difficulty  :  In  the 
fourth  act  a  messenger  relates  to  the  captive 
Trojan  women  the  death  of  Astyauax  who,  fore- 
stalling the  action  of  the  Greeks,  cast  himself 
down  from  the  lofty  tower  to  which  he  had  been 
carried.  This  had  taken  place  before  a  vast  con- 
course of  people,  some  of  whom  had  sacrilegiously 
climbed  upon  Hector's  tomb  to  witness  the  execu- 
tion. Now,  inasmuch  as  the  deed  could  be  wit- 
nessed from  Hector's  tomb,  and  inasmuch  as  the 
action  of  the  second  act  was  laid  before  said  tomb, 
Rigal,  apparently  feeling  that  Andromaque  was 
bound  to  remain  rooted  to  the  spot  during  the 
third  act,  declares  :  ' '  Cette  fois  nous  heurtons  a 
une  impossibility  evidente."  But  the  scene  of  the 
fourth  act  is  laid  before  the  tent  of  Hecuba  (cf.  v. 
2295  ff. )  near  the  harbor,  and  Audromaque  is 
there  to  hear  with  her  mother  the  death  of  Asty- 
anax  and  of  Polyxene  from  the  lips  of  the  mes- 
senger. One  quite  naturally  supposes  that  after 
the  wily  Ulysses  has  succeeded  in  wringing  from 
the  unhappy  mother  the  secret  of  her  son's  con- 
cealment in  his  father's  tomb  she  has  come  away  ; 
she  has  left  the  tomb  of  her  husband  and  come  to 
her  mother's  tent  as  was  eminently  natural. 
Accordingly  she  did  not  see  the  immolation  of  her 
son  and  there  is  no  contradiction,  no  "impossibilite 
scenique ' '  whatever. 

(Note.  The  rather  abrupt  change  of  scene  in 
the  third  act,  while  abrupt,  is  quite  within  stage 
conventions.  Pyrrhus  uses  five  verses  to  stir  up 
tho  zeal  of  his  followers  as  they  march  from  the 
camp  of  Agamemnon  to  the  tent  of  Hecuba  in 
order  to  seek  for  Polyxene.  Plenty  of  examples 
could  be  found  in  support  of  such  procedure. ) 


As  for  the  Antigone  (1580),  Rigal  admits  that 
if  :  "  On  voulait  mettre  en  scene  Antigone  sur  un 
theatre  dispose  comme  celui  de  Hardy,  on  y  ar- 
riverait  sans  difficult^  serieuse  "  (op.  ait.,  p.  41). 
He  believes,  however,  that  it  is  to  be  looked  upon 
merely  as  "  un  pur  exercice  d'humaniste"  (45). 

The  Bradamanie  is  known  to  have  been  played, 
and  in  it  Gamier  seems  to  show  some  preoccu- 
pation for  the  mise  en  scene  as  has  generally  been 
recognized  (cf.  Rigal,  op.  cit.,  p.  4G  ;  Lanson, 
op.  cit.,  p.  416). 

And  this  brings  us  to  Les  Juives,  the  last  of 
Gamier' s  tragedies  and  generally  considered  to  be 
the  best.  Rigal  admits  in  this  play  that  the  poet : 
"ne  manquait pas  d' imagination  visuelleet  sefigu- 
rait  assez  souvent  les  personnages  qu'il  faisait 
parler"  ;  still  he  thinks  that  this  tragedy:  "n'etait 
pas  encore  pour  lui  une  oeuvre  de  theatre  vivant 
d'une  vie  nette  dans  un  milieu  scenique  bien  d6- 
termine"  (op.  tit,  p.  209).  To  prove  this  Rigal 
finds  a  great  many  difficulties  in  the  way  of  stage 
presentation  which  seem  to  me  entirely  imaginary. 

The  stage  would  represent  three  general  divi- 
sions. One  side  the  fields  where  the  women  and 
children  are  kept  captive  ;  the  center  the  palace, 
or  the  entrance  to  the  palace,  of  Nebuchadnezzar ; 
the  other  end  of  the  stage  the  prisons,  where  are 
confined  Zedekiah  the  pontiff,  and  perhaps  other 
male  prisoners.  The  places  occupied  by  the  cap- 
tives are  quite  clearly  defined  in  the  text.  Hal- 
mutal  says,  addressing  the  chorus  of  Jewish 
women,  "  Pleurons  donques,  pleurons  sur  ces  mol- 
teuses  riues"  (v.  359)  ;  as  the  queen  of  Assyria 
comes  towards  them  she  speaks  of  the  surroundings 
as  "Ces  belles  campagnes"  (v.  571)  ;  obviously 
the  fields  along  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates. 
Zedekiah  describes  his  place  of  imprisonment  in 
these  terms,  v.  1283  f. : 

Voyez  comme  enchaisnez  en  des  prisons  obscures, 
Nous  souffrons  iour  et  nuit  de  cruelles  tortures, 
Comme  on  nous  tient  en  serre  estroittement  liez, 
Le  col  en  vne  chaisne,  et  les  bras  et  les  pieds. 

It  is  in  these  places  that  the  second  and  third 
scenes  of  the  second  act,  and  the  whole  of  acts  four 
and  five  are  laid.  The  first  act  might  from  its 
character  take  place  anywhere  and  the  rest  of  the 
play  would  be  represented  before  the  king  of 
Assyria. 


November,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


229 


At  the  end  of  the  fourth  act  Nebuchadnezzar 
visits  Zedekiah  in  prison  and  at  the  end  of  a 
violent  scene  bursts  into  a  passion  and  exclaims 
to  his  attendants,  "  Empoignez-le,  Soudars,  et  le 
tirez  d'ici,"  v.  1497.  Zedekiah  defies  him  to  do 
his  worst  and  is  rewarded  with  the  promise  of  an 
exemplary  punishment.  Rigal  makes  a  great 
difficulty  of  this.  ' '  Pourquoi  tirerait-on  Sede'cie 
hors  de  sa  prison?"  (op.  eit.,  p.  207),  "pourquoi 
veut-il  qu'on  les  amene  et  qu'on  les  atraine  jusqu'a 
lui  puisqu'ils  sont  euchaines  a  ses  pieds."  But  this 
is  made  perfectly  clear  with  the  opening  of  the 
next  scene  in  which  the  Prevost  informs  us  that 
Zedekiah  has  been  taken  from  his  prison  in  order 
that  he  be  forced  to  see  his  sons  put  to  death 
before  his  eyes.  The  presence  of  the  chorus  after 
Zedekiah  has  been  removed  from  the  prison  is  also 
a  source  of  great  trouble  to  Rigal,  for  how  could 
these  Jewish  women  be  in  the  prison  and  not  know 
what  had  happened  ?  As  a  matter  of  fact,  there 
is  nothing  in  the  chorus  referring  to  the  Jewish 
king,  but  there  is,  as  if  to  remind  us  of  the  locality, 
another  reference  to  those  shores  of  the  Euphrates 
where  the  chorus  will  end  its  life  sighing  in  cap- 
tivity. (Cf.  v.  1557  ff.)  There  would  certainly 
be  no  great  strain  of  the  conventions  at  this  point, 
and  the  whole  passage,  far  from  being  confused  as 
Rigal  represents,  is,  on  the  contrary,  quite  clear, 
and  the  stage  picture  is  not  difficult  to  form.  As 
for  the  objection  that  different  characters  recite 
from  twenty  to  thirty  verses  on  the  stage  before 
their  presence  is  perceived  or  before  they  perceive 
the  presence  of  others  ;  that  is  a  common  practice 
of  modern  dramatists,  and  a  convention  no  more 
abused  by  Gamier  than  it  is,  for  example,  by 
Moliere. 

Les  Juives  is  a  tragedy  full  of  life  and  action. 
There  is  doubtless  too  much  action,  but  every 
verse  of  it  could  have  been  acted  on  a  stage  such 
as  we  have  described  and  acted  effectively,  too, 
without  any  great  violence  to  the  conventions  as 
then  understood.  As  far  as  the  play  itself  is  con- 
cerned, there  is  no  reason  why  we  must  look  upon 
it  as  a  "declamation  dramatique  et  dialoguee. " 
And  likewise  to  a  greater  or  less  extent  are  all  of 
the  tragedies  of  Gamier  playable,  or  were  playable, 
•with  the  probable  exception  of  Hippolyte  and 
Carnelie,  which  stand  somewhat  apart  from  the 
others  in  time  as  well  as  in  character. 


COLBERT  SEARLES. 


Ldand  Stanford  Jr.  University. 


SPANISH   LITERATURE. 

Primera  Croniea  General  6  sea  Estoria  de  Espana 
que  mando  componer  Alfonso  el  Sabio  y  se  con- 
tinuaba  bajo  Sancho  1 V  en  1289 ;  publicada  por 
RAMON  MENENDEZ  PIDAL.  Tomo  I — Texto. 
Madrid  :  Bailly  Bailliere  e  Hijos,  1906.  8vo., 
iv  +  776  pp. 

This  volume,  which  forms  number  five  of  the 
Nueva  Biblioteca  de  Autores  Etpafioles,  is  note- 
worthy in  two  respects  ;  namely,  for  the  great  his- 
torical, literary  and  linguistic  value  of  the  text  it 
contains,  and  for  the  fact  that  the  editor  is  the 
one  man  pre-eminently  fitted  for  the  difficult  task 
of  editing  the  text  in  question.  With  the  publi- 
cation of  his  Leyenda  de  los  Infantes  de  Lara  in 
1896,  the  name  of  Menendez  Pidal  became  in- 
delibly associated  with  the  old  Spanish  Chronicles. 
Since  the  year  1896  Pidal  has  published  many 
further  studies  dealing,  directly  or  indirectly,  with 
the  Croniea  General  and  the  scope  of  these  studies 
may  be  illustrated  by  mentioning  his  Cronicas 
Generales  de  Espana  and  El  Poema  del  Cid  y  las 
Cronicas  Generales  de  Espana,  both  of  which  ap- 
peared in  the  year  1898  ;  and  the  Aluacaxi  y  la 
elegia  arabe  de  Valencia  which  was  published  in 
1904. 

As  an  historical  document  the  Primera  Croniea 
General  is  the  first  real  history  of  Spain  in  the 
vernacular,  being  the  legitimate  successor  of  the 
earlier  Anales  and  the  Latin  histories  of  Rodrigo 
de  Toledo  and  Lucas  de  Luy.  As  a  literary 
monument  it  is  one  of  the  earliest  specimens  of 
Spanish  prose,  and  the  varied  subject  matter,  the 
dignity  of  style,  the  richness  of  vocabulary  and 
idiom,  make  it  of  inestimable  value  for  the  study 
of  the  beginnings  of  Spanish  literature.  The  lit- 
erary value  of  the  Crdniea  General  is  especially 
in  evidence  when  we  consider  that  the  remaining 
prose  works  written  or  inspired  by  Alfonso  the 
Wise,  are  primarily  technical  in  character  ;  for 
example,  his  works  on  astronomy,  his  treatise  on 
chess,  dice  and  checkers,  his  legal  codes  and 
single  laws,  to  say  nothing  of  the  fragmentary 
Septenario.  Furthermore,  the  specific  relation 
between  the  Croniea  General  and  Spanish  epic 
poetry  is  most  important.  Copying  as  it  did  the 
earlier  epic  poems  and  forming  a  primary  source 
for  later  epic  ballads,  the  relation  of  Alfonso's 
Chronicle  to  the  various  phases  of  epic  poetry  can 
now  be  studied  with  the  care  and  detail  that  were 
impossible  heretofore. 

The  earliest  printed  text  of  the  Croniea  General 
was  published  by  Florian  de  Ocampo,  Zamora, 
1541,  and  reprinted  in  Valladolid,  1604  ;  since 
then  the  Croniea  has  not  been  reprinted  or 
edited.  Not  long  after  the  appearance  of  the 
1541  edition,  Jeronimo  Zurita  discovered  that 
Ocampo' s  version  seemed  to  be  replete  with  most 


230 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  7. 


serious  errors  and  omissions  ;  in  short,  the  need  of 
a  new  and  reliable  edition  was  made  known  over 
three  centuries  ago.  Pidal,  in  the  preface  to  the 
present  volume,  discusses  the  various  futile  plans 
for  publishing  a  reliable  edition  of  the  Cronica 
General :  the  first  by  Tomas  Tamayo  y  Vargas, 
Koyal  Chronicler  of  Philip  IV,  between  the  years 
1625  and  1637  ;  the  second  by  Juau  Lucas  Cortes, 
at  the  command  of  Charles  II  ;  the  third  by  the 
Spanish  Academy,  which  appears  to  have  aban- 
doned the  project  shortly  after  1863  ;  finally,  the 
edition  contemplated  by  the  original  Biblioteca  de 
Autores  Espanoles,  which  ceased  its  editorial  work 
in  1878.  It  would  seem,  however,  that  the  third 
and  fourth  failures  are  in  part  atoned  for,  in  that 
a  member  of  the  Spanish  Academy  has  at  last 
published  an  edition  in  the  new  Biblioteca  de 
Autores  Espanoles. 

Pidal' s  edition  contains  the  critical  text  and 
variants,  and  forms  a  volume  of  seven  hundred 
and  seventy-four  double  column  pages.  The 
forthcoming  second  volume  will  contain  an  ex- 
planation of  the  method  adopted  in  the  text  .con- 
struction, enumeration  and  study  of  the  manu- 
scripts ;  also  a  study  of  the  date  and  sources, 
vocabulary,  index  of  proper  names,  and,  as  ap- 
pendix, the  Cronica  Abreviada  de  don  Juan 
Manuel.  It  is  not  improbable  that  a  year  or 
more  will  pass  before  the  appearance  of  the  second 
volume.  Hence,  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  the 
editor  did  not  include  in  Volume  i  some  account 
of  the  manuscripts  with  their  dates  and  interre- 
lations ;  even  a  note  supplementing  the  material 
furnished  in  the  Inf.  de  Lara  and  Cronicas  Ge- 
nerales  de  E--y>ana  would  have  been  a  most  wel- 
come guide  for  the  numerous  variants  that  accom- 
pany the  text.  In  any  case,  however,  an  account 
and  estimate  of  the  editor's  critical  work  would 
have  to  be  postponed  to  a  second  article,  when 
Volume  ii  shall  have  appeared.  In  the  meantime, 
we  have  access  to  a  reliable  version  of  Alfonso's 
Chronicle.  The  reading  and  consulting  of  this  mas- 
sive work  is  simplified  not  only  by  a  table  of  contents 
(which  is  lacking  in  the  Ocampo  edition),  but  by 
running  titles  at  the  top  of  each  page,  numbered 
lines  for  each  column  of  text,  and  consecutive 
numbering  for  the  eleven  hundred  and  thirty-five 
chapters. 

The  text  is  divided  into  two  parts.  The  first 
part  contains  the  Prologo  and  chapters  1-565, 
beginning  with  De  memo  Moysen  escriuio  el  libra 
que  ha  nombre  Genesis,  e  del  diluuio,  and  con- 
tinuing to  the  election  of  King  Pelayo.  This 
first  part  corresponds,  approximately,  to  Ocampo' s 
first  two  books.  The  second  part  contains  chap- 
ters 566-1134,  and  ends  with  the  title  of  a  missing 
chapter  which  treated  of  the  Miraglos  que  Dios 
fizo  por  el  saneto  rey  don  Fernando,  que  yaze  en 
Seuilla,  despues  que  fue  finado.  The  basic  manu- 


script for  the  first  part  is  Escorial  Y-i-2,  that  for 
the  second  part  is  Escorial  X-i-4,  and  the  volume 
contains  a  full  page  facsimile  of  each.1  The  total 
number  of  MSS.  cited  in  the  variants  is  more  than 
two  dozen,  but  this  gives  no  adequate  idea  of  the 
number  actually  collated  by  the  editor.  Kiaiio 
knew  thirty-one  MSS.  of  the  Cronica  General  as 
early  as  1869,  and  Pidal  used  thirty-three  for  his 
previous  edition  of  the  chapters  on  the  Infantes  de 
Lara  alone.  The  variants  to  the  -present  edition 
at  times  include  a  MS. -reading  of  later  chronicles 
not  directly  related  to  the  Primera  Cronica  Ge- 
neral •  for  example,  Cron.  de  1404,  an(i  Cron.  de 
Castillo,  (p.  564,  col.  2).  Finally,  several  early 
printed  works  are  used  to  throw  light  on  the  criti- 
cal text  :  Ocampo's  edition  is  utilized  throughout 
the  text ;  the  1512,  1593  and  1594  (Huber) 
editions  of  the  Cronica  del  Cid  are  used  in  con- 
nection with  the  chapters  dealing  with  Rodrigo 
Diaz  (cf.  p.  532,  col.  2)  ;  the  Cronica  de  San 
Fernando,  Sevilla,  1526,  is  cited  frequently  in 
connection  with  the  reign  of  Ferdinand  III.  In 
short,  Pidal  has  accomplished  a  most  valuable  as 
well  as  most  laborious  work,  and  has  utilized  all 
extant  sources  of  information  for  the  elucidation 
of  his  text. 

It  is  well  known  at  the  present  time  that  the 
edition  of  Ocampo  is  a  very  creditable  piece  of  edi- 
torial work,  though  the  particular  MS.  he  used 
has  disappeared.  Nevertheless,  the  MS.  used  by 
Ocampo  was  not  the  Cronica  General  itself,  but 
a  reworking  of  a  version  now  lost,  which  lost 
version  contained  many  variations  from  Al- 
fonso's original.  Hence  Pidal  has  designated 
Ocampo's  edition  as  one  of  the  versions  of  the 
Tercera  Cronica  General,  since  it  is  later  than  a 
second  reworking  known  as  the  Cronica  de  1344. 
As  we  might  naturally  suppose,  the  Ocampo-text 
is,  at  times,  far  different  from  the  Primera  Cronica 
General,  and  shows  not  only  omissions  but  addi- 
tions and  transpositions.  A  general  idea  of  these 
divergencies  has  already  been  given  by  Pidal  in  a 
previous  publication.2  A  portion  of  the  title  of 
the  book  under  review  states  that  "  se  continuaba 
bajo  Sancho  IV  en  1289."  This  statement  is 
based  on  a  passage  in  the  reign  of  Ramiro  I, 
where  the  author  or  compiler,  after  generalizing 
concerning  the  reconquest  of  Spain  from  the  infi- 
dels, remarks  : 

"  et  la  an  ganada  dessos  enemigos  de  la  Cruz,  et  del  mar 
de  Sant  Ander  fastal  mar  de  Caliz,  sinon  poco  que  les  finca 
ende  ya  ;  et  es  esto  ya  en  el  regnado  del  muy  noble  et  miiy 
alto  rey  don  Sancho  el  quarto,  en  la  era  de  mill  et  CCO  et 
xxvn  annos."  (Cf.  p.  363,  col.  1. ) 

'These  are  the  same  MSS.  for  which  Riano  showed  a 
preference  in  1869.  Cf.  Discursos  leidos  ante  la  Academia 
de  la  Historia,  Madrid,  1869,  p.  44. 

1  Cronicas  Generates  de  Espana,  pp.  83-85. 


November,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


231 


This  reference  to  the  date  is  not  found  in  the 
Ocarapo  text  ;  it  is  lacking  also  in  two  MSS.  of 
the  Primera  Cronica  and  one  MS.  of  the  Cronica 
de  13U. 

As  a  linguistic  document  the  Cronica  General 
holds  a  place  commensurate  with  its  literary  and 
historical  importance.  This  new  edition  affords 
the  means  of  solving  many  problems  of  language 
and  style,  and  contains  a  fund  of  illustrative  mate- 
rial bearing  on  questions  of  historical  grammar. 
For  example,  proclysis  of  atonic  pronouns  is  not 
confined  to  contraction  of  identical  vowels  and  to 
cases  where  the  atonic  pronoun  comes  between  the 
verb  and  the  auxiliary  (tornar  sa,  tornado  sa~). 
The  first  part  of  the  Cronica  General  shows  at 
times  a  construction  that  the  reviewer  has  not 
noted  in  the  manuscript  of  the  second  part ; 
namely,  et  sapoderauan  deltas  (18,  2.  22),  e  sa- 
poderassen  de  la  cibdat  (32,  1.  13),  tanto  tamo 
(40,  1.  52),  quanta  mal  ma  uenido  (42,  1.  19), 
que  yo  en  tal  punto  mayuntasse  contigo  (39,  2.  49), 
e  desta  guisa  sapoderaron  dEspanna  (15,  1.  22). 
It  is  evident  that  the  question  of  apocope  of  atonic 
pronouns  in  prose  must  be  restudied  in  the  light 
of  the  new  text,  and  we  await  with  interest  the 
promised  contribution  on  this  matter  by  Pidal 
himself. 3 

One  further  point  may  be  cited  in  illustration  of 
the  linguistic  element.  The  Poema  del  Cid  con- 
tains two  striking  examples  of  anacoluthon  -where 
'  well '  or  '  well  and  good  '  must  be  understood  as 
the  apodosis  of  a  conditional  sentence,  in  order  to 
make  intelligible  a  following  si  non.  The  first 
example  occurs  in  the  Cid's  reply  to  the  Jews 
when  they  ask  a  piel  vermeja  as  a  bonus  : 

"  Plazrae,"  dixo  el  £id  "da  qui  sea  mandada. 
Biuos  la  aduxierdalla  ;  si  non  contalda  sobre  las  areas." 

(1.  181.) 

In  the  second  example,  the  Cid,  taking  leave  of 
Minaya  whom  he  is  sending  on  a  mission  to 
Castille,  says  : 

"  A  la  tornada,  si  nos  fallaredes  aqui ; 
Si  non,  do  sopieredes  que  somos,  yndos  conseguir." 

(1.  832.) 

The  Primera  Cronica  General  shows  three  sim- 
ilar constructions  in  passages  that  are  not  found 
in  the  Ocampo  text.  The  following  example  is  a 
close  parallel  to  those  cited  from  the  Poema  del 
Cid,  in  that  the  future  subjunctive  occurs  in  the 
first  clause  and  the  second  clause  is  introduced  by 
#i  non  : 

"  Si  lo  quisiere  el  fazer  ;  si  non,  quel  dixiessen  que  el 
farie  y  lo  suyo."  (497,2.5.) 


»Cf.  Oultura  Espailola,  1906,  p.  1106. 


A  second  example  shows  the  future  subjunctive 
in  the  first  clause  but  pero  instead  of  si  non  in 
the  second  clause  : 

Si  este  consseio  fuere  tenido  por  bueno  et  tornado  en 
buena  parte,  pero  trae  periglo  conssigo.  (698,  2.  3. ) 

The  scope  of  the  anacoluthon  is  still  further 
extended  in  the  following  sentence  where  the  two 
supplementary  relative  clauses  take  the  place  of  the 
affirmative  and  negative  conditional  clauses  : 

"Los  cristianos  fueron  todos  confesados,  los  que  po- 
dieron  auer  clerigos,  et  los  que  non,  unos  con  otros." 

(726,  2.  28.) 

Which  may  be  translated,  '  Those  who  were  for- 
tunate enough  to  find  priests,  so  much  the  better 
for  them  ;  those  who  could  not  find  priests,  con- 
fessed to  each  other.'  If  this  interpretation  is 
correct,  it  seems  advisable  to  substitute  a  semi- 
colon for  the  comma  after  clerigos,  likewise  after 
parte  in  the  preceding  example,  thus  making  the 
punctuation  uniform  with  that  of  the  remaining 
three  examples  cited  above.  It  is  not  the  inten- 
tion of  the  present  review  to  study  or  mention  the 
various  linguistic  problems  suggested  by  the  text, 
but  it  is  hoped  that  the  foregoing  citations  may 
suffice  to  emphasize  the  interest  of  the  text  for  the 
student  of  language. 

The  editorial  work  has  been  done  with  the 
greatest  care  and  too  much  credit  can  not  be 
given  for  the  skill  shown  in  the  punctuation  of 
the  many  lengthy  and  involved  passages  which 
would  otherwise  remain  obscure.  There  is,  how- 
ever, a  lack  of  uniformity  in  the  syllabification  of 
the  consonant  groups  ss,  nn  and  even  rr.  The 
first  two  are  so  distinctly  digraphs  in  Old  Spanish 
as  are  rr,  II,  or  ch.  To  be  sure,  the  division  of 
syllables  is  very  inconsistent  in  the  early  MSS.  ,  but 
in  a  critical  edition  the  editor  is  not  going  beyond 
his  prerogative  in  avoiding  such  forms  as  pens-sar 
(419,  2.  7.),  usen-nalada  (740,  1.  39.),  cor-rio 
(372,  2.  12.),  side  by  side  with  the  more  correct 
forms  ua-ssallo  (719,  2.  33.),  se-nnor  (693,  1. 
41.),  ye-rras  (377,  2.  1.). 

The  following  misprints  have  been  noted  : 
manerad  e  for  manera  de,  30,  1.  14  ;  qartie  for 
partie,  130,  1.  32  ;  pue  for  que,  130,  1,  35  ;  lo 
for  la,  161,  1.  19  ;  qne  for  que,  166,  2.  45, -243, 
2.  2, -260,  2.  22,-284,  1.  15, -726,  2.  7  ;  Bab.- 
nnia  for  Babilonia,  221,  2.  43  ;  period  243,  2. 
55  ;  ei  for  el,  293,  2.  14  ;  period,  368,  2.  25  ; 
mueste  for  muerte,  384,  1.  4  ;  aqui  for  aqui,"  los 
for  las,  399,  1.  21  ;  ecnnor  for  sennor,  592,  1.  5  ; 
mando  et  for  et  mando,  601,  1.  50  ;  torna,  bodas 
for  tornabodai,  603,  2.  22  ;  tue  for  fue,  767,  1. 14. 
There  are,  furthermore,  a  few  cases  where  mis- 
prints seem  a  plausible  explanation  for  certain 
unusual  (though  not  impossible)  forms  or  con- 
structions, which  show  no  variant  readings  in  the 


232 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  7. 


other  MSS.  ;  for  example,  tod  estas  tierras,  7,  1.  8  ; 
en  mediel puerto,  32,  2.  51  ;  mostraron  io,  33,  2. 
4  ;  desoubiertamientra,  67,  1.  19  ;  con  tod,  251,  1. 
12  ;  beldos,  274,  1.  30  ;  muchodumbre  305,1.  37  ; 
demotrar,  315,  2.  49  ;  mietre,  377,  1.  46  ;  buenna, 
414,  1,  38  ;  non  sabien  niguno,  570,  1.  24  ;  con 
llos,  726,  1.  20. 

The  Gronica  General  is  one  of  the  great  books 
of  Spain  ;  and  bearing  in  mind  the  great  length 
of  the  text  and  the  large  number  of  extant  MSS., 
the  present  edition  is  probably  the  most  laborious 
single  piece  of  critical  editing  within  the  field  of 
Spanish  literature.  Let  us  hope  that  the  appear- 
ance of  the  second  volume  will  not  be  long  delayed. 


C.  CAKEOLL  HARDEN. 


Johns  Hopkins  University. 


CORRESPONDENCE. 
MILTON'S  FAME. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  :  —  Have  students  of  English  literature 
noted  the  following  locm  in  the  history  of  Mil- 
ton's fame?  On  December  15,  1690,  the  Swiss 
scholar,  Vincent  Minutoli,  wrote  to  Bayle,  the 
author  of  the  Dictionary  :  ' '  Tous  les  Anglois  let- 
tr6s  que  j'ai  connus,  m'ont  extremement  proud  ce 
Poeme  6crit  en  leur  langue  par  Milton  et  intitule1 
Adam  [i.  e.  Paradise  Losf\  ;  ils  m'en  ont  par!6 
comme  du  non  plus  ultra  As  1' esprit  humain,"  etc. 
( Choix  de  la  Correxpondance  Inedite  de  Pierre 
Bayle,  ed.  by  E.  Gigas,  Copenhagen,  1890,  p. 
579).  There  are  numerous  earlier  loci  than  this, 
and  that  of  William  Hog  is  exactly  contemporary, 
but  none  seems  to  me  quite  so  significant  as  this 
disinterested  testimony  of  an  intelligent  foreign 
witness. 

J.  E.  SPINGARN. 

Columbia  University. 


THE  EYES  AS  GENERATORS  OF  LOVE. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — In  reply  to  the  note  of  Mr.  Harris  in 
your  issue  of  June  last,  I  would  say  that  the  idea 
of  the  eyes  as  generators  of  love  may  well  have 
reached  Shakespeare  thru  some  medium  other 
than  Jacopo  da  Lentino,  who  himself  obtained  it 
probably  from  the  troubadours,  refugees  at  the 
court  of  Frederic  II.  The  doctrine,  '  traces  of 
which,'  says  L.  F.  Mott,1  'were  found  in  earlier 

1  System  of  Courtly  Love,  p.  31. 


writers,  was  developed  by  Chretien  de  Troyes  with 
such  subtlety,  that  it  became  an  essential  element 
of  the  theory  of  love.  All  the  later  poets  employ 
it,  and  Huon  de  Meri 2  alludes  to  it  as  the  prop- 
erty of  Chretien. ' 

Mr.  Mott  refers  to  a  number  of  passages  in 
Cligcs  ;  one  may  here  suffice  : 

"  Ce  qu'  Amors  m'aprant  et  ansaingne, 
Doi  je  garder  et  maintenir, 
Car  tost  m'an  puet  granz  biens  venir. 
Mes  trop  me  bat,  ice  m'esmaie. 
Ja  n'i  pert  il  ne  cos  ne  plaie, 
Et  si  te  plains?  Don  n'as  tu  tort? 
Nenil  :  qu'il  m'a  navre  si  fort 
Que  jusqu'au  cuer  m'a  son  dart  tret, 
N'ancor  ne  1'a  a  lui  retret. 
Comant  le  t'a  done  tret  el  cors, 
Quant  la  plaie  ne  pert  de  hors  ? 
Ce  me  diras,  savoir  le  vuel ! 
Par  ou  le  t'a  il  tret  ?  Par  1'uel. 
Par  1'uel?  Si  ne  le  t'a  creve? 
An  1'uel  ne  m'a  il  rien  greve, 
Mes  el  cuer  me  grieve  formant,  etc. 

(Cliges,  I.  686  sq.) 

Foerster  places  the  composition  of  Cligcs  between 
1152  and  1164,  i,  e.,  a  century  or  more  before 
the  Sicilian  poet. 

Flamenco,  a  poem  much  nearer  to  Jacopo  in 
point  of  time,  furnishes  further  testimony  as  to 
the  wide  dissemination  of  the  theory  in  question  : 

Conssi  Amors  la  poinera 
Ab  lo  dart  ques  ieu  al  cor 
S'ella  nom  ve  dins  o  defor? 
Car  s'il  m'auzis  o  sim  paries, 

O  ei  m'auzis  (corr.  vezes)  o  sim  toques 
Adonc  la  pogra  ben  combatre 
Fiu'amors  per  un  d'aqnetz  quatre,  etc. 

Flamenco,  1st  ed.,  Meyer,  1.  2746  sq. 

It  is  a  typical  case  of  the  itinerary  of  ideas — 
from  France  or  Provence  to  Italy,  thence  perhaps 
to  England — there  are  some  gaps  in  the  course. 

Dante  may  have  learned  the  doctrine  from  his 
literary  ancestor,  Jacopo.  That  the  great  poet 
gave  due  honor  to  the  comparatively  unknown 
one  is  proven  by  Purg.  xxiv,  52  sq., — a  passage 
remarkable  for  its  pithy  criticism. 

In  the  well-known  sonnet,3  "  Amore  e  cor  gen- 
til  sono  una  cosa,"  Dante  says  : 

"  Beltate  appare  in  saggia  donna  pui, 
Che  place  agli  occhi  si,  cue  dentro  al  core 
Nasce  un  desio  della  cosa  piacente  : 

E  tanto  dura  talora  in  costui, 
Che  fa  svegliar  lo  spirito  d'amore  : 
E  simil  face  in  donna  uomo  valente." 


MARY  VANCE  YOUNG. 


Mount  Holyolx  College. 


2  Tournoiment  de  FAntecrit,  p.  77. 
'Vila  Nuova,  XX. 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES 


VOL.  XXII. 


BALTIMOEE,    DECEMBEB,    1907. 


ORIGIN  OF  THE  VOW   MOTIF  IN  THE 

WHITE  WOLF  AND    RELATED 

STORIES. 

This  cycle  of  stories  may  be  divided  into  two 
groups.  In  the  first  group,  the  father  in  order  to 
escape  death  promises  to  sacrifice  to  an  animal 
whatever  he  meets  first  on  his  return  home.  In 
the  second  group,  he  promises  to  return  to  the 
monster  himself  in  case  neither  of  his  daughters 
is  willing  to  go  in  his  stead. 

1.    GROUP  I. 

According  to  the  legend  of  the  White  Wolf,1  a 
man  who  is  about  to  set  out  on  a  long  voyage  asks 
his  three  daughters  what  he  shall  bring  them  on 
his  return.  The  two  oldest  daughters  ask  for 
dresses  and  the  youngest  desires  a  talking  rose. 
After  reaching  his  destination  the  father  pur- 
chases the  dresses,  but  when  he  inquires  about 
the  talking  rose,  he  is  told  that  there  is  no  such 
thing  in  the  world.  Finally,  however,  he  arrives 
at  a  castle,  where  he  finds  the  rose  that  he  desires, 
and  immediately  after  plucking  it  a  white  wolf 
rushes  toward  him  threatening  to  kill  him.  The 
wolf  agrees  to  pardon  him  on  condition  that  he 
shall  bring  him  the  first  person  that  he  meets  on 
returning  to  his  home.  The  father  makes  the 
promise  and  the  first  person  that  he  meets  on  his 
return  is  his  youngest  daughter,  who,  after  learn- 
ing of  the  vow  that  her  father  had  made,  goes  at 
once  to  the  castle  of  the  white  wolf,  who  is  con- 
demned to  take  the  form  of  a  wolf  during  the  day 
and  resumes  his  human  form  at  night. 

Likewise,  in  the  story  of  The  Soaring  Lark,'  a 
father,  who  is  on  the  point  of  setting  out  on  a  long 
journey,  promises  to  bring  his  youngest  daughter 

1  See  Romania,  x,  117-119. 

1  See  The  True  Annals  of  Fairy-Land,  edited  by  William 
Canton  and  illustrated  by  Charles  Bobinson,  London 
(without  date),  pp.  162-170.  Compare  also  Romania, 
x,  120. 


a  singing,  soaring  lark.  By  chance  he  came  to  a 
castle  in  the  middle  of  a  forest,  and,  seeing  a  lark 
in  a  tree  near  by,  he  had  his  servant  climb  the 
tree  and  catch  it.  But  as  soon  as  he  approached 
the  tree  a  lion  sprang  from  behind,  and,  threat- 
ening to  devour  him,  agreed  to  spare  his  life  only 
on  condition  that  he  would  promise  to  give  him 
whatever  he  met  first  on  his  return  home.  The 
first  one  who  greeted  him  on  entering  his  house 
was  his  youngest  daughter,  who  in  fulfilment  of 
the  vow  made  by  her  father,  took  leave  the  fol- 
lowing morning  and  went  to  the  castle  of  the  lion, 
an  enchanted  prince,  who  by  day  had  the  form  of 
a  lion,  and  by  night  resumed  his  natural  human 
figure.3 

The  vow  motif  in  group  I  seems  to  have  been 
borrowed  from  the  vow  of  Jephthah,  to  which  it 
bears  a  very  striking  resemblance.  With  refer- 
ence to  Jephthah' s  vow  the  author  of  Judges* 
says  :  "And  Jephthah  vowed  a  vow  unto  the 
Lord,  and  said,  If  thou  shalt  without  fail  deliver 
the  children  of  Ammon  into  mine  hands, 

' '  Then  it  shall  be,  that  whatsoever  cometh  forth 
of  the  doors  of  my  houhe  to  meet  me,  when  I 
return  in  peace  from  the  children  of  Ammon, 
shall  surely  be  the  Lord's,  and  I  will  offer  it  up 
for  a  burnt  offering. ' ' 

Then,  just  as  in  the  case  of  the  legend  of  the 
White  Wolf  and  similar  stories,  the  first  person 
that  meets  Jephthah  on  his  return  home  is  his 
daughter. 

2.    GROUP  II. 

According  to  the  story  of  la  Belle  et  la  B&tef 
there  was  once  a  rich  merchant  who  had  three 
sons  and  three  daughters.  When  the  father  was 
on  the  point  of  setting  out  on  a  long  voyage,  two 
of  his  daughters  asked  him  to  bring  them  dresses, 

8  For  other  stories  connected  with  the  theme  of  the 
White  Wolf  compare  Romania,  x,  119-121. 

*See  The  Holy  Bible,  Judge*,  XI,  30-31. 

6 See  Contea  des  Fees  par  Madame  d'Aulnoy  et  Madame 
Leprince  de  Beaumont,  Paris  (sans  date),  pp.  193-211. 


234 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  8. 


fur  capes  and  other  costly  apparel.  The  youngest 
daughter  hesitated  to  ask  for  anything  at  first, 
but,  on  being  questioned  by  her  father,  finally 
told  him  to  bring  her  a  rose.  Before  reaching 
home  the  merchant  came  to  a  place  where  he 
found  some  roses  and,  remembering  the  request  of 
his  youngest  daughter,  plucked  a  branch.  There- 
upon a  horrid  monster  approached  him  and  agreed 
to  spare  his  life  only  on  condition  that  one  of  his 
daughters  should  go  to  the  palace  to  die  in  his 
stead.  The  merchant  swore  that  he  would  return 
to  the  palace  within  three  months  to  receive  his 
punishment  in  case  his  daughters  should  refuse  to 
go.  The  youngest  daughter  then  went  to  the 
palace  of  the  monster  in  order  to  save  her  father's 
life.6 

The  oldest  form  of  the  vow  motif  in  the  stories 
under  consideration  is  doubtless  represented  by 
the  versions  of  group  I,  where  the  father  promises 
to  sacrifice  to  a  horrid  monster  whatever  he  meets 
first  on  his  return  home.  On  the  other  hand, 
group  II,  according  to  which  a  father  promises 
to  sacrifice  to  an  animal  a  definite  person,  either 
himself  or  one  of  his  daughters,  probably  repre- 
sents a  later  development  of  the  theme  of  group  I. 

That  the  vow  motif  was  not  originally  a  part  of 
the  legend  of  the  father  who  gives  his  daughter  to 
a  monster  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  the  versions 
that  represent  the  form  of  this  story  before  it  was 
combined  with  the  other  themes  contained  in  the 
White  Wolf  do  not  show  this  motif. 

According  to  a  Sicilian  *  story  the  youngest 
daughter  of  a  poor  man  goes  into  the  fields  with 
her  father  one  day  in  search  of  some  wild  horse- 
radish. Finding  the  plant  that  she  desires,  she 
pulls  it  up  and  in  the  very  place  from  which  she 
had  taken  the  horse-radish  she  discovers  a  hole 
from  which  is  heard  a  voice  complaining  because 
the  door  of  its  house  had  been  removed.  The  man 
then  complains  of  his  poverty,  whereupon  the  voice 
tells  him  to  leave  his  daughter  and  promises  to 
give  him  a  large  sum  of  money  in  return.  The 
father  finally  gives  his  consent  and  the  young  girl 
goes  to  live  in  a  beautiful  palace. 

6  For  other  stories  connected  with  Group  II,  compare 
Romania,  x,  121-122. 

1  See  Romania,  x,  125.  For  a  similar  story  compare 
also  Stanislao  Prato,  Quattro  Novelline  popolari  livornesi, 
Spolete,  1880,  pp.  43-44. 


Likewise,  in  an  Italian 8  story,  Tulisa,  the 
daughter  of  a  poor  woodcutter,  is  one  day  picking 
up  pieces  of  dead  wood  near  an  old  well  when  she 
hears  a  voice  saying  :  "  Will  you  be  my  wife  ?  " 
The  girl  is  frightened  and  runs  away,  but  after  a 
repetition  of  the  adventure  the  father  goes  to  the 
well  where  he  promises  his  daughter  to  the  mon- 
ster in  return  for  wealth. 

The  continuation  of  this  story,  as  well  as  that  of 
the  Sicilian *  tale  given  above,  bears  a  striking  re- 
semblance to  the  second  part  of  the  fable  of 
Psyche.1"  The  first  part  of  this  fable  also  contains 
the  motif  of  the  monster  to  which  the  father  gives 
his  daughter.  In  the  fable,  however,  the  father 
gives  Psyche  to  a  serpent  in  obedience  to  the 
command  of  an  oracle,  while  in  the  other  stories 
he  gives  her  to  an  animal  that  promises  to  make 
him  rich. 

The  foregoing  study  leads  one  to  believe  that  in 
the  group  of  stories  connected  with  the  fable  of 
Psyche  we  probably  have  the  original  form  of  the 
theme,  according  to  which  a  father  consents  to  the 
marriage  of  his  daughter  with  a  monster,  and  that 
to  these  pagan  tales  was  later  added  the  vow  motif 
under  the  influence  of  the  vow  of  Jephthah  as 
already  indicated.11 

OLIVER  M.  JOHNSTON. 
Ldand  Stanford,  Jr.,  University. 


ETYMOLOGICAL  NOTES. 

1.  Scotch,  Eng.  dial,  drumly  'turbid,  dreggy, 
muddy,'  related  to  EFries.  drummig  'tru'be, 
dick,  dreckig,  schlammig,  inoderig,'  drum  'Triibes, 
Dickes,  Bodensatz,  Dreck,  Schlamm,  Moder,' 
need  not  be  regarded  as  derived  from  the  Germ, 
stem  drofi-  '  tru'be  ;  tru'ben. '  It  is  rather  from 
a  synonymous  base.  Compare  Lith.  drumsti 

8  See  Romania,  x,   127;    Asiatic  Journal,  New  Series, 
vol.  n. 

9  The  second  part  of  these  two  stories  has  been  omitted 
here,  because   it  throws  no   light  on  the  sources  of  the 
legend  of  the  White  Wolf. 

10  See  Romania,  x,  126. 

11  For  the  stories  used  in  the  first  part  of  the  White  Wolf, 
compare  Romania,  x,  122-124. 


December,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


235 


'truben,'  drumstas  'Bodensatz,'  drumstits  'triibe,' 
etc.  These  correspond  so  closely  that  they  look 
more  like  loanwords  than  cognates. 

2.  NE.  dud,  duds  from  ME.  dudd,  dudde  'a 
coarse  cloak '   is  unexplained.     I   have   nothing 
definite  to  offer  in  regard  to  the  ultimate  origin  of 
the  word,  but  find  the  following,   with  which  it 
may    be    compared :    NIcel.    du$a    '  swathe    in 
clothes,'  LG.  dudel  'das  grobste  Sackleinwand,' 
dudel(ken')    '  herabhangender    Flitter   an    Klei- 
dungsstiicken, '  EFries.  bedudeln  'bedecken,  ein- 
hiillen, '  dudel,  dudelmuts  '  eine  gestreifte  Haube. ' 

Now,  it  is  at  least  possible  that  the  primary 
meaning  of  these  words  was  '  something  fluttering, 
flap. '  In  that  case  the  words  may  be  referred  to 
a  pre-Germ.  base  dhudh-  'shake,  flutter,  flap.' 
Compare  NE.  dial,  dodder  '  shake,  tremble, ' 
dudder  'shiver,  tremble,'  Gk.  Ova-a-o/juu  'schuttle 
mich,'  etc.,  Skt.  dhundti  'schuttelt,'  ON.  dyia, 
'schutteln'  (cf.  Brugmann,  Grdr.  n,  1047). 

For  meaning  compare  Av.  -ftwohn  '  sie  flat- 
teni,'  Skt.  dhvajd-  'Fahne,'  ON.  dukr  'Tuch, 
Tischtuch,'  OS.  dok,  OHG.  luoh  'Tuch,'  NE. 
duck  'Segeltuch'  (cf.  Uhlenbeck,  Ai.Wb.  139). 
These  also  may  be  referred  to  the  base  dheu-  in 
Skt.  dhundti. — Gk.  05Aa«,  0DAa«os  'sack,  pouch,' 
6w  (cf.  Prellwitz,  Et.  Wb.\  188). 

3.  OE.  fifel  'monster,  giant,'  ON.  fifi  'Riese, 
Ungetiim   riesischen    Ursprungs,    Tolpel,   Narr,' 
flfie  '  Narr,'  fimbol-vetr  '  Riesenwinter, '  etc.,  to 
which  add  ON.  -fambe  in  fimbol-fambe  'Erztopf,' 
Norw.  faame,  fume,  Dan.  dial,  fjambe  '  Dumm- 
kopf '  point   to   a   base  *pemp-,   which   we   may 
compare  with  Lith.  pampti  'aufdunsen,'  pamplys 
'  Dickbauch, '  pumpuras  'Knospe,'  Lett,  pa'  mpt, 

pe'mpt,  pu'mpt  '  schwellen,'  pa'mpulis  'Dicker,' 
pempis  '  Schmerbauch, '  pumpa  '  Buckel, '  LRuss. 
pup  'Knospe,'  CliSl.  papu  'Nabel,'  etc.,  and 
perhaps  also  Gk.  irep,<l>J;  '  breath,  air  ;  bubble  ; 
blister,'  iro//,<£6s  'bubble,  blister'  (cf.  Prellwitz, 
Et.  Wb.',  360).  A  synonymous  base  *pompn- 
(or  *pomb-~)  occurs  in  Dan.  frnnp  '  thickset  per- 
son,' Norw.  dial,  jump,  famp  'clumsy  lout,'  etc. 
(cf.  Falk  og  Torp,  Et.  Ordbog,  i,  180). 

4.  NHG.  kuhn,  NE.  keen,   etc.  are  regarded 
as   coming   from   a   Germ,    koni-,   konja-   '  wise, 
knowing,'  a  verbal  adjective  of  the  Germ,   root 
kan-    '  know. '     Thus   the  word  is  explained  in 


Schade,  Wb.  525  ;  Kluge,  Et.  Wb.  s.  v.  kuhn  ; 
Skeat,  Et.  Diet.  s.  v.  keen  •  Falk  og  Torp,  Et. 
Ordbog,  i,  372  ;  Walde,  Et.  Wb.  418,  etc.  The 
word  is  left  unexplained  by  Franck,  Et.  Wb. .  482. 

The  doubt  implied  by  Franck  is  more  than 
justified.  To  get  at  the  primary  meaning,  let  us 
see  in  what  sense  the  word  was  used  in  various 
dialects.  It  is  defined  as  follows  :  ON.  kunn 
'  erfahren,  umsichtig,  verstandig,  kundig,  ge- 
schickt '  (Mobius),  '  klug,  verstandig'  (Gering), 
Icel.  Kcenn  '  clever,  skilful,  sagacious,  shrewd ' 
(Zoega),  Norw.  dial.  kj0n  'klog,  begavet  med 
skarpe  sanser,  kjsek,  modig,  stiv  i  holdning, 
stolt,'  Dan.  kj0n  'net,  smuk '  (Falk  og  Torp), 
OE.  cene  '  bold, '  ME.  kene  '  bold,  bitter,  sharp, ' 
NE.  keen  '  vehement,  earnest,  eager,  ardent, 
fierce,  animated  by  or  showing  strong  feeling  or 
desire,  as,  a  keen  fighter,  keen  at  a  bargain  ;  such 
as  to  cut  or  penetrate  easily,  having  a  very  sharp 
point  or  edge,  sharp,  acute  ;  sharp  or  irritating  to 
the  body  or  mind,  acutely  harsh  or  painful,  biting, 
stinging,  tingling  ;  having  a  cutting  or  incisive 
character  or  effect,  penetrating,  vigorous,  ener- 
getic, vivid,  intense  ;  having  or  manifesting  great 
mental  acuteness,  characterized  by  great  quickness 
or  penetration  of  thought,  sharply  perceptive, 
etc.'  (Century  Diet.,  older  definitions  are  here 
omitted),  OHG.  Icuoni  '  kuhn,  audax,  fortis,  bel- 
licosus,  asper,  acer'  (Schade),  NHG.  Swiss  -^uen 
'  gesund,  frisch  von  Farbe, '  etc. 

Now  to  derive  kuhn,  keen  from  kennen,  kb'nnen 
one  must  shut  his  eyes  to  all  the  meanings  except 
such  as  are  found  in  ON.  kfjnn  'klug,  verstiiudig.' 
If  that  be  the  original  meaning,  then  let  no  one 
ever  again  doubt  any  combination  because  of  the 
difference  in  meaning.  Great  differences  may  and 
do  exist  in  related  words,  and  that  in  itself  is  no 
bar  to  connecting  them.  But  we  ought  at  least 
to  make  an  attempt  to  explain  the  differences 
logically. 

Instead  of  starting  from  the  signification  of  this 
word  in  the  Norse,  I  take  NE.  keen  in  its  most 
common  uses  as  best  representing  the  original 
meaning.  From  '  sharp,  keen '  come,  without 
any  unnatural  changes,  the  various  significations 
of  this  Germ.  word.  Thus  from  '  sharp '  came 
'  shrewd,  acute,  keen-witted  ;  fierce,  severe,  bold  ; 
bitter,  stinging,  harsh ;  eager,  earnest  ;  bright, 
fresh,  etc.'  Compare  the  following  :  Lat.  acer 


236 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[  Vol.  xxii,  No.  8. 


'  sharp,  keen  ;  dazzling,  stinging,  pungent,  fine, 
piercing  ;  violent,  severe  ;  hasty,  fierce,  angry  ; 
active,  ardent,  spirited  ;  acute,  penetrating,  saga- 
cious, shrewd,'  Gk.  d£vs  'sharp,  keen  ;  dazzling, 
etc. ;  quick,  hasty,  passionate  ;  clever,  shrewd, 
etc.'  NE.  keen  could  be  used  in  trauslating 
these  words  more  than  any  other  single  word.  A 
similar  variety  of  meanings  is  seen  in  other  words 
for  sharp,  keen. 

Keen  may  therefore  be  referred  to  the  root  gen-, 
gon-  '  angular,  sharp '  in  Gk.  ywvia  '  corner, 
angle, '  yow  '  knee, '  Skt.  janu,  Lat.  genu,  Goth. 
kniu,  etc.:  Gk.  yews  'chin,'  ytvuov  'beard,' 
•yevijis  '  edge  of  an  ax, '  Lat.  gena  '  cheek, '  Goth. 
kinnus  'Kinnbacke,'  etc.:  Lett,  zuds  'scharfe 
Kante  ;  Kinn,'  Lith.  zdndas  'Kinnbacke,'  Gk. 
yvdtfos  'point,  edge  of  a  weapon  ;  jaw,'  etc. 

It  is  possible  that  keen  was  originally  an  u- 
stem  :  pre-Germ.  *gonu-,  fern.  *gonm.  Compare 
OHG.  kuono&dv.,  kuon-heit,  kuon-rdt  with  OHG. 
harto  adv.  (Goth,  hardw),  herti  (Goth.  ace. 
hardjana).  In  this  case  we  may  compare  keen 
directly  with  Gk  yiavta,  Skt.  janu. 

5.  NE.    quiz    '  a    puzzling    question,    banter, 
raillery,   etc.',    as  a  verb   'puzzle,  banter,  chaff, 
etc. '  has  not  been  satisfactorily  explained.     It  is 
quite  possible  that   the   word   was  influenced  in 
meaning  by  question,  but  we  may  regard  it  as  a 
genuine  Eng.  word  meaning  primarily  '  squeeze, 
press, '    whence    '  tease,   annoy,    quiz. '     Compare 
OE.  cwysan  '  bruise,  squeeze, '  perhaps  with  y  for 
I  and  related  to  Icel.  kveua  '  colic,  gripes. '  Norw. 
kveise,  kvisa  'blister,'  MLG.  qucse  'eine  mit  Blut 
oder  Wasser  unterlaufene  Quetschuug  der  Haut.' 
If  any  parallel  is  needed  to  establish  so  natural  a 
development   in  meaning,  compare  Du.    knijpen 
'  pinch,  nip  :  oppress,  quiz. ' 

6.  OHG.  serawen,  serwen,  MHG.  serwen  '  in- 
nerlich  abnehmen,  entkriiftet  werden,  hinwelken, 
hinsiechen,  absterben,'  MLG.  serwen  '  eiitkraftet 
werden,  krankeln  '  may  come  from  abase  *serg'ih-. 
Compare  Lith.  sergu  '  bin  krank,  kranke, '  Lett, 
dial,  sergu  '  bin  krank, '  Ir.  serg  '  krankheit. ' 

7.  Goth.   aiza-smi/>a,  OHG.  smid  'Schmied.' 
etc.    are   referred   to   a   root   sml-  in  Gk.  0711X77 
'  knife  for  cutting  and  carving, '  criuvvij  '  hoe '  (cf. 
Persson,    Wurzelerw.     119;    Prellwitz,    Et.Wb.1 
422,  and  others).     No  doubt  smith  goes  back  to 
a  root  sml-,  which  is  in  the  Gk.  words,  but  cer- 


tainly not  in  the  sense  of  those  words.  A  smith 
was  not  '  a  cutter  or  carver '  (and  the  meaning 
'•worker  in  wood,'  which  ON.  smiSr  also  has, 
may  properly  be  regarded  as  a  transferred  mean- 
ing), but  '  a  forger  and  molder,'  i.  e.  one  who,  after 
softening  by  heat  the  material  to  be  worked,  rubs 
and  beats  and  bends  it  into  the  desired  shape.  On 
this  underlying  meaning  is  based  MHG.  gesmldee 
'leicht  zu  bearbeiten,  geschmeidig  ;  nachgiebig.' 

This  puts  smith  in  line  with  the  following  : 
Gk.  yuaXaKos  '  soft, '  /noA.aa-o-0) '  soften  :  soften  metal, 
wax,  etc. ,  for  working, '  /ioXaxr^p  '  a  melter  and 
molder  '  (%pv(rov)  •  Lat.  mulceo  '  stroke,  soothe, 
soften  ' :  Mulciber. — Skt.  deghdi  '  bestreicht, '  Lat. 
ftngo  'form,'  Goth,  digan  'kneten,'  daigs  'Teig,' 
OE.  dag  '  dough  ;  mass  of  metal. ' 

Similarly  smith  is  derived  from  sml-  in  Gk. 
oyMjv  '  rub,  wipe,  smear ' ;  Goth,  bismeitan  'be- 
schmieren  ' ;  Norw.  dial,  smika  'streichen,glatteu,' 
ON.  smeikr  '  gla.it  ;  schiichtern,'  OHG.  smeih 
'  Liebkosung,  Schmeichelei, '  MHG.  smeiche(l~)n 
'schmeicheln,'  etc. 

8.  NE.  colloquial  snoop  'pry  about,  go  about 
in  a  prying  or  sneaking  way '  is  not  simply  an 
Eng.  variant  of  snook  'lurk,  lie  in   ambush,  pry 
about.'    Compare  ON.,  Icel.  sndpa  'hang  about,' 
and   also    ON.    snopa    '  schnappen,    mit    leerem 
Munde   Kaubewegungen   macheu,'   Norw.  snopa 
'naschen,    schmarotzen, '    EFries.    snopen,    Du. 
snoepen  'naschen,'  ON.  snapa  'schnappen,'  Icel. 
snapa    '  sponge,     schmarotzen. '      Beside    Germ. 
snap-,    snop-    occur    synonymous  snefi-,    snob-, 
snapp-   in   MHG.   snaben,  sneben  '  schnelle  und 
klappende  Bewegung  machen,  schnappen,  schnau- 
ben,  etc.',  snappen    'schnappen,'   OHG.  snabul 
'Schnabel,'  ON.  snefia  'aufspiiren,'  sndfa  'um- 
herschnobern,'  etc. 

9.  ON.   v&ttr  from   *u>ahtaz    'witness,'    vdtta 
'witness   to,    affirm,    prove'    seem   to   be   unex- 
plained.    For  some  years  I  have  referred  these 
words  to  the  IE.  base  wejjf-  in  OHG.  giwahan- 
nen,  giwahinen  'gedenken,  erwahnen,   erzahlen,' 
giwaht  '  Erwahnung,    Euhm,'    Lat.   voco   'call,' 
vox  'voice,'  Gk.  ITTOS  'word,'  &l>   'voice,'  ilirov 
'  spoke, '  Skt. ,  Av.  vac-   '  speak,  tell, '  etc.     This 
combination  seems  to  me  so  obvious  that  it  may 
have  been  made  before. 


FRANCIS  A.  WOOD. 


University  of  Chicago. 


December,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


237 


A    "LOCAL  HIT"   IN   EDWARDS'S 

DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS. 

A  good  example  of  a  "  local  hit "  in  a  play  of 
the  early  English  drama,  is  found  in  one  of  the 
comic  passages  of  Richard  Edwards' s  Damon  and 
Pythias  (1564),  which  was  performed  both  at 
Westminster  before  the  Queen  and  at  Edwards' s 
own  university  of  Oxford.  The  passage  has  to  do 
with  the  huge  hose  that  the  young  pages  wear, 
and  gets  its  point  from  the  fact  that  large  hose 
and  general  extravagance  in  dress  were  so  much 
the  rage  at  Oxford  that  the  authorities  at  the  uni- 
versity had  made  most  detailed  regulations  that  year 
regarding  the  wearing  apparel  of  all  its  dependents. 

These  sumptuary  laws  are  stated  by  Anthony  & 
Wood  in  his  History  and  Antiquities  of  Oxford 
(ed.  Gutch,  vol.  ii,  p.  153  ff.,  The  Annals.  Anno 
Domini  1564).  Among  them  is  the  following, 
"against  the  excess  of  apparal  that  was  used  by 
sorts  of  Scholars,  namely,  that  '  no  Head  of  a 
House,  graduat  or  Scholar,  having  either  living 
of  a  College,  Scholar's  Exhibition,  or  spiritual 
promotion  in  any  College  or  Hall,  should  weare 
any  shirt  with  rufis  either  at  the  hand  or  collar, 
except  it  be  a  single  ruff  without  any  work  of 
gold,  silver,  or  silke,  and  that  not  above  an  inch 
deep.  Also  that  none  of  the  said  persons  should 
wear  any  falling  collar  which  falleth  more  than 
an  inch  over  the  Coat  or  other  garment.  That 
they  should  not  weare  any  cut  hosen,  or  hoses  lined 
with  any  other  stuff  to  make  them  swell  or  puff  out. 
Then  also  that  they  have  but  one  lining,  and  that 
lining  close  to  the  legge,  and  that  they  put  not  more 
cloth  in  one  pair  of  hose  than  a  yard  and  an  half  at 
most,  and  that  without  buttons,  lace  or  any  gard  of 
silk.  That  they  should  not  openly  wear  any  dub- 
let  of  any  light  colour,  as  white,  green,  yellow, 
&c.'  which  orders  were  imposed  on  the  said  per- 
sons with  mulcts  to  the  breakers  of  them. '  * 

Now,  with  this  compare  the  passage  referred  to 
in  Damon  and  Pythias.  Grimm  the  Collier  of 
Croyden,  and  the  youngsters  Jack  and  Will 
friendly  pages  to  rival  philosophers,  are  the  chief 
funmakers  of  the  tragicomedy.  Jack  and  Will 
strut  on  to  the  stage  in  their  huge  breeches,  an 
immense  exaggeration  of  the  exaggerated  fashion, 
which  are  trebly  ludicrous  when  worn  by  such 
midgets.  The  scene  must  have  made  an  instant 
hit  with  the  university  audience,  even  before  a 


word  was  spoken.  Then  the  dialogue  follows 
(Dodsley's  Old  Plays,  ed.  1825,  vol.  i,  pp.  232- 
233): 

Grimme.    Are  ye  servants,  then? 

Wyll.          Yea,  sir  ;  are  we  not  pretie  men  ? 

Grimme.    Pretie  men  (quoth  you)  ?  nay,  you 

are  stronge  men,  els  you  coulde 

not  beare  these  britches. 
Wyll.          Are  these  such  great  hose  ?  in  faith, 

goodman  colier,  you  see  with  your 

nose  : 
By  myne  honestie,  I  have  but  one 

lining  in  one  hose,  but  seven  ela 

of  roug. 
Grimme.     This  is  but  a  little,  yet  it  makes  thee 

seeme  a  great  bugge. 
Jaclce.        How  say  you,  goodman  colier,  can 

you  finde  any  fault  here  ? 
Grimme.     Nay,  you  should  finde  faught,  mary 

here's  trim  geare  ! 
Alas,  little  knave,  dost  not  sweat? 

Thou  goest  with  great  payne, 
These  are  no  hose,  bnt  water  bou- 

gets,  I  tell  thee  playne  ; 
Good  for  none  but  suche  as  have  no 

buttockes. 
Dyd  you  ever  see   two  suche  little 

Robin  ruddockes 
So  laden  with  breeches  ?  chill  say  no 

more  leste  I  offend. 
Who  invented  these  monsters  first, 

did  it  to  a  gostly  ende, 
To  have  a  male1  readie  to  put  in 

other  folkes  stuffe, 

Wee  see  this  evident  by  dayly  proofle. 
One  preached  of  late  not  farre  hence, 

in  no  pulpet,  but  in  a  wayne  carte,2 
That  spake  enough  of  this  ;  but  for 

my  parte, 

Chil  say  no  more :  your  owne  necessitie. 
In  the  end  wyll  force  you  to  finde 

some  remedy. 


1  Pouch. 

2  Another  hit,  the  meaning  of  which  is  not  now  plain. 
Fleay  makes   Fulwel   the    "preacher";    seeing  here  a 
reference  to  Like  Will  to  Like.     But  some  Oxford  thief 
caught   with   the   goods   in  his   "male,"   and  whipped 
through  town  at  the  tail  of  a  cart,  may  have  been  the  man 
who  "preached." 


238 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  8. 


Wyll.          ....   father  Grimme,    gayly   well 

you  doo  say, 
It  is  but  young  mens  folly,  that  list 

to  playe, 
And  maske  a  whyle   in  the  net  of 

their  owne  devise  ; 
When  they  come  to  your  age  they 

wyll  be  wyse. 
Grimme.     Bum   troth,  but  few   such   roysters 

come  to  my  yeares  at  this  day  ; 
They  be  cut  off  betimes,  or  they  have 

gone  halfe  their  journey  : 
I  wyll  not  tell  why  :  let  them  gesse 

that  can, 
I  meane  somewhat  thereby. 

Mr.  Fleay,  in  his  History  of  the  Stage  (pp.  59- 
61),  tries  to  use  this  passage  in  bolstering  up  his 
theory  of  a  quarrel  between  Edwards  and  Ulpiau 
Fulwel,  author  of  Like  Will  to  Like.  He  sees  in 
this — just  how  or  why  is  not  made  plain— a 
satirical  allusion  which  he  connects  in  some  way 
with  the  reference  in  Like  Will  to  Like  to  the 
breeches  ' '  big  as  good  barrells ' '  made  by  Nichol 
Newfangle,  'prentice  to  Lucifer. 

The  simple  explanation  is  evident  that  in  both 
Like  Will  to  IAke  and  Damon  and  Pythias  the 
outrageously  extravagant  styles  of  the  day  were 
satirized.  Here,  over  against  an  ell  and  a  half  to 
the  pair  of  hose,  as  the  authorities  recommended, 
the  young  pages  had  seven  ells  of  rug  for  each 
hose—; fourteen  to  the  pair  !  Grimms  repeated, 
"Chill  say  no  more  leste  I  offend— Chil  say  no 
more,"  gains  its  point  from  the  presence  of  the 
dignitaries  of  the  university  in  the  audience. 
His  pointed  word,  about  roisters  such  as  Jack 
and  Will  being  "cut  off  betimes,  or  they  have 
gone  halfe  their  journey,"  may  simply  refer  to 
gay  young  students  being  rusticated  by  the  uni- 
versity authorities. 

The  value  of  the  local  hit  is  perfectly  plain,  and 
it  is  absurd  to  seek  in  the  passage  any  personality 
in  an  alleged  author's  quarrel.  Much  the  same 
effect  was  gained  as  was  gained  a  few  years  ago 
on  the  comic-opera  stage  of  Boston  by  the  frequent 
references  to  Judge  Emmons,  eleven  o'clock  clos- 
ing, and  the  semi-colon  law. 


W.    Y.    DUKAND. 


EL   PRINCIPE   DON   CARLOS  OF 
XIMENEZ  DE   ENCISO. 

Few  historical  personages  have  appealed  more 
strongly  to  dramatists  than  Prince  Don  Carlos, 
son  of  Philip  II  of  Spain.  For  a  long  time  a 
mystery  hung  about  the  facts  of  his  life  and  death. 
It  was  known  that  before  Elizabeth  of  Valois  mar- 
ried the  King  of  Spain,  her  hand  had  been  sought 
for  the  young  Prince  Carlos,  and  this  afforded  an 
opportunity  to  the  romanticists,  to  spin  out  the 
pretty  story  of  the  Prince's  love  for  the  Queen, 
his  step-mother.  Not  until  Gachard  published 
his  book,  D.  Carlos  et  Philippe  II,  in  1863  was 
the  true  character  of  the  Prince  shown,  freed  from 
all  the  romantic  elements. 

It  is  quite  natural  that  the  life  of  Prince  Don 
Carlos  should  have  proved  attractive  to  the  Span- 
ish dramatists  of  the  seventeenth  century.  He 
had  died  in  the  year  1568  under  mysterious  cir- 
cumstances, which  surely  awakened  great  interest. 
In  1619,  Cabrera  de  Cordoba  published  his  life  of 
Philip  II,1  which  gave  many  details  of  the  life  and 
death  of  Don  Carlos,  and  which  was  the  principal 
source  of  the  Spanish  dramatists.  It  was  this 
book  which  probably  led  Ximenez  de  Enciso  and 
Juan  Perez  de  Montalban  to  write  their  comedias 
on  the  subject  of  Dou  Carlos. 

Which  of  these  writers  was  the  first  to  treat  the 
subject  can  not  be  definitely  decided.  Montalban' s 
El  Segundo  Seneca  de  Espana  y  el  Principe  Don 
Carlos  was  first  published  in  his  Para  Todos  in 
1632,  while  Enciso' s  play,  El  Principe  Don  Carlos 
did  not  appear,  as  far  as  we  know,  until  two  years 
later.  Cabrera  de  Cordoba's  history  was  used  as 
the  chief  source  for  both  plays,  and  they  strongly 
resemble  each  other  in  certain  parts,  but  we  can 
not  assign  priority,  with  certainty,  to  either  one 
of  them.  As  to  their  relative  merit,  all  the  ad- 
vantage lies  on  the  side  of  Enciso.1 

1  Filipe  segundo  Bey  de  Espana,  etc.     En  Madrid,  ano 
M.  DC.  xix. 

2  A  number  of  new  facts  concerning  Enciso  were  pub- 
lished  by  Sr  Jose1  Sanchez  Arjona  in  his  book,  Noticias 
referentes  &  los  anales  del  teatro  en  Sevilla  desde  Lope  de  Rueda 
hasta  fines  del  sigh  xvrr.     Sevilla,  1898.     Moreto,  in  his 
comedia,  No  puede  ser  el  guardar  una  mujer,  Act  I,  scene  1, 


Oberlin  College. 


December,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


239 


Enciso's  play  first  appeared  in  Parte  veinte  y 
ocho  de  Comedias  de  varios  Autores,  Huesca  1634, 
ff.  175-196.  The  author's  name  is  given  as  Don 
Diego  Ximenez  de  Anciso,  and  the  play  was  pre- 
sented by  the  company  of  Olmedo.  Barrera3 
ascribes  this  play  to  Montalban,  evidently  con- 
fusing it  with  the  latter' s  El  Segundo  Seneca.  It 
was  published  again  in  Parte  veinte  y  ocho  de 
Comedias  nuevas  -de  los  Mejores  Ingenios  desta 
Corte,  Madrid,  1667,  and  in  this  edition  was 
attributed  to  Montalbdn.4  The  text  of  this  later 
edition  follows  closely  that  of  Huesca,  1634.5 

The  play,  as  we  have  it  in  these  editions,  is  a 
true  comedia  according  to  the  Classical  rules,  for 
it  ends  happily.  It  deals  with  the  life  of  the 
young  Prince  up  to  the  spring  of  1562,  when  he 
had  recovered  from  a  serious  fall.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  he  had  been  named  heir  to  the 
throne  on  February  22,  1560,  and  on  that  occa- 
sion the  assembled  Court  swore  allegiance  to  him. 
However,  the  boy's  chances  of  ever  coming  to  the 
throne  seemed  very  slight,  because  of  the  fever 
which  was  gradually  consuming  him. 

The  King  at  first  intended  to  send  him  to 
Gibraltar  or  Malaga,  but  finally  chose  Alcala  de 
Henares.  The  Prince  set  out  for  Aleald,  in  the 
latter  part  of  October,  1561,  and  was  joined  there 
by  Don  Juan  de  Austria  and  Alexandro  Farnese. 
The  change  of  air  seemed  to  benefit  him,  but  he 
met  with  an  accident,  which  nearly  cost  him  his  life. 

Don  Carlos  had  fallen  in  love  with  one  of  the 
daughters  of  the  governor  of  the  palace,  and  to 
meet  her,  he  used  to  descend  to  the  garden  by  a 
secret  stairway,  dark  and  very  steep.  His  guar- 
dian, Don  Garcia  de  Mendoza,  did  not  look 

mentions  Enciso  among  the  poets  who  had  profited  by  the 
King's  generosity  : 

i  Y  qu£  ingenio  en  nuestra  edad 
Nuestro  Key  no  ha  enriquecido  ? 

i  El  Kector  de  Villa-Hermosa, 
G&ngora,  Mesa  y  Enciso, 
Mendoza  y  otros,  que  quiso 
por  su  elecci6n  gloriosa  ? 

8  Catakgo,  p.  684. 

1  Here  again  Barrera  accepts  the  play  as  by  Montalban. 
CaMogo,  p.  697. 

'There  are  two  manuscripts  of  this  play  in  the  Biblio- 
teca  Nacional  of  Madrid,  No.  2728,  in  both  of  which  it  is 
ascribed  to  Enciso. 


favourably  upon  the  Prince's  escapade  and  had 
the  door  communicating  with  the  garden  closed. 
On  Sunday,  April  19,  he  had  another  rendezvous 
with  his  sweetheart,  whose  name  was  Mariana  de 
Garcetas."  This  time  misfortune  awaited  him. 
He  had  sent  away  his  attendants  after  dinner,  and 
ran  hurriedly  down  the  winding  staircase.  He 
had  almost  reached  the  last  step  when  he  slipped 
and  fell  head  foremost  against  the  closed  door. 
He  fractured  his  skull,  and  for  weeks  the  doctors 
despaired  of  saving  his  life.  It  was  not  long 
before  a  villancico  appeared,  telling  in  a  playful 
way  of  the  Prince's  injury.  It  began  as  follows  : 

"Bajose  el  Sacre  Keal 
&  la  Garza  por  asilla, 
y  hiri6se  sin  herilla."  7 

This  was  glossed  as  follows  by  the  poet,  Eugenio 
de  Salazar  : 8 

"  Amor,  que  es  vanaglorioso, 

ha  hecho  una  gran  hazana, 

por  mostrar  que  es  hazaiioso  : 

hirio  de  un  tiro  amoroso 

al  Real  sacre  de  Espana. 
Y  £1  vie'ndose  assf  llagado, 

y  que  en  alto  buelo  alcado 

le  apretaba  mas  el  ma], 

para  poder  ser  curado 

bax6se  el  sacre  Real. 

Erale  fuerza  baxarse 

para  salir  con  su  impresa, 

y  a  la  garza  derribarse  : 

porque  auia  de  curarse 

con  hazer  tan  bella  presa  : 
Y  asi  con  llaga  reciente, 

y  con  coracon  ardiente, 

el  gran  sacre  de  Castilla 

acometio  reciamente 

&  la  garca  por  asilla. 

Y  pudiera  muy  ayna 

causarnos  perpetuo  llanto 

la  baxada  repentina, 

si  la  piedad  diuina, 

no  remediara  mal  tanto. 
Porque  al  tiempo  que  baxaba 

al  aue  que  deseaba, 

que  bi6  el  buelo,  por  rendilla, 

con  la  furia,  que  lleuaba, 

y  hiriose  sin  herilla." 

6  Gallardo,  Ensayo  de  una  biblioteca,  Vol.  IV,  col.  342. 

'Gallardo,  Ensayo,  Vol.  IV,  col.  342. 

8  MSS.  C,  56,  Academy  of  History,  Madrid,  fol.  258b. 


240 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  8. 


The  Prince's  condition  became  rapidly  worse, 
and  the  physicians  gave  up  hope  of  saving  his  life. 
It  was  decided  to  try  a  miracle.  The  body  of  a 
monk  named  Fray  Diego,  who  had  died  about  a 
hundred  years  before,  and  who  was  famous  for  his 
good  works,  was  preserved  at  the  Convent  of  San 
Francisco,  at  Alcalii.  The  Duke  of  Alba  had  the 
monk  taken  from  his  coffin  and  carried  in  proces- 
sion to  the  apartment  of  Don  Carlos.  As  soon  as 
the  sick  Prince  touched  the  body,  he  felt  relieved 
and  his  condition  gradually  improved.  The  Prince 
told  afterwards  that  Fray  Diego  had  appeared  to 
him  by  night,  clothed  as  a  Franciscan,  and  had 
told  him  that  his  life  would  be  spared.  The  monk's 
prediction  was  verified,  and  on  July  17  the  Prince 
was  able  to  return  to  Madrid.  Fray  Diego  was 
canonized  because  of  the  miracle  which  had  been 
wrought,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  Olivares,  the 
Prince's  doctor,  with  true  professional  pride,  main- 
tained that  Don  Carlos  had  been  cured  by  natural 
remedies,  and  not  by  a  miracle.9  This,  in  brief, 
is  the  part  of  Don  Carlos'  life  treated  in  the 
Comedia  of  Enciso. 

In  the  course  of  time,  another  version  of  En- 
ciso's  play  appeared  which  introduced  certain 
changes  and  made  the  death  of  Don  Carlos  the 
end  of  the  play.  However,  Enciso' s  name  was 
still  attached  to  this  new  version.  The  earliest 
edition  of  this  version  which  is  known  was  printed 
as  a  suelta  in  Valencia  in  1773. 10  It  is  this  new 
version  which  was  so  highly  praised  as  the  work 
of  Enciso  by  Latour11  and  Schack,12  who  were 
both  ignorant  of  the  existence  of  an  earlier  ver- 

9  Documenlos  Ineditos,  Vol.  XV,  p.  570. 

10  I  have  a  copy  of  this  later  version,  ascribed  to  Enciso, 
which  was  published  in  a  volume  of  comedias  entitled,  El 
Teatro  Espanol.     This    collection   is    not    mentioned  by 
Morel-Fatio   in    his   Bibliographic    du    Theatre   espagnol. 
There  is  no  title  page,  but  the  collection  was  probably 
printed  about  the  middle  of  the  last  century.     It  con- 
tains forty-six  comedias  and  fourteen  entremeses.    A  few 
of  these  comedias  have  not  been   published  elsewhere, 
as    far  as  I  know,  such  as  Loo,  para  el  auto   sacramental 
alegorico  intitulado  La  Prudente  Abigail,  and  Auto  Sacra- 
mental, La  Prudente  Abigail,  of  Calderon  de  la  Barca,  M6s 
valefingir  que  amar  6  Examinarse  de  Rey  of  Mira  de  Ames- 
cua,  El  secreio   en  la  Muger  of  Claramonte,  and  the  en- 
tremes  Getqfe  of  Antonio  Hurtado  de  Mendoza. 

11  L'Eipagne  religieuse  et  lilteraire,  p.  47  ff. 

12  Historia  de  la  literalura  y  del  arte  dramalico  en  Eapana, 
Vol.  m,  pp.  3G9-371. 


sion.  Schaeffer  "  mentions  the  fact  that  there  are 
two  versions  of  the  play,  and  decides  that  the  later 
version  is  an  Ueberarbeitung  by  another  dramatist, 
perhaps  Canizares.  However,  in  his  translation, 
Der  Prinz  Don  Carlos,  he  uses  mainly  the  later 
version.14 

The  question,  of  the  two  versions  was  next  dis- 
cussed by  Dr.  Schwill,15  who,  however,  fails  to 
reach  a  conclusion.  He  differs  with  Schaeffer, 
and  believes  that  the  version  which  has  the  death 
of  Don  Carlos  as  the  denouement,  is  the  work  of 
Enciso,  and  ascribes  "the  play  with  the  feeble 
slump  to  some  author  other  than  Enciso."  He 
thinks  that  if  the  early  play  had  been  worked 
over  by  another,  the  dramatist  would  have  pub- 
lished the  revision  under  his  own  name  rather 
than  Enciso' s,  which  must  have  been  unrecog- 
nized at  that  decadent  period  of  the  drama. 

However,  Dr.  Schwill  does  not  attempt  to 
decide  definitely  the  question  of  authorship.  He 
says,  "Only  the  finding  of  the  latter  (the  version 
published  as  a  suelta  in  Valencia  in  1773),  either 
in  manuscript  or  in  an  edition  printed  before  1634, 
will  allow  us  to  speak  with  certainty  in  favor  of 
Enciso."  There  is  a  manuscript  of  this  second 
version  in  the  Biblioteca  Nacional  of  Madrid 
which,  however,  decides  the  question  differently 
from  what  was  expected.16  This  is  an  autograph 
of  Caiiizares  which  closely  agrees  with  the  later 
version  as  found  in  the  suelta  of  Valencia,  1773. 
This  settles  beyond  doubt  the  question  of  the 
authorship  of  the  second  version,  and  proves  that 
the  highly  praised  eomedia  of  Enciso  is  largely 
indebted  for  its  fame  to  the  changes  made  in  it  by 
Canizares. 

We  have  already  said  that  Canizares  gave  the 
play  a  tragic  ending.  The  events  of  the  latter 
part  of  the  young  Prince's  life  here  receive  dra- 
matic treatment.  After  his  attempt  to  kill  the 
Duke  of  Alba,  and  his  treasonable  dealings  with 

13  Geschichte  dcs  spanischen  Nationaldramas,Vo\.  I,  p.  399. 

uDer  Prinz  Don  Carlos.  Die  grosste  That  des  Kaisers 
Karl  V.  Zvei  Dramen  ton  Don  Diego  Ximenez  de  Enciso, 
Leipzig,  1887. 

15 Publications  of  the  Modern  Language  Association,  Vol. 
xvni,  pp.  202-204. 

16  No.  12727.  See  Paz  y  Melia,  Catalogs  de  IMS  piezas  de 
teatro  que  se  consermn  en  el  departamento  de  manwscritos  de  la 
Biblioteca  Nacional,  p.  417. 


December,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


241 


the  Flemings,  the  stern  father,  vacillating  between 
his  love  for  his  son  and  his  duty  to  the  State,  is 
obliged  to  imprison  Don  Carlos  just  as  the  latter  is 
starting  for  Flanders.  During  his  imprisonment, 
while  the  unhappy  Prince  is  crushed  by  grief  and 
mortification,  a  figure,  his  own,  but  with  the  sem- 
blance of  a  corpse  and  with  a  shattered  crown, 
appears  to  him,  prophesying  his  approaching 
death.  At  the  same  time,  a  heavenly  chorus 
announces  that  divine  justice  has  condemned  him 
to  lose  his  life  and  the  throne.  The  Prince  falls 
in  a  swoon,  the  King  hurries  to  his  side,  and  grief- 
stricken,  watches  him  pass  away.  This  finale  is 
one  of  the  most  impressive  to  be  found  in  all  the 
Spanish  drama. 

It  may  be  of  interest  to  note  to  what  an  extent 
Canizares  used  Enciso's  play.  The  same  charac- 
ters are  found  in  both  versions.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  a  few  minor  details,  Canizares  used,  word 
for  word,  the  first  Jornada  of  Enciso's  play.  The 
two  versions  also  closely  agree  until  near  the  close 
of  the  second  Jornada.  In  Enciso's  play,  Fadri- 
que  and  Violante  quarrel,  the  former  accusing 
her  of  loving  the  Prince.  This  charge  Violante 
indignantly  denies.  Then  follows  the  scene  of 
the  oath  of  allegiance  to  Carlos.  This  is  quite 
different  in  the  Canizares  version.  We  have  a 
scene  between  Fadrique  and  Violante,  interrupted 
by  the  entrance  of  Carlos.  Fadrique  hides,  and 
is  found  by  Carlos,  and  a  fight  ensues.  The  Duke 
of  Alba  enters  in  the  darkness,  and  in  the  con- 
fusion Violante  flees  with  Carlos,  thinking  that  he 
is  Fadrique. 

In  Enciso's  version,  this  scene  takes  place,  with 
slight  changes,  in  the  third  Jornada.  Carlos  at- 
tacks Fadrique  when  he  finds  him  alone  with 
Violante,  but  the  balcony  upon  which  Carlos  is 
standing  falls  to  the  ground,  and  the  Prince  re- 
ceives the  wound  of  which  he  is  cured  miracu- 
lously by  the  monk,  Diego.  Carlos  repents  of  his 
misdeeds,  and  promises  his  father  that  he  will 
mend  his  ways.  In  Canizares'  version,  we  find 
the  attack  of  the  Prince  upon  the  Duke  of  Alba, 
and  his  preparations  to  start  for  Flanders,  then 
his  imprisonment  and  death. 

Canizares  saw  the  weakness  of  certain  parts  of 
Enciso's  play,  and  endeavoured  to  make  these 
parts  more  dramatic,  though  he  retained  the 
original  play  as  a  foundation.  That  he  improved 


Enciso's  play  is  beyond  question.  He  gained  in 
dramatic  force,  and  his  portrayal  of  the  death 
of  Don  Carlos  is  incomparably  better  than  the 
denouement  of  his  predecessor.  Surely  Canizares' 
version  is  deserving  of  the  high  rank  which  has 
been  given  it  by  writers  on  the  Spanish  drama, 
although  he  himself  has  not  been  included  in  the 
praise.  His  Principe  Don  Carlos  is  a  worthy 
forerunner  of  Nunez  de  Arce's  splendid  play  on 
the  same  subject,  El  Haz  de  Lena. 

J.  P.  WICKEESIIAM  CRAWFORD. 

University  of  Pennsylvania. 


THE  LADY   IN  THE   GARDEN. 

Readers  of  the  Knight's  Tale  who  have  enjoyed 
Chaucer's  description  of  Emilia  in  the  garden 
(vv.  1033 ft".)  are  doubtless  familiar  with  the 
parallel  stanzas  in  Boccaccio's  Teseide.  Not  so 
well  known,  apparently,  is  a  passage  in  Henri 
d'Andeli's  Lai  d'Aristote,  in  which,  under  similar 
conditions,  an  Indian  girl  sets  out  to  win  the  love 
of  the  philosopher.  In  the  Teseide : 

Quando  la  bclla  Emilia  giovinetta, 
A  cid  tirata  da  propria  natura, 
Non  che  d'amore  alcun  fosse  costretta, 
Ogni  mattina  venuta  ad  un'  ora 
In  un  giardin  se  n'  entrava  soletta, 
Ch'  allato  alia  sua  camera  dimora 
Faceva,  e  in  giubba  e  scalza  gfa  cantando 
Amorose  canzon,  se  diportando. 

E  questa  vita  piu  giorni  tenendo 
La  giovinetta  semplicetta  e  bella, 
Colla  Candida  man  talor  cogliendo 
D'  in  sulla  spina  la  rosa  novella, 
E  poi  con  quella  piu  fior  congiugnendo 
Al  biondo  capo  facie  ghirlandella  : 
Avvenne  cosa  nuova  una  mattina 
Per  la  bellezza  di  questa  fantina. 

Un  bel  mattin  ch'  ella  si  fu  levata, 
E'  biondi  crini  avvolti  alia  sua  testa, 
Disccse  nel  giardin  com'  era  usata  ; 
Quivi  cantando  e  facendosi  festa, 
Con  multi  fior  sull'  erbetta  assettata 
Faceva  sua  gbirlanda  lieta  e  presta, 
Sempre  cantando  be'  versi  d'  amore 
Con  angelica  voce  e  lieto  core. 

Ill,  sts.  8-10. 


242 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  8. 


In  the  Lai  d'Aristote    (Montaiglon-Raynaud, 
Recueil  General  des  Fabliaux,  v,  no.  137): 

Au  matin,  quant  tens  fu  et  eure, 
Sans  esveillier  autrui  se  lieve, 
Quar  li  levers  pas  ne  li  grieve. 
Si  s'est  en  pure  sa  chemise 
Enz  el  vergier  souz  la  tor  mise, 
En  .1.  bliaut  ynde  gouts', 
Quar  la  matine'e  ert  d'est*: 
Et  li  vergiers  plains  de  verdure. 
Si  ne  doutoit  pas  la  froidure, 
Qu'il  faisoit  chalt  et  dolz  or6. 
Bien  li  ot  nature  enfloriS 
Son  cler  vis  de  lis  et  de  rose, 
K'en  toute  sa  taille  n'ot  chose 
Qui  par  droit  estre  n'i  deiist  ; 
Et  si  ne  cuidiez  qu'ele  eiist 
Loiee  ne  guimple  ne  bende. 
Si  1'embellist  molt  et  amende 
Sa  bele  tresce  longue  et  blonde  ; 
N'a  pas  deservi  qu'on  la  tonde 
La  dame  qui  si  biau  chief  porte  ; 
Par  mi  le  vergier  se  deporte 
Cele,  qui  nature  avoit  painte, 
Nuz  piez,  desloiee,  deschainte, 
Si  va  escorcant  son  bliaut, 
Et  va  chantant,  non  mie  haul : 

Or  la  mi,  la  voi,  la  vol. 

Lafontaine  i  sort  serie. 

Or  la  voi,  la  voi,  m'amie, 
Et  ylaiolai  desouz  I'aunoi. 

Or  la  roi,  la  voi,  la  voi, 
La  bele  blonde,  a  li  m'otroi. 

Si  com  li  mestre  se  demente, 
La  dame  en  .1.  rainssel  de  mente 
Fist  .1.  chapel  de  maiutes  flors. 
Au  fere  li  sovint  d' amors  ; 
Si  chante  au  cueuillir  les  floretes  : 
Ci  me  tienent  amoretes  ; 
Dras  i  garni  meschinele. 

Douce,  trap  vous  aim  ! 
Ci  me  tienent  amoretes 
Oil  je  tieng  ma  main. 

w.  278  £f. 

A  beautiful  girl,  barefoot  and  lightly  clad, 
walking  early  on  a  spring  morning  in  a  medieval 
garden,  singing  love-songs,  gathering  flowers  and 
weaving  of  them  a  garland  for  her  blond  head, 
all  to  the  destruction  of  male  spectators,  is,  per- 
haps, mere  conventional  situation  ;  yet  source- 
hunters  have  sometimes  been  satisfied  with  less 
striking  resemblances  in  style  and  matter  no  less 
obvious. 

WALTER  MOEEIS  HART. 

University  of  California. 


A  LATIN-PORTUGUESE  PLAY  CONCERN- 
ING SAINTS  VITUS  AND  MODESTUS. 

The  Hispanic  Society  of  America  has  recently 
acquired  a  Latin-Portuguese  manuscript  whose 
title  page  reads  as  follows  : 

DIALOGO  |  Latino  Lutitano  de  S.  Vito-  \  & 
Modesto  martyresfei  =  \  to  em  Cochim  no  Colle  ==  | 
gio  da  Comp.  de  IESV,  |  &  offer  eyido  ao  lilt. mo  | 
Sor.  Aires  de  Salda  =  \  nha  Viforei  da  \  India 
qndo.  |  chegou  \  doRno  \  |  Anno  de  1600  \  . 

The  volume  is  a  small  quarto,  152  mm.  X  198 
mm.,  bound  in  stamped  red  Russia  leather.  The 
MS.  bears  on  the  inside  of  the  front  cover  a  book- 
plate showing  that  it  once  belonged  to  the  famous 
collection  of  Thomas  Jefferson  McKee.  It  is 
probably  an  original  MS.,  and  a  presentation 
volume  made  and  bound  for  the  new  Viceroy. 
It  shows  three  distinct  hands. 

As  proven  by  the  water-marks  the  MS.  origin- 
ally consisted  of  fifty  unnumbered  leaves  or  folios. 
It  now  consists  of  forty-eight,  the  first  and  last 
being  absent.  The  analysis  follows  : 

Fol.  1,  Guard  leaf,  lacking,  as  proven  by  the 
water-mark;  fol.  2,  Guard  leaf,  blank1;  fol.  3, 
recto  =  title  page,  as  quoted  above  ;  verso  = 
blank  ;  fol.  4,  blank.  These  are  followed  by 
three  full  signatures  of  twelve  folios  each,  bearing 
the  same  water-mark  as  the  preliminary  leaves ; 
and  these  in  turn  are  followed  by  one  signature  of 
ten  folios,  with  two  water-marks  (neither  mark 
like  that  of  all  the  preceding  folios) :  folios  41- 
[50]  and  43-48  having  one  water-mark,  while 
folios  42-49,  44-47,  and  45-46  have  the  other. 
Fols.  5ro  to  48ro  present  the  text  intact ;  fol.  48™  has 
but  five  lines  of  text,  while  the  rest  of  the  leaf  is 
blank  ;  fol.  49,  Guard  leaf,  blank  ;  fol.  50,  Guard 
leaf,  lacking,  as  proven  by  the  water-mark.  New 
double  guard  leaves  have  been  inserted  into  the 
front  and  back  of  the  volume,  and  in  each  case 
one  of  the  folios  has  been  pasted  fast  to  the  cover. 


1  At  the  top  of  Fol.  2ro,  two  lines  of  writing  have  been 
erased.  The  first  line  is  still  partially  legible  and  reads  : 
Henrietta  Klavin  or  Klarin.  The  second  line  is  entirely 
illegible. 


December,  1907.  j 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


243 


As  its  title  indicates,  the  work  is  a  Latin-Por- 
tuguese play  concerning  the  lives  of  Saints  Vitus 
and  Modestus.  It  was  written  in  the  Jesuit  Col- 
lege of  the  capital  of  the  Portuguese  province  of 
India,  Cochim,  on  the  S.  W.  coast,  and  performed, 
presumably  by  the  students,  before  Aires  de  Sal- 
danha,  the  newly  appointed  Viceroy,  on  his 
arrival  from  Portugal. 

Saldanha  was  appointed  Viceroy  in  1600  to 
succeed  the  weak  Count  of  Vidigueyra  ;  but  he 
was  equally  remiss  and  made  no  headway  against 
the  Dutch.  He  held  office  until  1604,  when  he 
was  succeeded  by  Alonso  de  Castro.  Portugal 
lost  Cochim  to  Holland  in  1662. 

A  moment  ago  I  said  that  Fol.  1  is  lacking. 
It  is  probable  that  part  of  it  is  still  preserved. 
At  the  time  of  inserting  the  new  guard  leaves, 
half  of  the  new  folio  that  was  pasted  against  the 
inside  of  the  front  cover  was  cut  out.  In  the  space 
thus  left  we  see,  likewise  pasted  against  the  cover, 
a  leaf  that  looks  as  though  it  might  very  well  be 
the  missing  Fol.  1.  No  such  cut  was  made  in  the 
new  guard  leaf  at  the  back  and  so  I  cannot  say 
whether  or  not  the  old  Fol.  50  is  still  preserved 
between  it  and  the  back  cover.  The  object  of  the 
cut  on  the  front  cover  was  to  leave  visible  a  manu- 
script note  which  reads  : 

"  This  booke  was  found  in  the  carique  St.  Val- 
entine taken  by  Sir  Rich.  Levefon  a  yeare  before 
the  death  of  Queen  Elizabeth  [died  1602]." 

Queen  Elizabeth  died  in  1603,  so  the  date  1602 
should  have  referred  to  the  taking  of  the  St.  Val- 
entine. The  date  is  written  in  pencil  and  is  not 
in  the  same  hand  as  the  rest  of  the  note. 

Sir  Richard  Leveson  (1570-1605)  was  vice- 
admiral  of  England.  In  1600,  with  the  style  of 
"Admiral  of  the  narrow  seas,"  he  commanded  a 
fleet  sent  towards  the  Azores  to  look  out  for  Span- 
ish treasure-ships.  Early  in  1602  Leveson  com- 
manded a  powerful  fleet  which  was  ' '  to  infest  the 
Spanish  coast."  On  June  1,  1602,  off  the  coast 
of  Lisbon,  he  learned  that  a  large  carrack  and 
eleven  galleys  were  in  Cezimbra  bay,  about  twenty 
miles  south  of  Lisbon  harbor.  Leveson' s  fleet 
had  been  considerably  divided  up,  so  that  he 
himself  had  only  five  ships  left.  Nevertheless, 
when  on  the  morning  of  June  3rd  he  found  the 
fleet  strongly  posted  under  the  guns  of  the  castle, 


he  entered  the  bay.  The  fight  lasted  from  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning  until  five  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon.  Two  of  the  galleys  were  burned,  and 
the  rest,  together  with  the  carrack,  surrendered. 
This  carrack  (the  only  one  in  the  fleet)  is  probably 
the  "carique  St.  Valentine"  mentioned  in  the 
note  on  the  inside  of  the  front  cover. 

Theophilo  Braga,  in  his  Hv>t.  do  Theatro  Portu- 
gues,  Porto,  1870,  has  a  chapter  devoted  to  the 
Jesuit  plays  (Vol.  n,  chap,  ii,  pp.  151-184)  As 
Tragicomedias  nos  Collegios  Jesuitas.  This  play 
is  not  mentioned  therein.  Mrs.  Carolina  Michaelis 
de  Vasconcellos,  in  the  Grundriss  of  Grober,  also 
omits  it. 

JOHN  D.  FITZ-GEKALD. 

Columbia,  University. 


A  LETTER  FROM  ONE  MAIDEN  OF  THE 
RENAISSANCE  TO  ANOTHER.1 

"Main tenant  toutes  disciplines  sont  restituees, 
les  langues  instances,  Grecque,  sans  laquelle  c'est 
honte  qu'une  persoune  se  die  savant,  Hebraicque, 

Caldaicque,  Latine Tout  le  monde  est 

plein  de  gens  savans,  de  precepteurs  tres  doctes, 
de  librairics  tres  amples,  et  m'est  ad  vis  que,  ny 
au  temps  de  Platon,  ny  de  Ciceron,  ny  de  Papi- 
nian,  n'estoit  telle  commodite  d'estude  qu'on  y 

voit  maintenant Je  voy  les  brigans,  les 

bourreaux,  les  aventuriers,  les  palfreniers  de  main- 
tenant  plus  doctes  que  les  docteurs  et  prescheurs 
de  mon  temps. 

Que  diray-je?  Les  femmes  et  les  filles  ont 
aspire  a  ceste  louange  et  manne  celeste  de  bonne 
doctrine."  2 

Such  are  the  enthusiastic  terms  in  which  Panta- 
gruel  praises  the  changes  wrought  in  France  by 
the  Renaissance. 

The  last  sentence  of  the  above  extract  charac- 
terizes in  a  singularly  concise  manner  one  of  the 
most  distinctive  features  of  the  epoch — the  coming 
to  the  fore  of  women,  who  had  previously,  with 

'Camerarius  Collection,  Royal  Library,  Munich.  My 
thanks  are  due  to  M.  Pierre  de  Nolhac,  Director  of  the 
Museum  of  Versailles,  for  the  communication  of  this  letter. 

2Kabelais,  Burgaud-Desmarets  andllathery  ed.,  11,  viii. 


244 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  8. 


rare  exceptions,  held  aloof  from  intellectual  pur- 
suits, as  from  other  fields  in  which  the  sterner  sex 
held  sway.  The  list  of  French  poetesses  of  the 
sixteenth  century  is  a  long  one  :  Louise  Labe, 
Clemence  de  Bourges,  Pernette  du  Guillet,  Marie 
de  Romieu,  Gabrielle  de  Coignard,  Jeanne  d'Al- 
bret,  Jacqueline  de  Miremont,  Madeleine  and 
Catherine  des  Roches,  Mary  Stuart,  Marguerite 
de  Valois,  Anne  and  Catherine  de  Parthenay, 
Catherine  de  Bourbon,  and,  the  most  celebrated 
of  all,  Marguerite  de  Navarre.3  These  women, 
however,  confined  themselves  to  writing  in  their 
mother  tongue  ;  for  the  most  famous  of  the  Latin 
poetesses  we  must  turn  to  Camille  de  Morel,  a 
young  lady  who  had  an  international  renown  as  a 
scholar,  but  who  is  to-day  quite  unknown  except 
to  the  few  who  take  pleasure  in  communing  with 
the  forgotten  men  and  women  of  long  ago. 

Camille  was  the  daughter  of  Jean  de  Morel* 
and  Antoinette  de  Loynes,  whose  house  in  Paris 
was  the  rendezvous  of  the  foremost  men  of  letters 
of  the  middle  of  the  century.  The  frequent  pres- 
ence of  Ronsard,  Du  Bellay,  Dorat,  Salmon  Mac- 
rin,  Lancelot  de  Carles,  Michel  de  L' Hospital, 
Jean  Mercier,  Guillaume  Aubert,  and  many 

*Cf.  Ldon  Feugure,  Its  Femmes  pastes  au  xvie  siede, 
Paris,  1860. 

*  Jean  de  Morel  (1511-1581 ),  a  native  of  Embrnn,  after 
early  travels  in  Italy  and  Switzerland,  returned  to  Paris, 
where  he  held  important  positions  in  the  household  of 
Henry  II  and  Catherine  de  Medici.  His  importance  in 
the  literary  history  of  the  sixteenth  century  is  due  more 
to  the  protection  that  he  extended  to  young  poets  than  to 
his  own  productions.  His  wife,  Antoinette  de  Loynesi 
was  the  widow  of  Lubin  Dallier,  advocate  in  the  Parlia- 
ment of  Paris.  See  Pierre  de  Nolhac,  Lettres  de  Joachim 
du  Bellay,  Paris,  1883,  p.  24,  note  1,  for  some  verses  from 
her  pen.  Besides  Camille,  Jean  de  Morel  had  two  daugh- 
ters, Lucrece  and  Diane,  who  also  received  many  eulogies 
from  the  poets  of  the  time. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  a  thorough  study  has  not  yet 
been  made  of  the  literary  work  and  connections  of  this, 
one  of  the  most  important  families  of  the  Renaissance.  M. 
Henri  Chamard,  in  his  admirable  thesis  on  Joachim  du 
Bellay,  Lille,  1900,  devotes  considerable  attention  to  the 
Morels.  To  the  bibliography  given  by  M.  Chamard,  p. 
390,  the  following  additions  may  now  be  made :  Joseph 
Dumoulin,  Vie  et  oeuvres  de  Frederic  Morel,  Paris,- 1901, 
Index  ;  the  present  author,  Une  lettre  autographs  de  Pierre 
Forcadel,  lecteur  du  roi  en  mathematiques  &  Jean  de  Morel, 
in  the  Revue  d'Histoire  lilleraire  de  la  France,  Oct.-Dec., 
1905,  p.  663. 


others  prompted  Scevole  de  Sainte-Marthe  to 
remark  that  the  home  of  the  Morels  was  a  verit- 
able temple  of  the  Muses. 

Camille  began  composing  verses  in  French  and 
Latin  when  only  ten  years  of  age.  Her  precocity 
led  Joachim  du  Bellay  to  pay  her  the  following 
compliment  : 

Sic  ludit  Latiis  modis  Camilla, 
Camillam  ut  Latii  putes  alumnam. 
Sic  versus  patrios  facit  Camilla, 
Ronsardus  queat  invidere  ut  ipse. 

Et  vix  (quod  stupeas)  videt  Camilla 
Videt  vix  decimara  Camilla  messem.5 

To  her  accomplishments  in  French  and  Latin 
she  soon  added  a  thorough  knowledge  of  Greek, 
Spanish,  and  Italian.  Her  poems,  which  are 
scattered  throughout  the  works  of  contemporary 
writers,  have  never  been  collected. 

The  inedited  letter  published  below  adds  a  new 
note  to  the  many  words  of  praise  that  were  show- 
ered upon  the  scholarly  girl.  Not  only  did  the 
poets  of  the  time  regard  her  as  a  marvel,  but 
another  young  lady  in  far  off  Duisburg  rejoiced 
at  her  learning,  and,  with  a  sad  ring  in  her  voice, 
regretted  that  the  broom  and  distaff  prevented  her 
from  satisfying  her  own  literary  inclinations. 

The  writer  of  the  letter,  Johanna  Otho,  daugh- 
ter of  Johann  Otho,6  was  born  in  Bruges  about 
the  middle  of  the  century.  In  1557  she  went 
with  her  father  to  Duisburg,  where  she  subse- 
quently became  celebrated  for  her  erudition.  The 
modest  tone  of  the  letter  to  Camille  de  Morel  does 
not  do  its  author  justice.  Late  in  life  she  pub- 
lished two  volumes  of  Latin  poetry,  Canninum 
diversorum  libri  duo  (Strasburg,  1616),  and  Poe- 
mata  sive  lusus  extemporanei  (Antwerp,  1617). 
Her  poetic  gifts  drew  from  a  contemporary, 
Jacques  Yetswerts,  the  ensuing  eulogistic  verse  : 

Quarta  Charis,  Musisque  novem  decima  addita  Musa. 


^Joach.  Sellaii  poematwn  libri  guatuor,  Parisiis,  1558. 

6  Johann  Otho,  teacher,  grammarian,  historian,  trans- 
lator and  cosmographer,  was  a  native  of  Bruges.  About 
1545  he  opened  a  school  of  ancient  languages  at  Ghent, 
In  1557  he  went  to  Duisburg,  where  he  died  in  1581.  He 
was  the  author  of  a  dozen  works  on  his  various  specialties. 

Concerning  Otho  and  his  daughter,  see  Siographie 
Nalionale  of  Belgium. 


December,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


245 


Johanna's  curious  letter  to  Camille  de  Morel  is 
of  importance  not  only  for  the  biography  of  the 
two  young  ladies,  but  also  for  the  general  history 
of  the  Eenaissance.  It  indicates  that  an  un- 
bounded desire  for  knowledge  filled  the  hearts  of 
youthful  maidens  as  well  as  plodding  graybeards, 
or,  as  Rabelais  expresses  it,  ' '  even  women  and 
girls  aspired  to  that  celestial  manna  of  good 
learning."  7 

Johanna's  letter,  the  Latin  of  which  savors 
somewhat  of  the  school-room,  follows  : 

S.  P.  Cum  ad  nos  ex  Anglia  venisset  Dominus 
Carolus  Utenhovius,8  quern  pater  meus  inter  eos 
quos  olim  in  literis  erudivit  unice  amplectitur,9 
tuum  mihi  carmen  dedit,  quo  lecto,  verbis  con- 
sequi  nequeam  quam  fuerim  gavisa.  Nam  in  his 
terris  nullam  audio  virginem  in  literis  humanio- 
ribus  magnopere  versatam  ;  quare  aequum  est 
quod  tuae  gratuler  felicitati,  ingenio  et  educa- 
tioni,  quod  virgineis  moribus  in  tanta  generis  tui 
claritate  literas  latinas  et  graecas  coniungere  non 
erubescas,  novemque  Musarum  et  Phoebi  sacra 
tuis  studiis  non  indigna  censeas.  Mihi  sane,  ut 
verum  fatear,  nulla  potest  voluptas  obvenire  tanta, 
cuius  respectu  literas  latinas  et  graecas  queam 

7  When  the  letter  was  written,  Camille  de  Morel  (b. 
1547)  was  nineteen  years  old.  We  are  safe  in  assuming 
that  Johanna  Otho  was  of  about  the  same  age. 

6  Charles  Utenhove,  one  of  the  foremost  humanists  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  was  born  at  C4hent  in  1536.  At  an 
early  age  he  went  to  Paris,  where  he  became  tutor  of  Jean 
de  Morel's  daughters.  In  1563  he  accompanied  the  French 
ambassador,  Paul  de  Foix,  to  England,  and  remained 
there  three  years.  In  1566  he  went  to  Germany,  and  a 
few  years  later  became  professor  of  Greek  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Basel.  He  died  in  Cologne  in  1600. 

Utenhove  was  the  author  of  some  ten  works,  mostly  in 
Latin.  He  was  a  most  proficient  linguist,  having  written 
verses  in  French,  German,  English,  Italian,  Spanish, 
Latin,  Greek,  Hebrew,  and  Chaldean.  His  best  known 
work,  the  Xenia,  contains  so  many  contributions  by  Joa- 
chim du  Bellay  that  the  latter  might  well  be  called  a  col- 
laborator. Besides  Du  Bellay,  Utenhove  had  intimate 
relations  with  Bonsard,  Dorat,  George  Buchanan,  Tur- 
nebe,  L' Hospital, — in  short,  with  the  leading  scholars 
and  men  of  letters  of  the  period. 

Doctor  Wiepen,  of  Cologne,  is  preparing  a  study  on  the 
life  and  works  of  Utenhove. 

Concerning  Utenhove,  see  Chamard,  op.  tit,  Index. 

9  In  his  Epitaphium  in  mortem  Ilenrici  Gallorum  regis, 
Paris,  1560,  Utenhove  speaks  in  affectionate  terms  of  his 
early  association  with  Otho  at  Ghent. 


posthabere.  Quibus  non  tantum  voluptatem,  sed 
veram  felicitatem  metior.  Utinam  domesticas 
curas  (quod  plerique  in  nobis  nefas  ducunt)  prae 
his  contemnere  possem,  facile  paterer  me  totam 
solis  Musis  dedicari.  Ignosce,  clarissima  virgo, 
rneae  audaciae,  quod  hac  parum  culta  epistola 
tuas  aures  eruditissimas  onerare  sum  ausa.  Roga- 
vit  Dominus  Carolus  Utenhovius  patrem  meum  ut 
etiam  soluta  oratione  ad  te  aliquid  literarum 
darem,  meque  in  tuam  notitiam  propter  literarum 
commercia  insinuarem  ;  quamobrem  si  quid  hie 
peccati  est,  id  totum  Domino  Carolo  Utenhovio 
tuahumanitas  imputabit.10  Vale,  lectissima  Dom- 
ina  Camilla,  et  me  in  tuarum  ancillarum  catalogo 
ascribi  patiare.  Est  mihi  Lutetiae  "  frater  ger- 
manus."  Utinam  ille  per  te  in  familia  isthic  pia 
alibi  commendatus  potius  quam  OIKO'O-ITOS  viveret 
(sic).  Iterum  vale.  Dunburgi.13  Pridie  calen- 
das  octobris." 

JOHANNA  OTHONIS 
Joliannis  Othonis  filia. 


Harvard  University. 


R.  L.  HAWKINS. 


THE  SATOR-ACROSTIC. 

In  a  brief  communication  to  the  Verhandlung 
der  Berl.  Gesellsohaft  fur  Anthropologie,  1880, 
p.  42,  Treichel  describes  a  curious  '  Toll-tafel, ' — 
or  small  wooden  tablet  used  as  a  charm  against 
the  bite  of  a  mad  dog  or  other  rabid  animal, — 
inscribed  with  the  acrostic 

8  ATOR 
AREPO 
TENET 
OPERA 
ROTAS 

10  Utenhove  seems  to  have  taken  a  great  interest  in 
Johanna  Otho.  In  his  Xenia  we  find  a  poem  with  the 
following  title  :  Ad  eundem  (i.  e.  Jean  de  Morel)  in  com- 
mendationem  Jo.  Othonidos  Jo.  Othonis  praeccptoris  sui  F. 

""Paris. 

12  This  brother  is  otherwise  unknown. 

13  Duisburg,  a  city  in  the  Rhine  Province,  Prussia,  a  few 
miles  north  of  Diisseldorf. 

14  The  reference  to  Utenhove' s  leaving  England  enables 
us  to  assign  1566  as  the  date  of  the  letter. 


246 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[  Vol.  xxii,  No.  8. 


which  he  translates,  "  Der  Saman  Arepo  halt  mit 
Miihe  die  Rader."  For  the  word  'Arepo,'  which 
he  takes  to  be  a  proper  name,  he  can  find  no  sat- 
isfactory meaning.  Later,  p.  215,  he  reports  the 
discovery  of  another  little  tablet,  inscribed  with  an 
acrostic  containing  several  letters  of  the  SATOR- 
formula,  but  including  other  letters  in  different 
order,  the  whole  almost  obliterated  and  scarcely 
legible. 

These  brief  reports  instigated  a  seven  years' 
hunt  for  other  instances  in  which  this  same  acrostic 
was  used,  and  led  to  a  long  and  apparently  fruit- 
less discussion  as  to  the  meaning  of  this  curious 
acrostic.  In  a  later  communication  (Verhandl., 
1880,  p.  276),  Treichel  suggests  another  inter- 
pretation :  SATOR  —  Father,  Nourisher,  Sup- 
porter. ROTAS  =  Wheel  of  fate.  Hence,  "  Der 
giitige  Vater  halt  mit  Miihe  auf  das  verderbliche 
Rollen  der  Schicksalsriider. "  He  still  finds,  how- 
ever, no  satisfactory  explanation  for  the  word 
AREPO. 

Verhandl.,  1880,  p.  280,  von  Schulenburg  cites 
examples  of  the  use  of  this  acrostic  to  cure  the 
toothache.  The  letters  are  to  be  written  in  butter 
or  on  a  piece  of  bread  and  butter, '  which  is  then  to 
be  eaten,  .the  idea  being  to  swallow  the  magic 
words  so  that  they  may  expel  the  sickness.  In- 
stances are  given  where  the  acrostic  was  used  to 
extinguish  fires.  In  Pomerania,  Treichel  ( Ver- 
handl., 1881,  p.  164)  finds  it  used  as  a  charm 
against  fever. 

Verhandl.,  1881,  p.  35,  Adolf  Erman  describes 
a  Koptic  ostrakon  in  the  Berlin  Museum,  No. 
7821,  bearing  this  same  acrostic,  and  refers  to 
Hiob  Ludolf,  Ad  historiam  JEtMopiemn  commen- 
tarius,  p.  351,  who  discovered  in  an  Ethiopian 
MS.  these  five  words  as  names  of  the  five  wounds 
of  Christ  :  sador  aroda  danad  adera  rodas. 

Ibid.,  162,  Treichel  refers  to  Frischbier,  Hex- 
enspruch  und  Zauberbann,  Berlin,  1870,  who 
gives  an  imperfect  acrostic,  apparently  a  corrup- 
tion of  the  SATOR-acrostic,  as  follows  : 

1  Cf.  U.  Jahn,  Hexenwesen  und  Zauberei  in  Pommern, 
Stettin,  1886,  p.  55.  Schreib  mit  einem  Stockchen  auf 
ein  Butterbrot  folgende  Worte  und  gieb  es  dem  Kranken 
ein  : 

SATOE 

AKEPO 

TE  wet 

Betas 


NATOR 
AUTNO 
TEPUT 
AUTNO 
ROTUR 

Ibid.,  1882,  p.  558,  Fraulein  Mestorf  tells  of 
a  cup  of  oriental  workmanship  found  in  the  island 
of  Gotland,  having  engraved  on  it  in  Runic  letters 
the  SATOR-acrostic,  together  with  the  five-pointed 
star,  or  wizard  pentagram  -fa.  The  cup  is  said  to 
belong  to  the  fourteenth  century. 

Ibid.,  1883,  p.  535,  H.  Fritsch  rearranges  the 
letters  and  finds  in  them  an  invocation  to  Satan  : 
Satan  oro  te  pro  arte,  a  te  spero. 

Zeitgchriftfur  Ethnologic,  xvi  (1883),  p.  113, 
"W.  Schwartz  concludes  that  the  double  meaning 
of  a  formula  like  the  SATOR-acrostic  would  serve 
the  purpose  of  calling  up  spirits,  and  then  when  said 
backwards,  of  banishing  them  again.  He  cites  num- 
erous examples  from  Latin  poetry,  especially  spells 
to  call  up  the  wind  and  lightning  and  evil  spirits. 

Verhandl.,  1884,  p.  66,  Treichel  accepts  a 
Keltic  interpretation  of  the  formula  proposed  by 
Herr  Lehrer  Rabe  in  Biere  bei  Magdeburg.  In 
1886,  however,  Treichel  (Verhandl.,  p.  349) 
suggests  the  God  Saturn  for  SATOR,  and  takes 
ROTAS  to  refer  to  the  wheels  of  the  sun  chariot, 
translating,  "Saturnus  miihevoll  die  Rader  (das 
Sonnenrad)  lenkt."  For  AREPO  he  suggests 
derivation  from  Finnish  Aurinko  =  "die  Sonne." 
Ibid.,  1887,  p.  69.  Interpretation  of  Dr.  Kol- 
berg,  who  regards  the  letters  as  abbreviations  of 
Latin  words.  The  Nuremburg  medal,  or  plate, 
described  in  Verhandl.,  1883,  p.  354,  he  con- 
siders to  have  been  originally  a  paten,  or  com- 
munion plate.  On  the  outer  circle  are  the  words  : 
+  Deo  Honorem  +  Et  Patria  +  Liberationem  + 
Mentem  Sanctam  +  Spontaneam,  and  the  SATOR- 
acrostic,  which  he  arranges  rather  arbitrarily  as 
follows  : 

SAT     ORARE 

POTENter  ET  OPERAre 

RatiO  (oder  auch  ReligiO)  TuA  Sit 

and  thus  interprets  : 

Viel  beten 

Und  kraftig  arbeiten, 

Das  sei  Deine  Lebensweise  (oder  Religion). 


December,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


247 


This  he  takes  to  be  an  ancient  rule  of  the  Bene- 
dictines. 

Ibid.,  74.  F.  Lieberman  reports  that  this  same 
acrostic  appears  on  the  margin  of  an  Oxford  MS. 
Bodl.  Digby  53,  belonging  approximately  to  the 
year  1200. 

Reinhold  Kohler  discusses  the  acrostic  at  some 
length  in  Verhandl,  1881,  p.  301,  and  especially 
in  Kleinere  Schriften,  3,  p.  564.  In  the  latter 
article  he  has  collected  many  examples  which 
show  the  early  origin  of  the  formula  and  its  wide- 
spread use.  He  finds  it  scratched  on  the  marble 
above  the  chapel  of  St.  Laurent  in  Rochemaure, 
France  ;  in  Cirencester,  England  ;  on  the  mosaic 
pavement  of  a  church  in  Pieve  Terzagni,  end  of 
eleventh  century  ;  in  an  Oxford  Latin  MS.  of  the 
thirteenth  century  ;  in  a  Greek  MS.  of  the  Bibl. 
Natle.  of  Paris  ;  in  a  Munich  MS.  marginal,  hand- 
writing of  the  fifteenth  century,  referred  to  by  J. 
du  Choul,  in  his  work  entitled  De  varia  quercus 
hiMoria,  Lugduni,  1555,  p.  25,  who  says  it  was 
used  by  the  ancient  Gauls  as  a  febrifuge  ;  used  to 
awaken  love  or  to  obtain  favor  ;  in  th'e  Romanus- 
biichlein  (Scheible's  Kloster,  3,  492)  used  to  ex- 
tinguish fires  and  to  protect  cattle  against  witch- 
craft ;  to  protect  against  the  bite  of  a  mad  dog  ; 
used  by  the  natives  of  the  northern  provinces  of 
Brazil  to  protect  against  and  heal  snake  bite. 

Kohler  does  not  attempt  to  interpret  the  mean- 
ings of  the  words,  but  concludes  that  with  the 
exception  of  AREPO,  which  has  not  been  satis- 
factorily explained,  they  are  all  well  known  Latin 
words. 

To  these  examples  may  be  added  the  following, 
collected  from  various  MSS.  ,  and  so  far  as  I  know 
unpublished  hitherto  : 

Bibl.  Bodl.  MS.  e  Mus,  243,  fol.  31  (seven- 
teenth cent.). 

Request  to  obtain 

Write  thes  words  in  parchment  w'h  ye  bloude  of 
a  culver  &  beare  it  in  thy  left  hande  &  aske  what 
y"  wilt  &  y°  shalt  have  it  /  fiat. 


s 

a 

t 

o 

r 

a 

r 

e 

I 

0 

t 

e 

n 

e 

t 

o 

I 

e 

r 

a 

r 

o 

t 

a 

s 

B.  M.  MS,  Addit.  15236  : 

Ad  habendian  vel  si  vis  haJere  amorem,  domini 
tui  Scribe  hec  no??ii»a  sanguine  albe  columbe  + 
sator  +  arepo  +  tenz  +  opera  +  rotas  +  &  intinge 
in  aqua  benedicta  &  pone  per  xii  dies  super  alta- 
ram.  Suspe?ide  circa,  colluw  &  quidquid  ab  eo 
petieris  dabit  tibi. 

Bibl.  Bodl.  MS.  e  Mus.  243,  fol.  15  : 
deliverance  to  cause. 

Ligentur  ad  ventrem  mulieris  ista  verba  + 
maria  peperit  Christum 2  +  Anna  mariam  + 
Elizabeth  +  Johannem  Celina  remigium  +  sator 
+  arepo  +  tenet  +  opera  +  rotas  + 
Paris  MS.  Bibl.  Natle.  2045,  fol.  23b  (a  paper 
MS.  ,  xv  cent. )  : 

Pour  tantost  avoir  enffant  escripvez  ce  qui 
ensuit  en  saint  [=  ceinture]  en  parchment  & 
metrz  sur  la  ventre  a  la  femme  &  tantost  avra 
enffani  sy  dieu  plait  +  maria  peperit  Xpm  +  anna 

mariam,  +  Elizabeth  Johannem  +  &  plus 

+  sator  +  arepo  +  Tenet  +  opera  +  Rotas  +  Item 
si  elle  ne  peut  avoir  enffant  ....  quoy  ly  enffant 
.  .  mort  ...  a  la  femme  .  .  a  boyre  ysope  si ... 

On  margin  vacat  propter  fidem. 
Paris  MS.  Bibl.  Natle.  Latin  6837,  fol.  46  (xiv 
cent. ) : 

Ad  parturam  mulieris.  Puleium  tritum  cum 
aqua  bibat.  Item  scribe  hoc  &  liga  sub  umbilico 
ejws.  In  nomine  patris  &  filii  &  spiritus  sancfi 
impero  tibi  ut  exeas  &  videas  lumen.  Sancta  maria 
peperit  xpm  &  sancta  elizabeth  peperit  iohannem. 
Panditur  interea  domus  omnipotentis  olimphi. 
Sator  +  arepo  +  tenet  +  opera  +  rotas  +  Dews  ul- 
tionum  dominus.  deus  ultionum  libere  egit. 
Ms.  C.C.C.  41,  fol.  329  (new numbering)  margin: 

Creator  &  sanctificator  pater  &  filius  &  spirits 
sanctus  qui  es  uera  trinitas  &  unitas  precamiw  te 
domine  cleme?itissime  pater  ut  elemosina  ista  fiat 
misericordia  tua  ut  accepta  sit  tibi  pro  anime 
[above  line  vel  a]  famuli  tui  ut  sit  bene  dictio 
super  omnia  dona  ista  per  +  sator  arepo  tenet  opera 
rotas.  Deus  qui  ab  initio  fecisti  homine?/i  &  de- 
disti  ei  in  adiutorium.  simile?^  sibi  ut  crescere 

*In  F.  Heinrich,  Ein  MitlelengUsfhes  Medicinbuch, 
Halle,  1896,  p.  43,  the  SATOE-acrostic  is  added,  as 
here,  to  the  "Maria  peperit  Christum,  etc."  Instead  of 
"Celina  remigium,"  however,  we  find  "sancta  Cecilia 
peperit  remigium." 


248 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  JVo.  8. 


[above  line  vel  nf]  &  multiplicare  fabove  line  vel 
nf]  da  super  terram  huic  famulam  tuam  .N.  ut 
prospere  &  sine  dolore  parturit. 

The  most  satisfactory  explanation  I  have  been 
able  to  discover  for  this  perplexing  acrostic  is  that 
given  by  S.  Liddell  MacGregor  Mathers,  The  Key 
of  Solomon  (Clavicula  SalomonO),  translated  and 
edited  from  B.  M.  MS.  Lansdowne  1202,  London, 
1889,  p.  59,  fig.  12. 


w 

K 

n 

i 

5 

H 

5 

TT 

5 

5 

n 

n 

3 

n 

n 

i 

^ 

TT 

"7 

N 

^ 

i 

n 

H 

u/ 

-f? 

•.^  * 


"Figure  12.  The  Second  Pentacle  of  Saturn. 
This  Pentacle  is  of  great  value  against  adversities  ; 
and  of  especial  use  in  repressing  the  pride  of  the 
Spirits. 

"Editor's  Note.    This  is  the  celebrated 

SATOR 
AREPO 
TENET 
OPERA 
ROTAS 

the  most  perfect  existing  form  of  double  acrostic, 
as  far  as  the  arrangement  of  the  letters  is  con- 
cerned ;  it  is  repeatedly  mentioned  in  the  records 
of  mediseval  Magic  ;  and,  save  to  very  few,  its 
derivation  from  the  present  Pentacle  has  been  un- 
known. It  will  be  seen  at  a  glance  that  it  is  a 
square  of  five,  giving  twenty-five  letters,  which 
added  to  unity,  gives  twenty-six,  the  numerical 
value  of  IHVH.  The  Hebrew  versicle  surround- 
ing it  is  taken  from  Psalm  Ixii,  8,  '  His  dominion 


shall  be  also  from  one  sea  to  the  other,  and  from 
the  flood  to  the  world's  end.'  This  passage  con- 
sists also  of  exactly  twenty-five  letters,  and  its 
total  numerical  value  (considering  the  final  letters 
with  increased  numbers),  added  to  that  of  the 
name  Elohim,  is  exactly  equal  to  the  total  numer- 
ical value  of  the  twenty-five  letters  in  the  Square." 

Ibid.,  page  53.  "For  obtaining  grace  and 
love,  write  down  the  following  words  :  SATOR, 
AREPO,  TENET,  OPERA,  ROTAS,  I  AH,  I  AH, 
IAH,  KETHER,  CHOKMAH,  BINAH,  GED- 
ULAH,  GEBURAH,  TIPHERETH,  NET- 
ZACH,  HOD,  YESOD,  MALKUTH,  ABRA- 
HAM, ISAAC,  JACOB,  SHADRACH,  ME- 
SHACH,  ABEDNEGO,  be  ye  all  present  in  my 
aid  and  for  whatsoever  I  shall  desire  to  obtain. 

"  Which  words  being  properly  written  as  above, 
thou  shalt  also  find  thy  desire  brought  to  pass." 

Ibid.,  p.  56.  "  Concerning  the  Holy  Peutacles 
or  Medals. 

"The  Medals  or  Pentacles,  which  we  make  for 
the  purpose  of  striking  terror  into  the  Spirits  and 
reducing  them  to  obedience,  have  besides  won- 
derful and  excellent  virtue. 

"They  are  also  of  great  virtue  and  efficacy 
against  all  perils  of  Earth,  of  Air,  of  Water,  and 
of  Fire,  against  poison  which  hath  been  drunk, 
against  all  kinds  of  infirmities  and  necessities, 
against  binding  and  sortilege,  and  sorcery,  against 
all  terror  and  fear,  and  wheresoever  thou  shalt 
find  thyself,  if  armed  with  them,  thou  shalt  be  in 
safety  all  the  days  of  thy  life. ' ' 

See  also  S.  L.  MacGregor  Mathers,  The  Book 
of  the  Sacred  Magic  of  Abra-Melin,  the  Mage,  as 
delivered  by  Abraham  the  Jew  unto  his  son  Lamech, 
A.  D.  1458.  Translated  from  the  Original  Hebrew 
into  the  French  and  now  rendered  from  the  latter 
language  into  English.  From  a  unique  and  valu- 
able MS.  in  the  Bibliotheque  de  I' Arsenal,  at 
Paris.  London,  1898. 

P.  xxix  of  the  Introduction  : 

For  obtaining  love  of  a  maiden  (Pentacle  of 
Venus). 

SALOM  =  Peace 

A  R  E  P  O  —  He  distils 

LE  M  E  L  =  unto  fulness 

O  P  E  R  A  =  upon  the  dry  ground 

M  0  L  A  S  =  in  quick  motion. 

On  page  219  of  this  same  volume  appears  the 
following  interpretation  of  the  SATOR-acrostic  : 


December,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


249 


S  A  T  O  R  ==  The  Creator 
A  R  E  P  O  =  slow  moving 
TENET  =  maintains 
OPERA  =  his  creations 
ROTAS  =  as  vortices. 

Tuchmann,  Melusine,  9  (1898),  p.  37,  asserts 
that  magic  squares  were  unknown  in  Europe  before 
the  fourteenth  century,  after  which  they  spread 
rapidly.  The  numbers  composing  the  squares 
might  easily  be  converted  into  letters  of  the 
Arabic  alphabet,  which  according  to  the  example 
of  the  Hebrew  and  Greek  characters,  might  have 
a  numerical  value  independent  of  their  vocal  sig- 
nification. These  letters  form,  then,  artificial 
words,  which  at  first  sight  convey  no  meaning, 
but  which,  interpreted  according  to  the  method 
known  among  the  Arabians  as  the  '  science  of 
letters,'  represent  sometimes  abbreviations  of  the 
names  of  the  prophets  or  of  other  holy  personages. 

Through  the  kindness  of  Professor  Paul  Haupt, 
of  Johns  Hopkins,  I  have  just  had  an  opportunity 
to  read  an   article  by  E.  J.  Pilcher,  on   "  Two 
Kabbalistic  Planetary  Charms,"  in  the  Proceed- 
ings of  the  Society  of  Biblical  Archaeology,  Vol. 
xxvni,    Part   3,  pages  110-118,   March,  1906. 
After   explaining   the    principle    of    the   Magic 
Square,    Mr.    Pilcher    proceeds   to   describe   two 
talismans,    one  of  Jupiter,   the  other   of  Venus, 
both  being  silver  disks  with  holes  or  suspension 
loops  for  hanging  about  the  neck,  and  both  en- 
graved with  magic  squares  filled  in  with  numbers 
and  pseudo-Hebrew  characters.     The  talisman  of 
Jupiter  is  an  inch  and  a  half  in  diameter,  and  the 
Kabbalist  declares  of  it :  "If  this  Magical  Square 
be  engraved  upon  a  sheet  of  silver  representing 
Jupiter  in  a  powerful  and  dominant  conjunction, 
then  it  will  give  riches,  favour,   love,  peace,  and 
harmony  with  mankind.     It  will  reconcile  ene- 
mies.    It  will  ensure  honours,  dignities,  and  gov- 
ernment position."   The  talisman  of  Venus,  which 
is  two  inches  and  an  eighth  in  diameter,  has  the 
following   wonderful    properties:     "This    Magic 
Square  engraved  upon  a  sheet  of  silver  represent- 
ing Venus  in  a  lucky  conjunction,  procures  har- 
mony,  terminates   discords,    and   obtains   female 
favours.     It  assists  conception,  prevents  sterility, 
and   gives   conjugal   strength.     It   delivers  from 
sorcery,  makes  peace  between  husband  and  wife, 
and  causes  all  kinds  of  animals  to  be  produced  in 
abundance.     Placed  in  a  dovecot,    it  causes  the 
pigeons  to  multiply  freely.     It  is  good  against 


melancholy  sicknesses  ;  and  is  strengthening.  Car- 
ried upon  the  person,  it  makes  travellers  lucky." 
Mr.  Pilcher  further  describes  seven  other  plan- 
etary charms,  which  are  in  the  Mediaeval  Room 
of  the  British  Museum,  and  also  gives  a  brief 
description  of  a  pewter  medal,  belonging  to  Mr. 
W.  L.  Nash,  to  whom  also  belong  the  talismans 
of  Jupiter  and  Venus  described  above.  This 
medal  contains  various  talismanic  inscriptions  :  an 
interlaced  star  of  eight  points,  and  astronomical 
hieroglyphs  of  the  seven  planets,  together  with 
Greek  and  Hebrew  names  for  the  Deity. 

Such  planetary  charms,  according  to  Mr.  Pil- 
cher, were  especially  common  in  the  seventeenth 
century.  "The  belief  [in  them]  was  shared  by 
the  ablest  and  most  learned  men  of  the  period. 
Johann  Reuchlin  in  the  sixteenth  century  and 
Athanasius  Kircher  in  the  seventeenth  devoted 
much  time  and  labour  to  expounding  the  abstruse 
teachings  of  the  Kabbalah  ;  and  they  were  eagerly 
followed  by  a  crowd  of  lesser  luminaries.3  The 
Kabbalah  itself  was  at  first  a  body  of  theosophic 
doctrine  originated  by  the  Jews  of  Spain  in  the 
thirteenth  century  on  the  lines  of  Neo-Platonism  ; 
but  the  mysticism  of  the  early  Kabbalists  speedily 
developed  a  system  of  magic,  that  gradually 
absorbed  all  the  half-forgotten  fancies  of  Greek 
sorcery  and  astrology.  Thus  Kabbalism  became 
the  principal  repertory  of  magical  ideas  ;  and  all 
the  forms  of  modern  occultism,  whatever  their 
names  may  be,  have  derived  their  material  from 
the  Kabbalah  ;  although  the  debt  is  not  always 
acknowledged. ' ' 

This  SATOR-acrostic,  then,  is  clearly  related  to 
the  Jewish  Kabbalah,  but  at  the  same  time,  in  its 
relation  to  the  magic  square,  in  which  letters  and 
words  are  reduced  to  numbers  with  definite  fixed 
values,  its  origin  may  be  traced  back  through  the 
Pythagorean  philosophy  to  ancient  Babylon.4 

J.  M.  MCBRYDE,  JR. 
Sweet  Briar  Institute,  Va. 

'Compare,  for  example,  Pico  de   Mirandola   and   his 
nine  hundred  theses/'  and  see  article  on  Kabbalah  in 
the  hneydvpcedia  Britannica. 

n*Cf.  the  Abraxas  and  the  Pentagram,  and  see  in  the 
J'MMjrlopadia  BrUunnim  the  articles  on  "  Magic"  (E.  B. 
Tyler)  and  on  "Kabbalah"  (C.  D.  Ginsburg).  In  the 
latter  article  it  is  stilted  that  the  hermeneutical  canons  for 
obtaining  the  heavenly  mysteries, — by  means  of  permuta- 
tions, combinations,  and  arrangements  of  whole  words  or 
of  the  initial  or  final  letters  of  a  word  according  to  their 
numerical  values,  etc.,— are  much  older  than  the  Kabbalah 
itself. 


250 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  8. 


Banner  Beitrage  zur  Anglistik  heraitsgeyeben  von 
PEOF.  DK.  M.  TBAUTMANN.  Heft  xvn. 
[Sammelheft.  DE.  OTTO  GEUTEBS  :  Uber 
einige  Beziehungen  zwischen  altsachsischer  und 
altenglischer  Dichtung.  KAEL  DANIEL  BUL- 
BEING  :  Die  Sclireibung  des  eo  im  Omnium. 
WILHELM  HEUSEE  :  Das  friihmittelenglische 
Josephlied.  MOEITZ  TKAUTMANN  :  Nachtragli. 
ches  zu  '  Finn  und  Hildebrand  ' ;  Der  He- 
liand  eine  Ubersetzung  aus  dem  Altenglisehen  ; 
Auch  zum  Beowulf,  ein  Gruss  an  Herrn  Eduard 
Sievers  ;  Die  Auflosung  des  llten  (9ten)  Poit- 
sels  ;  Die  neuste  Beowulfausgabe  und  die  alteng- 
lische  Verslehre.]  Bonn  :  P.  Hanstein's  Ver- 
lag,  1905.  191  pp. 

The  contents  of  this  miscellaneous  volume  may 
be  described  as  falling  into  three  groups  of  papers. 
One  of  these  is  concerned  with  Middle  English 
language  and  literature  (Biilbring,  Heuser), 
another  treats  of  the  relation  between  Old  English 
and  Old  Saxon  literature  (Griiters,  Trautmann), 
and  a  third  contains  notes  on  the  text  of  Beowulf, 
together  with  an  excursus  on  metrics  (Trautmann). 
In  addition,  the  indefatigable  editor  contributes  a 
few  supplementary  jottings  on  his  Finn  und  Hilde- 
brand, and  one  on  the  llth  Riddle,  proposing  a 
new  solution  of  it  as  '  anchor. '  ' 

To  take  up  briefly  the  first  mentioned  group, 
Biilbring' s  paper — a  continuation  of  his  study  of 
the  <e  in  early  Middle  English  texts,  Banner  Bei- 
trage, xv,  101  ff.* — is  a  searching  investigation  of 
the  spelling  eo  occurring  by  the  side  of  e  in  the 
Ormulum,  as  beo,  ben ;  deore,  dere ;  seoffne,  seffhe ; 
eor/>e,  erfilif,;  heorrte,  herrte ;  etc.  The  subject 
is  handled  with  such  painstaking  accuracy  and 
careful  attention  to  all  phases  of  the  problem  that 
the  point  in  question,  which  had  been  briefly 
touched  upon  by  various  scholars  before,  may  now 
be  regarded  as  settled.  Biilbring  explains  the 
coexistence  of  the  eo  (=  eg)  and  e  (=  e)  forms 
in  Orm's  language  from  dialectal  mixture  in  the 
speech  of  his  community,  comparable  to  his  dia- 

1  The  solution  has  since  been  attacked  by  Holthausen 
(Anglia-BeMatt,  xvr,  227 f.)  and  defended  by  Trautmann 
(Banner  Beiir.  XIX,  168  ff.). 

2  See  also   the  supplementary  remarks  by  Holthausen 
(Anglia-Beiblait,  xv,  347 f.). 


lectal  variants  drcedenn,  dredenn ;  rcedenn,  redenn ; 
slain,  slan ;  wepenn,  epenn,  etc.  Incidentally  he 
suggests  the  possibility  that  Orm's  f>weorrt  is  due 
to  contamination  of  Old  Norse  fiwert  and  Old 
English  fiweorh. 

To  W.  Heuser  we  are  indebted  for  the  first  pub- 
lication (from  MS.  Bodl.  652)  of  an  interesting 
thirteenth  century  version  of  the  Story  of  Joseph. 
The  poem,  consisting  of  540  long  riming  lines,  is 
remarkable  for  its  popular  tone  suggesting  the 
romances  of  the  day,  its  liberal  use  of  epic  for- 
mulas, and  the  pleasing  freshness  of  its  narrative 
— qualities  which  put  it  in  the  same  class  with  the 
early  Middle  English  legends  in  four  line  stanzas. 
The  edition  is  accompanied  by  a  discussion  of  the 
linguistic,  literary,  and  metrical  features  of  the 
poem.  A  propos  of  the  metre,  Heuser  takes  ex- 
ception to  Schipper's  hypothesis  of  the  mixture  of 
alexandrine  and  septenary  in  the  Middle  English 
'  long  line '  and  states  his  belief  in  the  development 
of  the  measure  from  the  native  long  line,  thus 
endorsing  substantially  the  views  of  Trautmann, 
Schroer,  Einenkel,  and  Wissmann. 

The  articles  by  Griiters  and  Trautmann  on 
some  connections  between  Old  English  and  Old 
Saxon  poetry  open  up  a  most  interesting  line  of 
inquiry.  Griiters  has  made  a  comparative  study 
of  the  versions  of  the  Fall  of  the  Angels  and  the 
Fall  of  Man  in  the  two  literatures,  with  the  result 
that  certain  passages  both  of  Genesis  B  and  of 
Heliand  are  found  to  show  such  close  relation  to 
a  portion  of  Christ  (in)  as  to  point  to  a  common 
(Old  English)  source.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
resemblances  between  Heliand  359  Iff.,  1033  ff. 
and  Christ  1380  fF.  are  rather  slight.  Griiters 
would  hardly  admit  that,  but  as  he  discovers 
analogies  also  in  Christ  and  Satan,  Phoenix,  and 
other  poems,  which  could  easily  be  made  to  prove 
too  much,  he  refrains  from  extravagant  positive 
deductions.  He  is  somewhat  less  diffident  in  the 
case  of  Genesis  B.  The  long  list  of  parallel  pas- 
sages from  Genesis  235  ff.  (Satan's  Fall)  and 
Christ  1380  ff.  (allusions  to  the  Fall  of  Man) 
seems  to  him  to  prove  that  the  source  of  Genesis  B 
was  an  Old  English  poem  which — directly  or 
indirectly — was  drawn  upon  also  by  the  author  of 
Christ.  He  finds  confirmation  of  this  view  in  the 
fact  that  little  similarity  to  the  passages  in  ques- 
tion is  noticed  in  other  Old  English  poems.  The 


December,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


251 


conclusion  he  arrives  at  is  that  in  the  Old  English 
poem  which  formed  the  basis  of  the  Old  Saxon 
Genesis,  the  version  of  the  Fall  of  Man  was  trans- 
ferred to  the  Fall  of  the  Angels. 

Whether  Dr.  Gruters  will  succeed  in  convincing 
others,  remains  to  be  seen.*  It  should  be  observed 
in  the  first  place  that  he  has  to  admit  after  all  (p. 
33)  that  several  passages  in  Genesis  B,  which 
cannot  be  paralleled  from  Christ,  show  an  agree- 
ment with  Christ  and  Satan  and  Andreas.  Sec- 
ondly and  chiefly,  the  parallels  pointed  out  are  not 
of  such  a  nature  as  to  compel  a  belief  in  an  espe- 
cially close  connection.  It  still  seems  to  me  the 
most  plausible  theory  that  the  similarities  are  the 
result  of  a  common  tradition  that  arose  in  connec- 
tion with  the  liturgical  service.  That  "lections 
from  Genesis,  including  the  story  of  the  Fall,  were 
appointed  for  January  already  in  the  Comes  of 
Jerome ' '  is  mentioned  by  C.  Abbetmeyer  in  his 
dissertation  on  Old  English  Poetical  Motives  de- 
rived from  the  Doctrine  of  Sin  (1903),  which,  by 
the  way,  might  have  been  consulted  with  advan- 
tage.* It  is  not  impossible  that  the  tradition  came 
to  the  Saxons,  directly  or  indirectly,  from  Eng- 
land, but  definite  information  is  lacking.  Finally 
is  it  not  asking  a  little  too  much  to  believe  in  this 
translating  back  and  forth,  especially  when  Genesis 
B  in  several  respects  differs  radically  from  the  Old 
English  type  ? 

Professor  Trautmann,  who  originated  the  theory 
of  the  retranslation  of  Genesis,  is  even  more  daring 
and  iconoclastic  in  his  spirited  paper  on  the  He- 
Hand.  The  article,  which  is  in  line  with  his  treat- 
ment of  the  Hildebrandslied,  is  an  attempt  to 
prove  what  Holtzmann  as  early  as  1856  had 
asserted  without  proof,  viz. ,  that  the  Heliand,  far 
from  being  one  of  the  most  precious  early  monu- 
ments of  native  German  literature,  is  nothing 
more  than  a  translation  from  the  Old  English. 
This  remarkable  claim  is  supported  by  the  fol- 
lowing arguments.  1.  Correspondence  in  words 
and  phrases  between  the  Heliand  and  Old  English 

8  In  the  meantime  Professor  Binz  has  pointed  out  Old 
Saxon  elements  in  Christ,  in  (see  his  '  Untersuchungen 
zum  altenglischen  sogenannten  Crist '  in  Festschrift  zur  49. 
Versammlung  deutscher  PhUologen  und  Schalmdnner,  Basel, 
1907. 

*  Also  Professor  Cook's  notes  on  Christ  1380  ff.,  especially 
p.  210,  would  have  been  useful. 


poems.  2.  Similarity  of  versification,  together 
with  the  fact  that  certain  metrically  wrong  lines 
turn  out  to  be  correct  when  changed  into  Old 
English.  3.  The  occurrence  in  the  Heliand  MSB. 
of  forms  entirely  or  partially  Old  English.  4. 
Various  passages  which  appear  obscure  or  corrupt, 
may  be  accounted  for  by  imperfect  or  erroneous 
transliteration.  5.  General  historical  considera- 
tions strengthen  the  probability  of  the  case. 

Most  of  the  points  are  noteworthy  and  of  con- 
siderable interest,  but  none  of  them  amounts  to 
actual  proof.  Weighty  objections — to  some  of 
which  Trautmann  is  by  no  means  blind — force 
themselves  on  our  attention.5  The  resemblance 
in  language  and  style  is  satisfactorily  explained 
by  the  inherited  rhetorical  apparatus  and  the  in- 
herent similarity  of  the  two  languages.  A  num- 
ber of  English  looking  forms  may  very  well  be 
ascribed  to  the  mixed  character  of  the  dialect  of 
the  Heliand,  of  which  Collitz  has  given  us  an 
ingenious  explanation  (Publ.  Mod.  Lang.  Assoe. 
xvi,  123 ff.).  The  only  Anglosaxonisms  we  are 
compelled  to  accept  are  some  isolated  forms  of  the 
London  MS.  (Sievers,  Heliand,  p.  xv  ;  Holthausen, 
Alttachsinclies  Elementarbuch,  §  30),  which  need 
not  have  formed  part  of  the  original  text.  Of 
course,  it  is  perfectly  proper  to  refer  to  the  close 
phraseological  agreement,  and  certainly  all  stu- 
dents of  the  Heliand  would  do  well  to  make  them- 
selves thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  poetical  lit- 
erature of  the  Anglo-Saxons. 

Trautmann,  however,  appears  to  emphasize 
one-sidedly  the  similarity  between  the  Old  Saxon 
and  Old  English  poetry.  The  student  of  the  two 
literatures  cannot  fail  to  observe  also  on  the  other 
hand  notable  differences  such  as  the  prolixity  of 
phrase  in  the  Heliand  and  the  looseness  of  its 
versification,  not  to  mention  lexical  idiosyncrasies. 
Whether  these  could  be  sufficiently  accounted  for 
by  the  theory  of  translation  is  doubtful. 

In  the  explanation  of  individual  passages  in  con- 
formity with  his  theory,  Trautmann  is  forced  to 
resort  to  conjectures  which  are  indeed  remarkably 
acute,  but  contain  more  or  less  serious  elements  of 
uncertainty.  Quite  impossible  seems  to  me  -his 
treatment  of  1.  3311  f. :  huat  seal  us  thes  tefrumu 

6  As  Schmeller  remarked  on  the  same  problem  ( Qlossa- 
rium  Saxonicum,  Prooemiurn,  p.  xv) ,  '  at  sunt  varia  quae 
obstant.' 


252 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  8. 


werden  \  langes  te  lone?  He  would  trace  langes 
back  to  an  Old  English  lores,  which  was  misread 
as  lones,  '  corrected '  to  longest,  and  Saxon  ized  to 
langes.  But  is  not  the  MS.  reading  strongly  sup- 
ported by  the  entirely  parallel  1.  3307  f. :  huat 
seulun  uul  thes  te  lone  niman,  godes  te  geldef 
And  does  not  langes  make  excellent  sense  ?  Cf. 
langsam  rdd,  lioht,  Ion;  \.  1788  f.:  so  seal  is  geld 
niman,  suui^o  langsam  Ion  endi  lif  euuig ;  Fat. 
Ap.  19  f. :  ac  him  ece  geceas  langsumre  lif;  Gv$l. 
91  f. :  f>a  longan  god  \  herede  on  heofonum;  Christ 
1463  :  />cet  longe  lif;  etc.  It  should  be  noted,  by 
the  way,  that  farlor  occurs  also  in  the  Heliand 
(1.  1777). 

Finally,  Trautmann  calls  in  the  aid  of  history. 
Is  it  credible,  he  asks,  that  some  twenty  years 
only  after  the  conclusion  of  the  Saxon  war  (nearly 
forty,  however,  after  the  foundation  of  the  bishop- 
ric of  Werden)  a  man  could  be  found  in  Saxony 
learned  enough  to  produce  a  poem  of  the  scope  of 
the  Heliand  ?  Is  it  not  more  likely  that  the 
Anglo-Saxons,  who  sent  missionaries  to  the  conti- 
nent of  Europe,  introduced  their  own  religious 
poems  into  Germany  and  thus  furnished  literary 
material  ready  to  be  transcribed  without  difficulty 
into  the  vernacular  dialect  ?  To  this  it  may  be 
replied  :  we  do  not  know  the  precise  circumstances 
under  which  the  great  Saxon  poem  was  composed. 
There  are  so  many  possibilities  that  the  case  can 
hardly  be  argued.  At  any  rate  there  is  no  neces- 
sity to  answer  the  first  question  in  the  negative. 
It  must  be  conceded  that  Trautmann' s  general 
contention  is  quite  reasonable.  But  his  sweeping 
denial  of  the  originality  of  the  Heliand  cannot  be 
accepted  until  a  closer  investigation  has  been 
instituted — or  should  we  say,  until  the  Ur-Heliand 
has  been  found  in  some  library  ? 

The  two  controversial  papers  on  the  Beowulf 
are  addressed  to  Sievers  and  Holthausen  respec- 
tively. In  the  former,  which  is  an  answer  to 
Sievers' s  strictures  (Beitr.  xxix,  305  ff.)  upon 
part  of  Trautmann' s  comments  in  Banner  Beitr. 
11,  the  views  advanced  in  1899  are  partly  de- 
feuded,  and  partly  modified,  and  incidentally 
some  light  is  shed  on  questions  of  language  and 
style.  Among  new  readings  conjectured  are 
Beow  Scyldinga  53,  landgemyrru  (or  landge- 
wyrpu)  209,  bat  under  brycge  (or  bolcaii)  211, 


antid  (or  angin)  'erste  zeit'  219,  Kafscea  (= 
leafsceo(e}  )  weras  253.  In  discussing  lindhceb- 
bende  245,  reference  might  have  been  made  to 
GkcSl.  588 f.:  herenisse  .  .  .  habban  (for  hebban), 
cf.  also  Beitr.  xxvi,  181.  But  Trautmann  has 
wisely  adopted  a  safer  course  in  giving  up  his 
former  interpretation  'schildhebende.' 

In  the  final  article  of  this  volume  Trautmann 
criticizes  Holthausen  severely  for  basing  his  edi- 
tion on  Sievers' s  metrical  researches  and  formu- 
lates his  own  theory  of  Old  English  versification, 
which  is  essentially  the  same  as  the  one  pro- 
pounded in  Anglia-Beiblatt,  v,  87  fT.  The  half- 
line  is  made  to  consist  of  four  measures  represent- 
ing the  general  scheme,  xu  |  uu  |  ju  |  uu,  which 
may  appear  in  sixteen  principal  and  twelve  minor 
varieties.  Many  of  the  scansions  resulting  from 
this  system  seem  rather  unnatural,  e.  g.  seleweard 
aseted  xui^uu,  eac  ic  surne  gedyde  xuuu^uu,  to 
br  lines  farofte  ^iuuui,  cijning  wees  afyrhted 
xvvua,  and  it  is  not  a  little  strange  that  the 
very  common  close  L*.  is  never  admitted.  But  a 
discussion  of  this  hotly  debated  problem  cannot  be 
undertaken  here. 

It  is  less  than  nine  years  since  the  series  of 
Banner  Beitrdge  zur  Angliatik  was  started.  The 
wonderfully  rapid  progress  it  has  made — twenty- 
one  numbers  have  appeared  so  far — is  an  eloquent 
testimony  of  the  enterprise  and  energy  of  its  editor. 


FR.  KLAEBER. 


The  University  of  Minnesota. 


EDOUARD  ROD  :  L 'affaire  Jean-Jacques  Rowtseau. 
Paris  :  Perrin  et  Cie.,  1906.     xiv-356  pages. 

No  man  better  fitted  could  have  been  found  to 
write  this  book  than  M.  Rod.  One  trembles  at 
the  mere  idea  of  critics  like  Maugras,  Nourrisson, 
or  Le"o  Clare'tie  undertaking  to  treat  Rousseau's 
relations  with  Geneva  ;  to  them  Rousseau  is  not 
only  an  unbalanced  man,  but  positively  a  bad  and 
dangerous  one  ;  they  are  ready  to  render  him  re- 
sponsible for  every  misfortune  that  befell  his  ene- 
mies, his  friends,  or  himself.  Even  on  matters  as 
clear  as  the  relations  between  Rousseau  and  Vol- 


December,   1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


253 


taire,  they  write  utterly  unfair  and  misleading 
books,  such  as  Maugras'  Voltaire  et  J.-J.  Rousseau 
(1886).  Of  course,  if  it  is  certain  that  critics  like 
these  cannot  be  credited  with  great  keenness,  they 
must  uot  be  accused  of  "mauvaise  foi " ;  they 
were  brought  up  under  entirely  different  influences, 
and  Rousseau's  character  and  aspirations  are  un- 
like those  of  the  immense  majority  of  French 
writers.  The  difference  of  religion  especially  has 
erected  a  Chinese  Wall,  as  it  were,  between 
France  and  the  Protestant  countries  that  sur- 
round her  when  it  comes  to  philosophical  discus- 
sions and  ethics.  Eousseau  is  perhaps  just  as  bad 
as  his  critics  picture  him,  and  they  may  be  right  in 
accusing  him,  but  surely  they  accuse  him  of  the 
wrong  things.  M.  Rod  was  brought  up  in  French 
Switzerland,  and,  as  a  result  of  his  long  and  direct 
observation,  is  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the 
French  Protestants'  ways  of  feeling,  of  thinking 
and  of  acting.  He  understands  their  noble  motives 
as  well  as  their  petty  ones  ;  and  this  is  why  he  was 
one  of  the  few  men  who  could  treat  satisfactorily  a 
subject  like  "L' affaire  J.-J.  Rousseau." 

The  volume  opens  with  a  series  of  portraits  of 
the  chief  characters  who  are  going  to  take  a  hand 
in  the  great  struggle.  Most  of  them  are  true  sons 
of  the  city  of  Calvin,  stern  and  solemn,  somewhat 
like  old  Puritans  "un  air  rogue  et  maussade,  ou 
pour  le  moins  empese":  pastors  like  Sarrazin, 
Vernet,  Vernes,  Roustan,  (the  young  enthusiastic 
"meridional,"  Moultou,  who  with  his  "mains 
brouillonnes ' '  many  a  time  foiled  the  most  generous 
efforts  in  behalf  of  his  celebrated  friend  Rousseau 
is  quite  an  exception) ;  scholars  like  Bonnet  and 
Abauzit ;  "gens  du  monde"  like  the  famous  Dr. 
Tronchin,  J.  L.  Dupan  ;  also  several  ladies  like 
Mile  Curchot  and  Mile  Bondeli,  from  Berne  ; 
then,  last  but  not  least,  the  "bourgeois,"  espe- 
cially De  Luc,  the  leader  of  the  democratic  party, 
friendly  to  Rousseau,  a  type  not  uncommon  even 
to-day  of  the  citizens  of  French  Switzerland.  De 
Luc  was  at  the  same  time  a  sectarian  and  a  pro- 
gressist, an  open  fighter  and  an  intriguer,  a  vir- 
tuous man  and  a  very  disagreeable  citizen.  We 
quote  a  part  of  M.  Rod's  description  (pp.  45-46) : 

"  Tres  pieux,  tres  honnete,  tres  solennel,  il  est 
1'  auteur  d'  un  ouvrage  sur  Les  savants  incredules, 
qu'il  a  offert  a  Voltaire  et  a  Rousseau  ;  les  deux 


ennemis  se  sont  trouves  d' accord  pour  en  sourire 
chacun  dans  son  coin, — avec  prudence  toutefois, 
car  De  Luc  est  de  ces  gens  qu' on  menage,  parce- 
qu'a  defaut  de  qualites  plus  aimables,  ils  ont  du 
caractere.  Quand  on  se  moque  de  lui,  il  ne  s'en 
aperyoit  pas  toujours  ;  mais,  s'il  s'en  aper§oit,  il 
ne  pardonne  pas.  II  est  corapasse,  articu!6,  pre- 
dicant, "vertueux,"  selon  le  mot  a  la  mode,  ro- 
rnain,  spartiate,  insupportable.  Voyez-le  tel  que 
1'a  peint  Gardelle,  dans  son  habit  marron, — cor- 
rect, pesant,  propret,  soigne1,  epais,  bougon.  S'il 
n'etait  pas  rase,  il  nous  paraitrait  un  ancetre 
authentique  de  ceux  qu'on  a  ap pole's  plus  tard  les 
"  vieilles  barbes  "  :  il  en  a  les  sottes  certitudes,  les 
partis  pris  inderacinables,  les  opinions  aveugles,  le 
robuste  entetement. " 

Rousseau  himself,  brought  up  in  the  same 
"milieu,"  reminds  one  of  De  Luc  in  many  re- 
spects, a  great  difference  being  of  course,  that 
standing  on  a  much  higher  level,  Rousseau's 
nobler  features  come  out  more  strongly  and  his 
bad  ones  less  conspicuously.  At  the  same  time, 
Rousseau  while  constantly  appealing  to  great  prin- 
ciples is  not  altogether  innocent  of  diplomatic 
manoeuvres.  In  the  great  discussion  about  the 
government  of  Geneva  he  does  not  forget  the  per- 
sonal aspect  of  the  question  ;  although  he  con- 
stantly claims  that  he  cares  only  for  the  welfare  of 
the  republic,  he  does  not  always  seem  to  be  well 
aware  of  the  consequences  of  his  own  actions  with 
regard  to  his  native  city.  As  M.  Rod  very  well 
points  out,  in  spite  of  all  his  talent,  his  able  argu- 
ment, and  his  beautiful  style,  Rousseau  has  not 
succeeded  in  making  out  of  his  Lettres  de  la  Mon- 
tagne  anything  but  a  most  admirable  "pamphlet" 
(in  the  French  sense  of  the  word). 

All  this  goes  to  show  that  while  M.  Rod  under- 
stands Rousseau  better  than  most  French  critics, 
he  is  by  no  means  blind  to  his  weaknesses.  (See 
e.  g.,  pp.  108,  140,  154,  231,  241  ff.) 

The  most  interesting  man  next  to  Rousseau  in 
this  whole  debate  is  without  doubt  the  "procureur 
general,"  J.  R.  Tronchin.  His  public  functions 
put  him  a  priori  on  the  side  of  the  government 
against  Rousseau.  He  had  foreseen  from  the 
beginning  that  it  would  be  wrong  to  condemn  not 
only  Rousseau's  books  but  the  man  himself,  and 
had  warned  his  fellow  citizens  ;  but  they  refused 


254 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  8. 


to  listen  to  him.  In  consequence  they  committed 
the  blunder  that  was  so  shrewdly  taken  advantage 
of  by  the  radicals  ;  namely,  they  gave  a  hold  to 
those  who  wanted  to  shake  the  oligarchy,  a  pre- 
text to  discuss  the  question  of  the  principles  of 
government  in  Geneva.  Tronchin,  although  he 
must  have  known  in  advance  that  the  cause  of 
the  aristocracy  was  now  lost,  did  not  abandon 
those  who  had  acted  contrary  to  his  advices.  His 
cleverness  was  of  no  avail.  Only  the  withdrawal 
of  the  condemnation  might  have  relieved  the  situ- 
ation, but  the  "magnifique  conseil  "  could  not 
think  of  an  humiliating  course  like  that.  So  they 
tried  to  "explain"  their  first  action,  which  was 
another  bad  step,  because  it  showed  that  they 
were  now  ready  to  discuss  the  matter  formally. 
It  did  not  take  long  before  they  were  confronted 
with  the  vital  question  of  the  rights  of  the 
' '  peuple  souverain. ' ' 

The  government  of  Geneva  claimed  to  be  demo- 
cratic, but  in  reality  it  was  not.  The  opponents 
of  the  government  were  theoretically  in  the  right 
and  they  were  well  aware  of  it. 

Rousseau's  famous  letter  to  the  "Syndic"  on 
the  12th  of  May,  1763,  when  he  resigned  his 
rights  as  a  citizen  of  Geneva,  was  a  dangerous 
"faux  pas";  for  it  amounted  to  nothing  but  a 
very  solemn  declaration  with  no  consequences 
attached  to  it.  What  use  was  there  in  giving  up 
rights  which  he  did  not  enjoy,  or  which  he  had 
acquired  by  birth  ?  He  could  not  undo  the  fact 
that  he  was  bora  in  Geneva.  If  the  ' '  magnifique 
conseil ' '  had  simply  ignored  his  declaration,  Rous- 
seau would  have  been  very  ridiculous.  But  fate 
had  now  to  take  its  course.  Instead  of  saying 
nothing  about  it,  the  government  gravely  acknowl- 
edged receipt  of  the  resignation,  thinking,  per- 
haps, that  it  might  stop  the  troubles.  Under 
different  circumstances  it  might  have  done  so. 
But  now  this  action  only  gave  a  new  chance  to 
Rousseau's  so-called  friends  to  step  in  again, in  his 
favor,  and  to  protest  against  the  government  ac- 
cepting the  resignation  of  so  honorable  a  citizen. 
.  .  .  And  so  it  went  from  mistake  to  mistake, 
until  the  discouraged  "conseil"  (which  had  ex- 
cellent intentions  after  all)  seemed  willing  to  give 
up  the  fight,  and  even  grew  less  reluctant  at  the 
idea  of  having  France  interfere  in  order  to  restore 
peace.  The  procureur  Tronchin  did  everything 
in  his  power  to  save  his  party,  but  his  fate  was 


that  of  many  superior  characters  in  history, 
namely,  to  have  his  name  connected  with  a  des- 
perate cause  and  therefore  to  be  condemned  with  it. 
This  whole  struggle  is  admirably  depicted  in  M. 
Rod' s  book,  and  one  might  well  say  that  this  point 
in  Rousseau's  life  is  now  definitely  settled.  There 
are  very  few  others  that  are. 

What  renders  the  book  still  more  valuable  is 
that  M.  Rod  is  not  afraid  of  taking  up  the  philo- 
sophy of  events,  a  rather  unusual  thing  in  books 
of  this  kind,  where  erudition  generally  crowds  out 
every  atom  of  thought.  Back  of  the  Rousseau 
"affair,"  there  was  the  struggle  between  the  con- 
servatives and  the  radicals  in  Geneva  ;  and  again 
back  of  the  struggle  between  political  parties  in 
Geneva,  there  was  the  still  greater  struggle 
between  the  old  ideas  of  social  organization  and 
the  new  ideas  which  the  French  Revolution  was 
going  to  try  to  realize. 

As  early  as  1707,  seven  years  before  Rousseau's 
birth,  democratic  tendencies  had  become  manifest 
in  Geneva.  The  fellow-republics  of  Berne  and 
Zurich  (also  "oligarchic"  republics)  and  the 
monarchy  of  France  had  to  come  to  the  rescue 
and  help  to  reestablish  order.  In  1738  a  "re'si- 
dent  de  France"  was  appointed  to  watch  the 
situation.  However,  although  they  were  no  longer 
allowed  to  be  openly  expressed,  the  new  ideas  of 
freedom  aud  equality  were  gaining  ground  con- 
stantly. M.  Rod's  introductory  statement  is  that 
if  the  soil  had  not  been  well  prepared  in  Geneva 
to  receive  the  seed,  Rousseau's  books,  and  espe- 
cially his  theory  of  the  "peuple  souverain,"  would 
have  passed,  if  not  unnoticed  (since  Rousseau  was 
a  writer  of  whom  Geneva  was  proud),  at  least 
without  raising  a  great  storm.  To  this  circum- 
stance must  be  added  the  fact  that  De  Luc  knew 
admirably  well  how  to  confuse  Rousseau's  indi- 
vidual case  with  the  cause  of  democracy,  and  thus 
have  the  latter  gain  by  the  former.  As  to  Rous- 
seau, who  was  in  the  end  a  victim  of  the  leader's 
astuteness,  he  paid  more  dearly  than  any  one  else 
by  his  personal  misfortunes.  Both  his  forced 
departure  from  Motiers-Travers,  and  his  banish- 
ment from  the  island  of  St.  Pierre,  are  direct 
results  of  the  upheaval  in  Geneva '  :  "la  destined 

1  The  first  point  has  been  particularly  well  established 
by  F.  Berthoud,  in  his  J.-J.  Rousseau  et Le  pasteur  de Mont- 
mollin.  (Neuchatel,  1884.) 


December,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


255 


de  qui  souffle  le  vent  est  d'etre  entraine"  par  le 
tourbillon"  (p.  304). 

This  long  underhand  fight  between  De  Luc  and 
Rousseau,  the  former  trying  hard  to  involve  the 
second  in  the  Geneva  troubles,  and  Rousseau 
desiring  to  be  left  in  peace,  and  finally  the 
weaker  getting  the  better  of  the  stronger  by  mere 
obstinacy  and  shrewd  flattery  is  also  most  inter- 
estingly brought  out  in  M.  Rod's  book.  And  it 
was  no  easy  matter,  while  relating  these  little 
personal  intrigues  to  keep  the  reader  from  losing 
sight  of  the  questions  of  universal  interest  that 
were  at  stake  in  the  affaire  J.-J.  Rousseau,  and  of 
the  fact  that,  after  all,  the  Geneva  troubles  were 
a  kind  of  French  Revolution  in  a  nutshell.2 

Rousseau  was  obliged  to  leave  Switzerland  as 
well  as  France.  He  went  to  England,  where  he 
arrived  in  a  very  unbalanced  state  of  mind. 
Meanwhile  the  revolution  in  Geneva — which  he 
had  so  well  fostered  to  the  delight  of  the  radicals 
— brought  about  very  serious  complications  in- 
deed. Nothing  could  now  save  the  situation  and 
bring  about  peace.  The  revolutionaries  were  too 
near  the  goal  as  they  thought,  to  yield  an  inch  of 
ground,  and  the  conservatives  of  neighboring  coun" 
tries  were  too  much  concerned  about  their  own 
safety  to  leave  their  friends  in  Geneva  unaided  ; 
the  bad  seed  might  spread. 

To  make  matters  worse,  a  new  "  resident  de 
France ' '  came  to  take  the  place  of  the  wise  baron 
de  Moutperoux,  who  had  just  died  (1764). 
Without  the  slightest  insight  into  the  trouble  and 
with  the  assurance  of  youth,  Hennin  decided  to 
resort  to  energetic  measures  in  order  to  crush  what 
he  thought  to  be  a  mere  quarrel  of  jealous  citizens. 
The  foreign  powers  had  to  interfere  again  and  the 
the  disorders  did  not  cease  until  1798  when  the 
troops  of  the  Directoire  came  to  take  possession  of 
Geneva.  It  was  really  a  mere  matter  of  good  luck 

2  We  should  like  also  to  call  the  attention  of  the  reader 
to  the  interesting  passages  in  which  M.  Rod  compares 
Rousseau's  theology  to  the  theology  of  modern  writers 
like  A.  Sabatier.  He  writes,  e.  g.,  on  p.  81  : 

"Si  j'osais  recourir  il  une  image  dont  la  maWrialite' 
m'e'pouvante,  je  dirais  que,  de  la  Profession  de  foi  du 
Vicaire  Savoyard  &  "  L'esquisse  d'une  philosophic  de  la 
religion"  de  1'^minent  doyen  de  la  Faculte1  de  Thdologie 
de  Paris  [M.  Sabatier],  Dieu  a  achev^  de  sedissiper,  corame 
une  pastille  d'encens  qui  laisse  apr£s  soi  un  peu  de  parfum 
et  beaucoup  de  fumee." 


that  Geneva  did  not  finally  lose  her  liberty  as  a 
consequence  of  the  affaire  J.-J.  Rousseau,  and 
that  in  1814  she  was  allowed  to  join  the  Swiss 
Confederation,  as  one  of  its  cantons. 

Considering  the  book  from  a  purely  philo- 
sophical standpoint,  one  must  confess  that  it  is 
not  cheerful  throughout.  We  witness,  as  so  often 
in  history,  the  victory  of  people  who  are  rough, 
unrefined  and  unsympathetic  over  those  who  are 
far  superior  to  them.  M.  Rod  acknowledges  this 
fact  (p.  194) : 

"  Leur  parti  groupait  encore  les  hommes  les 
plus  e'minents  de  la  r6publique,  tres  superieurs 
individuellement  a  leurs  adversaires  .  .  .  Une 
fois  de  plus,  on  allait  avoir  ce  spectacle  si  fr6- 
quent  dans  1'histoire,  de  la  deTaite  des  mieux 
armes,  des  plus  nombreux,  des  plus  intelligents, 
dont  la  possession  trop  prolonged  du  pouvoir  et  de 
la  richesse  a  min6  les  forces  vives,  par  la  phalange 
vite  accrue  de  ceux  qui  puisent  leur  vigeur  dans 
un  mecontentement  trop  souvent  justifie,  dans  des 
appetits  trop  rarement  satisfaits  et  que  soutient  et 
pousse  un  souffle  plus  puissant  que  1'habilete, 
F intelligence  et  le  talent." 

Is  it  not  one  of  the  ironies  of  life  that  this 
"  souffle  puissant  "  of  progress  is  so  seldom  found 
in  the  really  superior  representatives  of  mankind, 
and  that  it  generally  inspires  those  who  have  only 
mediocre  "habilet^,"  "intelligence"  and  "ta- 
lent ?  ' '  We  can  easily  understand  why  Rousseau 
became  thoroughly  disgusted  with  some  of  his  sup- 
porters in  Geneva,  and  why  he  tried  instinctively 
to  keep  his  individual  difficulties  apart  from  their 
cause. 

There  are  a  few  points  in  regard  to  which  the 
critic  may  take  exception  to  M.  Rod's  views. 
We  mention  briefly  the  following  : 

In  his  second  chapter  M.  Rod  gives  a  summary 
of  the  Contrat  Social,  one  of  the  books  that 
aroused  Geneva.  We  cannot  agree  that  there 
are  such  contradictory  statements  in  this  work  as 
many  believe  ;  the  observation  attributed  to  Rous- 
seau that  the  man  who  claimed  to  understand  the 
Contrat  Social  understood  more  than  he  did  him- 
self, may  well  be  fictitious,  or  surely  does  not  refer 
to  the  passages  pointed  out  by  critics.  On  pp. 
63-64  M.  Rod  forgets  entirely  the  distinction 


256 


MODERN    LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  8. 


established  by  the  author  between  the  "Souve- 
rain "  (which  means  the  people  who  agree  to 
make  the  social  contract)  and  the  "Prince" 
(which  means  only  the  executive  power);  the 
first  need  not  be  in  all  cases  looked  upon  as 
responsible  or  as  approving  a  priori  of  the  sec- 
ond's actions.  Even  a  legislative  body  (p.  64) 
cannot  be  identified  with  the  "Souverain." 

In  the  same  chapter,  speaking  of  religious  wars 
(pp.  67-68),  M.  Rod  maintains  that  if  the  gov- 
ernment agreed  to  have  no  state  religion,  there 
would  exist  no  conflict  between  politics  and  re- 
ligion. His  allusion  to  America  is  clear,  but  does 
not  prove  anything  except  that  in  this  country 
politics  and  religion  although  (not  because)  sepa- 
rated do  not  quarrel  under  the  present  conditions. 
The  fact  that  there  is  no  official  connection  between 
them  is  by  no  means  a  guarantee  that  no  trouble 
nor  conflict  could  arise.  Is  there  not  that  possi- 
bility with  regard  to  the  Mormons  and  the  Chris- 
tian Scientists?  There  exists  no  "concordat"  in 
America  simply  because  it  would  be  difficult  to 
decide  with  what  church  to  make  it ;  and  this 
simply  means  that  instead  of  the  possibility  of 
having  trouble  with  one  large  Church  (as  in 
France),  the  government  may,  under  certain  cir- 
cumstances, have  trouble  with  any  of  the  hundred 
and  fifty  sects  in  this  country. 

In  regard  to  M.  Rod's  views  of  Rousseau's 
treatment  of  his  children — views  also  expressed 
in  his  recent  drama,  Le  Reformateur,  played  in 
Paris  in  1906 — his  conception  of  that  matter  does 
not  seem  to  us  to  be  warranted  by  Rousseau's  dis- 
cussion of  the  subject  in  the  "Confessions"  and 
elsewhere.  We  do  not  believe  that  Rousseau's 
conscience  troubled  him  particularly  ;  the  theat- 
rical tone  in  which  he  speaks  of  it  occasionally 
does  not  seem  to  be  very  sincere.  He  probably 
felt  that  it  ought  to  trouble  him,  but  in  reality  it 
did  so  only  slightly. 

On  p.  158  M.  Rod  maintains  that  Rousseau 
only  pretended  that  he  wanted  to  withdraw  the 
manuscript  of  the  Lettre  a  I'Archeveque  de  Paris 
from  the  hands  of  the  printer.  We  have  positive 
proof  that  M.  Rod  is  mistaken.  Not  long  ago  we 
had  a  chance  to  read  the  unpublished  letters  of 
Rey  (the  Amsterdam  printer)  to  Rousseau  ;  Rey 
speaks  of  this  intention  of  Rousseau  ;  he  is  even 


much  alarmed  because  he  is  afraid  that  he  will 
lose  money  on  the  sheets  already  printed. 

On  p.  148  there  is  a  slight  mistake.  M.  Rod 
speaks  of  de  Pury  inviting  Rousseau  to  his  country 
place  of  "Champ  du  Moulin,  a  1'autre  extremity 
de  la  vallee."  De  Pury's  country  place  was  at 
Montle'sy,  and  not  at  the  other  end  of  the  Val-de- 
Travers,  but  above  Boveresse,  which  is  on  a  par- 
allel line  with  Motiers.  Rousseau  probably  spent 
a  few  nights  at  Champ  du  Moulin  on  several 
occasions,  but  he  did  not  have  a  friend  there. 
(See  A.  Dubois  :  "  J.  -  J.  Rousseau  au  Champ  du 
Moulin"  in  '  Musee  Neuchatelois, '  1897.) 


Bryn  Mawr  College. 


ALBERT  SCHINZ. 


SPANISH   LITERATURE. 

Drake  dam  la  po&rie  espagnole  (1570-1732). 
These  pour  le  doctoral  d'Universite  presentee  a 
la  Faculte  des  lettres  de  1'Universite  de  Paris, 
par  JOHN  ARTHUR  RAY,  M.  A.  de  P  University 
de  Yale.  Paris,  1906.  8vo.,  pp.  xiv-261. 

In  this  thesis,  Dr.  Ray  studies  the  relations 
between  England  and  Spain,  during  the  latter 
part  of  the  sixteenth  century,  as  shown  in  the 
Spanish  poems  inspired  by  the  piracies  of  Drake. 
At  a  period  when  Queen  Elizabeth  was  regarded 
by  Spaniards  as  the  incarnation  of  evil,  and  the 
English  "luteranos,"  were  considered  the  special 
emissaries  of  the  Devil,  it  is  but  natural  to  find 
that  Drake,  who  for  years  had  amused  himself 
by  sinking  Spanish  ships  and  burning  Spanish 
towns,  should  have  gained  for  himself  the  bitter 
animosity  of  the  Spanish  people.  The  poets  of 
the  period,  both  in  Spain  and  South  America, 
shared  in  this  popular  hatred,  and  in  their  verses 
they  gave  full  expression  to  their  resentment  for 
the  wrongs  they  had  suffered. 

The  author  first  gives  a  short  account  of  Drake's 
life,  paying  particular  attention  to  his  voyages  to 
the  Indies.  This  part  serves  to  make  the  rest  of 
the  thesis  more  easily  understood.  Then  follows 
a  study  of  Lope  de  Vega's  Dragontea.  To  it  is 
given  the  most  space,  partly  because  of  Lope's 


December,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


257 


literary  reputation,  and  also,  because  this  poem  gives 
a  general  view  of  all  the  incidents  of  Drake's  life. 
Lope  probably  began  the  Dragontea  soon  after 
Drake's  death,  in  1596.  He  seems  to  refer  to 
this  work  at  the  close  of  La  Arcadia : 

"  Pero  volviendo  &  nuestro  Anfriso,  os  digo  que 
en  llegando  al  pie  del  altar  venerable  hinco  la  ro- 
dilla  en  tierra,  y  besando  la  primera  grada,  co- 
men  zo  £  decirle  lopres  y  agradecimientos,  con  los 
cuales  yo  hago  fin  a  sus  discursos,  colgando  la 
rustica  zampoua  destos  enebros,  hasta  que  otra 
vez,  querieudo  el  cielo,  me  oigais  cantar  al  son  de 
instrumeutos  mas  graves,  no  tiernas  pasto riles 
quejas,  sino  celebres  famosas  armas  ;  no  pensa- 
mientos  de  pastores  groseros,  sino  empresas  de 
capitanes  ilustres."  l 

Although  the  Dragontea  deals  particularly  with 
Drake's  last  expedition  and  his  death,  we  find 
many  references  to  his  other  exploits.  Lope  de 
Vega  was  fairly  well  informed  in  regard  to  the 
principal  events  of  Drake's  life,  and  in  the  Dra- 
gontea he  describes  Drake's  attack  ou  Nombre  de 
Dios,  in  1572,8  his  circumnavigation  of  the  globe, 
the  expedition  of  1585-86,  his  attack  on  Cadiz  in 
1587,  the  expedition  of  1589,  and  his  last  expe- 
dition and  death. 

Not  less  than  four  epic  poems  deal  with  Drake's 
circumnavigation  of  the  globe.  Of  these,  the  two 
most  important,  having  been  written  soon  after 
the  event,  and  containing  long  accounts  of  Drake, 
are  La  Argentina,  of  D.  Martin  del  Barco  Cen- 
tenera,  and  Armas  Antarticas,  of  D.  Juan  de 
Miramontes  Zuazola. 

1  Bibl.  deaut.  esp.,  vol.  xxxvni,  p.  135.  If  it  be  true 
that  this  passage  relates  to  the  Dragontea,  it  follows  that 
the  Arcadia  was  not  completed  before  Lope  heard  the  news 
of  Drake's  death  in  January,  1596.  There  are  other  rea- 
sons for  assigning  so  late  a  date  to  the  composition  of  the 
Arcadia.  Dr.  H.  A.  Kennert,  Life  of  Lope  de  Vega,  p. 
104,  judging  the  words  of  Belardo  a  la  Zampofia  as  a  refer- 
ence to  the  death  of  Dona  Isabel  de  Urbina,  concludes  that 
this  last  part,  at  least,  must  have  been  added  after  1595. 
In  the  Arcadia  we  find  the  name  of  the  Chilean,  Pedro  de 
Ona,  among  the  famous  poets  (Bibl.  de  aut.  esp.,  vol. 
xxxvm,  p.  130),  but  his  literary  reputation  was  hardly 
great  enough  to  be  accorded  this  honor,  before  the  publi- 
cation of  his  Arauco  domado,  in  1596. 

JIt  will  be  remembered  that  Sir  William  D' A venant 
treated  Drake's  operations  at  Nombre  de  Dios  and  Panama 
(1572-1573)  in  his  play,  The  History  of  Sir  Francis  Drake, 
first  published  in  1659.  This  play  later  formed  the  third 
act  of  D'Avenant's  The  Playhouse  to  be  let.  See  The  Dra- 
matic Works  of  Sir  WiUitim  D'Avenant,  Edinburgh,  1873, 
VoL  IV. 


His  capture  of  Cartagena,  in  1586,  was  men- 
tioned by  Juan  de  Castellanos,  in  the  third  part  of 
his  Elegias  de  varones  ilustres  de  Indias.  The 
same  event  inspired  a  romance,  preserved  in  the 
Biblioteca  Nacional  of  Madrid,  which  is  included 
in  this  collection  of  poems  on  Drake. 

On  Drake's  capture  of  Cadiz,  in  1587,  we  find 
a  cancion  by  Dr.  Mescue,  who  perhaps  is  the  same 
as  the  dramatist,  Mira  de  Mescua.  There  is 
another  poem  on  Drake's  capture  of  Cadiz,  pre- 
served in  a  manuscript  in  the  British  Museum, 
which  might  be  added  to  this  study  of  Drake  in 
Spanish  poetry.  The  title  reads  as  follows 3  : 

Eg.  556  (1587-1588). 

9.  ' '  Relation  de  las  cosas  subcedidas  en  este 
presente  ano  de  1587,  en  la  ciudad  de 
Cadiz  de  nuestra  Espana,  miercoles  a  los 
29  de  Abril  ;  en  octavas.  Fecho  &  ruego 
de  Juan  de  Rabanera.  Beginning  :  Es 
impossible  haber  cosa  sigura.  Original 
corrected  draft  of  a  poem  on  the  attack  of 
Cadiz  by  Sir  Francis  Drake,  f.  104." 

This  was  probably  written  soon  after  Drake's 
capture  of  Cadiz. 

The  part  taken  by  Drake  in  the  defeat  of  the 
Armada  was  treated  in  a  sonnet  by  the  Portuguese 
poet,  Andres  Falcao  de  Resende,  and  Dr.  Ray 
cites  an  anonymous  romance,  describing  Drake's 
part  in  the  Contra- Armada. 

Drake  was  not  the  only  English  pirate  who 
gained  the  ill-will  of  the  Spanish  people.  Pedro 
de  Ona  and  Ercilla,  and  the  anonymous  author  of 
La  Sdtira  Beltraneja,  preserved  in  manuscript  in 
the  Biblioteca  Nacional,  devoted  many  verses  to 
the  piracies  of  Richard  Hawkins. 

Two  poems  of  Cairasco  de  Figueroa  described 
Drake's  invasion  of  the  Cauary  Islands,  in  1595, 
and  we  find  two  poems  dealing  with  Drake's  last 
expedition  and  death. 

Dr.  Ray's  thesis  casts  a  great  deal  of  new  light 
on  the  relations  between  Spain  and  England  in 
the  time  of  Elizabeth.  His  material  has  been 
gathered,  for  the  most  part,  from  manuscripts, 
and  from  books  which  are  practically  inaccessible 
to  the  student  of  Spanish  history  or  literature. 
The  brief  resume1  I  have  given  serves  to  show  the 
quantity  of  the  material  which  he  has  collected, 
and  we  may  well  believe  that  after  his  painstaking 

3  Gayangos'  Catalogue  of  the  Spanish  Manuscripts  of  the 
British  Museum,  Vol.  I,  p.  16. 


258 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  8. 


work,  little  remains  to  be  done  in  this  field  for 
future  investigators. 

As  Dr.  Ray  admits  in  his  introduction,  the 
poems  which  he  has  collected  are  of  greater  his- 
torical than  literary  interest.  As  literary  produc- 
tions, they  are  certainly  not  of  the  first  order,  but 
they  are  of  the  greatest  interest  to  the  student  of 
Spanish  and  of  English  history.  We  read  much 
of  Drake,  written  from  an  English  point  of  view, 
but  this  study  of  Drake  in  Spanish  poetry  ap- 
proaches the  subject  from  a  new  standpoint,  and 
therefore  is  all  the  more  welcome. 

It  is  a  curious  coincidence  that  this  thesis, 
studying  Drake's  position  in  Spanish  poetry,  and 
for  the  most  part  in  Spanish  epic  poetry,  should 
appear  almost  simultaneously  with  the  publication 
of  an  epic  poem  on  Drake  by  a  young  English 
poet,  Mr.  Alfred  Noyes.  In  the  latter' s  work, 
the  lyric  element,  the  love  of  the  sea  and  of 
adventure,  plays  a  greater  role  than  in  the  Span- 
ish epics  on  Drake.  A  song  like  the  following 
from  Drake,  an  English  Epic,  Book  n,  forms  a 
strong  contrast  to  the  monotonous  accounts  of  the 
Spanish  poets  : 

"  The  moon  is  up  :  the  stars  are  bright : 

The  wind  is  fresh  and  free  ! 
We're  out  to  seek  for  gold  to-night 

Across  the  silver  sea ! 
The  world  was  growing  gray  and  old  I 

Break  out  the  sails  again  : 
We're  out  to  seek  a  Kealm  of  Gold 

Beyond  the  Spanish  Main." 

Drake's  life  and  adventures  are  extremely  in- 
teresting whether  we  read  them  in  English  or  in 
Spanish.  As  his  biographer,  Mr.  Julian  Corbett, 
writes,  "  From  his  cradle  to  his  grave,  the  story 
is  one  long  draught  of  strong  waters,  and  the  very 
first  sip  intoxicates. "  4  To  obtain  a  complete  idea 
of  Drake's  personality,  we  should  read  both  the 
English  and  Spanish  poetry  which  he  inspired, 
for  he  was  a  curious  mixture  of  hero  and  pirate, 
and  we  find  him  treated  in  both  roles,  according 
to  the  point  of  view  of  the  poet.  Dr.  Ray's 
thesis  gives  us  a  complete  and  satisfactory  picture 
of  Drake,  the  pirate.  We  must  look  to  English 
poets  for  Drake,  the  hero,  and  founder  of  the 
English  navy. 

J.    P.    WlCKERSHAM    CRAWFORD. 

University  of  Pennsylvania. 

*Sir  Francis  Drake,  1894. 


Anthony  Brewer's  The  Love-sick  King,  edited 
from  the  Quarto  of  1655,  by  A.  E.  H.  SWAEN. 
(Materialien  zur  Kunde  des  alteren  Englischen 
Dramas,  No.  18.)  Louvain,  1907. 

In  spite  of  his  obvious  industry  and  scholarly 
painstaking,  Mr.  Swaen  has  been  unable  to  add 
anything  to  our  meagre  knowledge  of  the  author, 
Anthony  Brewer,  or  to  fix  with  any  exactness  the 
date  of  the  play.  These  points  will  probably  re- 
main obscure,  unless,  of  course,  something  new 
turns  up. 

The  sources  of  the  play,  also,  present  difficulties. 
Mr.  Swaen  has  collected  much  valuable  material, 
all,  however,  general,  for  Brewer  seems  to  have 
had  no  direct  source  for  his  plot.  The  plot,  indeed, 
is  a  hopeless  tangle  of  facts  ;  as  Mr.  Swaen  re- 
marks :  ' '  Thornton  who  flourished  under  Henry 
IV  is  represented  as  living  in  the  reign  of  Canute ; 
Canute  who  was  victorious  and  reigned  over  Eng- 
land till  his  death  in  1035  is  represented  as  being 
defeated  by  Alfred,  who  died  in  901  ! ' ' 

According  to  the  plan  of  the  Materialien  series, 
Mr.  Swaen  gives  a  faithful  page-for-page,  line-for- 
liue  reprint,  in  which  "the  original  has  been 
scrupulously  followed  in  all  details,  except  that  a 
modem  s  has  been  printed  instead  of  the  old- 
fashioned  long  f. "  The  text  is  printed  from  a 
copy  in  the  Royal  Library  at  the  Hague.  This 
copy,  however,  is  imperfect,  having  the  lower 
margins  closely  shaved,  so  that  many  bottom  lines 
are  missing.  The  missing  lines  are  supplied  from 
the  British  Museum  copy,  which,  unfortunately, 
is  also  not  quite  perfect.  For  this  reason  the 
editor  has  not  been  able  to  give  an  absolutely 
complete  reprint  ;  two  unimportant  bottom  lines, 
containing  in  one  case  the  catchword  and  in  the 
other  case  both  the  catchword  and  the  signature, 
are  missing. 

Since  I  possess  a  perfect  and  clear  copy  of  the 
first  edition,  I  have  undertaken  to  collate  my  copy 
with  Mr.  Swaen' s  reprint.  The  omissions  and 
errors  that  I  have  noted  I  give  below.  Some  of 
the  errors  may,  of  course,  be  due  to  differences  in 
the  originals ;  most  of  them,  however,  are  due  to 
the  natural  difficulty  of  faithfully  reproducing  an 
old  text. 

Line  60,  for  "beat  'em"  read  "beat' em": 
1.  108,  for  the  semicolon  substitute  a  comma  :  1. 
110,  for  the  colon  substitute  a  semicolon  :  1. 


December,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


259 


152/3,  for  the  catchword  "usurping"  read 
"Usurping":  1.  274,  for  "  Cannut."  read 
"  Canut. " :  1.  361,  the  mark  of  interrogation 
should  be  in  italics  :  1.  471/2,  for  the  signature 
"Bs(?)"  read  "A,"  (see  Mr.  Swaen's  Intro- 
duction ;  in  my  copy  the  signature  is  large  and 
clear) :  11.  540-2  should  be  moved  one  em  to  the 
left:  1.  593,  after  "hopeful"  insert  a  comma: 
1.  692,  the  mark  of  interrogation  should  be  in 
italics  :  1.  744,  for  "upon  't .  .  ."  read  "upon 
't  .  .  .":  1.  752,  for  "thai"  read  "that":  1. 
826,  the  character  after  "her"  is  (in  my  copy) 
a  comma  :  11.  939-40  should  be  flush  with  the 
margin:  1.  941,  for  "ACT."  read  "Act.":  1. 
970,  after  "Rand."  substitute  a  colon  for  the 
period  :  1.  987,  the  mark  of  interrogation  should 
be  roman  :  1.  1010,  the  low  position  of  the  hyphen 
is  not  in  the  original ;  the  same  is  true  of  the 
period  in  line  1084  :  1.  1150/1,  the  catchword 
"ward"  is  quite  distinct  in  my  copy  :  1.  1510, 
for  "not  death"  read  "n  otdeath":  1.  1537,  for 
"state"  read  "State":  1.  1540,  for  "  speech" 
read  "Speech":  1.  1566,  for  "a  Dale"  read 
"aDale":  1.  1596,  for  "memoiy"  read  "mem- 
ory": 1.  1695,  for  "toth1  earth"  read  "toth' 
earth":  1.  1728,  for  "look"  read  "look": 
1.  1822,  for  "ACT."  read  "Act.":  1.  1833,  for 
"ye  are  all"  read  "ye  all  are":  1.  1900/1,  in 
my  copy  the  signature  "G"  and  the  catchword 
"Alarm"  are  perfectly  clear  :  1.  1955,  for  "I!e" 
read  "He." 

A  few  misprints  occur  in  other  parts  of  the 
book,  usually  unimportant.  Quite  too  many, 
however,  appear  on  page  xv :  after  ' '  1.  232. 
peirce"  insert  "1.  315.  Cartls" ;  "1.  1300.  o." 
is  a  misprint,  I  cannot  discover  what  it  should  be ; 
for  "1.  1809.  diety"  read  "1.  1809.  Diety"; 
for  "1.  1875."  read  "1.  1876." 

Mr.  Swaen's  notes,  though  few,  are  scholarly. 
Too  often  they  are  merely  textual. 

L.  88.  The  construction  seems  to  be  misunder- 
stood. The  idea  is  not  "to  cause  on  to  fight " 
but  "to  cause  to  fight  on,"  i.  e.,  to  continue 
fighting. 

L.  402.  The  character  after  "murderd"  is 
clearly  no  semicolon. 

L.  751.  This  is  a  misprint  :  it  is  impossible  to 
tell  what  it  should  be. 


L.  778.  The  character  after  "thee"  is  clearly 
a  comma. 

L.  1204.  The  mark  of  punctuation  after 
"looks"  could  not  be  an  inverted  semicolon, 
for  the  very  good  reason  that  the  comma  part 
turns  in  the  wrong  direction.  Most  probably  it  is 
a  mutilated  mark  of  interrogation.  The  sense, 
however,  would  require  an  exclamation  point. 

L.  1716.  The  character  after  "Flames"  is 
clearly  a  period. 

L.  1933.  In  my  copy  the  comma  after  "Tow- 
ers ' '  is  clear. 

I  add  below  a  few  notes  that  occurred  to  me 
while  reading  the  play. 

L.  140.  This  line  should,  it  seems,  be  consid- 
ered as  part  of  the  text  :  it  makes  the  line  com- 
plete metrically. 

L.  308.  It  is  probable  that  for  "Ten"  we 
should  read  "The." 

LI.  435-6.  Although  Mr.  Swaen  observed  that 
the-  song  in  11.  539-42  occurred  in  The  Knight  of 
the  Burning  Pestle,  he  failed  to  observe  that  these 
lines  also  appear  as  a  song  in  the  same  play,  in, 
5.  I  may  add  that  the  song  appears  in  Woman's 
Prize,  i,  3  ;  in  Monsieur  Thomas,  in,  3  ;  and  in 
Hey  wood's  Rape  of  Lucrece. 

L.  476.  For  "  Castalian  lucke "  should  we 
not  perhaps  read  "  Castalian  licker"  ? 

L.  540.  Obviously  the  word  ' '  thee ' '  has 
dropped  out  of  this  line.  Mr.  Swaeu  should  have 
quoted  from  The  Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle 
also  the  retort  of  the  wife  to  the  song.  In  A 
Love-sick  King  the  wife  says  :  ' '  Marry  come  up 
with  a  vengeance  "  ;  in  The  Knight  of  the  Burning 
Pestle  the  wife  exclaims  :  "Marry  with  a  ven- 
geance ! ' ' 

L.  771.  "Lend  me  thine  ear  in  private" 
should,  perhaps,  be  considered  as  a  part  of  the 
text,  rather  than  as  a  stage  direction. 

L.  778.  For  "he"  we  should  obviously  read 
"he's." 

L.  986.  For  "pump"  should  we  not  perhaps 
read  "jump  "  ? 

L.  1074.  It  is  possible  that  the  author  wrote 
"I'll"  for  "I";  and  at  1.  1101  "bought"  for 
"brought." 

L.  1248.  The  "Ho"  is  doubtless  a  misprint 
for  "Ha." 


2GO 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  8. 


L.  1577.  Mr.  Swaen  missed  the  pun  that,  I 
believe,  the  playwright  had  in  mind.  Of  course 
Grim,  when  he  said  ' '  honest  Tartarians ' '  meant 
"  Tartarean  s,"  referring  to  the  lower  world  :  but 
the  word  ' '  Tartarians ' '  was  the  canting  term 
for  thief,1  and  this  meaning  would  occur  imme- 
diately to  the  audience. 

All  students  of  the  early  drama  will  be  grateful 
to  Mr.  Swaen  for  thus  placing  at  their  disposal 
this  interesting  play. 


JOSEPH  QUINCY  ADAMS,  JR. 


Cornell  University. 


Nowlas  Cortas,  by  Don  PEDRO  A.  DE  ALARC6N. 
Edited,  with  Notes  and  Vocabulary,  by  W.  F. 
GIESE,  A.  M.,  Associate  Professor  of  Romance 
Languages  in  the  University  of  Wisconsin. 
Boston  :  Ginn  and  Co.,  1906. 

Professor  Giese  has  here  given  us  a  most  satis- 
factory edition  of  Alareon'  s  short  stories.  Of  the 
nine  selections,  three  (jViva  el  Papa  !  Moros  y 
Christianos,  El  Afio  en  Spitzberg)  appear  now 
for  the  first  time  in  America,  while  the  others 
have  been  entirely  reedited. 

Painstaking  care  and  judgment  characterize 
the  book  throughout.  An  almost  faultless  text  is 
followed  by  accurate  and  sufficient  notes.  Both 
notes  and  vocabulary  presuppose  a  student  of 
average  intelligence,  and  are  free  from  the  un- 
necessary and  uncalled-for  information  which  so 
frequently  descends  into  mere  editorial  imperti- 
nence. The  province  of  note  and  vocabulary 
seem  occasionally  to  be  confused,  matter  being 
placed  in  the  former  that  would  more  properly 
fall  in  the  latter.  In  regard  to  the  translation  of 
interjections,  the  reviewer  would  like  to  enter  a 
mild  protest  against  the  use  of  "Zounds  !"  He 
has  never  heard  it  in  conversation,  and  he  has 
seldom  seen  a  student  with  sufficient  nerve  to  read 
it  out  unshrinkingly  in  the  classroom.  If  editors 
of  French  and  Spanish  texts  must  translate  com- 
mon expressions  like  Parbleu  !  and  Que  diablo  ! 

Pointed  out  by  Mr.  F.  W.  Moorman,  in  the  Temple 
edition  of  The  Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle. 


by  an  obsolete  and  outlandish  term,  he  would 
suggest  Gadzooks  !  as  a  variant. 

Beside  some  exercises  for  translation,  which  are 
admirably  arranged  for  practical,  grammatical 
drill,  there  is  an  "  Idiomatic  Commentary," 
which  lists  the  most  useful  idiomatic  expressions 
as  they  occur  page  by  page  in  the  text.  These 
expressions  are  numbered,  and  at  each  fresh  page 
the  student  has  brought  to  his  attention  the  new 
idioms  that  he  will  find,  together  with  a  reference 
by  number  to  those  which  he  has  met  previously. 
This  commentary  contains  two  hundred  and  thir- 
teen common  and  useful  idioms  with  references  to 
their  repeated  occurrences  in  the  text,  and  forms, 
in  our  opinion,  the  most  valuable  feature  of  the 
book. 

As  a  collection  of  interesting  short  stories,  well 
printed,  carefully  edited  in  a  practical  manner, 
and  supplied  with  good  exercises  and  the  idiom- 
atic commentary,  this  edition  may  fairly  be  judged 
the  best  for  early  Spanish  readings  that  has  yet 
appeared. 

GEORGE  G.  BROWNELL. 

University  of  Alabama. 


Luis  Vives  y  la  Filoso/ia  del  Renacimiento,  Me- 
moria  premiada  por  la  Real  Academia  de 
Ciencias  morales  y  politicas  en  el  Concurso 
ordinario  de  1901, — escrita  por  ADOLFO  Bo- 
NILLA  Y  SAN  MARTIN.  Madrid,  1903,  in 
fol.,  814  pp. 

Sr.  Adolfo  Bon  ilia  y  San  Martin,  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  of  the  younger  generation  of  Spanish 
scholars,  to  whose  fruitful  pen  we  owe  a  number 
of  excellent  works  on  Spanish  literature,  here 
presents  us  with  a  work  in  his  chosen  field — 
philosophy.  "The  mere  announcement  of  the 
theme  which  we  have  selected,  says  Sr.  Bonilla, 
will  give  a  sufficient  indication  of  the  thorny  and 
arduous  task  which  we  have  undertaken.  To 
record  the  life  and  works  of  a  polygraph  like 
Juan  Luis  Vives,  to  bring  the  narrative  into 
contact  with  the  actions  and  ideas  in  the  midst 
of  which  it  was  developed ;  to  appreciate  the 
various  influences  which  these  elements  had  upon 


December,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


261 


the  Valencian  philosopher,  and  on  the  other  hand 
to  note  the  influence  which  he  exercised  upon 
them,  is  an  undertaking  that  would  suffice  to 
occupy  the  greater  part  of  a  man's  life."  The 
result  of  this  labor  is  a  ponderous  folio  of  over 
eight  hundred  pages,  and  yet  Sr.  Bonilla  says  : 
"Whatever  be  the  judgment  with  which  this 
work  is  received,  we  can  assure  the  reader  that 
the  result  scarcely  represents  a  fourth  part  of  the 
labor  employed."  He  speaks  of  the  toilsome 
and  often  fruitless  examination  of  many  books 
and  documents,  and  deplores  the  fact  that  the 
laborious  reading  of  volumes  is  often  represented 
here  by  only  a  few  lines.  He  also  speaks  of  the 
frequent  discouragements  and  the  temptations  to 
give  up  his  task,  for  which,  however,  he  always 
found  renewed  energy  and  stimulation  in  the 
happy  and  brilliant  atmosphere  which  pervades 
the  renaissance.  Fortunate  it  is  for  that  rapidly 
dwindling  portion  of  the  world  which  still  takes 
an  interest  in  the  results  of  pure  scholarship  that 
men  may  still  be  found  who  can  be  encouraged 
by  influences  so  immaterial. 

Sr.  Bonilla  divides  his  work  into  two  parts, 
treating  first  of  the  man  and  of  the  epoch  in 
which  he  lived,  while  in  the  second  part  he  takes 
up  the  systematic  study  of  his  doctrines.  After  a 
rather  unconvincing  discussion  of  the  ancestors 
of  Luis  Vives  (\ve  could  never  see  that  it  mattered 
much  who  the  more  or  less  obscure  grandfather 
of  a  truly  great  man  was),  we  are  told  that  the 
distinguished  philosopher  and  humanist  was  de- 
scended from  ' '  the  second  branch  of  the  Vivas 
of  Denia."  He  was  the  son  of  Luis  Vives  and 
Blanca  March,  and  was  born  in  Valencia  on 
March  6,  1492,  in  the  Calle  de  la  Taberna  del 
Gallo.  The  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  which  caused 
our  author  to  pass  nearly  his  whole  life  far  from 
his  native  city,  are  related  in  great  detail,  and  in 
the  course  of  this  long  narrative,  which  is  practi- 
cally a  sketch  of  the  state  of  letters  in  Europe 
during  this  period,  a  great  amount  of  information 
is  imparted  on  subjects  of  the  deepest  interest. 
In  his  instructors  Vives  did  not  have  the  good 
fortune  of  some  of  his  contemporaries  in  Spanish 
letters.  In  Grammar  he  received  instruction  from 
Jeronimo  Amiguit,  "homo  itiaigniter  barbarus,  ut 
tegtuntur  eius  scripta;"  and  he  probably  learnt 
the  rudiments  of  Greek  from  Bernardo  Villanova 


or  Navarro.  While  some  critics  may  object  to 
the  long  digressions  in  this  portion  of  Sr.  Bonilla' s 
book,  to  us  they  have  seemed  among  the  most 
interesting  parts  of  the  whole  work.  They  give 
a  picture  of  the  state  of  the  humanities  in  Spain 
the  like  of  which  is  hard  to  find  elsewhere  col- 
lected in  the  same  small  space.  We  follow  the 
career  of  Vives  at  the  University  of  Paris  (which 
he  entered  in  1509,  at  the  age  of  seventeen),  with 
especial  interest.  Here  in  the  Faculty  of  Arts,  in 
the  Eue  Fouarre,  he  studied  logic,  physics  and 
metaphysics.  In  all  probability  he  matriculated 
in  the  College  of  Navarre  or  of  Monteagudo, 
which  at  that  time  contained  the  greatest  number 
of  students  of  any  of  the  Colleges  of  the  Uni- 
versity. The  students  in  the  Faculty  of  Arts 
were  generally  the  youngest,  the  course  being 
from  four  to  six  years.  The  description  of  student 
life  in  Paris  at  this  time  is  very  interesting.  Dur- 
ing this  period  Vives  first  visited  Bruges,  which 
afterwards  became  for  him  a  second  fatherland 
(patria  rnea  he  calls  it)  and  where  he  passed  over 
fourteen  years  of  his  life.  It  was  in  Paris  in 
1514  that  Vives  wrote  the  first  work  that  has 
come  down  to  us,  the  Christi  lesu  Triumphas. 

In  1518  Vives,  at  the  age  of  twenty-six,  was 
appointed  Professor  in  the  University  of  Louvain. 
Meanwhile  he  had  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Erasmus,  and  in  the  succeeding  pages  we  learn 
much  of  the  friendship  existing  between  these 
two  great  scholars.  At  Lent  in  1522  Vives  again 
returned  to  Bruges,  because,  as  he  said,  "it  is 
exceedingly  disagreeable  to  me  to  pass  Lent  in 
Louvain,  where  one  can  only  eat  decayed  fish  to 
the  injury  of  one's  stomach."  In  this  year  he 
dedicated  his  commentary  on  St.  Augustine's  De 
Civitate  Dei  to  Henry  VIII  of  England  (whom 
Vives  greatly  admired  for  his  encouragement  of 
philosophical  studies),  receiving  a  flattering  note 
from  the  king  in  acknowledgment.  Vives  visited 
Spain  in  1523,  and  in  the  same  year  went  to 
England,  where  he  was  made  a  Doctor  of  Civil 
Law  by  the  University  of  Oxford.  In  1524  he 
returned  to  Bruges  and  there  married  Margarita 
Valdaura  ;  he  died  at  Bruges  on  May  6,  1540. 

The  second  part  of  Sr.  Bonilla' s  work  is  entitled 
Las  Doctrinas.  He  deplores  the  fact  that  in  spite 
of  the  great  importance  of  Vives.  as  a  thinker, 
humanist  and  teacher,  he  has  been  and  is  now 


262 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  8. 


little  known  in  Spain.  Nor,  indeed,  it  may  be 
added,  is  this  ignorance  of  Vives  confined  to 
Spain.  It  is  pleasant  to  note  that  in  the  domain 
of  poetical  criticism  attention  has  again  been 
called  to  the  importance  of  Vives  by  an  American 
scholar.  Of  Vives,  'che  fu  amico  de  Erasmo  e 
del  Bud6  e  in  certo  modo  raeglio  d'essi  datato  di 
animo  aperto  alle  idee  generali, '  he  says  : 

"I  BUG!  principal!  contributi  alia  teoria  poetica  si  pos- 
sono  trovare  nel  De  Causis  corruptarum  artium,  lib.  n, 
cap.  4 ;  nel  De  Tradendis  discipline,  lib.  in,  cap.  5 ;  nel 
De  Rations  dicendi,  lib.  in,  capp.  7,  8  ;  e  nel  breve  dia- 
logo  Veritas  fucata  give  de  licencia  poetica  (1522)  che  tocca 
uno  dei  pid  fecondi  problemi  estetici  del  Kinascimento — 
quello  della  verisimiglianza  poetica — in  Una  discussione 
fin  dove  fosse  consentito  al  poeta  di  allontanarsi  dalla 
verita.  Ne  6  a  credere  che  fossero  questi  soltanto  i  luoghi, 
nelle  opere  sue,  che  interessano  la  storia  della  critica," — 
Spingarn,  La  Critica  Letteraria  nel  Rinascimento,  Bari,  1905, 
p.  140. 

This  point  is,  in  fact,  discussed  at  length  by  Sr. 
Bonilla,  whose  work  shows  great  critical  acumen 
and  a  vast  wealth  of  learning.  Let  us  hope  that 
his  long  and  arduous  labor  may  not  have  been  in 
vain  and  that  it  may  serve  to  rehabilitate  this 
much  neglected  humanist,  whose  achievements 
place  him  in  the  front  rank  of  the  scholars  of 
his  time. 

HUGO  A.  RENNERT. 

University  of  Pennsylvania. 


CORRESPONDENCE. 
JOHN  HEYWOOD'S  The  Play  of  the  Weather. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — I  wish  to  point  out  a  passage  in  Lucian's 
Icaro-Menippus  which  might,  perhaps,  have  sug- 
gested to  Heywood  his  Play  of  the  Weather. 
.  Menippus,  by  means  of  his  artificial  wings,  hav- 
ing arrived  in  heaven,  is  being  entertained  by 
Jupiter : * 

' '  With  this  and  such-like  chat  we  passed  away 
the  time,  till  we  came  to  the  place  where  the 
petitions  were  to  be  heard  :  here  we  found  several 

1  The  translation  is  by  Thomas  Francklin,  1780,  vol.  n, 
pp.  224-5. 


holes,  with  covers  to  them,  and  close  to  every  one 
was  placed  a  golden  chair.  Jupiter  sat  down  in 
the  first  he  came  to,  and  lifting  up  the  lid,  listened 
to  the  prayers,  which,  as  you  may  suppose,  were 
of  various  kinds.  .  .  .  One  sailor  asked  for  a 
north-wind,  another  for  a  south  ;  the  husbandman 
prayed  for  rain,  and  the  fuller  for  sun-shine.  .  .  . 
One  petition,  indeed,  puzzled  him  a  little  ;  two 
men  asking  favors  of  him,  directly  contrary  to 
each  other,  at  the  same  time,  and  promising  the 
same  sacrifice  ;  he  was  at  a  loss  which  to  oblige  ; 
he  became  immediately  a  perfect  Academic,  and 
like  Pyrrho,  was  held  in  suspense  between  them. ' ' 


JOSEPH  QUINCY  ADAMS,  JR. 


Cornell  University. 


A  CURIOUS  SLIP  IN  WIELAND. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — I  have  never  seen  any  mention  of  a 
strange  slip  made  by  Wieland  in  the  eighth  canto 
of  the  first  book  of  Der  neue  Amadis.  In  the  first 
edition  (Leipzig,  1771,  page  229),  the  reading  is  : 

Dergleichen  in  Gegenwart 
Der  Damen  zu  thun,  ist  eine  Sache, 
Die  Lauucelot  Gobbo  an  seinem  Pudel  sogar 
Unhoflich  fand. 

The  foot-note  to  this  says  :  "  Launcelot  Gobbo.  Seh. 
The  two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  die  beyden  Edel- 
leute  von  Verona,  ein  Lustspiel  von  Shakespearn." 
In  the  edition  of  1794  the  mistake  is  repeated, 
only  the  spelling  is  changed  to  Lancelot  and  the 
reference  to  act  in.  with  the  quotation  from  the 
T.  G.  V.  is  given.  Gruber  (in  the  edition  of 
1824)  repeats  the  whole  note  and  adds  aW.  to 
show  that  it  is  Wieland' s.  Wieland  was  obviously 
thinking  of  Lauuce  in  the  T.  G.  V.  whose  re- 
marks [in  act  iv,  sc.  4,  not  3]  he  quotes,  and  has 
confused  him  with  Launcelot  Gobbo  in  the  M.  V. 
The  Amadis  was  completed  after  Wieland's  period 
of  Shakspere  activity,  and  so  the  slip  is  all  the 
more  interesting.  Wielaud's  memory  failed  him, 
however,  both  as  to  the  play  and  then  later  as  to 
the  act  in  which  the  servant  soliloquizes. 


GEORGE  HENRY  DANTON. 


Stanford  University. 


December,  1907.] 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


263 


ART  FOE  ART'S  SAKE  :  A  QUERY. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS: — When  did  the  phrase  "art  for  art's 
sake"  first  appear  in  English  criticism?  The 
earliest  locus  which  I  have  been  able  to  find  is  in 
a  letter  of  Thackeray's,  written  in  1839,  and 
published  by  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Ritchie,  in  her 
Chapters  from  some  Memoirs,  1895,  chapter  IX  : 
"Please  God  we  shall  begin,  ere  long,  to  love  art 
for  art's  sake.  It  is  Carlyle  who  has  worked 
more  than  any  other  to  give  it  its  independence. ' ' 
French  scholars  have  recently  investigated  the 
history  of  I' art  pour  I' art,  the  French  prototype 
of  the  English  phrase  ;  and  Thackeray's  use  of  it 
seems  to  anticipate  by  a  half  dozen  years  its  first 
appearance  in  print  in  France,  though  Victor 
Cousin  is  said  to  have  used  it  in  a  series  of 
lectures  in  1818,  and  Victor  Hugo  claimed  the 
phrase  for  himself  as  an  incidental  coinage  of  con- 
versation in  1829  or  1830  (cf.  Stapfer,  Questions 
Esthetiques  et  fieligieuses,  1906,  pp.  26-27,  and 
Cassagne,  La  Theorie  de  I' Art  pour  I' Art  en 
France,  1906,  p.  38  sq.).  The  origin  of  the 
phrase  in  England  is  yet  to  be  traced. 


foldan  sceattan 

flone  fira  beam 
nemnafl    neorxnawong,  fleer 

him  n&nges  wees 
eades  onsyn, 

flenden  eces  word, 
halges  hleoflorcwide  healdan 

woldan 
on  flam  niwan  gefcan. 

Daer  him  nifl  gescod, 
ealdfeondes  safest,  se   hine 


J.  E.  SPINGARN. 


Columbia  University. 


beames   blade,    ftset    hi  bu 

flegun 
ceppel     unrsedum    ofer    est 

godes, 
bry ddon  forbodene. 

Dser  him  bitter  wearfl 
yrmflu  sefter  sete  and  hyra 

eaferum  swa 
sarlic  symbol,  sunum   and 

dohtrum  : 

Wurdon  teonlice  toflas  idge 
ageald  Defter  gylte  ;  has/don 

godes  yrre 
bittre  bealosorge  :  flses  fla  byre 

stflflcm 
gyrne  onguldon,  Be   hi  flset 

gyfl  flegun  .... 
ofer  eces  word. 

(411-418,  no  parallel.) 
flurA  feondes  searo 


felmihtig, 
foldan  worhte. 

797  :  feeder  wees  acenned 
Adam  serest  fturh  est  godes 
on  neorxnawong,  fleer  Aim 

ncenges  wees 
willan  onsyn 
814 :     gif    hy   halges    word 

healdan  woldun 
804  :  longe  neotan 

niwra  gefeana 

842  :  'Saet  him  bam  gescod. 
8]  8:  ac  his  wif  genom 

wyrmes  larum 
blede  forbodene  and  of  beams 

ahneop 
wsestm  biweredne  ofer  word 

godes 

840  :  flone  bitran  drync 
825 :  eardwica  cyst 

beorht  oflbroden  and  hyra 

bearnum  swa, 
eaferum  setter 

832  :  siflflan  sceoldon 

maegfl  and  msegas  morflres 

ongyldan 
godscyldge  gyrn. 
820  :  ofer  word  godes 

822 :  deaflberende  gyjl 


821  :    flurA  deofles  s«aro 


HUBERT  G.  SHEARIN. 


THE  Phomix  AKD  THE  Guthlac. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — I  offer  for  what  they  may  be  worth  the 
following  recently  noted  parallels  between  these 
two  poems.  If  they  convince  any  one  that  the 
passages  are  interdependent,  he  would  probably 
make  the  further  inference  that  the  author  of  the 
Phoenix  had  before  lam  the  more  detailed  and 
expanded  statement  in  the  Guthlac. 


Phoenix  393-419. 
Habbaft  we  geascad,  fleet  se 

ffilmihtiga 
worhte  wer  and  wif  flurh  his 

wundra  sped, 
and  hi  fla  gesette  on  flone 

selestan 


Guthlae  791-842. 

Daet    is     wide     cufl     wera 

cneorissum, 
folcum   g  e  f  r  se  g  e ,    flcette 

frymfla  god 

flone  serestan  selda  cynnes 
of  flsere  clsenestan,  cyning 


Kentucky  University. 


ARCHAISMS  IN  BALLADS. 

To  the  Editors  of  Mod.  Lang.  Notes. 

SIRS  : — A  version  of  the  ballad  of  The  Two, 
Sisters '  taken  down  in  Clinton  County,  Missouri, 
has  in  the  fifth  stanza 

"As  they  was  a- walking  by  the  saucy  brimside." 
Sea-brim  and  seaside-brim  are  found  in  the  ver- 

'See  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  xix,  p.  233. 


264 


MODERN  LANGUAGE  NOTES. 


[Vol.  xxii,  No.  8. 


sions  recorded  by  Child,  but  not  saucy.  Neither 
is  it  in  his  glossary  ;  nor,  in  any  sense  that  will 
fit  here,  in  the  Century  Dictionary.  The  English 
Dialect  Dictionary  records  a  Yorkshire  meaning, 
' '  slippery  .  .  . ,  said  of  the  streets  when  covered 
with  ice,  but  not  when  slippery  with  dirt. ' '  There 
is  nothing  in  the  ballad  to  suggest  icy  weather. 
A  friend  considers  it  a  corruption  of  salt  sea;  but 
this,  leaving  aside  the  redundancy  (which  is,  of 
course,  no  great  objection  in  ballads),  is  incon- 
sistent with  the  rhythm  of  the  line.  Remembering 
the  derivation  of  sauce  one  is  tempted  to  fancy  in 
this  ballad  word  an  ancient  meaning  retained — a 
temptation,  however,  which  the  philologic  con- 
science must  resist. 

Two  versions  of  Lord  Thomas  and  Fair  Annet* 
one  from  Miller  County  and  one  from  Gentry 
County,  have  as  their  opening  lines  respectively 

"Come  mother,  come  mother,  come  riddle  your  sword," 

and 

"Come  mother,  come  mother,  come  riddle  your  sport." 

The  manifold  perversions  of  the  old  formula  for 
asking  advice  in  the  versions  of  this  ballad  printed 
by  Child,  some  of  them  amusing,  but  none  of 
them  quite  inexplicable,  afford  no  suggestion  for 
the  interpretation  of  the  Missouri  form,  and  I 
had  accepted  it  as  altogether  meaningless  until 
a  passage  in  Professor  Gummere's  The  Popular 
Ballad*  suggested  that  it  might  be  a  relic  of 
ancient  popular  belief  in  the  soothsaying  power  of 
weapons.  Sport  in  the  second  version  would  then 
be  a  mis-hearing  of  sword.  But  how  should  such 
an  archaic  variant  escape  the  net  of  Professor 
Child  and  his  collaborators,  to  reappear  in  Mis- 
souri in  the  twentieth  century  ? 

The  fifth  stanza  of  A  Woman  and  the  Devil* 
(which  is  a  version  of  The  Farmer's  Curst  Wife 
known  in  Bollinger  County),  has  this  : 

"  Ten  little  devils  come  all  on  a  wire, 
She  up  with  her  foot  and  kicked  nine  in  the  fire." 

'Ibid,,  pp.  237,  249. 

3  P.  304,  where  Gummere  quotes  from  Oil  Brenton  : 

"  And  speak  up,  my  bonnie  brown  sword,  that  winna  lie." 

4  Jour,  of  Amer.  Folk-Lore,  xix,  299. 


This  corresponds  to  the  8th  stanza  of  Child's  ver- 
sion A, 

"  She  spied  thirteen  imps  all  dancing  in  chains, 
She  up  with  her  pattens  and  beat  out  their  brains." 

There  is  nothing  corresponding  to  it  in  the  other 
version  given  by  Child.  (The  broadside  of  The 
Devil  and  the  Scold  in  the  Roxburghe  Ballads  I 
have  not  seen. )  The  little  devils  coming  "all  on 
a  wire  "  look  like  a  reminiscence  of  the  miracle 
plays  or  of  popular  stage-craft  derived  therefrom. 
According  to  Chambers's  Mediaeval  Stage,  IT,  142, 
the  stage  directions  of  the  Cornish  Creation  of  the 
World,  a  partial  cycle  written  by  William  Jordan 
in  1611,  show  that  "Lucifer  goes  down  to  hell 
'  apareled  fowle  w"1  fyre  about  hem  '  and  the  plain 
[in  which  the  play  is  acted]  is  filled  with  'every 
degre  of  devylls  of  lether  and  sjnrytis  on  cordis. ' ' 
This  seems  to  present  precisely  the  visual  image 
of  the  Bollinger  County  version.  Chambers  adds 
that  performances  of  a  similar  character  were 
known  in  Shropshire  and  Wales  down  to  the 
beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century. 


University  of  Missouri. 


H.  M.  BELDEN. 


BRIEF  MENTION. 

Etude  philologique  sur  le  Nord  de  la  France 
{Pas-de-Calais,  Nord,  Somme").  Par  L.  BRE- 
BION.  Paris  and  London,  1907.  xxv  +  255 
pp.,  8°. 

Mr.  Br£bion  gives  under  this  title  a  study 
of  the  patois  of  a  group  of  villages  in  Artois 
(Cre'quy,  Fressin,  Planques,  Sains  and  Torcy), 
embracing  a  comparison  with  the  French  of  the 
phonology,  morphology,  and  word-formation.  The 
author  seems  acquainted  with  the  leading  French 
studies  in  dialectology,  but  there  are  indications 
that  he  has  not  sufficiently  assimilated  the  methods 
employed  in  them,  nor  does  he  give  any  clue  to 
how  he  collected  and  controlled  his  material. 
His  transcription  of  the  sounds  is  a  poor  com- 
promise between  a  phonetic  system  and  French 
official  orthography. 


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