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THE MODERN LANGUAGE 
REVIEW 



VOLUME III. 



1907-8 



CAMBRIDGE UNIYEBSITY PBE88 WABEHOUSE, 

C. F. GLAT, Manageb. 

ILoilDOtt: FETTER LANE, E.G. 

fftifiantrgi): 100, PRINCES STREET. 



9m^ 




Edpiifl: F. A. BR0CKHAU8. 
VfTlin: A. A8HER AND 00. 
§Ufn Sorfc: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS. 
tnTi eslniiia: MACMILLAN AND 00., Ltd. 



[All rights reserved.] 



1! 



THE 



MODERN LANGUAGE 
REVIEW 



A QUARTERLT JOURNAL DEVOTED TO THE STUDT 

OF MEDIEVAL AND MODERN LITERATURE 

AND PHILOLOGY 

EDITED BY 

JOHN G. ROBERTSON 



ADFISORT BOARD 



H. BRADLEY 

L. M. BRANDIN 

E. G. W. BRAUNHOLTZ 

KARL BREUL 

E. DOWDEN 

H. G. FIEDLER 

J. FITZMAURIGE-KELLY 

W. W. GREG 



C. H. HERFORD 
W. P. KER 
KUNO MEYER 
W. R. MORFILL 
A. S. NAPIER 
R. PRIEBSCH 
W. VV. SKEAT 
PAGET TOYNBEE 



VOLUME III. 




\ 



CAMBRIDGE : 

at the University Press 

1908 



I 

1 



CONTENTS. 

ARTICLES. PAGE 

Brereton, J. Lb Gay, Notes on the Text of Chapman's Plays . 56 
Crawford, J. P. Wickbrsham, The Date of Composition of Lope de 

Vega's Comedia 'La Arcadia' 40 

Crosland, Jessie, The Satire in Heinrich Wittenweiler's * Ring ' . 366 

Fiedler, H. G., * Earth upon Earth' 218 

Heberden, C. B., Dante's Lyrical Metres: His Theory and Practice 313 

Hellbr, Otto, Bibliographical Notes on Charles Sealsfield . . 360 

HuTTON, W. H., The Influence of Dante in Spanish Literature . 106 

Kabtner, L. E., The Elizabethan Sonneteers and the French Poets 268 

Kastner, L. E., The Scottish Sonneteers and the French Poets 1 

Lewenz, Marie A., West Germanic < I ' in Old English Saxon Dialects 278 - 

Long, Percy W., Spenser and Lady Carey 257 

Oliphant, £. H. C, Shakspere's Plays: An Examination, I. . . 337 
Onions, C. Talbut, A Thirteenth Century Paternoster by an Anglo- 
French Scribe 69 

Parrott, T. M., The Date of Chapman's *Bu8sy l^Ambois' . . 126 

Rago, Lonsdale, Dante and the < Gospel of Barrabas' . . 157 

Rbnnert, H. a., Notes on the Chronology of the Spanish Drama, II. 43 

_ , Smith, G. C. Moore, Notes on Some English University Plays . 141 
Smtthe, Barbara, The Connection between Words and Music in the 

Songs of the Trobadors 329 

Thomas, Walter, Milton's Heroic Line viewed from an Historical 

Standiwint, V— X 16, 232 

I Tillby, Arthur, Rabelais and Geographical Discovery, II. Jacques 

■ Cartier 209 

; ToYNBEE, Paget, The Inquisition and the *Editio Princeps' of the 

I *Vita Nuova' 228 

J Wilson, J. Dover, The Missing Title of Thomas Lodge's Reply to 

\ Gosson's * School of Abuse' 166 

(MISCELLANEOUS NOTES. 
Baker, A. T., Fragment of an Anglo-Norman Life of Edward the 

Confessor 374 

I Bensly, Edward, A Note on Bishop Hall's Satires, * Virgidemiae,' 

; v. i. 66—72 169 

Brereton, J. Le Gay, Notes on *The Faire Maide of Bristow' . 73 

Butler, A. J., Dante, * De Vulgari Eloquentia,' i. vii. . . . 375 
Derocquiqny, J., A Possible Source of Chaucer, * Canterbury Tales,' 

A 4134 and D 416 72 

Derocquiqny, J., Shakespeare's * Troilus and Cressida,' iii. iii. 161—3 371 

Derocquigny, J., *Wayte What ' = * Whatever ' 72 



195878 



vi Contents 

MISCELLANEOUS NOTES conL pa«b 

Hunter, Mark, Notes on the 'Interlude of Wealth and Health' . 360 

MooRB, E., The Almanac of * Jacob ben Machir ben Tibbon' . 376 

Onions, C. Talbut, An Unrecorded Reading in * Piers Plowman' . 170 

Onions, C. Talbut, Middle English *Coveiso* 171 

Partridoe, a. Joanna, Shakespeare's * Antony and Cleopatra,' iii. 

xiii. 158—167 372 

Smith, G. C. Moore, Charles Lamb, * Essays of Elia ' . . . 74 

Smith, G. C. Moore, Milton, 'Samson Agonistes,' 373 ... 74 
Smith, G. C. Moore, * Victoria,' * Exchange Ware' and *Worke for 

Cutlers' 373 

Si'iNGARN, J. E., Dryden's * Parallel of Poetry and Painting' . . 75 

Weekley, Ernest, *To Appoint' (Milton, * Samson Agonistes,' 373) 373 
Williams, W. H., 'Irisdision' in the Interlude of *Johan the Eu- 

angelyst' 369 

Williams, W. H., Shakesi)eareana (* Twelfth Night,' l v. 150 and 

L V. 205) 171 / I 



REVIEWS. 

Adams, A., Syntax of the Temporal Clause in Old English Prose 

(H. G. Shearin) 392 

Baldensperger, F., Bibliographie critique de Goethe en France (J. G. 

Robertson) 195 

Baldensperger, F., Goethe en France (J. G. Robertson) . 195 

Buchanan, G., Glasgow Quatercentenary Studies (W. Saunders) 94 

Cambridge History of English Literature, The, I. (Minna Steele Smith) 287 

Chambers, E. K. and F. Sidgwick, Early English Lyrics (W. P. Ker) 395 
Chapman, G., All Fooles and the Gentleman Usher, ed. by T. M. 

Parrott (J. le Gay Brereton) 396 

Curme, G. 0., A Grammar of the German Language (R. A. Williams) 187 
Dante Alighieri, La Vita Nuova, per cura di M. Barbi (P. H. Wick- 
steed) 183 

Elton, 0., Modem Studies (P. G. Thomas) 297 

Euling, K., Das Priamel bis Hans Rosenpliit (R. Priebsch) . 189 
Fraunce, A., Victoria. A Latin Comedy, ed. by G. C. Moore Smith 

(Wolfgang Keller) 177 

Goethe, J. W. von, Faust Ei-ster Teil, ed. by J. Goebel (A. R. 

Hohlfeld) 379 

Grandgent, C. H., An Introduction to Vulgar Latin (L. Brandin) . 298 

Gummere, F. B., The Popular Ballad (F. Sidgwick) .... 295 

HoUway-Calthrop, H. C, Petrarch (Paget Toynbee) .... 91 

Huchon, R., George Crabbc and His Times (A. Blyth Webster) . 173 
Huchon, R., Un Po6te Rdaliste Anglais, George Crabbe (A. Blyth 

Webster) 173 

Keats, J., Poetical Works, ed. by H. Buxton Forman (A. R. Waller) 85 
Langlois, E., Table des Noms Propres dans les Chansons de Geste 

(Raymond Weeks) 82 

Melton, W. F., The Rhetoric of J. Donne's Verse (G. C. Moore Smith) 80 

Miller, D. A., George Buchanan: A Memorial (W. Saunders) . . 94 

Moore, E. Hamilton, English Miracle Plays and Moralities (W. W. Greg) 396 



' ' 






I 

'1 

\ . 



Contents 



Vll 



REVIEWS cotU, page 
Omond, T. S., English Metrists in the 18th and 19th Centuries (T. B. 

Rudmose-Brown) 181 

Padelford, F. M., Early Sixteenth Century Lyrics (F. Sidgwick) . 294 
Queen, The, or the Excellency of her Sex, herausg. von W. Bang 

(W. W. Greg) 292 

Shirburn Ballads, The, ed. by A. Clark (A. E. H. Swaen) . . 76 
Smith, Wentworth, The Hector of Qermanie, ed. by L. W. Payne 

(W. W. Greg) 293 

Tilley, A., Fran9ois Rabelais (H. Clouzot) 403 

Vaughan, C. E., Types of Tragic Drama (J. G. Robertson) . 401 

Vicente, Gil, Auto da Festa (Edgar Prestage) 88 

Villani's Chronicle, transl. by R. E. Selfe (L. Ragg) .... 182 

Walch, G., Anthologie des Pontes Fran^ais Contemporains (F. Gohin) 86 

Worp, J. A., (Jeschiedenis van het Drama in Nederland (J. G. Robertson) 301 

Wright, J., Historical German Grammar, I. (J. Steppat) . . 299 

Wright, J., Old High German Primer (J. Steppat) .... 299 

MINOR NOTICES. 

Beowulf and the Finnesburh Fragment, ed. by C. G. Child . 303 

Bibliotheca Romanica . . . . 200 

Cambridge History of English Literature, The, Vol. ii. . . . 200 
Chaucer's Prologue, Knight's Tale and Nun's Priest's Tale, ed. by 

F. J. Mather 303 

Cohen, G., Die Inszenierung im geistlichen Schauspiele des Mittel- 

alters in Fraukreich 302 

Dante Alighieri, La Vita Nuova e il Canzoniere (Edizione Vade 

Mecum) 408 

De Sanptis, F., Saggio critico sul Petrarca 198 

Deutsche Texte des Mittelalters 306 

Festschrift zur 49. Versammlung deutscher Philologen und Schulmanner 200 

German Classical Writers, New Editions of, 305 

Hart, J. M., The Development of Standard English Speech . . 199 
Howell, A. G. F., Lives of St Francis of Assisi by Brother Thomas 

of Celano 407 

Journal of English and Germanic Philology, The .... 408 

Malone Society, The 304 

Malory's Book of Merlin and Book of Sir Balin, ed. by C. G. Child 303 

Modern Language Review, The, October 1908 408 

Montaigne's Essais, Phototype Reproduction of 305 

Richter, H., George Eliot 304 

Shakespeare in Hungary 200 

Smith, C. A., Studies in English Syntax 199 

J Societal di Filologia Modema 200 

Toynbee, Paget, In the Footprints of Dante 303 

Walter, K, Adolf Friedrich Graf von Schack als Dbersetzer . . 408 

Wieland's Works, New Edition of 305 

NEW PUBLICATIONS 98,201,306,409 



) 



Volume III OCTOBER, 1907 Number 1 



THE SCOTTISH SONNETEERS AND THE 
FRENCH POETS. 

I PROPOSfe, in the following article, to show that the Scottish Son- 
neteers of the beginning of the seventeenth century, more particularly 
William Drummond of Hawthomden, were largely indebted to the 
French poets of the second half of the sixteenth century. In his 
excellent edition of the Poems of Drummond (1894) W. C. Ward has 
proved that the Scottish poet had levied heavy loans on the Italian 
poets — more particularly Marino. His * Notes ' contain more than fifty 
poems or fragments of poems by Petrarch, Tasso, Quarini and Marino, 
which Drummond borrowed more or less directly. Long before Ward 
proved his case, it had been generally admitted that Drummond owed a 
good deal to the Italian poets, though very few instances had actually 
been quoted. No one, I believe, has so far traced the influence of 
French poetry on Drummond, and yet the result of the present investi- 
gation, I venture to think, demonstrates clearly that it was almost as 
considerable as that exercised by the Italian poets, with this difference 
that it was exclusively confined, apparently, to one poet, namely 
Phillippe Desportes, the author of Diane and other sonnet-collections, 
and himself an inveterate plagiarist from the Italians and from the 
Spanish poet Montemayor. It is well known, now, what a large number 
of sonnets contained in the Elizabethan sonnet-cycles were filched firom 
the author of Diaiie, The infatuation of contemporary English poets — 
to whom must now be added Drummond — for the conceits and hyper- 
boles of this purely court poet is really remarkable, and not a little 
diflBcult to explain. One would naturally expect them to go to Bonsard 
and Du Bellajr for their models rather than to the Abb^ de Tiron. It is 
true that the chief of the Pl^iade and his lieutenant were not neglected, 
but they never enjoyed a tithe of Desportes* popularity. The fact 
remains, and is not a very flattering testimony to the taste of the poets 
concerned. Once it had been established that Drummond was largely 
indebted to the Italian poets, it was not unreasonable, in view especially 

M. L. R. III. 1 



2 The Scottish Sonneteers and the French Poets 

of certain particulars in his biography, to conclude that he had also 
borrowed from the French poets. We know that he sojourned for two 
or three years in France as a student of civil law, and that during his 
stay there he devoted more of his time to the study of French authors 
than to that of jurisprudence. In the lists of books read, which Drum- 
mond was wont to draw up, we notice, for the years 1607-9, the names 
of Rabelais, Ronsard, Du Bartas, Pontus de Tyard and of a few others, 
to mention only the French authors. And a glance at the catalogue of 
his complete library, which he bestowed upon his Alma Mater the 
University of Edinburgh, in 1627, reveals the interesting fact that out 
of a total of some 550 books and manuscripts, about 120 are written in 
the French language. These details show plainly that Drummond's 
reading in French was wide and varied, and that he must have had an 
excellent knowledge of the language and literature of France. 

Although Drummond was steeped in the poetry of foreign models, 
it is necessary and only fair to point out that he rarely descends to 
plagiarisms in the strict sense of the word ; he never copies in a servile 
manner, with the original at his side, as did Lodge or Daniel. He is 
rather a skilful adapter than a translator, and so dexterous and ingenious 
is the adaptation, in most cases, that it is no easy matter to trace it 
back to its first source. Drummond read his models carefully, assimilated 
them and then re&shioned the substance according to his own mould. 
This is more especially noticeable in his adaptations from Desportes. 
Perhaps Drummond, who was a Scotchman and therefore * canny' by 
nature, thought that this precaution was particularly advisable in 
the case of Desportes, whose 'poetical writings/ as Lodge informs us, 
rather naively in his Margante of America, were 'ordinarily in every 
man's hands.' Be this as it may, his adaptations of the French poet's 
sonnets are invariably superior to the original, in their more glowing 
and sumptuous imagery, and in a more skilful staging of the incidents 
leading up to the culminating thought. The Scottish poet also displays, 
in his * spiritual ' pieces, a depth of philosophic thought which, absent 
in his French model, constitutes the most striking characteristic of 
his verse. 

Before passing on to consider Drummond's relation to Desportes, 
I may be permitted to add a few further cases of borrowing from the 
Italians to those already instanced by Ward. In the Poems, Sonnet iv \ 
(* Fair is my yoke, though grievous be my pains ') is obviously merely a J 
variation of Petrarch's well-known *Amor mi sprona in un tempo ed 
affrena.' Sonnet x v (* To hear my plaints, fair river crystalline ') is a 






\ 



L« E. KA8TNEB 3 

loose adaptation of Sannazaro's ^Ecco ch' un' altra volta, o piagge 
apriche/ The same is true of No. xvi, which is here quoted with the 
Italian in parallel column, to shew how ingeniously Drummond fre- 
quently handles his foreign material: 

Sweet brook, in whose clear crystal I Cari scogli, dilette e fide arene, 

mine eyes 

Have oft seen great in labour of their Che i miei dun lamenti udir solete; 

tears; 

Enameird bank, whose shining gravel Antri, che notte e d\ mi rispondete, 

bears 

These sad characters of m^ miseries ; Quando de V arder mio piet^ vi viene : 

High woods, whose mountmg tops me- Folti boschetti, dolci valH amene, 

uace the spheres; 

Wild citizens, Amphions of the trees, Fresche erbe, lieti fiori, ombre segrete ; 

You gloomy groves at hottest noons Strade, sol per mio ben riposte e 

which freeze, quote, 

Elysian shades, which Phoebus never IH amorosi sospir' gik calde e piene: 

clears; solitari colli, o verae riva. 
Vast solitary mountains, pleasant plains. 

Embroidered meads that ocean-ways you Stanchi pur di vedor gli afianni miei, 

reach; 

Hills, dales, springs, all that my sad Quando fia mai' che riposato io viva? 

cry constrains 

To take part of my plaints, and learn per tal grazia un dl veggia colei 

woe's speech. 

Will that remorseless fair e'er pity Di cui vuol sempre Amor ch' io pari! 

show? e scriva. 

Of grace now answer if ye ought Fermarsi al pianger mio quant' io 

know. No. vorrei ? 

Sonnet Lii ('Fame, who with golden pens abroad dost range') is 
modelled on the first stanza of a canzone of Tasso of which the opening 
line is ' Fama, che i nomi gloriosi intomo.' In the spiritual poems the 
sonnet For the Passion (* If that the world doth in a maze remain '), in 
which Christ is likened to a pelican, was apparently suggested by the 
poem of Tasso in blank verse on the same subject. Lastly in the 
Posthumous Poems, there figures an Italian sonnet (' O chiome, parte de 
la treccia d' oro ') entitled by Drummond * Sonnet qu'un Poet Italien fit 
pour un bracelet de cheveux, qui luy avoit est^ donn^ par sa Maistresse/ 
to which are appended three different translations by Drummond him- 
self. Ward did not succeed in identifying the author of this Italian 
sonnet. After a good deal of search, I discovered that it was one of 
Tebaldeo's {Opera d* Amore di Messer Antonio TdnUdeo, Venezia, 1550, 
No. 106). These three translations of Tebaldeo s sonnet, especially the 
one bearing the superscription ' Paraphrastically Translated,' are most 
instructive ; they shew how the Scottish poet could handle the foreign 
matter, knead and mould it, till it bore quite a different aspect and was 
well nigh unrecognisable. 

1—2 



The Scottish Sonneteers and the French Poets 



We will now proceed to consider Drummond's dependence on 
Desportes. To start with the Poems, Sonnet xi (' Lamp of heaven s 
crystal hall that brings the hours') is manifestly suggested by the 
fourth sonnet of Cleonice, one of Desportes' various sonnet-collections 
(* D'une douleur poignante ayant I'ame blessee '). In writing Sonnet xiii 
(* O sacred blush, impurpling cheeks* pure skies ') Drummond seems to 
have had in mind Desportes' ' Beaux noeux crespes et blonds nonchalam- 
ment 6pars ' {(Eavres, ed. Michiels, p. 105). In Sonnet xx the Scottish 
poet paraphrases Sonnet xxx^ii of the First Book of Diane (OEuvreSy 
p. 26). Though the resemblance in particulars is slight, the substance 
is evidently borrowed : 

All other beauties, howsoe'er they shine Si tost qu'au plus matin ma Diane 

s'dveille 

In hairs more bright than is the golden (0 Dieux ! jugez mon heur !), je suis h, 

ore, son lever. 

Or cheeks more fair than fairest Et voy tout le plus beau qui se puisse 

eglantine, trouver 

Or hands like hers who comes the sun Depuis les Indiens jusqu'ou Ph(jebus 

before ; sommeille. 

Match'd with that heavenly hue, and Ce n'est rien que le teint dc TAurore 

shape divine, vermeilie, 

With those dear stars which my weak Ce n'est rien que de voir, aux longues 

thoughts adore, nuicts d'hyver, 

Look but like shadows, or if they be Parmy le firmament mille feux arriver, 

more, 

It is in that, that they are like to thine. Et n'est vray que le ciel cache plus de 

merveille. 

Who sees those eyes, their force and Je la vois quelquefois, s'elle se veut 

doth not prove, mirer. 

Who gazeth on the dimple of that chin, Esperdtie, estonn^, et long-tans de- 

meurer 

And finds not Venus' son intrench'd Admiraut ses beautez, dunt mesme elle 

therein, est ravie: 

Or hath not sense, or knows not what £t cependant (chestif !) immobile et 

is love. poureux, 

To see thee had Narcissus had the Je pense au beau Narcis de soy-mesme 

grace, amoureux, 

He sure had died with wond'ring on Craiffnant qu'un sort pareil mette fin 

thy face. a sa vie. 

Sonnet xxiv, except for the concluding lines in which, the motive is 
changed, is also an adaptation, this time from one of the religious com- 
positions of Desportes {(Euvres, p. 609) : 

In mind's pure glass when I myself Quand, miroir de moy-mesme, en moy 

behold, je me regarde. 

And vively see how my best days are Je voy comme le tans m'est sans fruict 

spent, escoul^ 

What clouds of care above my head are Taudis que, de jeunesse et d'amour 

roird, afFoW, 

What coming harms which I can not Ce monde en ses destours m'amuse et 

prevent : me retarde. 



L. £. KA8TNER 



My begun course I, wearied, do repent, La beauts de mes ans, comme un 

songe fuyarde, 

And would embrace what reason oft Me laisse en s'envolant le poll entre- 
hath told ; 

But Hcarce thus think I, when love hath 
ccmtrolPd 

All the best reasons reason could in- 
vent, etc. 



mesl^, 

Le teint nalle et flestri, le coeur triste 
et geU, 

Qui pour tons beaux pensers la repen- 
tance garde, etc. 

Another of the religious sonnets of Desportes {(Euvres, p. 607) is 
paraphrased in Sonnet xxxii of the Poems: 



If crost with all mishaps be my poor 

life, 
If one short day I never spent in mirth, 

If my spright with itself holds lasting 

strife, 
If sorrow's death is but new sorrow's 

birth; 
If this vain world be but a sable stage 

Where slave- bom man plays to the 
scoffing stars, 

If youth be toss'd with love, with weak- 
ness age, 

If knowledge serve to hold our thoughts 
in wars; 

If time can close the hundred mouths 
of fame, 

And make, what long since past, like 
that to be. 

If virtue only be an idle name. 

If I, when I was bom, was born to 
die; 



Si j'ay moins de pouvoir, plus j'ay 

de cognoissance. 
Si ma vie est im but immobile aux 

malheurs. 
Si mon feu se nourrist dans les flots 

de mes pleurs. 
Si la fin d'un travail d'un autre est la 

naissance. 
Si rien qu'en des tombeaux nuict et 

jour je ne pense. 
Si je n'aime que Pombre et les noires 

couleurs. 
Si le jour me desplaist, si mes fibres 

douleurs 
Au repos de la nuict croissent leur 

violence, 
Si sans s^avoir pourquoy je ne fais 

que pleurer. 
Si du monde inconstant Ton ne pent 

s'aaseurer. 
Si c'est im oc^an de mis^re et de peines. 
Si je n'esp^re ailleurs ny salut ny 

secours, 



Why seek I to prolong these loath- O mort I n'arreste plus, romps le fil de 



some days? 
The fairest rose in shortest time 
decays. 



mes jours, 
Et meurtris quant et moy tant de morts 
inhumaines ? 



Sonnet xxxvi is modelled, with certain modifications in the phra- 
seology, on the twelfth sonnet of Les Amours d'Uippolyte (OEuvres, 
p. 120): 

Who hath not seen into her saffron 

bed 
The morning's goddess mildly her repose, 

Or her, of whose pure blood first sprang 

the rose, 
LuU'd in a slumber by a myrtle shade ; 

Who hath not seen that sleeping white 

and red 
Makes Phoebe look so pale, which she 

did close 
In that Ionian hill, to ease her woes, 



Celuy qui n'a point veu le printans 

gracieux, 
Quand il estale au ciel sa richesse 

pris^ 
Bemplissant Pair d'odeurs, les herbes 

de ros^e, 
Les coeurs d'affections et de larmes les 

yeux. 
Celuy qui n'a point veu par un tans 

furieux 
La tourmente cesser et la mer appais^, 

Et qui ne S9ait, quand T&me est du 
corps divis^. 



The Scottish Sonneteers and the French Poets 



Which only lives by nectar kisaes fed; 

Come but and see my lady sweetly 

sleep, 
The sighing rubies of those heavenly 

lips. 
The Cupids which breast's golden apples 

keep, 
Those eyes which shine in midst of 

their eclipse, 
And he them all shall see, perhaps, 

and prove 
She watdng but persuades, now forceth 

love. 



Comme on pent s'esjouyr de la clart^ 

des cieux. 
Qu'il s'arreste pour voir la celeste 

lumi^re 
Des yeux de ma d^esse, une Venus 

premiere ; 
Mais que dy-je? ah! mon Dieu! qu'il 

ne s'arreste pas : 
S'il s'arreste k la voir, pour une saison 

neuve, 
Un tans calme; une vie, il pourroit 

faire espreuve 
De gla9onB, de tempeste et de mille 

trespas. 



Of the pieces in the Second Part of the Poems, the opening lines of 
Sonnet ix are borrowed from a sonnet of Diane (CEavres, p. 15) : 

Sweet Spring, thou tum*st with all thy 

coodly train. 
Thy head with flames, thy mantle bright 

with flow'rs: 
The zephyrs curl the green locks of the 

plain. 



Voicy du gay printans Tbeureux adv^ne- 

ment, 
Qui fait que l*hyver mome k regret se 

retire: 
D^ja la petite herbe, au gr^ du douz 

z^phyre, 



The clouds for ioy in pearb weep down Navr6 de son amour, branle tout douce- 
their showTs. ment. 

The next sonnet (No. x) is also adapted, for the most part, from 
yet another sonnet of Diane ((Euvres, p. 20) : 



What doth it serve to see Sun's burning 
feuse. 

And skies enamell'd with both the Indies' 
gold. 

Or moon at night in jetty chariot rolPd, 

And all the glory of that starry place ? 

What doth it serve earth's beauty to 
behold. 

The mountains' pride, the meadows' 
flow'iy grace, 

The stately comeliness of forests old, 

The sport of floods, which would them- 
selves embrace? etc. 



Las ! que me sert de voir ces beUes 
plaines 
Pleines de fruits, d'arbrisseaux et de 

fleurs, ' 
De voir ces prez bigarrez de oouleurs, 
Et I'argent vif des bruyantes fontaines ? 
C'est autant d'eau pour reverdir mes 
peines, 
Dlimle k ma braise, k mes larmes d'hu- 

meurs, 
Ne voyant point celle pour qui je meurs, 
Cent fois le jour, de cent morts in- 
humaines, 
Las! que me sert d'estre loin de ses 
yeux 
Pour mon salut. si je porte en tous lieux 
De ses regards les sagettes meurtri^res? 
etc. 

But it is in the Flowers of Sion or Spiritual Poems (1623) that the 
dependence of Drummond on Desportes is most conspicuous. The 
sonnets contained in this collection, several of which had already 
appeared with certain alterations under the title of Urania, have hitherto 
been held to constitute Drummond's most original work in that form 
of composition. In his Introductory Memoir, Ward says 'Nearly all 



L. E. KA.STNER 



the pieces of this volume [The Flowers of Sion] appear to be original : 
a very few translations from the Italian of Marino are in perfect consent 
with the prevailing tone of the book/ This view is no longer tenable ; 
at least six of the sonnets of the Flowers of Sion are either adaptations 
or paraphrases from the French poet's works, mostly from the Sonnets 
Spirituels, which form part of his OEuvres Chrestiennes. The opening 
sonnet is a free adaptation of the second sonnet in Desportes' 
collection : 



Triumphant arches, statues crown'd with 

bays, 
Proud obelisks, tombs of tbe vastest 

frame, 
Oolosses, brazen Atlases of fame. 

Fanes vainly builded to vain idols' 

praise ; 
States, which insatiate minds in blood 

do raise, 
From the cross-stars unto the Arctic 

team, 
Alas! and what we write to keep our 

name, 
Like spiders' cauls are made the sport 

of days : 
All only constant is in constant change, 

What done is, is imdone, and when un- 
done, 
Into some other figure doth it range; 
Thus moves the restless world beneath 
the moon: 
Wherefore, my mind, above time, 

motion, place. 
Thee raise, and steps not reach'd by 
nature trace. 



Si la course annuelle en seipent re- 

toum^ 
Devance un trait volant par le del 

emport^ 
Si la plus longue vie est moins quhme 

joum^, 
Une heure, une minute, en vers P^temit^; 

Que songes-tu, mon dme, en la terre 
enchaisnde? 
Quel appast tient ici ton desir arrests? 

Faveur, thr^rs, grandeurs, ne sont que 

vanity 
Trompans des fols mortels la race in- 

fortun^ 
Puis que Theur souverain aiUeurs se 

doit chercher, 
II faut de ces gluaux ton plumage 

arracher 
Et voUer dans le ciel d'une l^re traicte. 
La se trouve le bien affranchi de 

souci. 
La foy, Tamour sans feinte et la beauts 

parfaicte 
Qu'a clos yeux, sans profit, tu vas 

cherchant ici. 



The amplification in the enumeration of the things that are the 
sport of time and mark the instability of mortal glory was probably 
suggested by an Italian sonnet of Castiglione : 

Superbi colli, e voi sacre mine, 
Che '1 nome sol di Koma ancor tenete, 
Ahi che reliquie miserande avete 
Di tant' anime eccelse e pellegrine! 
Colossi archi teatri opre divine 
Trionfal pompe gloriose e liete. 
In poco ceuer pur converse siete, 
£ fatte al vulgo vil favola al fine etc 

The sonnet entitled Ko Trust in Time is again an adaptation from 
Desportes {(Euvres, p. 507) : 



Look how the flower which lingVingly 
doth fade, 



La vie est une fleur espineuse et poi- 
gnante, 



8 



The Scottish Sonneteers and the French Poets 



The morning's darling late, the summer's Belle au lever du jour, seiche en son 



queen, 
Spoiled of that juice which kept it fresh 
and green, 



Occident ; 

C'est moins que de la neige en Test^ 
plus ardent, 



As high an it did raise, bows low the Ce»t une nef rompue au fort de la 

tourmente. 
L'heur du monde n'est rien qu'une 
roue inconstante, 
D'un labeur ^temel montant et descen- 
dant; 
Honneur, plaisir, proiict, les esprits des- 
bordant, 



head 
Bight so my life, contentments being 

dead. 
Or in their contraries but only seen, 

With swifter speed declines than erst it 



spread. 
And, blasted, scarce now shows what it Tout est vent, songe et nue et folie 



hath been, 
As doth the pilgrim therefore, whom the 

night 
Bj darkness would imprison on his way, 

Think on thy home, my soul, and think 

aright 
Of what yet rests thee of life's wasting 
day; 
Thy sun posts westward, passed is thy 

mom. 
And twice it is not given thee to be 
bom. 



^vidente. 
Las ! c'est dont je me plains, moy qui 

voy commencer 
Ma teste k se mesler, et mes jours se 

passer, 
Dont j'ay mis les plus beaux en ces 

vaines fum^; 
Et le fniict que je cueille, en que je 

voy sortir 
Des heures de ma vie, helas! si mal 

sem^, 
C'est houte, ennuy, regret, dommage et 

repentir. 

Another of Desportes — the third of the Sonnets Spirituels — aflForded 
the substance for the following sonnet of the Flowers of Sion : 

Too long I followed have on fond desire. 
And too long panted on deluding streams, 



Too long refreshment sought in burning 

fire. 
Rim after joys which to my soul were 

blames. 
Ah ! when I had what most I did 

admire, 
And prov'd of life's delights the last 

extremes, 
I found all but a rose hedg'd with a 

briar, 
A nought, a thought, a show of golden 

dreams. 
Henceforth on thee, mine only good, 

I think. 
For only thou canst grant what I do 

crave; 
Thy nails my pens shall be, thy blood 

mine ink. 
Thy winding sheet my paper, study 

grave; 
And till that soul from body parted 

be. 
No hope I have, but only only thee. 



Puis que le mi el d'amour, si combl^ 
d'amertume, 

N'alt^re plus mon coeur comme il fit 
autrefois ; 

Puis que du monde faux je mesprise les 
lois, 

Monstrons qu'un feu plus saint main- 
tenant nous allume. 
Seigneur, d'un de tes cloux je veux 
faire ma plume, 

Mon encre de ton sang, mon papier de 
ta croix, 

Mon subject de ta gloire, et les chants 
de ma voix 

De ta mort, qui la mort ^temelle con- 
sume. 
Le feu de ton amour, dans mon ftme 
eslanc^, 

Soit la sainte fureur dont je seray 
pouss^, 

Et non d'un ApoUon I'ombrageuse folie. 

Get amour par la foy mon esprit 

ravira, 
Et, s'il te plaist. Seigneur, au ciel Me- 

vera 
Tout vif, comme sainct Paul ou le pro- 

phete l^lie. 



L. E. KASTNER 



The sonnet Amazement at the Incarnation of Ood is translated from 
the seventh sonnet of Desportes* Sonnets Spiiituele {(Euvres, p. 504), 
which the French poet himself had imitated from the Italian of 
Francesco Coppetta de' Beccuti (Locar sovra gV abissi % fondameivtt). 
It might be supposed at first sight that the Scottish poet's model was 
also Coppetta, but a glance at the three compositions shows at once 
that he was not following the Italian prototype : 

To spread the azure canopy of heaven, 



And make it twinkle with those spangs 

of gold. 
To stay this weighty mass of earth so 

even, 
That it should all, and nought should it 

uphold ; 
To give strange motions to the planets 

seven, 
Or Jove to make so meek, or Mars so 

bold, 
To temper what is moist, dry, hot and 

cold, 
Of all their jars that sweet accords are 

given. 
Lord, to thy wisdom nought is, nor thy 

might ; 
But that thou shouldst, thy glory laid 

aside. 
Come meanly in mortality to bide, 

And die for those deserved eternal plight, 

A wonder is so far above our wit, 

That angels stand amaz'd to muse on 

it. 



Sur des abysmes creuz les fondemens 
poser 
De la terre pesante, immobile et f^nde, 

Semer d'astres le ciel, d'un mot cr^r le 
monde, 

La mer, les vens, la foudre k son gr^ 
maistriser, 
De contrarietez tant d'accords com- 
poser, 

La mati^re difforme omer de forme 
roude, 

Et par ta prdvoyance, en merveilles pro- 
fonde, 

Voir tout, conduire tout, et de tout dis- 
poser, 
Seigneur, c'est peu de chose k ta 
m^est^ haute; 

Mais que toy, cr^teur, il t'ait pleu pour 
la faute 

De ceux qui t'offensoyent en croiz estre 
pendu, 
Juaqu ii si haut secret mon vol ne pent 
s'estendre ; 

Les anges ny le ciel ne le 89auroyent 
comprendre ; 

ApprenS'le-nous, Seigneur, qui Tas seul 
entendu ! 



Another imitation from Desportes is the sonnet For the Magdalene \ 
it renders with certain modifications the fifteenth sonnet of the Sonnets 
Spirituels : 

These eyes, dear Lord, once brandons of De foy, d'espoir, d'amour et de douleur 

comblee, 
Celle que les p^cheurs doivent tons 

imiter, 
Seigneur! vint ce jour k tes pids se 

jetter, 
Peu craignant le mespris de toute une 

assembl^a 
Ses yeux, sources de feu, d'oii I'Amour 

k Tembl^ 
Souloit dedans les coeurs tant de traits 

blueter, 
Changez en source d'eau, ne font que 

d^gouter 



desire, 
Frail scouts betraying what they had to 

keep. 
Which their own heart, then others set 

on fire, 
Their traitorous black before thee here 

out- weep : 
These lockti, of blushing deeds the fair 

attire. 
Smooth-frizzled waves, sad shelves which 

shadow deep, 
Soul-stinging serpents in gilt curls which 

creep, 



10 



The Scottish Sonneteers and the French Poets 



To touch thy sacred feet do now aspire. L'amertume et FeoDuy de son ftme 

troubl^a 

In seas of care behold a sinking bark, De ses pleurs, 6 Seigneur I tes pi^ 

elle arrosa, 

£7 winds of sharp remorse unto thee Les parfuma d'odeurs, les seicha, les 

driven, baisa, 

! let me not expoald be ruin's mark ; De sa nouvelle amour monstrant la vdh^ 

mence. 

My faults confest, Lord, say they are bien-heureuse femme ! 6 Dieu tous- 

forgiven. jours clement 1 

Thus sigh'd to Jesus the Bethanian pleur ! 6 coeur heureuz ! qui n'eut pas 

fi9kir, seulement 

His tear-wet feet still drying with her Pardon de son erreur, mais en eut r^- 

hair. oompense. 

In another of the Flowers of Sion Drummond adapted one of 
Desportes' love-poems— No. Lxxiii of Les Amours (THippolyte — to the 
service of religion. The paraphrase, at the beginning, is a very close 
one: 

As when it happ'neth that some lovely Comme quand il advient qu'une place 

town est forc^ 

Unto a barbarous besieger falls, Par un cruel assaut du soldat furieux, 

Who there by sword and flame himself Tout est mis au pillage, on voit en mille 

instals, lieux 

And, cruel, it in tears and blood doth Feuz sur feuz allumez, mort sur mort 

drown ; amass^. 

Her beauty spoiPd, her citizens made Mais si ne pent sa gloire estre tant 

thralls, rabaiss^, 

His spite yet so cannot her all throw Qu^un arc, une colonne, un portail 

down, glorieux 

But that some statue, arch, feme of N'eschappent la fureur du feu victo- 

renown rieux. 

Yet lurks unmaim'd within her weeping £t ne restent entiers quand la flamme 

walls: est pass^. 

So, after all the spoil, disgrace, and Ainsi durant les maux que j'ay tant 

wrack, supportez. 

That time, the world, and death could A la honte d'Amour et de vos cruautez, 

bring combin'd, 



Amidst that mass of ruins they did 

make. 
Safe and all scarless yet remains my 
mind: 
From this so high transcending rap- 
ture springs. 
That I, all else defac'd, not envy 
kings. 



Depuis que par vos yeux mon ftme est 

retenu^ ; 
En depit du malheur centre moy 

conjur^ 
Mon coeur inviolable est toujours de- 

meur^, 
Et ma foy jusqu^icy ferrae s'est main- 

tenu& 



To the above loans levied on Desportes by Drummond may be 
added yet one more from the Posthumous Poems ; the fourth sonnet of 
those addressed to Galatea is likewise a paraphrase from the French of 
the author of Diane (CEuvres, p. 25): 

If it be love to wake out all the night, Si c'est aimer que porter has la vue, 

And watchftd eyes drive out in dewy Que parler bas, que soupirer souvant, 
moans. 



L. E. KA8TNER 11 

And when the sun brings to the world Que s'^garer solitaire en rSvant^ 

his light, 
To waste the day in tears and bitter Bri^6 d'un feu qui point ne diminue; 



If it be love to dim weak reason's beam Si c'est aimer que de peindre en la 

nue, 

With clouds of strange desire, and make Semer sur Teau, jetter ses oris au vaut, 

the mind 

In hellish agonies a heav'n to dream, Chercher la nuict par le soleil levant, 

Still seeking comforts where but griefs £t le soleil quant la nuict est venue ; 

we find; 
If it be love to stain with wanton Si c'est aimer que de ne s'aimer pas^ 

thought 

A spotless chastity, and make it try HaYr sa vie, embrasser son trespas, 

More furious flames than his whose Tons les amours sont campez en mon 

cunning wrought ame; 

That brazen bull where he entomb'd Mais nonobstant, si me puis-je louer 

did fry; 

Then sure is love the causer of such Qu'il n'est prison, ny torture, ny flame, 

woes, 

Be ye our lovers, or our mortal foes ? Qui mes d^irs me s^eust fair avouer. 

In spite of his acquaintance with the works of the other French 
poets of the second half of the sixteenth century, Drummond does not 
appear to have been directly influenced by them. In the Miscellanies 
there is a piece bearing the title Phyllis, on the Death of her Sparrow. 
A poem with the same title, but bearing no direct resemblance to it, 
occurs in the Jeiuc Rustiques of Du Bellay of which the Scottish poet is 
known to have possessed a copy. Thus we may legitimately conjecture 
that he got the idea from the French poet, though he may of course 
have had in mind Catullus rather than Du Bellay. 

Drummond of Hawthomden was not the only Scottish poet of the 
time who borrowed from the French poets. His friend and contemporary 
William Alexander of Menstrie, later Earl of Stirling, though to a lesser 
degree, is likewise indebted to foreign models. He had travelled ex- 
tensively on the continent in his youth as tutor to the Earl of Argyle, 
and was well acquainted with foreign literatures. In 1604 he published, 
under the title of Aurora, a series of sonnets, madrigals, sestinas and 
elegies to a lady whom he had loved and lost. Although Alexander's 
sonnets are obviously merely a Petrarchan mosaic, he mingles his 
colours and materials so cunningly that it is always difficult to trace 
them back to their original source. He appears to have acted on a 
deliberate plan in order to escape detection, yet anyone who is at all 
well acquainted with the Italian and French Petrarchists, can see at 
once that the sonnets of Aurora are only patchwork made up of conceits 
culled here and there from the Italian and French poets, and skilfully 
put together. In spite of the precautions taken by Alexander, I think 



12 The Scottish Sonneteers and the French Poets 

I have succeeded in detecting a certain number of more or less direct 
imitations from Ronsard and Du Bellay. 

Sonnet iii of A urora is clearly suggested by No. Lxxiv of VOlive : 

That subtill Greeke who for t'aduanoe Si le pinceau pouuoit montrer aux 

his art, 
Shap'd beautie's goddesse with so tiweet 

a grace, 
And with a learned pensUl limu'd her 

face; 
Till all the world admir'd the workman's 

part. 
Of such whom Fame did most accom- 
plished call 
The naked snowes he seuerally per- 

oeiued, 
Then drew th' idcea which his soul oon- 

ceiued, 
Of that which was most exquisite in all : 



yeulx 
Ce que le ciel, les Dieux, et la Nature 

Ont peint en vous, plus viuante 

peinture 
Ne virent onq'de Grece les ayeulx. 

Toy donq'amant^ dont I'oeil trop curieux 

Prent seulement des beautez nouriture, 

Fiche ta veUe en cete portraiture, 



Dont la beauts plairoit aux plus beaux 
Dieux. 
£ut had thy forme his fanoie first Mais si la vine et immortelle image 

Ne te deplait, seule qui le dommage 



If worldly knowledge could so high 

attaine, 
Thou mightst haue spared the curious 

painter's paine, 
And satishde him more then all the 

rest 
O if he had all thy perfections noted, 

The painter with his picture straight 
had doted. 



De maladie, ou du temps ne doit 
craindre : 
Voy ses ecriz, oy son diuin s9auoir. 

Qui mieulx au vif Tesprit te fera voir, 

Que le visage Appelle n'eust s^eu 
peindre. 



Sonnet xxxv is a free paraphrase of No. xxviii of the same French 
collection: 



When I behold that face for which I 

pin'd, 
And did my selfe so long in vaine 

annoy, 
My toung not able to vnfold my ioy, 



Ce que ic sen', la langue ne refuse 

Vous decouiuir, quand suis de vous 

absent, 
Mais tout soudain que pr^ de moy 

vous sent, 
EUe deuient et muette et confuse. 



A wond'ring silence onely showes my 

mind: 
£ut when againe thou dost extend thy Ainsi, Tespoir me promect, et m'abuse : 



ngour, 
And wilt not daigne to grace me with 

thy sight. 
Thou kil'st my comfort, and so spoiPst 

my might, 
That scarce my corps retaines the vitall 

vigour. 
Thy presence thus a great contentment 

brings. 
And is my soules inestimable treasure : 



Moins pres ie suis, quand plus ie suis 

pr^nt: 
Ce qui me nuist, c'est ce qui m'est 

plaisent : 
Ie quier' cela^ que trouuer ie recuse. 

loyeux la nuit, le iour triste ie suis: 

I'ay en dormant ce qu'en veillant 
poursuis: 



L. E. KASTNER 



la 



But 6, I drowne in th' ocean of dis- Mon bien est faulx, mon mal est 

pleasure, veritable. 

When I in absence thinke vpon those DVne me plain', et deffault n'est en 

things. elle : 

Thus would to God that I had scene Fay' done q' Amour, pour m'estre 

thee neuer, charitable. 

Or would to Qod that I might see thee Breue ma vie, ou ma nuit ^temelle. 

euer. 

The next sonnet of Aurora (No. xxxvi) afifords an interesting clue. 
Not only is the substance manifestly taken from the third sonnet of 
r Olive, but Alexander commits the indiscretion of apostrophising by 
name the French poet's native river ! By omitting to change the name 
he gives his whole case away : 

what was my 



Loyr! witnesse thou wbat was 

spotlesse part, 
WhiPst thou amaz'd to see thy Nymphes 

so faire. 
As loth to part thence where they did 

repaire, 
Still murm'ring did thy plaints t'each 

stone impart: 
Then did mine eyes betake them to 

my hart, 
As scorning to behold all those, though 

rare, 
And gaz'd vpon her beauties image 

there. 
Whose eyes baue fumish'd Cupid many 

a dart: 
And as denoted only vnto her. 
They did disdaine for to bestow their 

light, 
For to be entertained with any sight, 
Saue onely that which made them first 

to erre. 
Then, famous riuer, through the ocean 

glide, 
And tell my loue how constant I abide. 



Loyre fameuz, qui ta })etite source 

Enfles de maintz gros fleuues et- 

ruysseaux, 
Et qui de loing coules tes cleres eaux 

En rOc^an d'vne assez vine course: 

Ton chef royal hardiment bien hault 
pousse, 
Et apparoy entre tons les plus beaux^ 

Comme vn thaureau sur les menuz 

troupeaux, 
Quoy que le Pau enuieux s*en cour- 
rousse. 
Commando doncq'aux gentiles Naiades 
Sortir dehors leurs beaux palais- 

humides 
Auecques toy leur fleuue patemel. 
Pour saluer de ioyeuses aubades 



Celle qui t'a, et tes filles liqiiides, 

D^ifi^ de ce bruyt ^ternel. 

Other sonnets of Aurora betray a careful study of Ronsard's Amours^ 
No. XVII (' I saw six gallant nymphs, I saw but one ') is a reflex of * Je 
vey ma nymphe entre cent damoiselles ' — No. cxiii of Amours I. 
No. XXV (*Cleare mouing cristall, pure as the Sunne beames*) is a 
loose rendering of No. Lxxv (' Je parangonne k vos yeux ce crystal ') of 
the French sonnet-cycle. The opening lines of Sonnet XLlii are also 
borrowed from Ronsard {Amours, No. xvi). The same applies to 
Sonnets xciv and xcix which present a paraphrase of the opening lines 
of Sonnet xii o{ Am^ours li and of Sonnet CLi of Amours l respectively. 
Sonnet Lxviii (' I hope, I feare, resolv'd, and yet I doubt '), judging by 
the phraseology, is founded on Rons€uxi's ' J'espfere et crain, je me tais- 



14 The Scottish Sonneteers and the French Poets 

et supplie' (Amours xil), and not directly on Petrarch's 'Pace non trovo, 
e non ho da far guerra.' 

From Desportes, Alexander does not seem to have borrowed much ; 
Sonnet Lxxxv ('Some yet not borne survejdng lines of mine') and 
Sonnet cii (* When as that lovely tent of beautie dies ') read like remin- 
iscences of Sonnet LXii of the Amours de Cleonice (' Je verray par les 
ans, vengeurs de mon martire '), and of the famous sonnet of Ronsard to 
H61ene de Surg^res ('Quand vous serez bien vieille, au soir, k la 
chandelle'). In Sonnet LI there can be little doubt that we have a 
paraphrase of some stanzas in Diane {(Euvres, p. 83), entitled Songe : 



I dream'd, the njinph that ore my 

fancie raignes, 
Came to a part whereas I paus'd alone ; 

Then said, 'What needs you in such 

sort to mone? 
Haue I not power to recompense your 






nes? 



Lo, I coniure you by that loyall loue, 

Which you professe, to cast those griefes 

apart, 
It 's long, deare loue, since that you had 

my nart, 
Yet I was coy yoiur oonstancie to proue, 

But hauing had a proofe, I'le now be 
free: 

I am the eccho that your sighes re- 
sounds, 

Your woes are mine, I suffer in your 
wounds, 

Your passions all they sympathize in 
me': 

Thus whibt for kindnesse both began 
to weepe, 

My happinesse euanish'd with the sleepe. 



Celle Que j'aime tant, lasse d'estre 

cruelle, 
Est veuu6 en songeant la nuict me 

consoler : 
Ses yeux estoient rians, doux estoit 

son parler 
£t mille et mille amours voloient k 

Tentour d'elle. 
Press^ de ma douleur, j'ay pris la 

hardiesse 
De me plaindre k hauts oris de son 

coeur endurcy, 
£t d'un oeil larmoyant luy demauder 

mercy, 
Et que mort ou piti^ mist fin ^ ma 

tristesse. 
Ouvrant ce beau coral qui les baisers 

attire. 
Me dist ce doux propos: Cesse de 

soupirer, 
Et de tos yeux meurtris tant de larmes 

tirer, 
Celle qui t'a bless^ pent guarir ton 

martire. 
douce illusion ! 6 plaisante merveille ! 

Mais combien peu durable est I'heur 

d'un amoureux. 
Voulant baiser ses yeux, h^las! moy 

malheureux ! 
Peu a peu doucement je sens que je 

m'^veiUe, etc 



For the sake of completeness, it may be recalled that seven of 
Alexander Montgomerie's sonnets have been proved to be almost literal 
translations from the Am4)urs of Ronsard. The credit of this interesting 
discovery belongs to O. HoflFmann {Englische Studien, xx). 

To these Scottish sonneteers, as well as to more than one of their 
English brethren, may be applied, not inaptly, now that the day of 



L. E. KASTNEB 15 

reckoning has come, the following lines from the fifteenth sonnet of 
Sidney's Astrophel cmd Stella: 

You that do dictionary's method bring 
Into your rhymes running in rattling rows; 
You that poor Petrarch's long deceasM woes, 
With newborn sighs and denizened wit do sing: 

You take wrong ways! Those far-fet helps be such 
As do bewray a want of inward touch; 
And sure at length, stolen goods do come to light. 

Although the perfection and beauty of the sonnets of Drummond — 
by far the greatest of the poets concerned — are unquestionable, even he 
can lay no claim to originality in that poetic form. He is impregnated 
with Italian sentiment and Petrarchan conceits ; there is hardly an idea 
or simile in his sonnets that could not be paralleled in Petrarch or in 
his Italian and French disciples. The same is true of the sonnets of 
William Alexander and of those of Montgomerie, neither of whom 
approach Drummond in poetic expression. In whatever way we look at 
the matter, the methods of these Scottish poets do betray a ' want of 
inward touch,' and must in future affect considerably the estimate of 
their poetic talent 

L. E. Eastneb. 



MILTON'S HEROIC LINE VIEWED FROM AN 
HISTORICAL STANDPOINT. 

Several critics dealing with the subject of English versification, 
and especially T. Newton, T. Sheridan, and Sir S. Egerton Brydges', 
have maintained that Milton practically obeyed no rule in his verse. 
This, of course, as a preliminary step in the discussion, calls for a 
definition of metrical regularity. Contemporary metrists would now 
have the blank heroic line consist of five iambuses, the first of which, as 
in the corresponding rhymed measure, may be replaced by a trochee or a 
spondee*. In that case the most important element of the metre is the 
five stresses separated by unaccented syllables firom each other, whereas 
Milton, as a matter of fact, admits several accents in succession and 
lines having more than five stresses. We must therefore examine 
whether the present theory of heroic verse tallies with that of the older 
poets and of Milton himself. 

It will be well to remember the demonstration given by M. J. Mother^ 
of the French origin of the early English heroic line^ and to take into 
account the rules of the French decasyllable which we expounded in our 
first section. In that old mediaeval metre the poet was only bound to 
consider the number of syllables and the fixed position of the caesura. 
If, indeed, in France, and still more in England, we notice an iambic or 
rising rhythm in this measure — since, as we pointed out before, there ia 

^ Continaed from yoI. ii, p. 315. 

» Cf. Sir 8. E. Brydges, The Poetical Works of J. Milton, London, pp. 454, etc. 
' I believe that Milton's principle was to introduce into his line every variety of metrical 
foot which is to be found in the Latin poetry, especially in the lyrics of Horace.' 

• Thus A. Spiers in his Treatise on English Versification^ Paris, 1874, p. 34, says :. 
* Iambics of 5 feet, called the Heroic measure, form the principal metre in the language,' 
and Dr J. Angus in his Handbook of the English Tongue^ London, p. 350 : * This verse (the 
iambic of five feet) is the heroic measure of English metre.... It constitutes without rhyme 
our blank verse....' 

^ See J. Mother^, Les Theories du Vers hSroique anglais, etc. Paris, 1886. 



WALTER THOMAS 17 

a tendency to accent every other syllable in the line — this has merely 
followed as a matter of course from the nature of the language and not in 
consequence of any fundamental law of versification. So much is evident 
from the very fact that all early English metrists, like Oeorge Gascoigne 
in his Certayne notes of Instruction concerning the Making of Verse (1575), 
William Webbe in his Discourse on English Poetrie, and even Sir Philip 
Sidney (though he gives it but a passing mention) in his Apologiefor 
Poetrie published in 1595* insist on the counting of syllables as the 
main principle of the heroic verse'. Shakespeare, too, in As you Like it, 
Act IV, sc. i, 11. 31, 32, when Orlando enters with ' Good day and hap- 
piness, dear Rosalind ! ' lets Jaques exclaim ' Nay, then God be wi' you, 
an you talk in blank verse,' thus giving us his conception of that metre 
as a regular decasyllabic'; and some 130 years later Pope sets up the same 
standard when, speaking of an accumulation of monosyllables, he says in 
his Essay on Criticism, 1. 347 : ' And ten low words oft creep in one 
dull line.' 

With regard to Milton's verse we have a reliable witness to his 
opinion in the preface he added on the subject to his Paradise Lost 
where he chiefly draws attention to two elements of the measure, one 
fixed, the number of syllables, the other variable, the shifting caesuras^ 
A mere reference to lines of his {e,g. P.L., ii, 621 ; iii, 715 ; viii, 527) 
containing more than five stresses will suffice to prove how little he 
heeded only accents in his verse. But, on the other hand, all these 
instances present neither more nor less than ten syllables, and we can 
range through both epics without finding in this respect any departure 
from the traditional rules of the measure. 

In fact, both in Paradise Lost and in Paradise Regained there is no 
instance of any line falling short of or exceeding the prescribed syllabic 
bounds. We do not discover a single case of a missing syllable, «uch as 



^ See a reprint of this work, Cambridge, 1891, p. 60: 'Of versifying there are twa 
sorts, the one Anncient, the other Modeme, the Aunoient marked the qaantitie of each 
Billable, and according to that framed his verse ; the Modeme, observing onely number 
(with some regard of the accent).' 

> Cf. J. Mother^, op eit., pp. 14 — 15. This alone suffices to show what a mistake ii 
is to say with Mr Bridges {MiUon*s Prosody, etc. , 1894, p. 71) : 'the syllabic liberty, sa 
far from being new, is found in English verse from the earliest times/ and how doubtftil 
appears his assertion (p. 68) that * Shakespeare, whose early verse may be described aa 
syllabic, gradaally came to write a verse dependent on stress.* 

' Pnttenham also in 1589 declares that ' the Meetar of tenne sillables is very stately 
and heroicall...thu8, " I serve at ease and govern aU with woe." ' 

< Mr Bridges admits as much {op. cit,, p. 69) when he writes with reference to 
Ck>leridge'B Chrisiabel : ' We cannot count by stresses any more than we can in Milton's 
blank verse/ and on p. 68, * In Milton's verse the chief metrical rule is the number of 
syUables.' 

M. L. R. III. 2 



18 Milton's Heroic Line 

now and then occurs in Shakespeare \ Some critics, indeed, think Milton 
has allowed a few lines of more .than eleven syllables, that is, has mixed 
a few alexandrines with his other verse, as Diyden did a little later. Thus 
Mr J. A. Symonds* quotes P. K, ill, 256 : ' The one winding, the other 
straight, and left between,' where the original edition reads ' Th' one ' 
and ' th' other ' making the line into a regular decasyllable. Other cases 
too have been mentioned, such as: 'Imbued, bring to their sweetness 
no satiety ' (P. i., viii, 216), ' For solitude sometimes is best society * 
(P.i., IX, 249), 'Such solitude before choicest society' (P,Ry I, 302), 
' Irresolute, unhardy, unadventurous ' (P. i2.. Ill, 243) ; but it is easy to 
see that by reading simply 8ati(€)ty, 8oci{e)ty, %rre8{o)lutey and unad- 
vent{u)frou8 we reduce them without the slightest difficulty, and in 
accordance with many a precedent, to the common type. These are 
extreme and isolated examples. But take twenty lines at haphazard, 
say at the beginning of the eleventh book of Paradise Lost, and all are 
found to comply with the syllabic principle, if we agree to pronounce 
after the standard of the poet's time lowKst, regen'ratey Spir% and ih! 
ancient Again a verse like P. i., iv, 531 : ' Some wandering Spirit of 
Heaven by fountain-side,' in which some detect as many as 13 syllables, 
is readily proved a decasyllabic' when the proper contractions are made. 
The same applies, of course, to such lines as P. i., I, 733 ; ii, 851, where 
obvious shortenings restore the regularity of the metre. By allowing 
for the different stress on brigads in the seventeenth century we even 
read P. i., Ii, 532 : * With rapid wheels, or fronted brigads form,' as a 
normal heroic line, instead of ending it with an accentual spondee, and 
a rational observance of the pronunciation of the past will similarly 
vindicate Milton's claim to metrical correctness. 

Indeed, it is a remarkable fact that the epic poet discards many so- 
called licences familiar to his predecessors. Perhaps the best known of 
these is the extra syllable before the caesura allowed in early French 
heroics, though not counted in the measure. This Milton made use of 
in a dramatic work like his Comibs, e.g., * And crumble all thy sin(ews). 
Why, prithee. Shepherd—' (1. 615), 'Root-bound, that fled Apol(lo). 
Fool, do not boast' (1. 662). But in Paradise Lost and Paradise 
Regained Milton is very sparing of it, and in almost every case where it 

1 Cf. E. A. Abbott, op. ciU, pp. 411-20. 

* See Fortnightly Review, July— Dec. 1874, pp. 771 and 774. 

' That this was stiU the recognised scheme of the line as late as Dr Johnson's time is 
obvious from the latter*s remark at the close of his Life of Cowley : ' Cowley was, 
I believe, the first poet that mingled Alexandrines at pleasure with the common heroic of 
ten syllables.* 



WALTEB THOMAS 19 

has been assumed, it can be explained away by some contraction or 
some elision, as in P. i., I, 202 : * Created huge^ (or perhaps hug'st) 
that swim the ocean stream,' or in P. i., Vlll, 316 : * Submiss he reared 
me, and (or perhaps me'nd) Whom thou sought'st I am.' It would seem 
as if the poet, in accordance with the Italian practice which had pro- 
scribed the epic caesura, hardly cared to admit any in his own verse. 
Such cases as P. i., vii, 385 ; viii, 316, 591 ; xi, 297, 336, 772 ; P. iJ., 
Ill, 107, 125, 238, 340 are at best dubious. Very few indeed like : ' Thy 
condescen(sion), and shall be honoured ever ' (P. i., Viil, 649), or ' But 
why should man seek glo(ry), who of his own ' (P. R,, ill, 134), are 
certain, and still rarer is an instance such as P. i., iv, 345 : ' Gambolled 
before (them), th'unwieldy elephant,' where the extra syllable forms a 
separate word, and wherever the author does use this licence, he is 
careful to make it as little conspicuous as possible by means of an 
important break in the sentence which draws oflF our attention, Milton 
may thus be said to have practically given up a metrical liberty of 
which the playwrights, and Shakespeare^ among them, had often availed 
themselves. 

The same remark applies, though in a less degree, to the feminine 
ending of the line so frequent in the Elizabethan writers. If, indeed, we 
contract at the close of the decasyllabic words which Milton elsewhere uses 
contracted, the number of these, especially in the first books of Paradise 
Lost, would dwindle down to a very small figure. Thus out of 798 lines 
in Book i, only six (P. i., i, 38, 102, 157, 174, 606, 753) are certainly, 
and one (1. 166) possibly, hypermetrical ; in Book III, out of 742 lines, 
only three (P. i., ill, 203, 290, 306), with one (1. 576) doubtful instance. 
The later books and Paradise Regained contain a larger proportion, 
but fewer by far than Comits, where one line in every twelve has a 
feminine ending, or than the Elizabethan plays. The tenth book of 
Paradise Lost has as many as 47 in 1104 lines, among which are those 
(P. i., X, 781, 871, 927) closing with an unaccented monosyllable. The 
twelfth book has eight certain hypercatalectic lines {P.L,, xn, 65, 114, 
219, 247, 251, 255, 408, 518) and one doubtful instance (P. i., xii, 86) 
out of a total of 649, whereas in Paradise Regained the first book, out 
of 502 lines, contains 14 with a feminine ending, one of which (P. JR., i, 
483) closes with a monosyllabic w^ord, and the third book, out of 443, has 
23 with a feminine ending, two of which endings (P. R., Ill, 372, 440) 
are unaccented monosyllables. 

^ See Shakespeare's Macbeth and his later dramas. 

2—2 



20 Milton's Heroic Line 

On the other hand, Milton did not write a single epic line closing 
with two unstressed syllables after the regular accent on the tenth. In 
the only instance of the kind quoted by Professor Schipper, P. iJ., ill, 
82 : * Great Benefactors of mankind, Deliverers,' the last word must be 
contracted into Deliverers' as it is in similar cases (e.g., P. iJ., I, 302; 
P. L., VIII, 216 ; IX, 249 and see above). Nor does the poet here revert 
to a practice he adopted in his Comus and probably copied from Fletcher, 
that of giving the extra syllable a kind of secondary stress, which has a 
retarding effect on the verse, as in: 'Come not too near; you fall on 
iron stAkes felse ' (Com., 1. 491), * Bore a bright golden flower, but not in 
this soil ' {Com,, 1. 633). Thus Milton, when he wrote Paradise Lost 
and Paradise Regained, eschewed the metrical freedom prevalent in the 
earlier drama and ev.en gaye up some small irregularities of his own in 
order to preserve the strict type of heroic line which he found alone 
suited to an epic poem. 

We see now what a mistake it is to fiincy he swerved from the 
regular standard of the decasyllable in his later works. The mistake, 
however, is probably due to the fSsujt that some readers fail to notice the 
elisions intended by the author. Milton, adopting the well-known 
Italian practice, frequently elides final vowels. This he does so felicit- 
ously that it marks him out among English poets and gives fresh 
suppleness to his metre. Thus he often cuts off a the before the opening 
syllable of the next word or perhaps rather, as they do in Italy, merges 
it into the following vowel so as to make but one syllable of the two. 
To this Professor Masson occasionally demurs', but it stands confirmed 
by the typographical custom of the seventeenth century, by the use of 
contemporary poets like John Dryden and by the consensus of almost 
all competent judges who have studied the subject*. Yet Milton follows 
his Italian models in seldom allowing an elision except between un- 
accented vowels. He prefers a hiatus to a harsh blending of open sounds. 
Thus in the seventh book of Paradise Lost in 640 lines we notice only 
13 cases (P. L, vii, 76, 186, 309, 336, 390, 398, 418, 421, 451-52, 
533-34, 541) where the happens to be elided before a stressed vowel. 
As for tOy so frequently elided in the dramatists, Milton does not favour 
its elision. Thus in the first book of Paradise Lost it gives rise to a 

^ Notice the oontraoted use of the word in P. I.., yi, 451 ; zii, 149, 479. 

« See D. Masson, The Poetical Works of J. Milton, 1893, vol. iii, pp. 214-16. 

' See Wm Cowper's letter to Unwin, Oot. Slat, 1779 : ' The practice of catting short 
a t^ is warranted by Milton, who, of all English poets that ever lived, had certainly the 
finest ear.' For instance in earlier poets, of. Abbott, op. cit,, pp. 344-45, and J. Schipper, 
op, eiU, XI, p. 104. 



WALTER THOMAS 21 

hiatus nine times (P. i., i, 49, 67, 81, 122, 155, 373. 505, 608, 719) in 
798 lines, while it is only thrice elided (P. i., I, 523-24, 749)^ and not 
even once in the third book. Milton scarcely ever allows the elision of 
• to before an accented vowel and in both poems we have only come 
across four instances of the kind (P. i., v, 576; vi, 814; x, 594; P. iJ., ii, 
82). Once more we may notice with what care the poet avoids fusing 
stressed syllables and thus eschews all harshness in his versification. 

But cases also occur where vowels, both in print and in the actual 
pronunciation, cannot be merely cut ofi" and where the merging of two 
vowels just suggested above, is the only possible solution to be arrived 
at. This is what happens with words ending in -y, which letter blends 
into one syllable with the following vowel. Of course, a good many 
modem critics, and Professor Masson among them', maintain the con- 
trary and detect trisyllabic variations in such lines. But we cannot 
accept their views when we consider that the instances of vowels 
merging into each other (even independently of the -y endings) are 
so numerous as to be obviously not irregularities but normal examples 
of the decasyllabic type, that such a blending is actually preserved in 
popular speech which is closer to the poets pronunciation than the 
deliberate articulation of the higher classes to-day, and that Milton, 
whose ear was confessedly most delicate, would not have been likely to 
perpetrate such ugly hiatuses as Professor Masson credits him with 
in P. i.. Ill, 402», 405; vi, 499; viii, 616. Here again it is mostly 
unstressed vowels that blend*. In a small number of cases one of 
these is accented (e.g. P. i., ill, 728 ; vii, 446 ; ix, 494). It may be 
so in P. i., VI, 632 and XI, 767, though in the latter instance we may 
read burd'n for burden, and in the former an extra syllable before the 
caesura is by no means an impossibility. 

Should the question arise what becomes of the final -y, whether 
it is cut off or merged, we fancy the latter solution is the correct one. 
Milton, as we know, was a close student of Italian literature and would 
be very likely to imitate his foreign models in this respect; and, be- 
sides, no elision is hinted at with regard to the above quotations in 
the early editions, and the fusion of the vowels, as we observed before, 

actually takes place (e.g,, in Many a) in common speech. The same 

^ Possibly in these three cases it is not to that is elided, but the following vowel maj 
be out off, e.g. to*ve. Yerj rarely is to elided before the indefinite article as in P. I*., 
V, 360. Milton prefers the hiatus in P. R., in, 152. 

* See Mas8on, op. cit., vol. in, p. 220, instances 13, 19, 20. 

' * So strictly, but much more to pity incline.* 

^ For this reason in P,R., ni, 117: * Glory he requires, and gloiy he receives,' we 
prefer to assume the merging of the vowels between the first two words. 



22 Milton's Heroic Line 

explanation extends to other vowel endings such as -ow in P. X., i, 558 : 
'Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain* (cf. also P. i., ii, 518 ; 
V, 575 ; X, 717 ; xi, 757 ; xii, 613 ; P. i2., i, 140), the -w being treated 
like a vowel, as in the instance from Lycidas, 1. 80, which we men- 
tioned in section IV of this paper (th* world put for the world)\ and 
as in Chaucer's poems where, however, -we, which stands for the present 
-ow, can, of course, be quite easily elided before a vowel. Such elisions 
are more frequent in Milton than in contemporary writers, and here 
again, as we noticed in the case of the and to, they seldom take place 
before a stressed syllable*. 

One of the most frequent instances of elision occurs with the ending 
"ble or -le, still sounded in the seventeenth century as at the present 
day in French, e,g, in P. X., i, 402: 'His temple right against the 
tempi' of God/ or in P. i., Ii, 626 : ' Abominabl*, unutterabl', and worse ' 
(and cf. P. i., IV, 596 ; viii, 135 ; xi, 306), though in a few places (as 
in P. i., IV, 843; P. i2., i, 256; iv, 573) the line may be scanned 
rightly by allowing an extra syllable before the caesura. But Milton 
never follows the practice of many Elizabethan dramatists of cutting 
short -te before a consonant {e.g. making a disyllabic of ' gentlemen ')•. 
Other endings simply melt into the next vowel, as -so in P. L., v, 628 : 

• For we have also our evening and our mom ' (and cf. P. L. ix, 1082 ; 

X, 203; XII, 611), or -ue in P. i., vii, 236: 'And vital virtue^nfused 
and vital warmth ' (and cf. P. Z., iv, 848 ; vi, 703 and perhaps x, 372), 

or thee^ in P. i., ill, 3 : ' May I express thee unbl€uiied ? since God is 
light.' 

The question may also be raised whether the poet does not occa- 
sionally admit aphaeresis or the cutting ofif of a vowel at the beginning 
of a word. This we recognise in cases where popular language still 
preserves the right to do so, and where it is necessary to make the sense 
of a line intelligible. Thus Professor Masson, referring to P. JR., ii, 234 : 
'I shall let pass No advantage, and his strength as oft assay,' scoflFs 
at the idea of reading nadvantage^, as if that were the suggestion of 
those who find the above decasyllabic perfectly regular, while they 
only contend for the very common combination no'dvantage\ Still, if 

^ Mod. Lang. Review, ii, p. 806. Cf. the constant use of ruu for ne was in Chaucer's 
Canterbury Tales. 

« Yet see P. L., v, 614 ; viii. 135 ; ix, 1082. 

' Cf. E. A. Abbott, op. cit., pp. 846-47, and J. Schipper, ap. cit, n, p. 106. 

^ Cf. like instances in E. A. Abbott, op. cit., p. 344. 

" See Masson, op. cit., vol. iii, p. 222. 

« Cf. E. A. Abbott, op. cit., p. 344. 



WALTER THOMAS 23 

we leave aside instances that can be explained by the more usual 
elisions (e.g. P. L., i, 470; ix, 110; P. R, iii, 120) or blending of 
vowels, aphe^resis is by no means frequent in the two epics and does 
not occur more than some twenty times altogether. As a rule, we 
find it in such familiar forms as be't (P. L., iv, 758; x, 795) thou'st 
(P. X., X, 198 ; XI, 347 ; P. R, iii, 390), Fve (P. R, ii, 245) ; perhaps 
we may add to've in P. i., I, 749, and Pgainst in P. X., IX, 931. The 
other examples we meet with are chiefly aphaeresis after a pronoun 
(as in P. Z., v, 107 and in IX, 152) : ' He (e)flFected ; Man he made, and 
for him built' (or again in P. i., X, 149, 567, 758, 766; P. P., ii, 245), 
and after the verb to he {e.g. P. i., ix, 570, 746 ; xi. 689). Lastly we 
have another instance of it after no in P. i., v, 407, one after my 
in P. X., X, 468: 'Little inferior, by my (a)dventure hard,' and one 
(though possibly it may be explained by a blending of vowels) after 
tfiough in P. L., ix, 296 \ The fact itself appears to us incontro- 
vertible, whatever some critics may say ; it is vouched for by popular 
pronunciation to this day, by the use of earlier poets, and is alone 
needed to restore harmony in lines which would otherwise impress 
the reader as harsh and dissonant. As in the case of elision, to which 
it is closely related, aphaeresis mostly takes place between unaccented 
syllables. It is rare, too, between the same vowels (e.g. in P. L., iv, 758 ; 
IX, 1082 ; X, 567), and Milton here again aims at avoiding or toning 
down any asperity in a concourse of sounds. 

More seldom still does aphaeresis occur with a word beginning by 
an aspirate h. We notice it only after pronouns, as in P. Z., xi, 347 : 
* But this preeminence thou hast (= thou'st) lost, brought down",' and 
after to, though to*ve is as probable as fhave in P. i., i, 524-25, 749, 
and X, 594. Indeed, if we consider that Milton's contemporary Cowley 
always prints the elided ^o as ^' in his Davideis (e.g. t*enchain, t'have 
seen, in Book i), and that Milton himself does so for the, it would seem 
as if our poet preferred cutting off the first syllable of have, as people 
still do in we've, and as he surely meant with virtue'th in P. L., X, 372 : 
' Thine now is all this World ; thy virtue hath won.' These cases are not 
marked in his printed text by any special sign. In some others, probably 
because they were already more or less obsolete, he takes care to make 
the abscission of a. vowel perfectly clear. This he does when he con- 
tracts to whom into t'whom, as in P. L., Ii, 746: 'T'whom thus the 
Portress of Hell-gate replied' (and cf. P. L., ii, 968; vi, 814; xi, 453), 

1 Cf. £. A. Abbott, Of. cit., p. 844, and J. Schipper, ap. cit., Tol. u, p. 104. 
> So the line stands in the original edition. 



24 Miltons Heroic Line 

and when he means in the to be pronounced i' tK as in P. X., i, 224 : 
'In billows, leave i' th* midst a horrid vale' (and cf. P. Z., xi, 432), 
after a fashion which was no longer so familiar to the later generation 
as to Englishmen of an earlier age\ Such instances of course tend to 
prove both that Milton belonged to the Elizabethan school and, by 
reason of their extreme rarity so far as his epic poems are concerned, 
that he arrived in Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained at the utmost 
metrical regularity. 

Indeed, if all this is duly taken into account, his epic lines will 
always be found to have ten sounded syllables counted in the measure. 
Whenever some of these lines appear rather longer, it is because they 
have an extra syllable (left out of the metre) before the caesura or after 
the last accent — and we know how seldom the poet allowed anything of 
the kind — or because an unstressed syllable is dropped by contraction, 
blending of vowels, elision' or aphaeresis. A few lines on the other 
hand, lie P. i., XI, 466 : ' To whom thus Michael — Death thou hast 
seen,' may seem too short, but the distinct pronunciation of two sepa- 
rate vowels now usually melted into a diphthong (Micha-el), corrects 
the modem reader's mistake. The latter phenomenon seldom occurs 
in the English language of the seventeenth century as compared with 
that of the twentieth, and we readily see why so many more lines in 
Milton strike us as. exceeding the traditional limits. If, therefore, 
we are willing to comply with the rules of heroic verse as ascer- 
tained by the study of history and literature combined, and not 
merely by the simple device of counting the syllables in a line, we 
shall not find in either of Milton's great epics a single exception to 
his deliberate use of the decasyllabic measure. This rule, which he 
never once transgresses, we may now pronounce an essential (or even 
the essential) principle of his heroic verse. It will, however, receive 
a still clearer demonstration when we discuss the so-called trisyllabic 
feet which a number of critics have so confidently ascribed to, and 
discovered in, our poet's works. And we may note that Milton's 
reversion to a strict standard of versification is all the more signifi- 
cant and more laudable after the Elizabethan dramatists had set the 

^ For this oontraotion of. E. A. Abbott, op. cit.t p. 845, and J. Sohipper, op. cit., ii, 
p. 114. 

' This was fully understood by Wm Cowper, who in a letter to the Bev. Walter Bagot 
(Aug. 31, 1786) wrote : * ...the unacquaintedness of modem ears with the divine harmony 
of Milton's numbers and the principles upon which he constructed them, is the cause of 
the quarrel that they have with elisions in blank verse.... In vain should you or I tell 
them... that for this majesty it {i.e. his verse) is greatly indebted to those elisions. In 
their ears they are discord and dissonance ; they lengthen the line beyond its due limits.' 



WALTER THOMAS 25 

example of admitting into their plays incomplete and hjrpercatalectic 
lines ^ Through insisting on absolute correctness from the metrist's 
point of view, Milton added to the dignity of his epic measure and 
deserved well of English literature. 



VI. 

At the present time English poets use but two kinds of metrical 
feet: a trisyllabic foot composed of one stressed joined to two un- 
stressed syllables and a disyllabic foot composed of a stressed and an 
unstressed syllable. The question we have to consider is whether both 
kinds of feet are to be met with in the heroic line or one only, 
specially confining ourselves, of course, to Milton's practice in Paradise 
Lost and Paradise Regained. If we go back to the traditional struc- 
ture of the line, when combined with the customary five accents, we 
always find ten syllables and none but disyllabic feet*. It was, indeed, 
in accordance with the nature of things that a decasyllabic having a 
fixed stress on the tenth counted syllable and another compulsory 
stress, sharply defined by the accompanying caesura, on the fourth 
or frequently on the sixth syllable, should discourage the rise of 
trisyllabic feet and readily divide itself into five feet of two syllables 
each. Hence recent metrists, remarking the pretty constant occur- 
rence of five accents in the decasyllable, have declared it to be formed 
of five iambuses. 

Such an accentual rule was, however, unknown to seventeenth 
century critics who merely emphasized the fact of the ten necessary 
counted syllables. In this respect no hard and fast tradition bound 
the poet, and Milton fully availed himself of the fi-eedom thus granted 
to English writers. Had he wished to admit iambuses only into his 
line, nothing would have been easier, as will be seen by quite a number 
of instances {e.g. among others, P. L,, iii, 28, 165, 205, 525 ; v, 140 ; 
VII, 601; X, 1080; P. -R., ii, 66). But, apart fix)m traditional reasons, 
several others prevented his adopting this method. A regular and 
continuous iambic rhythm (as even a slight acquaintance with Pope's 
works will show) proves inexpressibly tedious and could not satisfy 
Milton's fastidious ears. The latter, following both his English and 

^ Cf. E. A. Abbott, op. cit., pp. 874-86. 

' This is confirmed for early English verse by Geo. Gascoigne's statement : * We use 
none other order but a foote of two sillableB.' {NoUm of Instruction in English Verse, 1575, 
p. 34.) 



26 Milton's Heroic Line 

his foreign models, was intent on varying his style and the harmony 
of his metre. Neither the example of the Elizabethan dramatists, nor 
that of Dante or of Tasso, &voured accentual monotony, and Milton 
resolved to walk in their steps. He would, moreover, by too strict 
insistence on an iambic mecwure, have been forced to reject convenient 
polysyllables or to change the accent occasionally in a tongue which 
puts a special emphasis on correct accentuation. Consequently, both for 
the sake of variety and of personal convenience, in view of apt phrasing, 
Milton was induced to admit diverse feet into his heroic line. 

He thus very often allows a trochee instead of an iambus. But 
the fact that English words either have but one stress or have lesser 
stresses separated from each other and from the principal one by at 
least one unaccented syllable makes the actual spondee a very rare 
phenomenon, except in the case of two successive monosyllables, on 
each of which the voice happens to dwell for a while. This, to our 
mind, never occurs without a caesura between such monosyllables, and 
we therefore regard the accentual spondees (that is, feet formed of two 
successive stressed syllables) which Dr Masson quotes^ either as ordinary 
iambuses or as trochees, barring these : ' S^y, / Miise ; their names then 
known, who first, who last' (P. i., I, 376), 'Productive in h^rb, / plAnt 
and nobler birth ' (P. X., IX, 111), and perhaps, too : * Hdil, / S<5n of the 
Most High, heir of both Worlds ' (P. i2., iv, 633), where there is an 
important break in the lines. 

Of the p3nThic, a foot composed of two successive unstressed 
syllables, we may say we have found no certain example in Milton's 
epic poems. Unless it immediately follows an iambus or precedes 
a trochee, it implies three successive unaccented syllables, which is 
contrary to the nature of the English tongue, and forms a four-stressed 
line which, as we shall see a little later, seems opposed to the poet's 
constant practice. Dr Masson', indeed, gives the following instances : 
' Me, me only, just object 6i his ire ' (P. i., X, 936), and ' Sumamed 
Peripatetics, and the sect ' (P. jB., iv, 279) ; but in the former case it 
would appear obvious to make -ject 6f into an iambus by emphasizing 
6fy while in the latter the proper name, like many similar polysyllables, 
admits of a slight stress at the beginning {P4ripaUtics), Parallel quota- 
tions abound in earlier writers' and vouch for the accuracy of the above 
explanation in Milton. Anyhow — and we will investigate the matter 

1 Cf. D. Masaon, (yp, ciu, vol. iii, p. 218, from whose inBtanoes (given on p. 216) we 
quote those he numbers as 7, 21 and 48. 
> Gf. D. Masson, op, eit,, vol. in, p. 217. 
» Cf. E. A. Abbott, op, cit,, pp. 885-37. 



WALTER THOMAS 27 

more closely in our next section — what he most frequently allows is the 
substitution of a trochee for an iambus. The trochee is very common 
at the outset and helps to make a word stand out from the rest. The 
first foot is its usual place, e,g., ' Thousand celestial Ardours where he 
stood' (P. 2/., V, 249), (and cf P. i., vii, 187-88; ix, 1062; xi, 166; 
XII, 354; P. jB., I, 130-31, etc. etc.). And a caesura marking, as it 
were, a fresh start in the line, Milton often places a trochee after it, 
as in P. i., X, 1030, * I have in view, cAlling to mind with heed ' (and 
cf P. X., 11, 229 ; VI, 29 ; vii, 444 ; xii, 469 ; P. jR., i, 280, etc. etc.). In 
accordance with a custom equally prevalent in Italian verse ^ he prefers 
to put a trochee after the final or the middle break of the measure. 

Milton goes further and admits occasionally two separate trochees 
which, from their very position, do not greatly aflfect the iambic rhythm. 
We thus find in P. i., iv, 601, 'Th^y to their grassy couch, th^se to 
their nests Were slunk.' The change is less marked owing to this 
device, and the verse appears ampler when the voice begins anew with 
an accent. We note very few instances of it without a caesura or a 
pause, and chiefly in Paradise Regained, e,g., 'No, let them serve 
Their enemies who serve idols with God* (P. P., ill, 432), (and cf. 
P. i., Ill, 616 ; P. P., I, 357 ; ii, 154, 405 ; in, 217, 443)'. As a rule 
the poet favours separate places in the line for his two trochees, and 
should one of these in the first foot be followed by a caesura the 
second foot will contain an iambus, with but rare exceptions (such as 
P. i., VII, 364, 518; viii, 226, and perhaps P.P., ii, 426). He would 
therefore seem to keep them, as far as possible, divided from each other 
by regular feet, so as not to reverse the rising measure. 

fiut this, although his usual practice, is not invariably adhered to. 
Both in Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained Milton at times admits 
poetic licences familiar to the great Italian masters. Thus he now 
and again allows a double trochee to begin a line as in P. i., ii, 880 : 
' With impetuous recoil and jarring sound * (and cf P. i.. Ill, 586 ; 
V, 750, 874; vi, 34; vii, 538, 533; viii, 299 and perhaps, 308; x, 205, 
936 ; XI, 79, 377 ; P. P., i, 357 ; ii, 243 ; iv, 597), or to follow the caesura, 
as in P. i., VI, 866 : ' Burnt after them / t6 the b<5ttomless pit ' (and 
cf P. i., VI, 906; VII, 122; x, 178, 202; P.P., i, 139, 361; ii, 171, 
180, 405, 428; in, 36; iv, 289), more instances of the latter kind 
occurring in Paradise Regained than in Paradise Lost Other lines 
which seem equally to the point may be differently scanned {e,g. 

^ Out of the first 24 lines of Tasso's Genualemme Liberata, nine begin with a trochee. 
' In such cases the trochee usually comes after the conventional place of the caesura, 
i.e.y after the fourth or the sixth counted syllable in the line. 



28 Milton's Heroic Line 

P.i., Ill, 616; V, 117; P.R, iil, 200) or bear diflFerent accents (e.g. 
P. i., V, 667 ; VIII, 226, 475 ; ix, 1157 ; xii, 164; P. iJ., iii, 217) after 
the fashion of seventeenth century pronunciation. This double trochee 
we have only met with in the first and second or in the third and 
fourth feet, never in the second and thirds The fifth foot of Milton's 
heroic verse, with the sole exception of P. i., iii, 715 and v, 411, which 
contain seven accents, is always formed of an iambus, even when there 
is a break in the verse after the ninth syllable, as in P. X., il, 810: 
^But thou, father, I forewarn thee, shun His deadly arrow' (and 
cf P.X., II, 673, 864; iii, 289, 342; vii, 614; P.R., i, 378; iv, 562). 
And in the four lines quoted by Professor Masson' as ending with a 
spondee (P. i., I, 122, 376 ; P. P., iv, 423, 633), we only detect a final 
iambus which enables the tenth sounded syllable to stand out clearly 
from the rest. 

Though the lines beginning with a double trochee are but few in 
number, fewer still are those which have only two iambuses left. In 
Milton's epics we have only noticed the following: *In' their triple 
degrees — regions to which ' (P. i., v, 750), ' Burnt after them / t6 the 
bottomless pit' (Pi., vi, 866), 'Present? thiis to his Son / aiidibly 
spake ' (P. i., vii, 518), ' In' the sweAt of thy face / thdu shalt eat 
bread' (P. Z., X, 205), 'Wi'th them fi:om bliss / to' the bottomless 
Deep' (P.P., I, 361), 'Id'ght from above, / ft-dm the Foiintain of 
Light' (P. P., IV, 289), and perhaps we may add: 'A'nd with these 
words / his temptdtion pursued ' (P. P., il, 405), where the second 
word of the line might, however, be stressed instead of the first. 
Professor Masson' produces still further instances (P. i., i, 21, 122 ; 
IV, 830, 865 ; vi, 912 ; P. P., in, 443 ; iv, 279, 423), which we, for our 
part, should be inclined to scan diflferently. Again he describes as 
containing but one iambus': 'Say, Muse, their names then known, 
who first, who last ' (P. L., i, 376), ' Me, me only, just object of His 
ire' (P. i., X, 936), 'After forty days' fasting, had remained' (P. P., 
II, 243), and P. i., vi, 886 and P. P., ii, 405 quoted above. To us the 
first of these lines appears perfectly regular, and in the next two we only 
discover a double trochee at the beginning. Lastly, Professor Masson 
mentions P P., iv, 633 : ' Hail, Son of the Most High, heir of both 
worlds,' as innocent of even one iambus, whereas we find a trochee or 

^ Line 610 in P. L., ix : 'Me thus, though importune perhaps, to come ' would seem to 
be an exception, but the modern pronunciation Importune would restore iambuses and 
appears perfectly legitimate despite P. JR., n« 404. 

' Cf. D. Masson, op, cit,, vol. m, p. 217. 

> Op, cit,, p. 218. 



WALTER THOMAS 29 

a spondee in the first foot and a trochee after the caesura putting an 
emphasis on the, High, heir and worldsK 

Indeed, not only do we contend that Milton never allows more than 
three trochees in his epic line, we also maintain that he never placea 
these three side by side. It may seem as if the following instances : 
• Shoots invisible virtue e*en to the Deep ' (P. i., Ill, 586), and * On a 
sunbeam, swift as a shooting star ' (P. L., IV, 556), contradict our 
assertion. But it must be remembered that if we give invisible four 
syllables and blend the final vowel of virtue with e'en, the third foot, 
is an iambus, and in the second decasyllabic s^unbedm may well be 
accented on the final component, as is so often the case in Milton*. Of 
course, a line starting with three successive trochees would wholly fail 
to convey an iambic rhythm, and this certainly acted as a deterrent on 
one of the most careful English poets, preventing the occurrence in his. 
epics of such a fault against the metre. 

We may now sum up the above considerations as follows. Milton 
never allows his line to fall short of or to exceed ten counted 
syllables. He almost always includes at least three iambuses in the 
heroic decasyllabic. To these assertions, however, many critics demur, 
and Professor Meisson, who insists on the deliberate pronunciation of 
each word, fiincies he can detect quite a number of trisyllabic feet 
(the so-called trisyllabic variations) in the poet's verse. The fallacy 
which underlies this contention, is that of believing that an English 
writer of the seventeenth century can be read exactly as one of our 
contemporaries without allowing for the contractions in common use 
at the time. If, however, the student will comply with the rules of 
language that prevailed in 1660, as we showed in a previous discus- 
sion, he will find no difficulty in bringing back each line of Milton's 
to ten syllables, and will at once see how erroneous and inconsistent 
every other scansion proves. 

Again, we must not forget that while, on the one hand, the deca- 
syllabic by its very nature favours the use of disyllabic feet, on the 
other hand both the anapaestic and the dactylic rhythm was practically 
unknown to English epic and dramatic poetry under Elizabeth and 
James I*. Consequently Milton was hardly likely to adopt, in the- 
loftiest form of verse, a metre which had till then been almost. 

> Gf. E. A. Abbott, op, cit, pp. 385-36, for instanoes of aooented the and in Milton 
himeelf note P.L., i, 40: 'He trusted to have equalled th6 Most High,' and cf. also P. L.,. 
XII, 869. 

* See for this point the preceding section but one. 

> Cf. J. Mother^, op, eiL, pp. 42-63, and J. Schipper, op, eit,, vol. i, pp. 287-88. 



30 MiUon's Heroic Line 

exclusively confined to popular songs and ballads. Professor Masson, 
however, holds opposite views to these ^ and we shall have to examine 
the lines he quotes in support of his theory. It is interesting to note 
his admission that all his quotations can be made to conform to the 
regular tjrpe by means of such contractions and elisions as we have 
already shown to be usual in Milton*. Of course, he ridicules the 
contrary opinion by the fanciful way in which he supposes it to meet 
the necessities of the case. Thus in Comus, 1. 602: 'But for that 
damned magician, let him be girt,' he imagines magician to be reduced 
tomagishy whereas the last syllable is rapidly sounded, but not counted 
in the line, and in P. iJ., ii, 234, instead of his nadvantage we should 
quite naturally read no 'dvam^tage, or again in P. i., ii, 1021-22 : ' So 
he with difficulty and labour hard Moved on. With difficulty and labour 
he,' instead of his absurd diffikty we should pronounce difficulty y by no 
means offending even the most fsustidious ears. Having premised this 
much, we shall proceed with the critical examination of the instances 
he gives to prove his views, taking them one by one in the order in 
which he brings them forward*. In P. i., I, 202 : ' Created hugest 
that swim the ocean stream,* we note an extra syllable, in hug'(e8t) 
before the caesura, in P. i., ii, 91 we read torturing for torturing, in 
P. i., I, 248 reas'n for reason, in P. L,, li, 261 we discover in ev{il) 
an extra syllable before the caesura, in P. L,, II, 564 we would blend 

glory and, in P. L,, ii, 844 contract immeasurably, in P. L., ii, 877 elide 
TKintricate, in P. i., ii. 878 read iVn for iron, in P. L,, iv, 251 make 

an epic caesura of or\{ly), in P. L,, iv, 802 blend fancy, and, in P. i., 

IV, 848 Virtue in, in P. i., v, 455 make diet into a monosyllable, in 
P. L, V, 576 elide t' other, in P. i., vii, 335 tK Earth, in P. L., vii, 446 

blend together starry eyes, in P. L,, vii, 533 elide tK air, in P. L., ix, 429 
purpV, azure, in P. L., ix, 764 contract ea(n, in P. L., x, 203 blend 
also and, in P. L., x, 478 fiercely opposed, in P. L,, x, 762 note an 
epic caesura in beget {me) ? I, in P. L., x, 768 blend justly is, in 

P. L., X, 906 adversaryjiis, in P. i., XI, 336 cmly; his, in P. i., XI, 452 
contract pi(e)ty, in P. i., XI, 563 res'nant for resonant, in P. i., xil, 62 
Ridiculous, in P. L., Xli, 203 piWV for pillar, in P. Z., xil, 340 blend 
dty^his, in P. i., xii, 370 hereditary, and, in P. i., xii, 383 contract 

1 Cf. D. Masson, op. cit., vol. iii, pp. 220-28. 

' Gf. op. cit., p. 221: 'AU these might be rectified into Decasjilabios by supposing 
elisions, slurs or contracted utterances.... There could be no more absurd error.' 
' See op. cit., vol. ni, pp. 220-21. 



WALTER THOMAS 31 

capital, in P. iJ., i, 256 elide Templ\ and, in P. 22., i, 356 contract 
Knowing, in P. JR., il, 5 author ty, in P. ii., ii, 44 elide tK Earthy in 
P. jB., II, 82 t'anyy in P. jB., ii. 124 contract Powers, or perhaps TTa^V, 

in P. P., II, 289 blend Only in, in P. P., ill, 120 read with aphaeresis 
glory he 'xacts for he exacts, in P. P., iii, 323 contract flyng, in P. P., 

Ill, 325 overcame, in P. P., iv, 243 blend City^or, in P. P., iv, 270 
elide tK arsenal, in P. P., iv, 280 read Epicure{an) with an extra syllable 

before the caesura (or an epic caesura) or contract it into Epicurean^ in 

P. P., IV, 653 blend theeand. 

Again, Professor Masson quotes the following lines as containing 
two trisyllabic feet: 'Wallowing unwieldy, enormous in their gait' 
(P. i., VII, 411), 'Where obvious duty ere while appeared unsought' 
(P. L., X, 106), * If sorrow unfeigned and humiliation meek ? ' (P. L., 
X, 1092), ' Though ravenous, taught to abstain from what they brought ' 
(P. P., II, 269), ' The one winding, the other straight, and left between ' 
(P.P., Ill, 256), 'Aim at the highest, without the highest attained' 
(P. P., IV, 106). 

Taking these several instances in due succession, we prefer to 

read ' WalVwing and unwieldy, enormous, obvious as a disyllable and 

duty erewhile, sorrow unfeigned and humiliation with a contraction as 
four syllables, ravenous and f abstain, Th* one and th' oiheT\ high(est) 
in the first case with an extra syllable before the caesura and in the 
second high'st with a contraction, and we fail to detect any harshness in 
the result. 

Thus the above lines all revert easily to the regular type of the 
decasyllabic. We have also noted a few, not mentioned by Professor 
Masson, which seem abnormal, but can be shown to conform to the 
usual rule of the verse. They are the following: 'And where the 
River of Bliss through midst of Heaven ' (P. L., iii, 358), ' Earth and 
the Garden of God with cedars crowned * (P. L., v, 260), ' Because thou 
hast hearkened to the voice of thy wife' (P.L,, x, 198), 'Unbid; and 
thou shalt eat the herb of the field' (Pi., x, 204), 'The savour of 
death from all things there that live ' (P. L., x, 269). 

In the first two quotations, if we contract Rivr and Oard'n, and 
in the last, if we contract savour into sav'r, we find the normal deca- 
syllabic metre. So, too, in the fourth line, if we elide th' herb. The third 

1 * Epicurean and the Stoic severe ' (P. 12., iv, 2S0). It woald be hard here to contract 
Stoic into a monosyllable since in ComuSt 1. 707, and in P .R,, iv, 300, it is disyllabic. 
> The line shows the elisions in the first edition of P. i2. 



32 Milton's Heroic Line 

line is perhaps the most apparently irregular in either epic poem, probably 
because it is an attempt to preserve the very words of Scripture'. Yet 
even here perfect regularity is restored if we read thou'st for thou hast 
and elide the voice into ih' voice^ (cf. in Milton's Lycidas, 1. 80, th' world 
for the world). 

After a careful scrutiny of the verse in both Paradise Lost and 
Paradise Regained, we have thus discovered no other feet than di- 
syllabic ones formed of a stressed and of an unstressed syllable. In 
the next section we shall, indeed, give instances of a few accentual 
spondees, but, as a rule, Milton may be said to have used either 
iambuses or trochees, mixing them together so that we seldom meet 
with two, and never with three, consecutive trochees. Thus he is 
careful both to preserve the iambic rhythm of the whole and to add 
the zest of pleasing variety. But above all, if we except the com- 
paratively rare cases of extra syllables not counted in the measure, 
his epic line always and everywhere consists of ten sounded syllables 
and no more. 



VII. 

Our enquiry into the metrical feet used by Milton has shown us 
that he mainly favoured the iambus and the trochee. But it still 
remains an open question whether the older English poets had the same 
conception of metrical feet as our later contemporaries. Throughout 
the sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries literary critics chieifly 
insisted on the regular number of counted syllables in the line and seem 
to have paid little attention to stresses. In recent times, however, 
writers have emphasized the importance of accents and regard it more 
or less as a matter of indifference how many unstressed syllables are to 
be allowed in the heroic measure. But since we are merely concerned 
with Milton's versification, it is well to point out that in his day blank 
verse was restricted to ten syllables only, set to an iambic rhythm, and 
did not obey a hard and fast rule with regard to accentuation. A curious 
instance which bears out this contention is to be found in John Donne's 
poetry. His decasyllabic is perfectly correct, if we are content only to 

^ This, in a diflerent case, Prof. Masson has quite weU recognized. See op. cit,^ 
p. 223 : * Milton is qnoting from Scripture and it is his habit then to compel the metre ta 
adopt the literal text.' 

' The elision is marked in the print of the first edition. 



WALTER THOMAS 33 

count syllables, whereas his deliberate disregard of the stresses often 
leads to results which jar on a delicate ear. 

We must, therefore, in Milton, too, be prepared for greater freedom 
in the use of accents. But to avoid Donne's harshness, he does observe 
certain principles with respect to the accents of his line. It is well 
known that the ten-syllable metre having a strong final stress and 
another on the fourth or the sixth syllable naturally tends to adopt the 
iambic beat. This the poet duly noticed, and hence in his epic-versifi- 
cation he always admits five stresses at least. 

Here, however, we are again met by a stout denial on the part of 
recent critics. Professor Masson^ quotes a few instances with four 
accents only and Mr Bridges' appears of the same opinion. Turning to 
the former's quotations, we notice at once that he takes no account 
whatever of slight stresses falling either on some less important word 
such as a conjunction or an adverb, or on a prefix or a suffix, though we 
saw above (pp. 310-11) that these stresses really exist. Thus in P. Z., ill, 
719: 'Numberless, as thou seest, and how they move,' we should 
certainly put some emphasis on as ; in P. i., I v, 74 : * Infinite wrath and 
infinite despair,' on the ending of infinite when it is repeated, in P. L., 
IV, 556 : ' On a sunbeam, swift as a shooting star,' on the initial pre- 
position On, in P. L., vi, 866 : * Burnt after them t(J the bottomless pit,' 
on td standing for up to, in P. X., vili, 299 : ' T(J the Garden of Bliss, thy 
seat prepared,' on To*, in P. L., ix, 791 : 'Greedily sh6 ingorged without 
restraint,' on the pronoun she which specially recalls our attention to 
Eve, in P. Z., X, 205 : * In the sweat of thy fece thou shalt eat bread,' 
on the first preposition In ; so, too, in P. iJ., I, 361 : ' With them fix)m 
bliss t(J the bottomless Deep ' on fe^, in P. R, ii, 171 : 'And made him 
bow t6 the gods of his wives,' on the preposition to which immediately 
follows the caesura, in P. R,, ii, 405: 'And with these words hfs 
temptation pursued,' on his placed in an equally emphatic position, in 
P. R, III, 432 : * Their ^nemi^s who serve idols with God,' on the last 
syllable of ^nemiSs, in P. P., iv, 289 : ' Light from above, frdm the 
Fountain of Light,' on frdm which comes just after the caesura, and in 
P. P., IV, 597 : *In the bosom of bliss, and light of light,' on the initial 
preposition In. 

^ Cf. D. MaBson, op, eit., toI. hi, p. 219: *In a good maDj of the lines only four 
distinct accents can be counted.... In three lines... I can detect but three.' We examine 
all these in the order in which the critic has quoted them. 

« Cf. Robert Bridges, Milton's Prosody, 1894, pp. 17-19. 

* Here and vaP.R,, iv, 597, Mr Bridges himself lays a stress on the initial To and In 
(see B. Bridges, op. cit., p. 37). 

M. L. R. IlL 3* 



34 Milton s Heroic Line 

Passing on to the lines mentioned by Mr Bridges^ we should accent 
in P. L., I, 498 : 'And in luxurious cities, where the noise/ And which 
begins the line, in P, i., I, 74 : 'As from the centre thrice to the utmost 
pole,' As which occupies a similar position in the verse ; in P. i., i, 64 : 
'Served only t<5 discover sights of woe,' td which here marks the purpose; 
in P. L,, VIII, 464 : * Still glorious before whom awake I stood,' before 
with a stress on the first syllable'; in P. i., vi, 699 : ' Nor served it t<5 
relax their serried files,' US with an accent before the verb ; in P. L,, i, 
61 : * A dungeon hrfrribl^, on all sides round,' hdi-ribU with two stresses 
(cf. above p. 311), which brings out the full force of the adjective; in 
P. Z., I, 124 : ' Sole reigning holds the tyrannj?^ of Heaven,' t^rann^ 
with a concluding stress, if only on account of the hiatus, and in P. i., 
I, 63 : ' No light, but rather darkness visible,' most certainly visibU with 
a double stress from its very position at the end of the line. 

The same critics even discover in Milton lines with but three accents. 
As such Professor Masson quotes : ' Created thee in the image of God ' 
(P. i., VII, 527), ' In the visions of God : it was a hill ' (P. Z., xi, 377), 
' Sumamed Peripatetics, and the sect ' (P. i?., iv, 279), and Mr Rob. 
Bridges: 'His ministers of vengeance and pursuit' (P.L., I, 170), 'The 
sojourners of Goshen who beheld' (P. Z., i, 309), 'Transfix us to the 
bottom of this gulf (P. Z., I, 329). 

Let us examine these six quotations somewhat more closely. In 
example 1 we notice a stress on thee and a slighter stress on in which 
follows the caesura. In 2 we recognize (with Mr Bridges) an accent on 
the initial tn and another secondary one on wds. In 3 we would read 
Peripatetics or rather Peripatdtics with a double accent and would slightly 
stress dnd. As for the remaining instances, in 4 and 5 we detect a 
minor accent on the last syllable of ministers, and sdjournirs and another 
on dnd and whd. And in 6 we would slightly emphasize td and o/, as 
earlier poets used to do fi-equently* for purposes of versification. 

Should the latter proof, however, fail to carry conviction, we may 
refer to instances in point borrowed from Milton himself It is a patent 
fact that he often gives a stress to the invariable particle of compound 
verbs, e,g. to on in P. Z., ii, 804 ; ' Grim Death, my son and foe, who 
sets them on' (and cf P,L,, ii, 673, P. P., Ill, 271), to in as in P,L., 
VII, 666; 'Open ye Heavens, your living doors! let in' (and cf. P,L., 

1 Mr Bridges recognizes the existence of a minor stress, but thinks it can be safely 
neglected. 

3 See above p. 314 and in Mr Bridges himself, op. cit,f pp. 55-^6. 
« Cf. E. A. Abbott, op. ciU, pp. 336-38. 



WALTER THOMAS 35 

X, 94) or to ott^ as in P. R,, i, 334 : 'What happens new; fame also finds 
us out/ 

If a strong accent is allotted to such words in these cases, why need 
we be surprised to find them slightly stressed elsewhere, with a different 
grammatical function ? Nay, even at the end of the line we occasionally 
find these in P. J?., iii, 32 : 'Of Macedonian Philip had ere these* ; then 
in P. i., V, 514: 'Obedient? Can we want obedience then'; where in 
P. X., V, 340 : ' In Pontus or the Punic coast, or where ' ; pronouns 
like we in P. i., Ii, 239 : ' Of new subjection ; with what eyes could we,' 
like 7 in P. Z., XI, 763 : ' O visions ill foreseen ! Better had I,' or who 
in P. Z., X, 121 : ' So dreadful to thee ? That thou art naked who Hath 
told thee ?'• (and cf. P. i., v, 398) and the adverb not in P. i., x, 918 : 
' I beg and clasp thy Knees ; bereave me not ' (and cf. P. i., v, 548). 
Again we ask if such words are granted a strong accent when they play 
an important part in the sentence, why should they not take a 
secondary stress under different circumstances ? Notice, too, that the 
same monosyllables sometimes become prominent through standing at 
the beginning of a line and being cut off fix)m what follows by a sharply 
marked caesura like Till in P. L,, i, 347 : * Till^ as a signal given, the 
uplifted spear,' and cf. Though (P. Z., I, 394), For (P. Z., ii, 54), Or (P,L., 
II, 99, X, 218), And (P. Z., ii, 793), But and He (P. Z., ill, 208-9), How 
(P. Z., IV, 237) and Yet (P. Z., v, 826). Here, of course, these words 
cannot but be powerfully accented and it is therefore unquestionable 
that they can legitimately be stressed in epic verse. Now, too, we are 
entitled to lay due weight on the opinion of critics, such as Dr Abbott, 
who regard it as a serious defect in the heroic metre if it should happen 
to begin with more than one unaccented syllable \ so as to make the iambic 
rhythm uncertain at the very outset. This will imply the accentuation 
of if in P. Z., II, 603 : ' As if (which might induce us to accord),' of so 
in P. Z., I, 644, of far in P. Z., in, 88, of not in P. Z., vi, 293, of Or in 
P. Z., X, 1072, of my in P. R, in, 205, etc. We may therefore conclude 
that Milton requires ten counted syllables and no fewer than five accents 
to make up an epic line. 

This self-imposed law of the poet's is, indeed, stricter, as far as 
accents are concerned, than the practice of his predecessors warranted, 
Chaucer, who introduced the decasyllabic into English literature, is 
sometimes satisfied with a four-stressed line, if we may believe Professor 



1 Cf. E. A. Abbott, op, cit,, p. 880 : * the first foot (In Shakespeare) almost always has 
an emphatic accent.* 

3—2 



36 Milton's Heroic Line 

Ten Brink ^ one of the best authorities on the subject. The well-known 
distich quoted by George Gascoigne^ as an instance of other feet than 
those of two syllables : * No wight in this world, that wealth can attayne 
Unlesse he beleve that all is but vayne/ also shows ten syllables with 
but four accents. Lastly, according to Dr Abbott's* account, the Eliza- 
bethan dramatists often remain content with the same number of stresses 
in their blank verse and occasionally drop one stress (or even a whole 
foot) if its place can be supplied by a gesture of the actor or if a new 
idea is expressed in the latter half of the line. This, of course, helped 
to mould the metre to the very thought it had to convey. But Milton, 
when he wrote his epic works, renounced the liberties of the playwrights 
and both with regard to the accent and to the syllables which make up 
the measure, tended to greater regularity. 

We need not suppose, however, that all the stresses in his deca- 
syllabic line are equally strong and indeed the divergent views put forth 
(as we saw above p. 33) in the case of some quotations, such as P. L., 
IV, 556; VIII, 299 ; and P. R, iv, 597, go to prove as much. There are 
usually three or four strong accents, as in a corresponding prose sentence, 
that stand out in the heroic metre. These are clearly heard in recitation 
and rest chiefly on nouns, adjectives, verbs or pronouns. A lighter 
stress falls, in accordance with the older use of the language and the 
practice of the earlier poets, on the ending of polysyllables and on short 
and less important words. Far from being overpowered by the weightier 
accents, they can be cleverly used by the poets for purposes of scansion 
and are constantly employed after this fashion in English versification. 

It is of some interest to note how Milton turns these weaker stresses 
to account. Thus in 912 lines in the sixth book of Paradise Lost we 
find 264 in which, for the sake of the metre, such comparatively insig- 
nificant terms are accented. The secondary stress is then principally 
placed on connecting words in the sentence, and, if we take them in 
the order of frequency, on and, on the prepositions of, to, in, from and 
on the conjunctions as and or. A curious fact is that Milton, when 
he repeats the same conjunction, as in the case of or,,, or, nor.,, nor ^ 
usually emphasizes one of them only*, e,g. 'In Pontus <5r the Punic 
coast, or where' (P. L., v, 340), (and cf. P. L., viii, 318; x, 107), 'Nor 



1 See B. Ten Brink, Chaucer*8 Sprache und Verskunst, 1884, p. 183. 
' Geo. Gascoigne (in Professor Arber's English Reprints), Certayne Notes of Instruction 
in English Verse (1675), p. 84. 

» Cf. E. A. Abbott, op. ciU, pp. 413-17. 

* The poet accents both, however, in P. L., xi, 102 : * Or in behalf of Man, or to invade.^ 



WALTER THOMAS 37 

number n6r example with him wrought ' (P. Z., v, 901), (and cf. P. L., 
VII, 253). Articles are more rarely stressed and a indeed never, except 
perhaps in P, R,, I, 70. But the definite article the does at times receive 
an accent, as in P. i., i, 756 : 'At Pandemonium, the high capital' (and 
cf. P.i., II 219; IV, 692; vii, 448, 469, 560; x, 279; xii, 369; P.R, 
I, 245; IV, 633). Only, as these instances show, it is almost alwajrs 
when the article has more or less a demonstrative force. So, too, the 
sign of the infinitive to is fairly often stressed when it implies purpose, 
e,ff. * Receive him coming t6 receive from us ' (P. Z., v, 781), (and cf, 
P. Z., VII, 222 ; VIII, 412, 632 ; xi, 339 ; P. R, i, 101 ; iii, 247 ; iv, 308). 

These words with secondary accents occupy various places in the 
line, but do not, as a rule, occur consecutively. We may also notice 
from the above examples that such weak stresses, except through some 
slip on the p€irt of the poet, are not found at the beginning or at the 
close of the verse. Indeed, the tenth sounded syllable in Milton's epic 
poems always takes a strong accent (a canon sometimes violated by the 
Elizabethan dramatists), and less important words, such as tAen, ^ese, 
who, etc., are only placed there when they play a somewhat prominent 
part in the sentence. The weaker stresses, therefore, mostly appear 
in the second or the fourth foot of the heroic metre and serve as a kind 
of foil to the more emphatic accents which they enclose. 

This alone would suffice to show what a careful writer Milton is. 
Notice, too, how seldom he allows two consecutive stresses without an 
intervening paused He usually requires an interruption brought about 
by a break in the sentence, by a full stop or the close of a paragraph. 
It is always so between strong accents, as in P. X., ill, 400 : * Not so on 
Mto : him, through their malice fallen,' and cf. P. Z., IV, 985 ; v, 521 ; 
VII, 261 ; IX, 553 ; xii, 420 ; P. R, ii, 91. Minor accents are also 
mostly not consecutive. In the case of a light and a strong stress 
following on each other the poet interposes a pause, if not an actual 
caesura, between them as in P. Z., viii, 622 : ' Whatever pure / thoii 
in the body enjoy'st,' and cf P. Z., ill, 621 ; V, 257 ; ix, 172 ; xi, 890. 
With regaixl, therefore, to the accentual spondee, that is, a foot formed 
of two consecutive stresses, we take it that not only does it seldom 



^ We must except a small number of lines where two conseoutive accents occnr without 
a marked break in the sense at the traditional place formerly reserved for the regular 
caesura. Thus we occasionally find them on the fourth and fifth syUables as in P. L., 
I, 281 : * No wonder, f&ll'n stich a prodigious height' (and cf. P. L., i, 662 ; ti, 32, 826, 
906 ; VII, 543 ; iz, 92 ; xi, 60), or less frequently still on the sixth and seventh syllables, 
as in P. I,., n, 692 : *Drew after him the third p4rt of Heaven's sons ' (and of. P. L. ni, 
161 ; VIII, 62 ; ix, S3, 203, 206 ; P,R. m, 136). 



38 Milton's Heroic Line 

occur in Milton, owing to its infrequency in the English language, 
but that it is never found in his epic poems without an intermediary 
caesura^ 

Having thus ascertained the poet*s practice with reference to the 
smallest number of accents he admits and their position in his heroic 
line, we must now notice the liberties he takes in such matters. His 
chief departure fix)m the usual rule as stated above, is the adoption of 
a few more stresses, and in most cases of six, for his blank verse. He 
then generally places these accents together at the beginning or at 
the end of the metre which is made to have three caesuras, as in 
P. X., IV, 722 : ' The G(Sd that mAde both sk;^, air, eArth, and HeAven/ 
If this is not observed in some of his verses {e,g. P. X., vi, 44; 
IX, 473 ; P. K, iv, 633), it would seem to be because they may be 
scanned with but five stresses or because, as in PX., ix. 111: 'Pro- 
ductive in h^rb, plAnt, and nobler birth,' or in P. X., IX, 206 : * This 
Qarden, still to t^nd plAnt, herb and flower,' the fifth and the seventh 
syllable respectively may receive an accent as coming after the tradi- 
tional position of the caesura. As a rule, however, the fact remains 
that Milton prefers grouping at least three nouns, adjectives or verbs 
{€,g. in P.X., II, 893; iv, 115; vii, 212, 502-3; P.P., i, 474; iii, 75), 
which he separates from each other by some sort of pause. 

Such' six-stressed lines are comparatively frequent in the epic 
poems, since we find eight of them in a total number of 1189 verses 
in the ninth book of Paradise Lost (11. Ill, 113, 118, 206, 335, 473, 
730, 899). Those with seven or eight accents are much rarer. Of 
the former, in our opinion*, there are only three, e,g.: 'The ciimbrous 
^lem^nts— Edrth, Fldod, Air, Fire ' (P. X., ill, 715), ' Of s^nse, wherebjf^ 
they heAr, s^e, sm611, touch, tdste' (P. X., v, 411), 'I medn of tAste, 
sight, sm^ll, h^rbs, fruits, and fl6wers ' (P. X., viii, 527), and the latter 
are represented by a single specimen', viz.: *R<Sck8, cAves, Idkes, fSns^ 
b(Jg8, d^ns, and shades of deAth ' (P. X., il, 621). They all, however, 
have this in common that each is composed of ten sounded syllables 
and has at least four distinct caesuras. Some metrists indeed, as for 

^ For this reason we fail to see consecative accents in sach lines as P. Ii., ii, 231, 624» 
702, 755, which some critics (see G. Conway, A Treatise on Versification^ 1878, p. 38) 
consider faoltj in Milton's epic. We should in these quotations emphasize not the nouns, 
but the adjectives and verbs, e,g, scanning P. L., ii, 702, thus : * Thy lingering 6r with 6n& 
stroke 6( this d&rt ' or perhaps * with 6ne str6ke of this d&rt ' (see the previous note). 

' Prof. Masson (op. cit., vol. m, p. 219) quotes P. JR., iv, 633, as a line of seven accents. 
We can only detect five, or perhaps six, in it. 

» The two other lines, P. L., i, 376, and P. JR., iv, 423, which Prof. Masson (op, ciU 
vol. in, p. 219) regards as having eight stresses seem to us to contain merely five. 



WALTER THOMAS 39 

instance Q. Conway, insist on reducing these lines to five accents by 
leaving a few of the nouns unstressed. This to us seems an inad- 
missible contention. To take a case in point, P. X., Ill, 715 contains 
an enumeration of the four elements, and there is no reason why the 
first and third should be considered of less account than the second 
and fourth. A similar argument holds good in the other cases, and it 
therefore appears that Milton willingly allows more than five accents 
in his epic metre provided they are separated fi-om each other by an 
unstressed syllable or a strongly marked caesura. 

Should the question be raised why the poet departs at times fi*om 
his usual rule, it would be hard to give a satisfectory answer. Milton 
seems to admit a six-stressed line for the sake of metrical variety, 
though he remains true to the syllabic principle of his verse and 
takes care that one-half of the measure should be perfectly regular. 
Perhaps, too, he adopted such hexameters, if we may so term them, 
in imitation of the grand alexandrine which so aptly concludes the 
Spenserian stanza. They already occur in the works of several 
sixteenth century poets ^ and the increased number of accents and 
caesuras lengthens the line for the ear and adds to its harmony 
and impressiveness. Applied, as they usually are, to an enumera- 
tion, they forcibly bring out its several terms and heighten the 
cumulative effect. 

With regard to stresses, therefore, Milton adopts no hard and fast 
rule. Whereas his epic metre must contain ten sounded syllables, the 
accents may be variously distributed in the line. Seldom, indeed, do 
we find two consecutive decasyllabics stressed in the same manner. 
Now the emphasis falls quite regularly on every other syllable and 
we get a perfect iambic rhythm, now it rests on the initial syllable 
of the measure or on the one after the caesura, or again, when the 
pauses are shifted, it can occupy almost any place in the heroic line. 
And, if the thought expressed requires them, we may meet with as 
many as seven, or even eight accents. The poet's sway over words is 
absolute. He disposes them at will, and in his poems they stand 
grouped or isolated, in accordance with his hidden purpose, like the 
trees that make up some vast forest. 

Walter Thomas. 

^ Something similar is shown by £. A. Abbott, op. ciu, pp. 397-99. 



THE DATE OF COMPOSITION OF LOPE DE 
VEGA'S COMEDIA, 'LA ARCADIA.' 

Lope de Vega's comedia, La Arcadia, was first published in the 
Trezena parte de la^ Comedian de Lope de Vega Carpio, Madrid, 1620. 
It is well known that this comedia has the same argument as his pastoral 
romance, La Arcadia, first published in 1698 (Madrid, L. Sanchez), in 
which he celebrated the love-affairs of his patron, D. Antonio, Duke of 
Alba. However, not all the incidents of the pastoral romance were 
included in the comedia, the comic scenes in which Cardenio plays a 
part, being especially developed in the latter. 

Opinions as to the probable date of composition of this play have 
differed widely. Sr Men^ndez y Pelayo in his introduction to this play, 
published in the Spanish Academy's edition of Lope de Vega, thinks it 
is not likely that it belongs to the first half of Lope's dramatic career, 
since the title does not appear in either of the lists of his plays, published 
by Lope in El Peregrino, in 1604 and 1618^ Schack*, speaking of 
Lope's pastoral play's, says 'Unter den wenigen, die seinen spaieren 
Jahren angehoren, glanzt La Arcadia durch die schdne Klarheit des 
Styls und durch den Reiz der Natur- und Empfindungsgemalde.' On 
the other hand, Chorley", judging fi*om the fact that the play has no 
true figura del donayre, a feature introduced into the comedia by Lope 
at least before 1602, thinks that La Arcadia was among the earliest 
pieces of the author, but that it was retouched to its present form before 
its publication in 1620. 

In the prologue to this Parte Trezena, Lope complains bitterly that 
certain persons had committed his plays to memory, in the theatre, and 
then had sold incorrect versions of them to other theatrical managers. 
' To this must be added the stealing of comedias by those whom the 
vulgar call, the one Memorilla, and the other Oran Memoria ; who, with 
the few verses which they learn, mingle an infinity of their own barbarous 

^ Obras de Lope de Vega, published by the Spanish Academy, toI. y, p. Ixy. 
' Geschichte der dramatUchen Literatur und Kurut in Spanien, vol. ii, p. 381. 
■ H. A. Bennert, Life of Lope de Vega, p. 495. 



J. p. WICKBRSHAM CRAWFORD 41 

lines, whereby they earn a living, selling them to the villages and to 
distant theatrical managers : base people these, without a calling, and 
many of whom have been jail-birds. I should like to rid myself of the 
care of publishing them (i,e, these plays), but I cannot, for they print 
them with my name, while they are the work of the pseudo-poets of 
whom I have spoken ^' He makes a similar complaint in his dedication 
of La Arcadia to Dr Gregorio L<5pez Madera. ' Espero, entre otras 
cosas, que quien ha escrito ^ impreso (si bien en tan distintas y altas 
materias) se dolerd de los que escriben, y que ahora tendrd remedio lo 
que tantas veces se ha intentado, desterrando de los teatros unos hombres 
que viven, se sustentan y visten de hurtar & los au tores las comedias, 
diciendo que las toman de memoria de 8<51o oirlas, y que este no es hurto, 
respecto de que el representante las vende al pueblo, y que se pueden 
valer de su memoria, que es lo mismo que decir que un ladrdn no lo es 
porque se vale de su entendimiento, dando trazas, haciendo Haves, 
rompiendo rejas, fingiendo personas, cartas, firmas y diferentes hdbitos. 
Esto no s61o es en dano de los autores, porque andan perdidos y 
empefiados, pero, lo que es mds de sentir, de los ingenios que las escriben, 
porque yo he hecho diligencia para saber de uno de 6stos, llamado el de 
la gran inemoria, si era verdad que la tenia ; y he hallado, leyendo sus 
traslados, que para un verso mio, hay infinitos suyos, Uenos de locuras, 
disparates ^ ignorancias, bastantes d quitar la honra y opinion al mayor 
ingenio en nuestra nacidn y las extranjeraa, donde ya se leen con tanto 
gusto'.' 

Christ<5bal Sudrez de Figueroa gives us more definite information in 
regard to this practice, so strongly condemned by Lope, in his Plaza 
Universal de todas cienda^ y artes, published at Madrid in 1616*. He 
says: 'Hdllase en Madrid al presente un mancebo grandemente 
memorioso. LlAmase Luis Remirez de Arellano, hijo de nobles padres, 
y natural de Villaescusa de Haro. fiste toma de memoria una comedia 
entera de tres vezes que la oye, sin discrepar un punto en tra9a y versos. 
Aplica el primer dia & la disposicion ; el segundo & la variedad de la 
composicion; el tercero & la puntualidad de las coplas. Deste modo 
encomienda & la memoria las comedias que quiere. En particular tom6 
assl la Dama Boba, el Principe Perfeto, y la Arcadia^ sin otras. Estando 
yo oyendo la del Oalan de la Membrilla que representaba SAnchez, 

^ Ibid,, p. 272. " Ohras de Lope de Vega, vol. v, pp. 707-8. 

s Ed. of Madrid, 1615, Dlscurso Lvni, De los Professores de Memoria, fol. 287. The 
relation of this passage of the Plaza Universal to Lope's complaint in the dedication of 
La Arcadia, was first mentioned bj J. E. Seidemann, Zur Geschiehte des spanischen 
Dramas in Lope de Vegans Zeit, in Bldtter fUr literarisehe Unterhaltung, 1858, No. 81. 



42 Lope de Vega's Comedia, 'La Arcadia* 

comenfd este autor & cortar el argumento y & interrumpir el razonado, 
tan al descubierto, que obligd le preguntassen de que procedia semejante 
aceleracion y truncamiento ; y respondid publicamente, que de estar 
delante (y senal<51e) quien en tres dias tomaba de memoria qualquier 
comedia, y que de temor no le usurpasse aquella, la rccitaba tan mal. 
Alborotdse con esto ei teatro, y pidieron todos hiziesse pausa, y en fin 
hasta que se Ba,\i6 d&. Luis Bemirez, no hubo remedio de que se passase 
adelante/ Here we have the account of the affair fix)m an eye-witness, 
and it surely adds an interesting detail to the history of the Spanish 
stage. 

We learn from Figueroa's account, that four of Lope's plays. La 
Dama Boba, El Principe Perfeto, La Arcadia and El Oalan de la 
Membrilla, had been produced at Madrid shortly before 1615, the date 
of the publication of the Plaza Universal. For all of these plays, except 
the Arcadia, we have autograph manuscripts, the dates of which confirm 
Figueroa's statement. La Dama Boba was completed on April 28, 1613, 
El Principe Perfeto on December 23, 1614, and El Oalan de la Mem- 
brilla on April 20, 1615. The censura for the Plaza Universal was 
signed on April 4, 1612, and the aprobacion, May 1, 1612, but the tassa 
was not signed until August 12, 1615\ We must infer that Figueroa 
had his book ready for print in 1612, but for some reason, the publication 
was delayed, and that he inserted the above passage after April 20, 1616, 
when El Oalan de la Membrilla was completed. Since Figueroa 
mentioned La Dama Boba and El Principe Perfeto in the order in 
which they were written, it may not be too rash to infer that La 
Arcadia was written and acted between El Principe Perfeto and El 
Oalan de la Membrilla, that is, between December 23, 1614, and April 
20, 1615. It is true that La Arcadia shows certain characteristics of 
Lope's early style, but it seems hardly likely that a play of so little 
intrinsic merit should have continued in favour for so long a time as 
thirteen years, supposing that after 1602, Lope substituted the figura 
del donayre for the simple and rAstico. However, just as we know that 
in a number of comedias written after 1602, Lope omitted the figura 
del donayre, so it has never been proved that he gave up entirely the 
use of the simple and riistico after 1602. In the absence of such proof, 
the evidence seems to favour the early part of the year 1615 as the date 
of the composition of La Arcadia, 

J. P. WiCKERSHAM CRAWFORD. 
^ H. A. Rennert, Life of Lope de Vega, p. 472. 



NOTES ON THE CHRONOLOGY OF THE 
SPANISH DRAMA. 

Hermano (El) Francisco.—? 

Represented by Qaspar de Porres before May 7, 1605. It is a comedia divina. 
See Cat. Bib. Nac., No. 1483. 

Hermosa Alfreda (La).— Lope de V^a. 

Represented by Gaspar de Porres before March 20, 1601. Printed in Lope's 
Comedias, Part xiv, 1617. 

Hermosa fea (La).— Lope de Vega. 

Represented by Cristobal de Avendano in Valencia before April 26, 1632. 
Printed in Lope's Comedias^ Part xxiv, 1641. 

*H6nno8a Florinda (La).— ? 

A comedia in the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628. 

Hermoso Peligro (£1).— ? 

Represented by Andres de la Vega, May 16, 1634. 

Hermosnra (La) de Baquel.— Luis Velez de Quevara. 

Represented by Roque de Figueroa before Feb. 12, 1630. Printed in Flor 
de las Comedtas, Quinta Parte, Madrid, 1615. 

*Heroe (El) de Portugal — Perhaps El Rey Don Sebastian y Fortugues mas heroico 
by Juan Bautista de Villegas. 
Represented by Bartolome Romero before Sept. 21, 1640. 

HUa (La) de Marte.— ? 

Represented by Andres de la Vega, Oct. 27, 1625. 

Hijo (El) de las Batallas.— Jacinto Cordero. 

Represented by Pedro Valdes before March 28, 1628. Published in Valencia in 
a volume of which Duran possessed a fragment. See Barrera, p. 100. 

*H]jo (£1) de la Sierra.— ? 

A comedia in the possession of Jerdnimo Amelia in 1628. 

Hombre pobre (El).— ? 

Represented b^ Roque de Figueroa, before March 28, 1628, and on Oct. 11, 1633. 
Perhaps this is Calderon's Hombre pobre todo es Trazas, printed in Part ii, 
1637. 

*Honra hurtada (La).— ? 

Represented by Juan de Morales, before March 13, 1614. 

Hortelano (£1) de Tordesillas.— Luis de Belmonte j Bermudez. 

Represented by Pedro de la Rosa, May 4, 1636. Printed only as a suelta, 

Ignorante discrete (El).—? 

Represented by Antonio de Prado, Nov. 22, 1628. There is a MS. comedia 
with the same title in the Bib. Nac. See Catdlogo, No. 1567, where it is 
ascribed to Adrian Guerrero. 

^ Continaed from voL n, p. 341. 



44 Notes on the Chronology of the Spanish Drama 

^IndnBtria (La) contra el Poder.— Calderon. 

A uomedia in the possessiou of JerdQimo Amelia in 1628. It was first printed 
at Huesca, in 1634. 

Infante (£1) de Aragon. — Andres de Claramonte. 

Represented by Cristobal de Avendano before the Queen, in Oct. 1622. Schack, 
yacktrdge^ p. 67. ftinted as a mdta. 

Infantes (Los) de Lara.—? 

Represented by Pedro Valdes, June 8, 1626. There are at least three plays upon 
this subject, one by Juan 4e la Cueva, Velarde's Tragedia de los Siete 
Ijif antes de Lara^ published in 1615, and Lope de Vega's El Bastardo 
Mvdarra, finished on April 27, 1612. 

Ingles (El) de mas valer.— ? 

Represented by Cristobal de Avendano, May 13, 1623. 

*Ingratitad por Amor. — Quillen de Castro. 

A comedia in the possession of Jer6nimo Amelia, in 1628 in Valencia. It was 
published by me (Philadelphia, 1899) from an undated MS. in the fiiblioteca 
Nacional. 

Intento castigado (El).—? 

Represented by Tomas Fernandez, Nov. 30, 1634. Barrera notes an anonymous 
El Interes castigado. 

It y auedarse.— ? 

Represented by AVendafto before the Queen, between Oct. 5, 1622, and Feb. 6, 
1623. Schack, NachtrUge, p. 67. MS. in Bib. Nac. (copy). Cat., No. 1636. 

Jamas.—? 

Represented by Tomas Fernandez, Sept. 17, 1637. 

Jndia (La).— ? 

Represented by Roque de Figueroa before Mar. 28, 1628. This may be either 
Las Paces de los Reyes y Jvdia de Toledo by Lope de Vega, Part vii, 1617, 
or Mescua's Judia de Toledo^ written in 1625. See my article in the Revue 
Hispamque, vol. vii, Paris, 1900. 

Jnegos (Los) de la Aldea.— ? 

Represented by Roque de Figueroa, Feb. 12, 1630. 

*Jnliizio (El) Primera y Segnnda Parte.—? 

Two comedias in the possession of Jer6nimo Amelia in 1628. 

Jnicios (Los) del Oielo.— ? 

Represented by Bartolome Romero in the Salon, Dec 1633. It is probably 
Montalban's Lo que son Juicios del CielOy printed anonymously in Diferentes, 
XXX, 1636. 

Juliano Apostata.— Juan Velez de Guevara. 

Comedia represented before 1637. Sanchez- Arjona, p. 311. Printed as a 
stielta. See Cat. Bib. Nac., No. 1698. 

Labrador venturoso (£1).— Lope de Vega. 

Represented by Avendafio before the Queen, between Oct. 6, 1622, and Feb. 6, 
1623. Schack, NacktrUge^ p. 67. Printed in Diferentes^ xxviii, Huesca, 1634. 

*La de los lindos Gabellos.— D. Antonio de Mesa. 
In the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628. 

Ladron flel (£1).— ? 

Represented by Roque de Figueroa, before Feb. 28, 1631. 

Lagrimas (Las) de Darid.— ^^ Rey mas arrepentido.—Feli^ Godinez. 

Represented by Juan Martinez, Nov. 1635, and by Adrian Lopez, Feb. 2, 1663. 
Published as a suslta. 



HUGO A^ RENNERT 4& 

Lavandera (La) de Italia.—? 

Comedia represented before 1637. Sanchez- Arjona, p. 311. Perhaps this is La 
Lavandera de Napoles^ by Rojas Zorrilla, Coello and Guevara, printed in 
Escogidas^ xxiv, 1666, though Calderon and Montalban are there declared to- 
be the joint authors with Rojas. 
Lazarillo de Tonnes. — Lope de Vega; written before 1618. 
Represented by Juan de Morales, May 21, 1623. 

*Iail>ertad (La) restaurada.— ? 

Comedia in the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628. 

Loca (La) del Oielo.— Diego de Vill^as? Rojas Zorrilla? 

Represented by Manuel Vallejo, Feb. 9, 1623. In the MS. No. 1897 of the Bib. 
Nac. it is called La Loca del Cido, Santa Pelagia, and is ascribed to- 
Villegas; Sr. Paz y Melia says the horrador seems an autograph, with licenses 
of 1625. As a melta it is attributed to Rojas Zorrilla. 

Lope de Almeida. =Z^ Venaanza de D. Lope de Almeida, {A secreto Agravio 
secreta Venganza). — Calderon. 
Represented by Pedro de la Rosa, July 18, 16.36. Printed in Calderon, ComediaSy 
Part II, 1637. The play also bears the title Vengarse con Fttego y Agua, 

Lo que obliga la Palabra.— ? 

Represented by Antonio de Prado, Sept. 24, 1628. 

Lo que puede una Sospecha.— Mira de Mescua. 

Represented by Alonso de Olmedo before Jan. 23, 1636. Printed in EscogidaSy 
IV, 1653. 

Lo que puede la Limosna.—? 

Represented by Antonio de Prado, Nov. 15, 1628. Can this be Lope's El 
Triunfo de la Limoma mentioned in the first edition of his Peregrino en su 
Fatria (1604) ? 

Luis Perez el Gallego.— Calderon. 

Represented by Antonio de Prado, Dec. 21, 1628. Printed in Calderon's^ 
Comedian, Fart viii, 1684. 
Macabeos (Los).— Rojas Zorrilla? 

Represented by Felipe Sanchez de Echeverria, Sept 1623. MS. in Bib. Nac. 
See Cat., No. 1579. 
liaclas.— Lope de Vega. Porfiar hasta morir {Macias el Enamorado), 

Represented by Pedro de la Rosa in the Retire, June 20, 1636. Printed in 
Lope's Comedias, Part xxiii, 1638. 

Maestro (£1) de la Fortuna.— ? 

Represented by Pedro de la Rosa, June 5, 1636. 

*l£araTiIlas (Las) de Babilonia.— Guillen de Castro. 

Represented by Pedro Valdes, before July 21, 1625. Printed in Mor de las 
mejores doce Cornedias de las mayores Ingenio^ de Ef/pdha^ Madrid, 1652. 
Ifarido (El) de su Hermana.— See La menJtirom Verdad, 
Mariscal (£1) Oleverin (sic).—? 

Represented by Francisco Lopez, June 8, 1632. This is probably Montalban's 
El Mariscal de Viron, printed in DifererUes^ xxv. Zaragoza, 1632, and cer- 
tainly acted before Nov. 1632. P^rez Paster, Nuevos Datos^ p. 226. 
Marques del Vasto (El).— Luis Velez de Guevara. 

Represented by Cristobal de Avendano, May 14, 1634. Printed as a sueUa 
only. 

Hartires (Los) Japoues.— ? 

Represented by Pedro Rodriguez and others, before May 22, 1602. This is probably 
Lope's Los primeros Mdrtires del Japon, of which there is a MS. copy (dated 
Lisbon, 1617) in the Bib. Nac., Cat No. 2034 Now printed in the Academy's, 
edition of Lope, voL v. 



46 Notes on tlie Chronology of the Spanish Drama 

Mas constante Mnger (La). — Montalban. 

Represented by Manuel Vallejo, April 3, 1633. First published in the author's 
Para Todos (1632). 
Mas impropio (El) Verdngo. — Rojas Zorrilla. 

Represented by Tomas Fernandez in the Retiro, Feb. 12, 1637. First printed in 
Comedias of Rojas, Part ii, 1645. 
Mas injusta (La) Venganza. — D. «Tuan de Velasco y Quzman? 

Represented by Tomas Fernandez in the Retiro, June 16, 1637. Its alter- 
native title is La F&dida de Espaha, and it had been represented before the 
Queen prior to Feb. 8, 1623. See Schack, Nachtrage^ p. 66. 
*Mas merece QLnien mas ama. — Antonio Hurtado de Mendoza. 

Represented by Avendaiio twice before the Queen between Oct. 5, 1622 and 
Feb. 6, 1623. Schack, Nachtrdge^ \}. 67. Printed in Doce Caniedias mievas 
de Lope de Vega Carpio y otros autares, Segunda Parte, Barcelona, 1630. 

*Mas puede Amor qne la Fnerza.— ? 

Comedia represented before 1637. Sanchez- Arjona, p. 311. 

Mas puede jAjnor que la Muerte.— Montalban. 

Represented by Juan Martinez, June 5, 1631, and by Luis Lopez, Jan. 30, 1633. 
Printed only as a suelta, 

*Mas vale bolando.— ? 

Comedia in the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628. 
Mas vale flngir que Amar {Examinarse de Rey), — Mira de Mescua. 

Represented by Juan Martinez, July 2, 1631. Printed only aa a suelta. 

*Ma7or (£1) de la casa de Austria.— ? 

Comedia represented before 1637. Sanchez- Arjona, p. 311. 

*Medicis (Los) [de Florenda].— Jimenez de Enciso. 

Comedia in the possession of Jer6nimo Amelia in 1628. 

Medico (£1) de su Honra.— Lope de Vega? Calderon? 

Represented by Antonio de Prado, Oct. 8, 1628 ; and by Juan Martinez, June 10, 
1636. The comedia with this title printed in Comedias de Lope de Vega^ 
vol. XXVII {extrauagante)y Barcelona, 1633, is by Lope. It was represented 
by Avendauo, who was in Madrid in 1621-1623, and the play was probably 
produced during that period. The first representation was therefore, almost 
certainly, of Lope's play. The second representation may have been 
Calderon's play of the same title, which is a recast of Lope's comedia, and 
was first printed in vol. ii of his Corriedias, Madrid, 1637. 

Mojor Amigo (£1) — 

Represented by Juan Martinez, Feb. 2, 1636. This plav is probably El mejor 
Amigo el muerto y Fortuvas de Juan de Castro^ ascribed to Belmonte, Rojas 
Zorrilla and Calderon. According to Hartzenbusch (Comedian de Calderon, 
vol. IV, p. 661), it was written before Dec. 26, 1610. It is not likely, therefore, 
that Calderon, then ten years old, had a hand in it. It was first printed in 
EscogidaSy ix, 1657. Moreto's play El mejor Amigo el Rey, need perhaps not 
be cousidered here as he was not bom till 1618, though it is, of course, 
possible that it may have been written in 1636. See, however, the Catalogue 
of the Bib. Nac, No. 2118. 

♦M^jor (El) OonsQJo.— ? 

Comedia in the possession of Jer6nimo Amelia in 1628. 

Mejor Testigo (El).—? 

Represented oy Juan de Morales, Aug. 10, 1625. It is wrongly ascribed to 
Calderon in a suelta. See Quinta Parte of Calderon, Madrid, 1694, in the list 
of plays ascribed to him. 
Mentirosa Verdad (La), 6 d Marido de su fferma7ia.—J\ia,n Bautista de Villegas. 
Represented by Juan de Morales, June 8, 1623. Printed in BifererUes^ xxx, 
Zaragoza, 1636. It had previously (between Oct. 5, 1622 and Feb. 5, 1623), 
been represented before the Queen by Avendafio. Schack, Nachtrdge, p. 67. 



HUGO A. RENNERT 47 

Merecer para alcanzar {la Fortuna meredday^^oreto. 

Represented by fiartolome Romero, Dec. 8, 1637. Printed in Escoffidas, XLiu, 
1678. 

Meritos con poca Dicha.— ? 

Represented by Cristobal de Avendafio, 'segundo dia de Pascua de Resurreccion,' 
1623. 

*Milagro (£1) por los Celos (v Don Alvaro de Luna). — Lope de Vega. 

Represented by Andres de Ta Vega, before Nov. 23, 1632. It occurs only as 
a suelta. According to the closing verses the alternative title is La excdsTUe 
Porttiauesa, Dona Seatriz de Silva (primera {)arte). MS. in Bib. Nac., see 
Cat., No. 2161 ; now printed in the Academy's edition of Lope, voL x. 

♦Milagrosa (La) £Ieccion de Pio V.— Moreto. 

Represented by Juan de Morales before the Queen, between Oct. 5, 1622 and 
Feb. 5, 1623. (Schack, NachtrOge, p. 66.) Printed in Escogidas, xxxix, 
1673. 

MilagroB (Los) del Desprecio.— Lope de Vega. 

Represented by Jer6nima de fiurs^os, before Dec. 24, 1632. Printed in 
Part XXVII {extravagante\ Barcelona, 1633. It occurs as a tudta ascribed 
to Montalban, with the title Diablos son las Mujeres, 

Mirad i, quien alabais.— Lope de Vega. 

Represented by Francisco Lopez, June 23, 1632. Printed in Lope's Cotnedias^ 
Part XVI, 1621. 

♦Monco.— ? 

Comedia in the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628. 

*Monstrao (£1) de los Jardines.— Calderon. 

Represented by Alonso Caballero in Seville, in 1667. Sanchez- Arjona, p. 445. 
Printed in 1672. 

*Monte8COS y Oapeletes.— (Zo< Bandos de Verona^ Montescos y Capeletes),-'IU>}Aa 
Zorrilla. 
Represented bv Bartolome Romero, before Aug. 3, 1640. Printed in the 
CoTnedias of Rojas, Part ii, 1646. 

*Morica garrida (La).— Juan Bautista de Villegas. Also called Los Hermanos 
amantes. 
Represented before October 5, 1623. Printed in Escogidas^ vii, 1654. 

Muchos Indicios sin Culpa.— ? 

Represented by Juan Martinez, Sept. 27, 1635. Wrongly ascribed to Calderon, 
see his Quinta Parte, 1694. 

Mndarse sin mudarse.— ? 

Represented by Manuel Vallejo, April 14, 1633. 

*Mudo (El) 7 la Oodidosa.— ? 

Comedia represented before 1637. Sanchez- Arjona, p. 311. 

*Mnerte (La) de Froilan. — Alvaro Cubillo de Aragon. It is an auto. 

Represented by Alonso de Olmedo, before Mar. 25, 1637. Published as a stielta. 
There is also a play San Froilan by Moreto and Mates. 

*Mnfiecas (Las) de Marcela.— Alvaro Cubillo de Aragon. 

A play bearing this title was in the possession of Tomas Fernandez, theatrical 
manager, Nov. 1, 1637. Printed in the author's Enano de las Musas, 1654 

Nieto (£1) de sn Padre.— Guillen de Castro. 

Represented by Juan Bautista de Villegas, before Jan. 1623. Printed in 
Escogidas, Part x, 1658. 

Ni hablar ni callar.— ? 

Represented by Juan Martinez, Aug. 2, 1631. 



48 Notes on the Chronology of the Spanish Drama 

Nifio Diablo (El).— Lope de Vega. 

Representea by Lorenzo Hurtado, Oct. 5, 1631. MS. copy in Bib. Nac., Cat. 
No. 2308. Published as a iudtcu 

*No casarse en dnda.— ? 

Thia play was in the possession of Tomas Fernandez, theatrical manager, Nov. 1^ 
1637. Sanchez-Arjona, p. 310. 

Noche de Ban Juan (La).— Lope de Vega. 

Represented by Cristobal de Avendano, in Valencia, before April 26, 1632. 
Written in 1631 in three days ; published in Lope's Comedias, Part xxi, 1636. 

No diflgracieifl las Mnjeres.— 

Represented by Tomas Fernandez, July 1, 1637. There is a play La Obltgaciofi 
d las Mujeres, by Luis Velez de Guevara. 

No 68 Reinar como Vivir (sic).— Mescua? 

Represented by Andres de la Vega, Nov. 17, 1625. This is probably No hai 
reinar como rmV, by Mira de Mescua. Printed in Escogidcu, xiii, 1660. 

No hay Amigo para Amigo {La$ Cahas se vuelven Lamas). — Rojas Zorrilla. 
Represent^ by Pedro de la Rosa in the Retiro, June 2d, 1636; and by 
Tomas Fernandez, July 1, 1636 and June 27, 1637. Printed in the 
Comedias of Rojas, Part i, 1640. 

No son loB TiempoB onos.— ? 

Represented by Domingo Balbin, July 13, 1623. 

*No soys yos mi vida para Labrador.—? 

Comedia in the possession of JeixSnimo Amelia in 1628. 

NueYo (El) en liadrid.— ? 

Represented by Juan Martinez, Dec. 25, 1635. There is an anonymous El nuevo 
Espejo en la Corte. The comedia El Nuevo en la Corte was represented 
before 1637. Sanchez- Arjona, p. 311. 

*NneyoB (Lob) Martires de Argel.— ? 

Comedia in the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628. 

Nunca mncho cuesta poco. — Probably Lope de V^a's Nunoa mucho costs poco. 
Represented by Andres de la Vega, Oct. 28, 1625. Lope's play was published in 
his Part xxii, Zaragoza, 1630. There is a comedia by Aiarcon, Los Peckot 
privilegtados, with the secondary title Nunca mttcho costO poco, printed in 
Part II of his Comedias, Madrid, 1634. It is entirely different from Lope's 
play. 

Obligar con el Valor.— ? 

Represented by Juan Martinez, Aug. 12, 1635. 

Obligar por defender.—? 

Represented by Juan Martinez, June 6, 1631. 

Ofender con las Finezas. — Jer6nimo de Villayzan. 

Represented by Manuel Vallejo, Feb. 5, 1632, and on Nov. 13, 1633. Printed in 
Diferentes, xxx, Zaragoza, 1636. 

Ofensas (Las) sin Agravio.— ? 

Represented by Juan Martinez, Dec. 2, 1635. 

Olimpa y Venus (sic). — Is Montalban's Olimpa y Vireno, 

Represented by Roque de Figueroa, Sept. 11, 1633; and by Juan Martinez,. 
May 2, 1635. Printed in the Comjsdias of Montalban, vol. i, 1635. 

*011a podrida de Amor.—? 

Comedia represented before 1637. Sanchez-Arjona, p. 311. 

*Padre Mampassa.— ? 

A play in the possession of Tomas Fernandez, theatrical manager, Nov. 1, 1637.. 
Saiichez-Arjona, p. 310. 



HUGO A. RENNERT 49 

PalabraB y Plumas. — Tirso de Molina. 

Represented by Fernau Sanchez de Vargas, Sept. 14, 1623. Printed in Tirso's 
Comedtas, Part i, 1627. The mma de privUegio is dated March 12, 1626. 

*Palacio (El) conftiBO.— Lope de Vega ? 

Comedia in the possession of Jerdnimo Amelia in 1628. This play, attribated 
to Lope, was first printed at Huesca in 1634. 

Paloma (La) de Toledo.— Lope de Vega. 

Represented by Tomas Fernandez on the Sunday following St Michael's day, 
1625. Printed in Diferentes, xxix. Huesca, 1634. 

ParedeB (Las) oyen.— Alarcon. 

Represented by Tomas Fernandez, July 5, 1636. Printed in Alarcon's 
Comedias, Part i, 1628. 

Peligrar en los Remedios.— Rojas Zorrilla. 

Represented by Roque de Figueroa, for whom the play was written, on April 6, 

1635. The autograph MS. dated Dec. 9, 1634, is in the Bib. Naa, Cat. 
No. 2552. 

Penas del Amor.—? 

Represented by Juan Martinez, June 3, 1635. 

P^rdida (La) de Espafia. — See Mas {La) injusta Venganza, 

Perdon (El) castigado.— ? 

Represented by Bartolome Romero, Nov. 22, 1637. 

Perfecta Oasada (La).— Alvaro Cubillo de Aragon. 

It bears the alternative title Prudente^ sabia y honrada. 
Represented by Alouso de Olmedo, before Jan. 23, 1636. Printed in Escogidas^ 
XII, 1679. See Cat. Bib. Nac., No. 2583. 

Persiles y Sigismunda. — {Ifallarse para perderse.)—Ro}eiB Zorrilla. 

Represented by Luis Lopez, Jan. 31, 1633. Printed in DiferenteSf xxix, 
Valencia, 1636; and xxx, Zaragoza, 1636. 

Pincella (La) de Francia (sic).— Lope de Vega. 
It is Lope's La Poncdla de Francia, 

Represented by Juan Martinez, Dec. 25, 1636. It is an early play, mentioned 
in the first edition of the Peregrino (1604), and probably now lost. 

*Platicante (El) de Amor.—? 

Comedia in the possession of JeixSnimo Amelia in 1628. 

Pleito (El) por la Honra (y Valor de Femandico\--Lo^ de Vega. 

Represented three times by Pedro de la Rosa oetween June 12, and July 2, 

1636. It is the second part of Lope's La detdichada Estefanidy and was 
printed in Doce Comedtas nuevas de Lope de Vega y otros, Seguuda Parte, 
Barcelona, 1630. 

Pobreza no es Vileza.— Lone de Vega. 

Represented by Antonio de Prado, July 29, 1626. Printed in Lope's Comedias^ 
Part XX, 1625. 

Poder (El) en el Desprecio.— ? 

Can it be Lope's £1 Poder en el Discretol 

Represented by Juan de Morales, June 30, 1630. The autograph of Lope's 
comedia is dated May 8, 1623. 

Policena (La). — See GaUarda {La) PoUcena, 

Represented by Juan de Morales, before May, 1625. 

Poncella (La) de Francia. See Pincella {La), 

*Portento (El) de Milan.—? 

Comedia in the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628. 

H. L. R. III. 4 



50 Notes on the Chronology of the Spanish Drama 

Fremio (El) del bien hablar.— Lope de V^a. 

Represented by Tomas Fernandez in San Lorenzo el Real, before Nov. 18, 1625. 
Printed in Lope's Comedias, Part xxi, 1636. 

Frene y Filomena (sic).— Guillen de Castro? Rojas Zorrilla? 

Represented by .Juan Martinez, Jan. 10, 1636; by Pedro de la Rosa in tbe 
Retiro, June 28, 1636 ; in the Pardo, Feb. 2, 1637, and by Tomas Fernandez 
in the Retiro, Feb. 17, 1637. There are two plays entitled Progne y 
Filomena^ one by Guillen de Castro, printed in Part i of his Cornedias^ 
1618, and one by Rojas Zorrilla, printed in his ComediaSf Part i, 1640. 

Presta Jnana (La).—? 

Represented by Andres de la Vega, April 17, 1634. 

^Principe (£1) Don OarloB. — Jimenez de Enciso? Montalban? 

Comedia in the possession of Jer(5nimo Amelia in 1628. Montalban's play was 
first printed in 1632 ; Enciso's appeared as a ntelta without date. 

*Prmcipe (El) ignorante.— ? 

Represented by Avendano before the Queen, between Oct. 5, 1622 and Feb. 5, 
1623. Schack, NachtrUge^ p. 67. It is mentioned by Model, Fajardo and 
Huerta, who ascribe it to Lope de Vega. It may be El Principe inocente 
noted in the Peregrino (1604). 

Prision dichosa (La).— ? 

Represented by Pedro de la Rosa, Mar. 24, 1636; June 8, 1636 and Feb. 12, 
1637. 

Profeta falso (El).— (^BZ Profeto faUo Mahoma,)—B.oiaji Zorrilla. 

Represented by Juan Martinez, May 6, 1635. Printed in the Comedicu of Rojas, 
Part I, 1640. 

*Prospera (La) Fortnna de Rui Lopez de Avalos. — Salustio del Poyo. See Za 
adversa Fortuna. 
Represented by Gaspar de Porres before May 7, 1605. Printed in Parte 
tercera de las Comediaa de Lope de Vega y otros AutoreSy Barcelona, 1612. 

♦Prudente (El).—? 

Comedia in the possession of Jer<5nimo Amelia in 1628. 

Puente (La) de Mantible.— Calderon. 

Represented by Andres de la Vega, before Nov. 23, 1632. Printed in Calderon, 
Comedias, Part I, 1636. 

*Piirgatorio (El) de San Patricio.— Calderon. 

Comedia in the possession of Jerdnimo Amelia in 1628. Calderon's play was 
first printed in 1636. 

Qnerer por solo qnerer.— D. Antonio Hurtado de Mendoza. 

Represented by Juan de Morales, May 11, 1623. According to Salvd (Cat., 
I, p. 641), it was printed as a suelta by Juan de la Cuesta, 1623. It is also 
in Fscogidas, xxxi, 1669. 

Qnien agravia no se olvida.— ? 

Represented by Antonio de Prado at Shrovetide, 1628. 

Qnien est^ contento es Rey.— ? 

Represented by Manuel Vallejo, May 12, 1633. 

*Qnien mucho vine.—? 

Comedia in the possession of Jer6nimo Amelia in 1628. 

*Qnien no se ayentnia. — Guillen de Castre. 

Represented by Avendano before the Queen, between Oct. 5, 1622 and Feb. 5, 
1623. (Schack.) MS. copy in Bib. Nac., Cat No. 2809. Printed in Libros 
EspanoUs raros 6 curiososy 1878. 

Qnien tal penaara.— ? 

Represented by Pedro Valdes, June 6, 1626. 



HUGO A. RENNBRT 51 

*Bayo (£1) de Andalucia 6 el Gtonizaro de Espafia.— Alvaro Cubillo de Aragon. 
Mentioned by Montalban, in his Paara Tochs (1632). Printed in Enano de las 
Musas^ 1654. MS. anon, in Bib. Nac., Cat., No. 1381, where it is also called 
El mas valierUe Andaluz y el Castellafio Mudarra. 

*Bayo (£1) de Palestma.— Antonio Enriquez Qomez. 

In the possession of Tomas Fernandez, theatrical manager, Nov. 1, 1637. First 
mentioned in the author's Samson Nazareno^ 1656. Sanchez- Arjona, p. 310. 

Reinar despues de Morir.—( Z>ona Iiies de Castro; La Oarza de Portugal,) Luis 
Velez de Guevara. 
Represented by Adrian Lopez, Jan. 8, 1653. Printed in Lisbon, 1662. 

Remedio (£1) estd en la Mano.— ? 

Represented by Felipe Sanchez de Echeverria, Sept. 1623. See Salva, i, p. 644^ 
La Respuesta estd en la Mano, 



*Rey Angel (El).- 
by 
'(Schack.) In the possession of Jer6nimo Amelia in 1628. Perhaps this is 



Represented oy Cristobal de Avendano before the Queen in Nov. 1622. 



El Rey Angel de iiicilia of Juan Antonio de Mojica. See Bib. Nac., Cat, 
No. 2901. 

Rey Bamba (El).— Lope de V^a. 

Represented by Antonio de Prado, Jan. 6, 1629. Printed in 1604. 

*Rey (El) don Alfonso el Sabio.— ? 

Comedia in the possession of Jerdnimo Amelia in 1628. 

Rey (£1) Don Jnan en Madrid.—? 

Represented by Antonio de Prado, Dea 28, 1634. 

Rey (£1) en Mantillas.—? 

Represented by Domingo Balbin, July 6, 1623. 

♦Rey (El) por Puerza.— ? 

Represented by Bartolome Romero, before Aug. 3, 1640. - 

*Rogar con el propio Eien.— ? 

Comedia represented before 1637. Sanchez- Arjona, p. 311. 

♦Romera (La) de Santiago.— Tirso de Molina. 

Represented by Vallejo before the Queen between Oct 5, 1622 and Feb. 5, 1623. 
(Schack.) Printed in Escogidas, xxxiii, Madrid, 1670. 

Rmsefiores (Los).-? 

Represented by Roque de Figueroa, Dec. 4, 1633, and by Juan Martinez, 
May 14, 1635. Probably Lope's No son todos Ruisehores, printed in Part 
XXII, 1635: his Ruisenor de SevtUa was printed in 1621. 

Saber del Eien y del Mai.— Calderon. 

This is Calderon's Saber del Mai y del Bie^i, 

Represented by Roque de Figueroa, before Mar. 28, 1628. Printed in Calderon's 
Part I, 1636. 

Saber veneer y yencerse.— ? 

Represented by Juan Martinez, on the Queen of Hungary's birthday, 1636 
(before Aug. 22). 

Sayinas (Las).—? 

Perhaps El Robo de las Sabincu, by Juan Coello Arias. 
Represented by Tomas Fernandez, June 24, 1637. Printed in Escogidas, xi, 
1659. 
*San Srnno.— ? 

Represented by Avendano before the Queen, between Oct 5, 1622 and Feb. 5, 
1623. (Schack.) 

*San Francisco Javier.—? 

Comedia represented before 1637. Sanchez- Arjona, p. 311. 

4—2 



52 Notes on the Chronology of the Spanish Drama 

San Pedro de Alcantara. — {El Hijo del «S6ra/Sn.)— Montalban. 

Represented by Tomas Fernandez, Nov. 5, 1634 and by Adrian Lopez, Jan. 16, 
1653. Printed in Montalban's Comedias^ Part i, 1635. 

Santa Isabel, Beina de Portugal.— Rojajs Zorrilla. 

Represented by Juan Martinez, Sept 18, 1631. Printed in Diferentes, xxxi, 
Barcelona, 1638. 

*San Jorge.—? 

Comedia in the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628. Perhaps this is Bl 
Catolico PerseOy San Jorge by Alejandro Arboreda. See Bib. Nac., Cat., 
No. 546. Or more probably. El martir valierUe en BomOy San Jorge, Bib. 
Nac., Cat., No. 2030. 

San Julian.—? 

Represented by Tomas Fernandez, June 26, 1636. Perhaps this is Lope's El 
Saber por no Saber y Vida de San Julian de Alcald de HenareSy printed in 
his Part xxiii, 1638^ or Lope's San Jtdian de CuencOy mentioned in the 
Peregrino (1604). 

Santa Taes.— Rojas Zorrilla? 

Represented by Antonio de Prado, Aug. 5, 1626. In a MS. in the Bib. Nac., 
Cat, No. 3038, it is ascribed to Rojas (bom 1607) ; in the same Cat, 
Na 3037, a play with the same title, out entirely diiterent, is attributed to 
Zarate, but the latter could not have written the above play, produced in 
1626. 

Segunda (La) de Escanderbeg.— Luis Velez de Guevara? 

Represented by Antonio de Prado, Jan. 17, 1629. 

There seem to be two plays on the subject of Escanderbeg, as the above title 
indicates. In Diferentesy xxvui, Huesca, 1634, El Principe Escanderbeg is 
ascribed to Luis Yelez de Guevara. In Part xxviii, of Lope de Vega y otroi 
{extraiHwante), Zaragoza, 1639, the play is ascribed (wrongly) to Lope de 
Vega. In Escogidcu, xlv, 1679, we find : El gran lorge Castrioto y Principe 
EecanderbeCy attributed in the text to Luis velez de Guevara, and in the 
Index to Belmonte. There is also a sudta bearing this latter title ascsibed 
to Belmonte. Barrera (p. 467, col. 2, note) referring to El gran lorge Castrioto 

L Principe Etcanderbec, says : '£sta se atribuve mas comunmente d Belmonte. 
I de Luis Velez parece ser : El Principe jEsclavo, y JTazafias de Escander- 
beg^ y puede tenerse por segimda parte.' Our comedia would then be 
Guevara'a 

*Segundo (£1) Sol de Espafia.— ? 

Comedia in the possession of Jer6nimo Amelia in 1628. 

*Selya (La) de Amor.—? 

Represented by Vallejo before the Queen, between Oct 5, 1622 and Feb. 5, 
1623. (Schack.) Perhaps this is La Selva de Amor y CeloSy by Rojas Zorrilla^ 
in EscogidaSy xxxii, 1669. 

Selya confusa (La).— Lope de Vega. 

Represented by Juan Acacio, July 21, 1623. Printed in Part xxvii {extrava- 
gante), of Lope, Barcelona, 1633, as Lope's. Schack says it is not his. The 
autograph of Calderon's play with the same title is in the Bib. Nac., Cat, No. 
3071, signed, but undated. Hartzenbusch does not mention this comedia in 
his edition of Calderon, nor is it recorded by Vera Tassis in the Verdadera 
Quinta Parte of Calderon, either among his plays or among those that had 
been wrongly ascribed to him. It is a recast of Lope's play. 

Selvas 7 Bosques de Amor.— Lope de Vega. 

Represented by Manuel Vallejo, May 7, 1623. Printed in Lope's Comediasy 
Part XXIV, 1633. 

*Semejanza (La) engafiosa.— ? 

Comedia in the possession of Jer6nimo Amelia in 1628. 



HUGO A. RENNERT 53 

Sefiora (La) y la Oriada.— Calderon. 

Represented by Cristobal de Avendano, Nov. 20, 1636. Printed in E9cogid(u^ 
XLVi, 1679. 

Sefior (El) de Noches Bnenas {Don Enrique de Rincon),—Al\BTo Cubillo de 
Aragon. 
Represented by Roque de Figiieroa, April 22, 1636. Printed in Flor de las 
mejores doce Comedias de los mayores Ingenios de Espaha, Madrid, 1662, and 
ascribed to Mendoza. Barrera, p. 704, col. 2. 

Sepnltnra (La) de Dofia Ines de Castro.—? 
Represented by Juan Martinez, Aug. 30, 1636. 

Serallonga (sic). It is El Catalan SerraUonga y Bandos de Barcelona^ by Luis 
Velez de Quevara, Rojas Zorrilla and Antonio Coello. 
Represented by Antonio de Prado, Jan. 10, 1636. Printed in Diferentee^ XXX, 
Zaragoza, 1636. 

*8errana (La) de Arravalle.— ? 

Comedia in the possession of Jer6uimo Amelia in 1628. 

Seirana (La) de la Vera.—? 

Represented by Juan de Morales, June 14, 1623. There are two comedias 
bearing this title, one by Lope de V^a, and the other by Luis Velez de 
Guevara. Both were written before 1604. 

Si el Oaballo bos an mnerto. — Luis Velez de Guevara. 

Bepresented by Alonso de Olmedo, before Jan. 26, 1632. Barrera adds to 
the title the second verse of the ballad (Duran, No. 981) : Subid, Reif, en mi 
cahallo. It also bears the alternative title El Blaeon de los Mendozas, 
Printed only as a sudta, 

Siempre aynda la Verdad.— Tirso de Molina? 

Represented by Juan Bautista Valenciano in March, 1623. Printed in Tirso's 
Part ir. Madrid, 1627. It is generally stated that Tirso wrote this play in 
collaboi'ation with Alarcon. 

Sierras (Las) de Valyarena.— ? 

Represented by Pedro de la Rosa in the Pardo, Jan. H 1637. 

Si no vieran las Mogerea— Lope de Vega. 

Represented by Luis Lopez at Aranjuez, May 1, 1633 ; and by Juan Martinez, 
Oct. 6, 1635. Printed in La Vega del Pamaso^ 1637, and according to 
Fajardo in Part v of Lope, published at Sevilla. 

Sin Peligro no hay Fineza.— ? 

Represented by Luis Lopez, Jan. 23, 1633. 

Sin Secreto no ay Amor.— Lope de Vega. 

Represented by Roque de Figueroa, Nov. 21, 1629. Autograph MS. Brit Mus. 
dated July 18, 1626. See my edition of this play, Baltimore, 1894. 

Sirena (La) de Napoles.— V 

Represented by Juan de Morales before May, 1626 ; in the possession of 
Jerdnimo Amelia in 1628. There is a play La Lavandera de Napolee, Felipa 
Catanea {El Afonetruo de la Fortuna)^ by Rojas, Coello and Guevara. That 
n Ixtvandera may be a Sirena is, perhaps, not impossible. Diego de 
Figueroa's Sirena de TVinacria is too late. 

«Si8ne (El) de Alexandria.—? 

Comedia in the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628. 

*Sitio (El) de Breda.— Calderon. 

Comedia in the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628 ; it was first printed 
in 1636 in Part i of the Comedias of Calderon. 



54 Notes on the Chronology of the Spanish Drama 

Sufiir mas por Querer mas. — Jer6nimo de Villayzan. 

Represented by Andres de la Vega, before Nov. 23, 1632 {Nuevos Datos, p. 226), 
and by Bartolome Romero, Oct 17, 1637, before the King. Printed in 
DiferenteSy xxv, Zaragoza, 1632. It appears that Villayzan died in the 
following year. See Qallardo, BnsaifOj iv, p. 976. 

Tamerlan (£1). — Luis Velez de Guevara. 

Represented by Juan Martinez, Sept. 16, 1635. It abo appeared under the title 
La nueva Ira de DioSy y gran Tamorlan de Persia, JPrinted in DifererUes^ 
XXXIII, Valencia, 1642. 

Tanto hagas quanto pagnes. — {La Traicion vengada,) — Lope de Vega. 

Represented by Tomas Fernandez in San Loreiizo el Real, before Nov. 18, 1625. 
The play has been ascribed to Moreto (bom 1618), but the date of this 
representation shows the error of this ascription. That it was written by 
Jacinto Cordero (born 1606) is also not very likely. It is probably by Lope 
de Vega, to whom Chorley was also inclined to attribute it. See my Life of 
Lope de Vega, p. 534. 

Tener 6 no tener.— ? 

Represented by Alonso de Olmedo before Jan. 23, 1636. 

Tierra en Medio.—? 

Represented by Tomas Fernandez on St John's day, 1625. 

♦Tirzo.— ? 

Ck)media in the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628. Can this be San Tirso 
de Eepana by Lope de Vega ? 

Todo se sabe.—? 

Represented by Roque de Figueroa, Sept 29, 1633. 

Torre (La) del Orbe.--It is La gran Torre del Orbe, Amadis de Orecia by Pedro 
Rosete Nino. 
Represented by Antonio de Prado, Nov. 26, 1634. 
*Trabajos (Lob) de Job.— Felipe Godinez. 

Represented before March 25, 1637. Nuevoe Datos, p. 265. Printed in 
Diferentes, xxxi, Barcelona, 1638. 

Tragedia (La) de la Reina de Escocia.— ? 

Represented by Antonio de Prado, at Shrovetide, 1628. Perhaps this is La 
Reyna Maria Estuarda by Manuel de Gallegos. Published as a suelta (?). 
Traicion (La) leal.— ? 

Represented by Pedro de la Rosa in the Retire before March 3, 1637. 

Trajano (El).—? 

Represented by Cristobal de Avendano, May 21, 1634. 

*TranceB de Honor.—? 

Comedia in the possession of Jerdnimo Amelia in 1628. 

*Transfonnaciones.— ? 

Comedia in the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628. JenSnimo de Villayzan 
wrote a comedia entitled TVansformaciones de Amor (see below). 

Transformaciones de Amor. — Jer6nimo de Villayzan. 

Represented by Juan Bautista de Villegas, before January, 1623. It was 
printed in 1650. See Bib. Nac., Cat., No. 3310. 

Tratar mal por querer bien.— 

Represented by Andres de la Vega, Sept. 9, 1625. 
*Trato (El) en la Aldea.-? 

Represented before March 5, 1602. ^uevos Datos, p. 64. See Bib. Nac, Cat., 
No. 3314. 

♦Tres (Lob) Oonsejoa.- ? 

Comedia in the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628. 



HUGO A. RENNERT 55 

*Tre8 (Las) personas de Dios.— 7 

Representod by Bartolome Romero before Aug. 3, 1640. Ntievos Batos, p. 324. 

*Valiente (El) Nardo Antonio.—? 

Comedia in the possession of Jerdnimo Amelia in 1628. Perhaps this is Loi)e 
de Vega's Nardo Antonio^ Bandolero, In the list of Amelia's plays it is 
ascrib^ to Mira de Mescua, but I have not even noted the ascriptions in 
this list as they are mostly erroneous. 

Valiente (El) Negro en Flandes. ^Andres de Claramonte. 

Represented by Juan de Morales, Sept. 13, 1626, and again before July 16, 1637. 
First printed in Diferentes^ xxxi, Barcelona, 1638. 

Valor 7 necesitad.— ? 

Represented by Bartolome Romero in the Salon, Madrid, January 14, 1636. 

♦Vencedor (El) yencido en el Tomeo.— ? 

Represented by Juan de Morales before the Queen between Oct. 6, 1622 and 
Feb. 5, 1623. (Schack.) Is this perhaps El vencedor vencido of D. Juan de 
Ochoa of Seville ? There is a MS. copy of the latter play in the Bib. Nac., 
Cat, No. 3428. 

♦Venganza (La) de Tamar.— Tirso de Molina. 

Comedia in the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628. It was first printed in 
1634. 

Venganza (La) y el Amor.— Don Diego de Villegas. 

Represented by Manuel Vallejo, Feb. 5, 1623. Printed only as a sudta. 

♦Ventura (La) por el Pie.—? 

Represented by Baltasar Pinedo before Nov. 10, 1614. 

Vi9arrias (Las) de Velisa.— -Lope de Vega. 

Represented by Andres de la Vega May 11, 1634 (sic). There must be a 
mistake here in the date as Lope did not finish this comedia till May 24, 
1634, as the autograph in the Brit. Mus. shows. See my Life of Lope de 
Vegay p. 357. The money (800 reals) was received by Andres de 1a V^a on 
Oct. 29, 1635 for four particidares given before the King in April and May, 
not 1634, but in all probability 1635, as Philip IV seems to have paid 
promptly for his plays. 

*Virgen (La) de los Bemedios.— Calderon. 

Represented by Alonso Caballero in Seville, in 1667. Sanchez- Arjona, p. 445. 
It is probably now lost. 

*Virtndes vengen sefiales.— Luis Velez de Guevara. 

Comedia in the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628. First printed in 1640. 

*Vitoria (La) de las Malmas.— ? 

Comedia in the possession of JenSnimo Amelia in 1628. 

Vizcaina (La).— Lope de Vega. 

Represented by Antonio de Prado, January 2, 1623 and by Pedro de la Rosa 
in the Retire, before March 3, 1637. The play is mentioned by Lope in his 
Peregrino (1604). It is otherwise unknown and is probably lost. 

*Zelos (Lo8) por la Alabanza.— ? 

Comedia in the possession of Jer6nimo Amelia in 1628. 

Hugo A. Rennert. 



NOTES ON THE TEXT OF CHAPMAN'S PLAYS\ 

The Blinde Begger of Alexandria. 

Vol. I, p. 8, Eli. But are we by our selues. 

Mar. I thinke so vnlesse you haue alone in your belly. 

For 'alone' read 'a bone.' Cp. The Historie of King Leir and his 

three Daughters (Shak. Lib. 331) : 

Alas, not I: poore soule, she breeds yong bones, 
And that is it makes her so tutchy sure. 

Also Ford's The Broken Heart, ii, i, 142 : 

What think you 
If your fresh lady breed young bones, my lord ! 

P. 12. And so such faultes as I of purpose doe. 

Is buried in my humor and this gowne I weare, 
In rayne or snowe or in the hottest sommer,... 

Place full stop after ' humor/ and proceed : 

This gowne I weare 
In rayne or snowe... 

P. 15. I am Spaniard a borne,... 
Read: 'I am a Spaniard borne.' The editors, perhaps, have taken 
the inversion as an indication of foreign methods of speech: but in no 
other passage does Bragadino adopt the style of the ' Dago.' 

P. 24. My Lord I will be sworne he payde him,... 

Possibly a pause after *My Lord' is sufficient to explain this line. 

Otherwise one might suggest that * sworne ' is disyllabic, and that we 

should read: 

My Lord, I will be sworne [that] he payde him. 

P. 24. ...foure thousand pound. 

Which I did helpe to tender and hast thou 
A hellish conscience and such a brasen forhead, 
To denye it agaynst my wittnesse. 
And his noble woorde. 

The verse may be partially restored if the words 'a hellish con- 

^ The Comedies and Tragedies of George Chapman now first collected, with illustrative 
Notes and a Memoir of the Author. 3 vols. London, John Pearson, 1873. The Tragedie 
of Chabot, Admirall of France.. Jrom the Quarto of 1639. Edited... by Ezra Lehman. 
{Publications of the University of Pennsylvania: Series in Philology and Literature, 
vol. X.) Philadelphia, 1906. 



J. LB GAY BRERETON 57 

science' be taken by themselves as a broken line. The rest of the 
passage then drops easily into pentameters : *And such... it/ 'Against... 
woorde.' 

P. 40. As I was walking in the iileasant weedes,... 
For ' weedes ' read * meades.' 



An Humerous Dates Myrth. 

P. 51. ' Throwt ' = ' throughout/ not ' through/ as in Shepherd. 

P. 51. ...I haue clapt her key in waze, and made this counterfeite, to 
the which I steale accesse to work this rare and politike 
deuice:... 

For *to the which' read 'by the which.' For the sake of the verse 

perhaps we should regard the words ' rare and ' as intrusive. 

P. 54. ,..Colenet you know no man better, that you are mightily in loue 
with loue, by Martia daughter to old Foyes. 

For ' loue, by/ Deighton would read * louely '; and, though the necessity 

for change is not quite imperative, the suggestion gains support from 

a passage on the next page: '...but Colenet go you first to louely 

Marida,* 

P. 63. ...If you will vnworthilly prooue your constancie to your hus- 
band, you must put on rich apparrell,... 

For ' vnworthilly ' should we read ' worthilly ' ? 

P. 65. Le, Good morrow, my good Lord, and these passing louely Ladies. 

Cat. So now we shall haue all maner of nattering with Monsieur 

Lemot. 
Le, You are all manner of waies deceiued Madam,... 

For the prefix ' Cat: read ' Cou.' 

P. 76. ...nor looke a snuffe like a piannets taile, for nothing but their 
tailes and formall lockes,... 

'Tailes,' accidentally caught from the line above, should perhaps be 

* curies.' 

P. 78. Yea my liege, and she as I hope wel obserued, hath vttered many 
many kind conceits of hers. 

For * hers ' read ' her.' Then, for ' as ' should we read ' has ' ? Or should 

we not rather place the words ' as I hope 'between commas ? ' Hath ' is 

equivalent to * he hath ' ; this dropping of the third personal pronoun 

masculine is not uncommon. Cp. Reuenge for Honour (Pearson, ill, 

p. 354) : * Has slain the Lady.' 



58 Notes on the Text of Chapman's Plays 



All Fooles. 

P. 113. The hidden came* of those strange effects, 

That rise from this Hell, or fall from this Heauen:,,, 

For * or fall from this Heauen/ read ' from this Heauen fall ' ? 

P. 173. You that can out-aee cleere-ej'd ieolouflie, 
Yet make this slight a Milsione,... 

I can see no diflSculty in this passage, but apparently it is one of 
those that win Chapman his reputation for obscurity. Shepherd, in 
his modernised text, retains the spelling ' slight * (for * sleight '), and both 
Shepherd and Phelps transform the ' Milstone ' to a * milestone.' 



MONSIEVR D'OlIVE. 

P. 201. ...the mugrill of a Gull, and a villaine,... 
Shepherd keeps this, though it is obvious — as, indeed, Dilke has 
evidently observed — that the printer failed to note the dash over the 
' u ' in the word ' mugrill.' In The Revenge of Busay UAmbois (Pear- 
son, II, p. 125) we have the form ' mungrils.' 

P. 209. Feare not my Lo: The wizzard is as forward, 
To vsurpe greatnes, as all greatnes is: 
To abuse vertue, or as riches honor. 

For 'wizzard' read 'buzzard.' A buzzard is a fellow blinded by his 
folly. Cp. May Day (Pearson, ii, p. 349): '...my assurance is that 
Cupid will take the scarfe from his owne eyes, and hoodwinke the old 
buzzard, while two other true turtles enioy their happinesse.' 

P. 222. Deare life, take knowledge that thy Brothers loue, 
Makes me dispaire with my true sseale to thee:... 

For 'dispaire' Dilke gives 'dispense,' and Shepherd 'despair'; but 'to 
dispair' is to dissociate. The word is not common, but The New English 
Dictionary quotes examples of its use from Sylvester, Beaumont and 
Fletcher, and Richardson. 

P. 235. I did euer dreame, that this head was borne to beare a breadth,... 
Deighton would alter ' breadth ' to ' brain.' But in The Widdowes Teares 
(Pearson, ill, p. 84) the expression ' it beares a bredth ' occurs where 
brains are plainly not in question. 



j. le gay brereton 59 

The Gentleman Vsher. 

P. 263. Enter Lomo^ CortezOj Margaret, Bassioloy Sarpego, two Pages^ 
Bassiolo bare before. 

But Corteza and Margaret do not enter until later. See p. 265 : 'Enter 

Corte,, Margarite, and maids.' 

P. 313. Lass. Madam, in this deed 

You desenie highly of my Lord the Duke. 

Cor. Nay my Lord Medice, I thinke I told you 

I could do prettie well in these aflfaires:... 

For the prefix 'Lass J read 'Med.' 

P. 319. This Duke will shew thee how youth puts downe age,... 
Place a comma before and after ' Duke.' ' This ' is either the scene to 
follow, or, perhaps, the window or balcony overlooking the stage. 

P. 329. See pretioiis Loue, if thou be it in ayre,... 
For 'it 'read 'yet.' 

P. 332. would to Qod, I could with present cure 

Of these vnnaturall wounds ; and moning right 
Of this abused beautie, ioyne vou both, 
(As last I left you) in etemall nuptials. 

Omit the' semicolon after ' wounds'; and for 'moning right' read 'mouing 

sight.' 

BussY D'Ambois. 

Vol. II, p. 82. ...but vsually 

Giues that which she calls merit to a man. 
And beliefe must arriue him on huge riches, 
Honour, and happinesse, that effects his mine;... 

Deighton ingeniously suggests : 'And he lief must arride him on huge 
riches.' But when a man has fortune's gift of merit, self-confidence, or 
belief in that merit, is just what is likely to produce the result referred 
to in the text — and the life of D'Ambois afibrds instant example. If 
any change be necessary, it is the substitution of ' belive ' for ' beliefs.' 

The Reuenge of Bussy D'Ambois. 

Pp. 143-4. ...you can neuer finde 

Things outward care, but you neglect your minde. 

If the text be correct, ' things ' is possessive ; but in that case the mean- 
ing of 'finde' is somewhat strained. I have suggested (see Bussy 
D'Ambois and The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois, ed. F. S. Boas, 1905, 
p. 301) that the true reading may be ' things out worth care,' in which 
case ' out ' stands for ' outward.' So ' in ' = ' inward ' in Bussy D'Ambois 

(Pearson, ii, p. 9) : 

Braue Barks^ and outward Glosse 
Attract Court Loues, be in parts ne're so grosse. 



60 Notes on the Text of Chapman's Plays 



Byron's Conspiracie. 

P. 186. ...his countries loue, 

He yet thirsts: not the faire shades of himselfe:... 

For ' fkire shades ' Deighton would read * fierce hates.' But ' the faire 

shades of himselfe ' are surely the images of himself invested with royal 

dignity. 

P. 230. And we had thought, that he whose vertues flye 

So beyond wonder, and the reach of thought, 
Should check at eight houres saile,... 

Should we read : ' And we not thought. . . ' ? 

P. 236. Till in the fresh moate, at his naturall foode 

He sees free fellowos, and hath met them free:... 

For * meate ' read * meade *. 



The Tragedie of Charles Duke of Byron. 

P. 256. To your vnmatcht, and more then humaine winde;... 

For * winde ' in this passage and on p. 314, Deighton wishes us to read 

' mind.' To me it appeixrs that ' wind ' means ' mind ' and more — ^it is 

the imaginative spirit of a man. The word occurs again in The 

Widdowes Teares (Pearson, in, p. 65) : 

What a slaue was I 
That held not out my wiudes strength constanly, 
That shee would proue thus ? 

P. 282. I was enforc't to play the Marshall, 

To order the retreat:... 

Read: '...the Marshall [too],'... 

P. 302. Mindes must be found, that iudge affaires of weight, 

And seeing hands, cut corosiues from your sight. 

For ' found ' read ' sound.' 

P. 303. I must confesse my choUer hath transferd 

My tender spleene to all intemperate speech : 

But reason euer did my deeds attend. 

In worth of praise and imitation, 

Had I borne any will to let them loose, 

I could haue flesht them with bad seruioes. 

In Eiigland lately, and in Switzerland:,., 

Should not the full stop after ' attend ' change places with the comma 

at the end of the following line ? 

P. 314. I bring a long Globe, and a little earth,... 

' Bring,' as Deighton notes, should be ' being.' For ' long ' perhaps we 
should read ' lone.' 



J. LE GAY BRERETON 61 

P. 316. ...I haue neuer past act gainst the King, 

Which if my faith had let me vndertake, 
They had mne three yeares since, amongst the dead. 

One might possibly make a desperate defence of this reading : I prefer 
the attack. Omit ' They ' and the comma after * since.' We must then 
t^ke 'had' as equivalent to 'he had' ('h'ad'). The printer probably 
supplied what he considered the missing subject. See, for a similar 
insertion of an unnecessary pronoun, the next passage quoted, 

P. 318. Thou seest I see not? yet I speake as I saw. 

Read : ' Thou seest I see not, yet speake as I saw.' ' Speake ' is equiva- 
lent to ' speakest.' 

May-Day. 

P. 324. ...what paper is that he holds in hand trow we? 

For ' trow we ' read ' trowe ' (probably printed in the proofs as ' tro we *" 
and expanded by the printer's reader). 

P. 324. Lor, A farre commanding mouth. 

Ang, It stretches to her eares in deede. 
Lor, A nose made out of waze. 

The words ' made out ' are clearly an interpolation ; they entirely spoil 
Lorenzo's verse. 

Pp. 330-1. But then thou must vse thy selfe like a man, and a wise man, how,, 
how deepe soeuer shoe is in thy thoughts, carry not the prints, 
of it in thy lookes ;... 

Shepherd omits the first ' how.' Rather place a full stop after * wise- 
man,' and continue : ' How ! how deepe soeuer.,.' 

P. 349. ...well may beauty inflame others, riches may tempt others;... 
Perhaps: 'Well, beauty may inflame others;...' 

P. 352. Ang, There is one little snaile ^ou know, an old chimney sweeper. 

Lor, What, hee that sings. Maids in your smocks, hold open your 

locks, fludgs. 
A ng. The very same sir, . . . 

For ' fludgs ' read ' [SingsY The only letter which is unaccountably in- 
trusive is the * d.' 

P. 360. Let my man reade how hee deserues to be bayted. 

For ' my ' read * any.' 

P. 366. ...perseuer till I haue yonder house a my head, hold in thy homes,, 

till they looke out of QuintiUianoos forehead :... 

One would expect ' my ' instead of ' thy,' unless we should read: ' perseuer 
till I have yonder house. A, my head, hold in thy homes, till they looke 
out of Quintillianoes forehead.' 



62 Notes on the Text of Chapman! s Plays 

p. 366. .../aue past the pikes yfaith, and all the layles of the loue-god 

swarme in yonder house, to salute your recouery. 

For ' layles ' read ' toylea' 

P. 386. A poxe vpon thee, tame your bald hewed tongue,... 

For ' bald hewed ' read ' gall-dew'd ' (?). 

P. 387. ...that perl's man Lodowicke,,., 

It should hardly be necessary to point out that * perl's ' is a contraction 
of * perilous ' (i.e. ' parlous') ; but if some of my notes seem obvious, I can 
only say that at least they correct the misconceptions of the unhappy 
Chapman's editors. What did Shepherd understand by 'that pearl's 
man'? 

P. 390. Ancient Surloigne, a man of goodly presence, and full of expecta- 

tion, as you ancient ought to bee,... 

For ' you ' read ' your.' 



The Widdowes Teares. 

Vol. Ill, p. 16. Lurd. Your Honour shall doe well to haue him poison'd. 
ffiar. Or begg'd of your Cosen the Viceroy. 

For ' begg'd ' read ' beg't.' 

P. 40. ...yet vow I neuer to assume other Title, or State, then yoiu* 

seruants :... 

Shepherd prints ' servants ' : modernised, it should be ' servant's.' 

P. 41. ...if shee be gold shee may abide the tast,... 

Shepherd alters ' tast ' to ' test,' unnecessarily. See Nares. 

P. 49. I feare [me] we must all turne Nymphs to night,... 

So Shepherd : but ' feare ' is disyllabic. 

P. 54. This straine of mourning with Sepulcher, like an ouerdoing Actor, 

affects grosly,... 

* With ' = ' wi'th'.' No need of Shepherd's * [in a].' 

P. 60. 1 haue lost my tongue in this same lymbo. 

The spring ants, spoil'd me thinkes ; it goes not off 
With the old twange. 

Shepherd seems to have discovered here some reference to a vernal 

emmet. Yet he modernises correctly a line on p. 78 : 

No, He not lose the glorie ant. 

P. 61. But I will make her turne flesh and bloud,... 

* Turne ' is disyllabic. Shepherd's * [to] ' must go. 



J. LE GAY BRERETON 63 

P. 65. Come, bring me brother. 

For * me ' read ' my/ 

P. 67. Thou shalt, thou shalt ; though my loue to thee 

Hath prou'd thus sodaine... 

It would be easy to normalise the former line by reading ' [aljthough ' ; 

but, in our old dramatists, breaks in the line often mark a pause or 

change of tone. 

P. 69. Die? All the Gods forbid ;... 

This speech should be printed as verse. 

P. 70. Not for this miching base transgression 

Of tenant negligence. 

Deighton*s emendation (* truant ' for ' tenant ') is supported by a passage 
on p. 80, where a soldier who has discovered Lysander's place of con- 
cealment says : * My truant was mich't Sir into a blind comer of the 
Tomb.' Cp. also the well-known ' true tenant ' of Philaster, Similarly, 
Deighton's correction of 'all' to *iir on p. 71, receives support from 
an error on p. 49 : ' But your lookes, mee thinkes, are cloudie; suiting 
all the Sunne-shine of this cleare honour to your husbands house.' 

Pp. 74-75. The passages printed as prose should be re-arranged as 
verse. 

P. 76. Thou, false in show, hast been most true to me ; 

The seeming true ; hath prou'd more false then her. 

Query : * She, seeming true, hath prou'd more false then thou * ? 

P. 76. Assist me to behold this act of lust, 

Note with a Scene of strange impietie. 
Her husbands murtherd corse ! 

Semicolon at ' lust,' commas at * Note ' and * impietie.' 

P. 76. ...my stay hath been prolonged 

With hunting obscure nookes for these emploiments, 
The night prepares away ; Come, art resolu'd. 

Fulh stop at ' emploiments.' For * away ' read ' a way.' 

Caesar and Pompey. 

P. 128. For fall of his ill-disposed Purse.... 

A syllable has dropped out. Query : ' [so] ill-disposed ' ? 

P. 131. 2. WhdXl honored Catol enter, chuse thy place. 

Cat Come in ; 

He drawM him in and sits between Caesar and Metelltts, 
— Away vnworthy groomes. 
3. No more. 

I am not sure that we should not read : 

2. What ! honored Cato ! enter, chuse thy place, 
CatOy come in;... 



64 Notes on the Text of Chapman's Plays 

P. 150. Suspected? What suspection should feare a friend... 

One may hint that the substitution of * suspect ' for * suspection ' would 
improve the verse, though no editor should dare to make such a change. 

P. 157. All which hath growne still, as the time eacrease 

In which twas gather'd, and with which it stemm'd. 

Bead * encreas['d]' ? 

P. 183. Tis more than loue euer thundred with. 

Read : ' [hath] euer thundred with.' 

P. 191. Cor, my Lord, and father, come, aduise me. 

For ' Cor: read 'For: 

P. 193. How durst ye poyson thus my thoughts? to torture 

Them with instant rapture. 
Omn. 3. Sacred Caesar, 

Bead : ' [Bear] them with instant rapture.' 



Alphonsus, Emperour of Oermant. 

P. 218. II prove it with my Sword, 

That English Courtship leaves it from the world. 

For ' leaves ' read * beares.' 

P. 223. What? what the Empress accessary to? 

Instead of ' What ! what! the Empress accessary too!' Elze, from whose 
edition Shepherd reprints, has 'What? Was the Empress accessary to't?' 
But in the modernised version of this play there are many errors, pardon- 
able to a German, but beyond excuse in an English editor. Thus on 
p. 225 occurs : 

How easily can subtil age intice. 

Such credulous young novices to their death? 

'Novices' is practically disyllabic; Elze and Shepherd quietly drop 
* their.' On p. 235 they alter ' fallace ' to ' fallacy/ and contract ' they 
have * to * they've * ; on p. 241, ' schuce ' (= * 'scuse ') is rendered by them 
'juice.* And so on. 

P. 243. Alphon. This dangerous plot was happily overheard, 

Here didst thou listen in a blessed howr. 

These two lines are spoken not by Alphonsus, but by Alexander. 

P. 278. Why stand you gasing on an other thus? 

For ' on an other ' read ' one on other.' 



J. LE GAY BRERETON 65 



Revenge for Honour. 

Elsewhere {Sydney University Library PxMicationa, No. 2) I have 
given reasons for my belief that this play is a burlesque, cunningly 
planned to bring unsuspected ridicule upon a stage-struck gull. The 
ingenuity of the plot, so different from the stately uncomplicated narra- 
tive of Chapman's greater tragedies, is not so far removed from the 
construction of Alphonsus, It seems to be the result of a carelessly 
deliberate deference to popular taste. The style is quite unpoetic, and 
the printer rightly insists by beginning his lines with lower case that 
the piece is in pentameter prose. 

P. 291. How do you like your General, Prince, 

is he a right Mars ? 

Read '[the] Prince'? 

P. 292. Well then... My gracious brother,... 

Here, as elsewhere, (pp. 312, 313-314, 316, 328, 356), Shepherd, 
guessing truly that a passage is prose, does not recognise its formal 
value as blank prose. 

P. 292. ...the greatest maladie 

than can oppress mans souL 
Sel. They say right. 

Read : * that can oppress [a] man's soul.' 

P. 301. Abr. You imagine me 

beyond all thought of gratitude; and doubt not 
that I'll deceive your trust 

Query : omit ' You ' ? Deighton would alter * deceive * into * deserve ' ; 
but' doubt ' = ' fear.' 

P. 303. we leave them a Successor whom they truly reverence:... 

Probably, but by no means certainly, we should omit * them.' 

P. 304. Such a prince as ours is, 

...should not be expos'd 
to every new cause, honourable danger. 

Read : * every new cause' honourable danger.' 

P. 306. Tis oonfess'd, all this a serious truth. 

Shepherd alters 'a' to 'as,' though the abbreviation of 'this is' to 
'this' is not uncommon. Similarly, 'that it* becomes 'that,' as on 
p. 307 : ' Not that I think it wil, but that may happen.' On p. 325 we 
read ' Let ' for ' Let it ' : ' Let go round.' 

P. 309. Abr. Alone the engine works 

beyond or hope or credit. 

Read : ' Alone ! The engine works. . .* 

M. L. R. III. 5 



66 Notes on the Text of Chapman s Plays 

p. 315. But Lady, I till now have been your tempter, 

one that desired hearing, the brave resistance 
you made my brother, when he woo'd your love, 
only to boast the glory of a conquest 
which seem'd impossible, now I have gain'd it 
by being vanquisher, I myself am vanquicfh'd 
your everlasting Captive. 

Repunctuate thus : 

But, Lady, [ till now have been your tempter, 
one that desired, hearing the brave resistance 
you made my brother when he woo'd your love 
onlv to boas^ the glory of a conquest 
which seem'd impossible; now I have gain'd it; 
by being vanquisher I myself am vanquish'd, 
your everlasting Captive. 

P. 316. AbiL By my command bee's mustring up our forces. 

Yet Mesithes, go you to Abrahen and with intimations 
from us, strengthen our charge. 



Rearrange : 



By my command 
hee's mustrins; up our forces. Yet, Ifenthes, 
Go you to Aoranen,.. 



P. 321. My Brother,... 

the beast of lust (wliat friends would fear to violate) 
has with rude insolence destroyed her honor, 
by him inhumane ravished. 
Read: 

My Brother,... 
the beast of lust, what fiends would fear to violate 
has with rude insolence destroyed, her honor, 
by him inhumane ravish'd. 

P. 324 Sd, No quarrelling good Couzens, lest it be 

with the glass,... 

For ' lest ' read ' less.' 

P. 328. to summon him to make his speedy appearance 

'fore the Tribunall of Almanzor\ 
so pray you execute your office. 

Tar, How one vice 
can like a small cloud... 

The words * so pray ' should be printed at the end of the preceding line. 

P. 341. Mu. His life 

is fain the off-spring of thy chastitie, 
which his hot lust polluted:... 

i,e, his execution is the result of his pollution of thy chastity; but, 

perhaps, for ' oflF-spring of we should read ' offring to.* 

P. 348. Love, Menthes, 

is a most stubborn Malady in a Lady, not cur'd 
with that felicity, that are other passions,... 

most likely ' felicity ' should be ' facility.' The words ' in a Lady ' are 

the original misprint of ' Malady ' ; the compositor, in restoring the true 



J. LE GAY BEERETON 67 

word ^from the corrected proof, did not perceive the necessity of 
cancelling its substitutes. 

P. 348. it has pass'd 

the limits of mv reason, and intend 
my wil, where like a fixt Star 't settles, 
never to be removed thenoe. 

For * intend ' Shepherd substitutes * indeed ' ; this is unsatisfactory ; so 
are the only emendations I can suggest — ' in th' end,' or ' enter'd in/ 

P. 355. and thus I kiss'd my last breath. 

For ' kiss'd ' read ' kiss ' (= * expend in a kiss *). 

P. 356. I thought 'twould come to me anon : 

poor Prince, I e'ne could dy with him« 

Abil. And for those souldiers, and those our most fistithfull 
MutSy that once my life sav'd, let them be 
well rewarded; death and I are almost now 
at unitie. Farewell 

Rearrange: (1) *I thought... Prince,' (2) '...souldiers,' (3) '...sav'd,' 
(4) '...and I,' (5) •...Farewell.' 



The Tragedie of Chabot. 

Act 1, 1. 303. With passionate enemies, and ambitious boundlesse 
Avarice... 

Very likely ' ambitious ' should be * ambitions.' 

Act II, 1. 89. And such an expectation hangs upon't. 

Though all the Court as twere with child, and long'd 
To make a mirror of my Lords cleare blood,... 

For * though ' read * through.' 

L. 113. I wake no desart, yet goe arm'd with that, 

That would give wildest beasts instincts to rescue. 
Rather than offer any force to hurt me; 
My innocence is, which is a conquering justice. 
As weares a shield, that both defends and fights. 

I agree with Shepherd that * wake ' should be ' walk,' but object to his 
omission of ' is.' For ' weares * read ' 'twere.' 

L. 142. Brave resolution so his acts be just, 

He cares for gaine not honour. 

Read : * Brave resolution ! so his acts be just, He cares for gaine nor 

honour.' 

L. 199. And all my fortunes in an instant lost, 

That mony, cares, and paines, and yeares have gathered. 

For *mony' Shepherd reads 'money'; my preference goes to 'many 

cares.' 

5—2 



68 Notes on the Text of Chapman's Plays 

L. 285. And he that can use actions with the vulgar, 

Must needes embrace the same effects & 
cannot informe him;... 

After * & ' there was perhaps an illegible word ; the compositor sent to 
the reader to ask him what it was; the reader's marginal note, 'cannot 
informe him/ has found its way into the text. Mr Lehman says 
'inform' means 'mend.' 

L. 305. like foiles 

They shall sticke of my merits tenne times more. 

In the modernised version, ' of should be ' off.' 

Act III, L 247. ...a man so learned, so full of equity, so noble, so notable 
in the progress of his life, so innocent, in the manage of his office so 
incorrupt... 

Comma after 'notable '; omit comma after 'life.' 

Act IV, 1. 168. But where proportion 

Is kept to th' end in things, at start so happy 
That end set on the crowne. 

For ' set * read ' sets.' 

LI. 293-294. This was too wilde a way to make his merits 
Stoope and acknowledge my superior bounties. 
That it doth raise, and fixe e'm past my art, 
To shadow all the shame and forfeits mine. 

Read: '...past my art To shadow; all the shame and forfeit's mine.* 

L. 369. what a prisoner 

Is pride of the whole flood of man ? 

Read: 'Of pride is the...' 

Act V, 1. 271. There .doomesday is my conscience blacke and horrid, 
For my abuse of lustice,... 

Read : * There doomesday is — my conscience, blacke and horrid For my 
abuse of Justice,. . .' 

L. 483. Pompey could heare it thunder, when the Senate 

And Capitoll were deafe, so heavens loud chiding,... 

Read : 'were deafe to heaven's loud chiding.' 

J. Le Gay Brereton. 



A THIRTEENTH-CENTURY PATERNOSTER 

BY AN ANGLO-FRENCH SCRIBE. 

The following Middle-English version of the Paternoster, written 
in a late thirteenth-century hand (MS. No. 82, fol. 271 b, Cathedral 
Library of Sarum), was contributed by Sir E, Maunde Thompson to 
Englische Studien, Vol. i, p. 215 : 

Hure wader fat is in euene >yii name beyn ehd. bring iis \>i kinriche to. al \>i 
[misprinted *pi'J wille wurth i do. Deilicn brid >u iuestu. an hure kultes war 
])ifus also we do im l>e al kilt us. Brunk us ut of hiwel vonhnic an weres hus vram 
eh ivel \>ynhc. Amen. 

That the spelling of this document is remarkably peculiar and 
inconsistent is obvious at the first glance: we have brid for bread 
or bred, kultes by the side of kiltj bring in one case, brunk in another, 
and hiwel followed by ivel in the next line. A closer examination 
reveals certain of the features which Professor Skeat has dealt with in 
detail in a paper read before the Philological Society, on May 9, 1907, 
on the Proverbs of Alfred (printed by Morris in his Old English 
Miscellany), and in his recent editions of this poem and of Havelok 
the Dane, and which he regards as being undoubted marks of the 
work of an Anglo-French scribe, that is, of a scribe who was of 
French birth or who had had an entirely French education, and was 
consequently imperfectly acquainted with the grammar and vocabulary 
of English. 

In the text before us, there are several instances in which it is 
doubtful what words the scribe intended to write, so little does he 
seem to have understood the English phonetic system. It will be 
better to consider these before attempting to classify the orthographic 
peculiarities of the forms he uses. 

1. beyn ehd is no doubt misdivided, but a re-division into be ynehd 
does not yield an intelligible form for the second word. A possibly 
correct emendation is yhehd, passive participle of heyen (O. E. h^an), 



70 A Thirteenth-Century Paternoster 

' to exalt.* I do not, however, find the original sanctificetur translated 
thus in any Paternoster of similar date, the usual word being yhal}ed. 

2. iiiestu is very obscure ; it is perhaps for * 3if us to * = ' give to us,* 
but fw for ' to * is a substitution not easy to account for. 

3. war yifus is wrongly divided ; read t^arjn/ us = ' vor3if us.' 

4. al kilt is the greatest difficulty in the whole text. I can only 
suggest that the scribe meant agylte, agulte (past tense = ' oflfended '). 
The low-back element in the pronunciation of d- may have given a 
Frenchman the impression of an Z. 

5. vonhnic. We must read vonhinc = ' vonding.* 

6. weres appears to be a downright blunder for were, imperative 
of ' werien ' (= ' to defend *), probably due to confusion with the 2nd 
person singular indicative. (It is hardly likely to be a form of ' warish 
= Anglo-French waiir, wariss-, Old Fr. garir, gariss-.) 

The following characteristics, which have been noted by Professor 
Skeat in the places above-mentioned, are exhibited in this little text : 

1. Initial h is omitted in euene, im. 

2. Initial h is added in hure, hus, hiwd, 

3. w is used for v in wader, warpif, hiwd. Ci/rowere = * frofre * in 
Prov. Alfr. 54 et al. But Professor Skeat has no instance of initial w 
so used. 

4. "p for 3 in war]n/, Cf Jn/ for }%/ in Prov, Alfr. (several times). 

5. nk, n(h)c for ng, in brunk, vonhinc, \ynhc. Cf. Prov, Alfr. 36: 
kinc = ' king.' 

Besides these we have : 

6. Medial h inserted in vonhnic, \ynhc. 

7. Final h for ch in eh, 

8. Initial k for g in kultes, kilt (= ' gultes,* ' -gulte *). 

9. 3 dropped initially in iiiestu, 

10. u for i (= O. E. i) in hrurik. This spelling is doubtless due 
to confusion of the high-front-narrow % with its rounded correlative, 
French ii. 

There are two other points that make in the same direction. One 
is the use of the syllable war- (familiar initially in a number of Anglo- 
French forms like warantir) instead of voi% in warjn/. The other is the 
syntactical anomaly in Hure wader \fai is, where the native idiom of 
the period would have required ' J?at art.* 



C. TALBUT ONIONS 71 

[Professor Skeat, to whom I submitted the above notes, has been 
good enough to send some valuable suggestions. He thinks that the 
original form of our specimen was metrical. He would restore it as 
follows (comparing the rhyming paternosters in Reliquiae AntiqiLae, 
vol. I, pp. 22, 57, 169): 

Urg v4der t^at is in h^uen^ 
>y ndm3 b^ yh^hed [^uenS]: 
bring us ]>1 kinrfche t6; 
41 ])i wflle wiirthe i-d6;i 
[on drthe as fs in h^uene als6.] 
Deflich br^ \>\i 3{f us t6; 
And lire gtiltfis vdrjif ds, 
Al8(o)* w6 do h^m >e agflten lis. 
Bring us lit of fvel vondfng 
And w^re us vr6m ech fvel )>fng. 

C. Talbut Onions. 

^ do, also is a bad rime ; but actaally ooours in the Paternoster, ReL AnL, i, 57. 
s Much better als, for the metre.] 



MISCELLANEOUS NOTES. 

'Wayte What ' = * Whatever/ 

In the N,E,D., under Look, 4 b [look prefixed to interrogative 
pronoun or adv., or relative conj., forming indefinite relatives = wAoever, 
■whatever, however, etc.], Mr Bradley observes : * The absence of examples 
between the 12th and the 16th c. is remarkable ; the idiom was prob. 
preserved in some non-literaiy dialect.' No doubt, because the phrase 
is, in most cases, so easily understood without the reader being aware 
that it is an idiom, many instances must have been overlooked. Is 
there any edition of Measure for Measure where a note points it out in 
this line : * Look what I will not, that I cannot do ' (ii, ii, 52) ? And in 
fiw5t, the idiom occurs in Chaucer, though not with ' look,' yet with its 
synon3ma ' wait ' : 

Wayte wJuU thing we may nat liehtly have, 
Ther-after wol we crye al-day and crave. 

Wife of Bath's Prologue, 517. 

A Possible Source of Chaucer, 'Canterbury Tales,' 
A 4134 AND D 415. 

The source of the two lines : 

With empty hand men may na haukes tulle, 
and 

With empty hand men may none haukes lure, 

may be the following passage: 

Car si cum Ii loirres afaite 
For venir au soir at au main 
Le gentil espervier ^ main, 
Ainsi sont i^aiti^ par dons 
A donner graces et pardons 
Li portiers as fins amoreus. 

RoTTian de la Rose, ed. P. Marteau, 11. 7820-5. 

J. Derocquigny. 



I 



Miscellaneous Notes 73 

Notes on 'The Faire Maide of Bristow^' 

Line 126. Who cares where Harbart be or frend or foe. 
Mr Quinn suggests a comma after 'be/ but it would only introduce 
ambiguity. ' Where ' is the common contraction of ' whether.' 

228. That I would entertain this as my man. 
There can be but little doubt that ' this ' should be ' thee.' The resem- 
blance of this line to one quoted in the introduction from Ths Miseries 
of Enforced Marriage is therefore greater than at first appears. 

265. Tho he be blunt yet is very honest. 

Mr Quinn would insert 'he' before 'is.' But 'he' is not unfirequently 

omitted before 'is.' And, even if the irregular nature of the prosaic 

lines in this play did not warrant a scarcely metrical verse, we might 

still regard this line as a passable pentameter: 'Th6 | he b6 | blunt y^t | 

is ver | y htfnest.' 

626. Although I am no kinsman to lament, 

In your distres my grief as deeply spent. 

Mr Quinn boldly prints ' grief ['s]'; but there is at least a possibility 
that for ' as ' we should read ' is.* 

685. It is euen thus, well what remedy : 
There is a strong presumption that we should read ' Is it.' 

989. And harder than the Penerian rockes. 
Mr Quinn suggests the ' Pierian rockes.' I believe ' Penerian ' is a -mis- 
print for ' Pirenean.' 

1073. I haue hard a man 

Urged by nessesity to lead his frend, 
Or to redeeme his nerson with his owne, 
But to find one will die for a frend, 
This age we liue in doth not now aford. 

For 'lead* read 'lend.' I have taken the liberty of transferring 'a 
man' from the beginning of 1. 1074 to the end of 1. 1073. 

1078. send hence the other to their sentence domd. 

No need to read, with Mr Quinn, ' other[s].' ' Other ' is used as a plural 

pronominal form. 

1206. This kind contryssion of yong Vallenger, 

More toyes my hart then rest to travelers. 

In black-letter there is frequently a confusion of ' i ' and ' t.' For ' toyes' 

we should read ' ioyes.' 

1 The Faire Maide of Bristow. Edited by A. H. Quinn. Philadelphia, 1902. 



74 Miscellaneous Notes 

1219. Let her be had among the Conuertines. 
' Convertine ' is so rare a word that the compilers of the N. E. D. could 
find only one example of it. But, as the upholders of Collier's theory of 
The Fairs Maidens authorship will be glad to point out, that one example 
is from Day's Law Trickes, Act I, sc. 2 : 

Did not true learning make the soule diuine, 
She hath spoke enough to make me conuertine. 

J. Le Gay Brereton. 



Milton, 'Samson Agonistes,* 373. 

M, Alas, methinks whom God hath chosen once... 

He should not so o'er whelm.... 
S, Appoint not heavenly disposition, father. 

Nothing of all these evils hath befallen me 

But justly. 

The meaning of the word 'appoint* presents some diflSculty. The 
N. E. D, explains it as ' impute blame to,' but the only other instance 
which it gives of such a use of the word is obviously no instance at all. 
The meaning is, I think, 'prescribe or determine the course of,* 'pin 
down to a fixed course.' Cp. Areopagitica (towards the end) : ' Neither 
is God appointed and confined where his chosen shall be first heard to 
speak.' 

Q. C. Moore Smith. 



Charles Lamb, 'Essays of Elia.' 

(1) In the essay Oxford in the Vacation, as it originally appeared 

in the London Magazine (ii, p. 368), Lamb wrote : ' D. commenced life, 

after a course of hard study in the " House of pure Emanuel," as usher,' 

etc. The passage was omitted when the Elia Essays were reprinted in 

1823. Canon Ainger included it in brackets in his edition of the 

Essays, but printed the concluding words : ' after a course of hard study 

in the house of "pure Emanuel," as usher' etc. It is clear that he 

was not aware of the source of Lamb's quotation, the poem of Bishop 

Richard Corbet called The Distracted Puritan, of which stanza 2 runs : 

In the house of ]pure Emanuel 
I had my education ; 

Where my friends surmise 

I dazeled mine eyes 
With the light of revelation. 

Chalmers' Engliih Poets^ v, 586. 



Miscellaneous Notes 75 

(2) In Christ's Hospital Thirty-Jive Years Ago: '...to hear thee 
unfold... the mysteries of Jamblichus, or Plotinus.' This is the reading 
of the paper as it originally appeared in the London Magazine, ii, p. 489, 
as it was reprinted in 1823, and as it stands in Canon Ainger's edition. 
I think, however, that Lamb s meaning would probably be made more 
obvious if in future ' mysteries * were printed ' Mysteries.* The refer- 
ence is, I suppose, to the work of lamblichus, De Mysteriis jEgyptiorum, 
ChaldcBorum, Assyriorum. 

G. C. Moore Smith. 



Dryden's 'Parallel of Poetry and Painting.' 

In Dryden's Parallel of Poetry and Painting (1695), he translates 
a passage from Hippocrates * as I find him cited by an eminent French 
critic' Professor Ker has been unable to identify this critic {Essays of 
Dryden, ii, 134, note). It may possibly be worth while to note that the 
critic is Andr6 Dacier, and that the passage occurs in the preface to 
his translation of Aristotle's Poetics (1693). 

J. E. Spingarn. 



<J 



EEVIEWS. 



The Shirbum Ballads, 1585-1616. Edited from the MS. by Andrew 
Clark. Oxford : Clarendon Press, 1907. 8vo. viii + 380 pp. 

This is one of the most interesting publications of the year. It 
appeals to the antiquarian, to the histonan, to the student of music, and 
above all to the student of Elizabethan and Jacobean literature. Not 
that the Shirbum collection brings only new ballads : on the contrary, 
the number not known from other sources forms only a small part of the 
eighty songs it contains. The interest lies in the fact that at this time 
of day it brings so many new ballads, that the collection is so repre- 
sentative, and that it offers new texts of well-known ballads. The 
title is, in reality, not quite correct, the volume containing more than 
the title-page promises. After the Shirbum Ballads come, by way of 
supplement, a number of ballads taken from the Bodleian MS. Rawlinson 
poet. 185. Mr Clark prints these evidently under the impression that 
they have not been published before. In this, however, he is mistaken: 
Herr Wilhelm BoUe published the whole collection in the Archivfur das 
Studium der neueren Sprachen und Literature?}, Vol. cxiv, p. 326 ff. 
Mr Clark omits eight of the ballads without saying so. His text proves 
to be far more correct than Herr BoUe's ; most of the mistakes in that 
text, pointed out by me in the Archiv, cxvi, p. 374, do not occur in the 
present edition, which appears to be very accurate and to reproduce the 
original exactly. 

The Shirbum Ballads are printed from a manuscript in the Earl of 
Macclesfield's library at Shirbum Castle. In his Introduction, the editor 
says that the present volume ' exhibits the actual text of the MS. in its 
present order with the minimum of change or omission,' and further on 
that he 'left the text practically untouchea.' In these words 'minimum* 
and 'practically' lurks a danger ; there are then changes and omissions, if 
only a minimum of them. Personally I object in these cases to any 
change or omission, but I am aware that though omissions are always 
unwarranted, there may be reasons for changes; but — ^and here Mr Clark 
differs from the majority of modern editors — if alterations have to be 
made, they must be scrupulously indicated as such. I am practically 



Reviews 77 

convinced that this edition is a very accurate one, but I have not- 
absolute certainty. In the Introduction Mr Clark efives particulars 
about the MS., about the relation of the Shirbum BcUlaas to other collec- 
tions of ballads, and about the contents of the poems and their dates. 
Each of the ballads is prefaced by a separate introduction giving 
many historical and, above all, antiquarian details, mentioning the 
occurrence of the songs in other collections, and sometimes offering 
information on the subject of the metres and the tunes. This information 
is supplemented by an alphabetical list of tunes with references to* 
Chappells Old English Popular Music (old edition), and Oxenfoord 
Macfarren's Old English Ditties, followed by an ' Index of First Lines.* 
On the whole, more stress is laid upon the antiquarian and historical 
importance than upon the literary and musical. No, or hardly any,, 
attempt is made to find parallels or connections between these and other 
ballads, neither as regards contents, nor as regards form and tune. 
Little notice has been taken of the various collections of ballads that 
have appeared in print, with the exception of the Roxburghe Collection. 
The book is excellently printed and illustrated with facsimiles of old 
prints, about which the editor, however, gives no further information. 
The ballads are, of course, given in the order in which they appear in 
the MS. ; this involves in a few cases separation of companion pieces, for 
instance in the case of xxx and L, u and Lxxvi. Of the many new 
ballads which the collection brings, a few may be mentioned here. 
No. X ' Of a maide nowe dwelling at the towne of Meurs in Dutchlandy 
that hath not taken any foode tnis 16 yeares, and is not yet neither 
hungry nor thirsty' is, as the editor says, probably nothing but a. 
pamphlet put in metre. The subject was a well-known one on the 
contment. That in England also the story enjoyed popularity ia 
evident firom the frontispiece which is a fecsimile of a contemporary 
print ; the stanza on it shows that the text must have been different. 
No. IV is a spirited love-song which Mr Clark, while acknowledging that 
it is tuneful, rather harshly condemns. No. xxi is a roaring drinking- 
song, beginning ' Come hither, mine host, come hither ! ' No. xxix is 
interesting for its intricate stanza and lively story ' of the mery miller's 
wooing of the Baker's daughter of Manchester.' Religious ballads are 
not wanting, e.g,, XL and XLiii, but they are inferior in form and musia 
to the secular songs. The historical ballad is represented by No. LX on 
the capture of Calais, and by No. LXVii, a song on the takmg of Berg^ 
on July 30 by ' Grave Maurice.' It is evidently a rimed translation of a. 
faithful report of this important feat of arms, which was also sung in 
one of the so-called ' Geuzenliederen,' that is, ' Songs of the Beggars ' 
(No. CLXVI of Lummel's Collection). I do not believe, however, that the 
English ballad is a translation of one of these songs, it being altogether 
different in spirit. Perhaps the most interesting number is LXI^ 
* Mr Attowel's Jigge : betweene Francis, a Gentleman ; Richard, a 
farmer; and their wives,' a very spirited dramatic sketch in four 
parts set to four different tunes. As Mr Clark points out the Mr Attowel 
is in all probability the actor Attewell who died in 1621. In the. 



78 Reviews 

Appendix there is a similar ballad-drama, written to one tune only for 
the four acts. Only a small number of the poems rise above mediocrity, 
regarded from a purely literary point of view. 

A few words may be said on tne history of some of the ballads and 
their tunes. Nos. ill, X, xvi, XLix, lxxi, and Lxxii are all written to 
the tune of The Lady 8 Fall, There is a great deal of information about 
this tune in Chappell's Old English Popular MusiCy edited by H. E. 
Wooldridge, under The Hunt is up, Pea^cod time, and Chevy Chase 
(i, 86-92). Chappell and his editor have, however, failed to point out 
the similarity of this tune to that of Oaiher ye Rosebuds (Chappell, I, 
196). In the song of The Hunt is up, printed by Chappell, there is 
internal rime in the first and third lines of each stanza ; this, however, 
is not essential : none of the songs in the Shirburn Ballads written to 
this tune show a similar arrangement. Internal rime is absent in the 
song of Gather ye Rosebuds, which differs from The Hunt is up, etc., in 
having a weak rime at the end of the second and fourth line. In the 
Rump Sojigs, Part I, there is on p. 350 a song entitled * The four Legg'd 
Elder ; or a Relation of a Horrible Dog ana an Elders Maid, To the 
Tune of The Ladies fall ; Or Gather your Rose Buds, and 50 other 
Tunes.' It has no internal rime. In Monsieur Thomas, ill, 3, the fiddler 
mentions among the ballads he can sing, Ye Dainty Dames ; these are 
the first words of 'A Warning for Maidens, to the tune of Th^ Ladies 
fall; Roxb, Coll., I, 601. Cp. Notes and Queries, 10th S., vi, 224. 

No. IX, Labandalashot This puzzling tune is also found in Clement 
Robinson's A Handful of Pleasant Delights (Arber's Reprint, p. 67) : 
A sorrowfull Sonet, made by M. George Mannington, at Cambridge 
Castle. To the tune of Labandala Shot Both the poems set to this 
tune are serious in tone. Of course, the name is a corruption ; I 
hesitate to suggest *La branle k la Scot* which may have found its way 
back to England by way of Holland, where ' branle ' became ' brande ' 
(see Land, Luitboek van Thysius, pp. 347 ff.). No. XX consists of a 
second part only, which is to be regretted, for the measure is lively, and 
the whole rather sweet. The refrain is formed by ' With a Hononanero 
hone*; a similar refrain, *0 hone, hone, o no nera,* is referred to in 
Eastward Hoe, v, 1, 9. In Shirbuim, Ballads, LXXVii, written to another 
tune, we have the refrain, ' O hone, honinonero, tarrararara, tarrararara 
hone ' ; and in xxxv written to the tune of Oh hone the refrain is ' Oh 
hone, hone analergo, alergo, tararalergo hone.' Similar to this again is 
the refrain of Upon the Gun-powder Plot, in Choice Drollery, p. 40. 
Cp. The Irish Ho-Hoane in Chappell, i, 86 (1893). No. i is written to 
the tune of Bragandary. 'A newe songe of the triumphe of the Tilt,* 
in the Stationers' Registers for March 28, 1604, is to the tune of 
Braggendarty, . 

No. xxviii, In Creete, The fiddler in Monsieur Thomas, lii, 3, says 
he can sing : In Creet when Dedimus first began. The opening lines of 
the song are : ' In Crete when Daedalus first began His strait and long 
exile to wail' According to a correspondent in Notes and Queries 
(10th S., VI, 1906, 223) the song may be found in Harl. MS. 7578, fol. 83. 



Reviews 79 

No. XXIX, Nutmegs and Ginger. In The Knight of the Burning Pestle 
(l, 4) Merrythought sings : 

Nose, nose, jolly red nose. 
And who gave thee this jolly red nose? 
Nutmegs and ginger, cinnamon and cloves ; 
And they gave me this jolly red nose. 

(Mermaid Series.) 

It deserves notice that No. Lxxv is written to the tune of The Miller 
would a wooing ride, reminding us of the opening lines of xxix, ' The 
miller, in his best array, would needs a wooing ride.* The metre, how- 
ever, is altogether different. No. xxxil, Pagginton's Round. This 
popular dance tune is invariably called Pctckington's Pound, but from 
being used in dancing ' rounds' may have come to be named PcLckington*s 
Round. In Starter's Friesche Lusthof it is called Peckingtons pond 
(p. 14 of Van Vloten's edition). In Het Luitboek van Thysius the name 
has been corrupted to Pacce touspon (No. 74). In the Roxburghe Ballads 
(Ebsworth, v, 37) occurs a song to the tune of On the Banks of a River, 
or Packington's Pound. From Bartholomew Fair it appears that country- 
dances were danced to this tune (cp. Chappell, i, 259 ; Land, Luitboek, 
p. 84). No. Lii begins 'AH in a garden green,' but is altogether different 
trom the song in Chappell, I, 79, that begins with the same line : 

All in a garden green, 

Two lovers sat at ei\ae : 

Withdrawn where they could scarce be seen, 

Among the leafy trees. 

The Excellent Song of an outcast Lover in A Handful of Pleasant 
Delights to the tune of All in a Garden Green, is also in the stanza of 
the song in Chappell. 

No. LIU, Pitty, pittye me. This is perhaps connected with A pleasant 
new Ballad of Daphne. To a new tune. Roxburghe Ballads (Ebsworth), 
II, 529-31, with its refrain: 

Pittie, Daphne, pittie, pitty me : 
Pittie, Daphne, pittie me. 

The words are by Thomas Deloney, and may be found in his Garland of 
Delight (1681) ; also in The Royal Garden of Love and Delight (1674). 
The tunes cannot have been identical ; compare those in Valerius' 
Nederlandtsche Gedenck-Clanck (1626) under the title of Prins Dafne, 
p. 212, and in Starter's Friesche Lusthof (I634i), "p. 155. See, on the 
variation of tunes, Chappell's Old English Popular Mursic, edited by 
H. E. Wooldridge, p. 86, editor's note in the text. In the introductory 
note to No. Lix ( What if a day, or a month, or a year) the editor says 
that ' the verses are found also in a Bodleian MS., MS. Bawlinson 

gyet. 112, fol. 9, and are there attributed to "E. of E." ? Robert 
evereux, second Earl of Essex.' This statement is not quite correct : 
the poem is on f 10^ and £ 11. The verses attributed to the 
E. of E. are on f. 9, and are probably in a diflferent hand. For full 
particulars about this popular song I refer the reader to my article 



80 Reviews 

in Modern Philologyy iv, pp. 397-422, in which periodical I shall also 
deal at greater length with the form of this poem in the Shirbum Ballads. 
No. LXXIV is written to the tune of An Oyster Pye, or Robinson's 
Oalliard, There is another dance that bears Robinson's name, viz., 
Robinson's Allemande. In 1603 there appeared in London The Schoole 
of MusickSy by Thomas Robinson. Cp. Land, Luiiboek van Thysivs, 
p. 286. 

In conclusion, a word about the footnotes. They contain partly 
corrections of the text, partly elucidations. As regards the explana- 
tions, more might have been expected. To give a few examples, poors 
peat on p. 303, tole-dish on p. 217, courtnoules on p. 218, should have 
been explained. Occasionally the editor would seem to have misunder- 
stood the Elizabethan idiom ; for instance, he corrects ' even soone at 
night ' into ' even this very night.* All lovers of the old ballads and all 
students of Elizabethan and Jacobean literature owe Mr Andrew Clark 
a debt of gratitude for this interesting volume. 

A. E. H. SWAEN. 



The Rhetoric of John Donne's Verse. By W. F. Melton. A Disser- 
tation submitted to the Board of University Studies of the 
John Hopkins University. Baltimore: J. H. Furst Co., 1906. 
8vo. 206 pp. 

It may be remembered that the volume called An English Mis- 
cellany, compiled in honour of Dr Fumivall in 1901, contained A 
paper Concerning Orammatical Ictus in English Verse, by Professor 
J. W. Bright, in which some remarkable views of English verse-construc- 
tion were expounded. These views were combated in a letter written 
by Professor H. C. Beeching to the Athenaeum of June 1, 1901, but 
apparently with little eflfect in modifying Professor Bright's standpoint. 
They have also recently been discussed by Mr Omond in his English 
Metrists in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries. It is not possible 
here to give an exposition of Professor Bright's teaching as regards 
English verse. In brief, it may be said that he will not allow there is 
such a thing as ' inversion of stress ' in English iambic versed Every 
second syllable must have a stress, whether this is in accordance with 
the ordinary pronunciation of English or not. We must not scan : 

Be in their flowing cups | freshly | remembered, 



but: 
nor: 
but: 



Be in their flowing cups | freshly | remembered; 
To be or not to be | thdt is | the question, 
To be or not to be | that Is | the question. 



^ He apparently makes an exception in favour of the first foot, and so, as Mr Omond 
says, gives away his case. 



Reviews 81 

A secondary stress derived from the form of the word in earlier 
English is supposed to be latent in terminations such as those of 
' freshly/ ' doubtful/ ' garden/ ' waters/ ready for the poet's use when 
he cannot write his lines without recourse to this aid. Professor Bright 
has expounded these views orally as well as in print, and his pupils 
have seen, a vista of endless dissertations to be manufactured by the 
simple process of applying their professor's principles to every English 
poet in turn. Mr George Dobbin Brown has written his dissertation 
on Syllabification and Accent in Paradise Lost (1901), Mr Raymond 
Durbin Miller his on Secondary Accent in Modem English Verse 
{Chaucer to Dryden) (1904), and now Mr Wightman Fletcher Melton 
follows with his 206 pages on the Rhetoric of the Verse of Donne. 

The whole treatment is a case of 'petitio principii.' When it is 
said that Donne's verse is often rough, what is meant is that in reading 
it one often finds that to give the natural stress to the poet's words is 
to obscure the rhythm of his verse. But if we once allow that in 
poetry, it is not necessary to give a word its natural stress, but that 
one may remove the stress at will from the root-syllable to the sufiix, 
the roughest verse becomes at once perfectly regular. This is the 
process which is here adopted, with a rare degree of self-satisfaction 
on the part of the writer. 

Mr Melton's method tends to close his eyes to the real phenomena 
of Donne's verse. When verse is rough, the cause often lies in the 
fact that two or more feet of abnormal construction {e.g. with weak 
stress or inverted stress) occur together. There would only be a sense 
of pleasing variety if one such foot had stood alone, but the colloca- 
tion of two or three causes the reader to lose the rhythm of the line. 
Mr Melton takes the case of a stress laid on a preposition such as ' of/ 
and has no difficulty in showing that even in Shakespeare and other 
poets, 'of may bear a secondary stress. But he does not point out 
that whereas in Shakespeare an irregular foot is generally isolated, in 
Donne such feet occur m juxtaposition to one another. There is an 
enormous waste of labour m finding parallels for lines which present 
no metrical difficulty, and no discrimination is made between such lines 
and lines that do. 

Mr Melton takes (p. Ill) the lines : 

If they be two they are two so 
As stiff twin compasses are two. 

To me the first line seems somewhat abnormal owing to the slight 
stress which must be given to 'are,' and the practically even heavy 
stress which must be given to 'two so.' Mr Melton accents in the 
mechanical manner enjoined by Professor Bright: 
If th^y be tw6 thSy dre tw6 8<5, 

and goes on his way rejoicing. Other lines have their irregularities 
smoothed out with the same flat-iron: e,g. 

Than when winds In our ruin'd abbeys roar — 
Both th^ years dnd thd ddys d^p midnight fs — 

M. L. R. III. 6 



82 Reviews 

Kias Hfniy and with Him into Egypt go — 
No hand among them to vex th^m again — 
And I which was tw5 f6ols do so erow three — 
Who ire a little wise, the best fools be. — 
I hate that thing whispers itself away. 

This system of dealing with verse is so simple and obvious that it hardly 
requires to be illustrated in 200 pages. 

What, again, are we to make of this ? After quoting a sentence 
from Donne's thirteenth Sermon : ' That world, which finds itself truly 
in an autumn, in itself, finds itself in a spring in our imagination,' 
Mr Melton continues: 'Here we see thirteen words taking the place 
of twenty, and it is no extravagance to fancy the Dean of St PauFs 
delivering his thought in this fashion: 

That w6rld which finds itsdf 
Trdly in an autumn in iUitf 
Fitias itsilf in a spring 
In our imagination.' 

(The italics, whatever their meaning, are Mr Melton's own.) 

Here is a specimen of Mr Melton's method of determining the 
authenticity of a poem on metrical considerations (p. 173) : ' The first 
lines of To the Praise of the Dead, and the Anatomy (Chambers, 
II, 102) will convince one that Donne did not write it; world, for 
example, appears four times, always in arsis, and with no companion- 
sound in thesis. Two lines (21-22) both have and have not Donne's 
" measure " : 

Enough is us to prdise them thdt praise thee 

And say, thiU but enough those praises be. 

This arsis-thesis variation of praise, and that, is to be found in Donne, 
to be sure ; but it is also in Shakespeare. The repeated word enough^ 
with the first syllable in thesis and the second in arsis, both times, is 
not in Donne's manner and therefore furnishes the solution.' 

But enough. We can only say that we regard this as one of the 
most laboriously worthless dissertations we have ever seen. 

G. C. Moore Smith. 



Table des Noms Propres de toute nature conipris dans les Chansons de 
Oeste imprimies. Par Ernest Langlois. Paris: Bouillon, 1904. 
8vo. XX + 674 pp. 

The present volume was prepared in competition for a prize 
offered by the Acad^mie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres. Its use- 
fulness is so great that to leave the book unmentioned or to pass it by 
with a few generalities of criticism would be unjustifiable. Hundreds 
of scholars nave been for years supplying the lack of such a work the 
best way they could. Accordingly they welcome with joy the large and 
handsomely printed catalogue of Professor Langlois. 

The work appeared too early in the year to include Ansexs de Mes, 
which was published by E. Stengel, at Greifswald, in May, 1904. It 



Reviews 88 

ought, however, to have contained Hervis de Metz, by the same editor 
as Anset^, published at Dresden in 1903, and also the admirable Chanson 
de Willamey published at the Chiswick Press, London, in June, 1903. 
Aspremont certainly should not have been omitted, in spite of the fact 
that only a very tew copies are extant of the abandoned edition by 
Guessard and Gautier (Paris, 1855). 

I venture to add a few criticisms and suggestions. 

At the close of note 4 of p. 12, add: 'Prise de Cordres, p. xlix ss/ 
P. 46, note : the statement is made that the Siige de Barbastre, which 
is unpublished, oflFers the name Argente as the name of a river. This 
name, in the MS. 1448 of the Biblioth^ue Nationale, is written: 
darente, = d'Arente (fol. 157 v**). I notice also a stream Tarante (fol. 
137 v°). This stream is reached three days after passing Pampeluna. 
P. 71, under Basile, change 1204 to 1203. P. 90, second line and note 1: 
the author is mistaken in ascribing the epithet in question to Bemart. 
The unpublished MSS. as well as published texts are full of evidence on 
this point. The editor shows the same inability to grasp the situation 
in the note at the bottom of p. 94. If the Berart de Senliz of Raoul de 
Cambrai mentioned on p. 86 is the same as Bemart de St Liz, he is 
the same as Bemart de Brubant, if we may tmst Foucon de Candie, MS. 
25,518 of the Biblioth^ue Nationale. The reference to the Romania, in 
note 1, p. 98, contains an error. Under Brubant, p. 117, mention should 
be made of Abrubant, already cited, which may be an error for a Brubant. 
On p. 154, the reference to Codro^ in M, A, should read: 3035. 
On p. 155, after Contains, the statement should read: * Amiral, cousin 
germain du roi de Bile.' In a number of cases, the compiler should 
have united various personages under one head, as, for example, Foucon 
No. 17 and Fouque No. 22. As a matter of fact, the nef mentioned 
under the first name is a reference to an important episode of the hero 
Fouque 22. The variant given under No. 17 should be Fouchier. 
Gautier li Dieus, p. 269, is probably an error for Gautier li Vieus, and, 
as the editor suggests, is the same as Gautier No. 20. The statement 
in note 2, p. 271 concerning Gautier de Termes and Gautier de Blaives, 
etc., is tnie only for the lamentable edition of the Covenant of Jonckbioet 
and the MSS. of London and of the Biblioth^ue Nationale 24,369. 
The other MSS. seem to be consistent. The Gyrart d*Aminois men- 
tioned on p. 280, is to be combined with Girart No. 63. In the MSS. of 
Foucon, Beuve is occasionally said to be dIAminois. Girart is his son. 
Under the Girarts, No. 52 should be combined with No. 63. On the 
other hand, a division must be made in No. 63, for the references from 
Foucon: pp. 4, 6, 15-19, do not refer to Girart de Commarchis, but to 
Girart de Danemark, a totally different hero. With regard to note 2, 
p. 302, it is to be remarked that Gerart (or Girart) is the person meant 
m the best MSS. The only ones to show Guerins are MSS. 774, 1449, 
and 368 of the Biblioth^ue Nationale, which all belong to one &mily, 
and a poor family at that^ On this same page, Guerin Almanois should 

^ The MS. of Berne has Guilins in this line (fol. 12, x°). This reading can hardly be 
correct, for the name should connt for three syllables, as elsewhere written in the MS. : 
Quielin, In the passage corresponding to 1. 708 of the printed edition, this MS. has Gerin, 

6—2 



84 Reviews 

be mentioned under Garin d'Ansetine, for they are one and the same 
person. On p. 284, the reference to Qirart de Roussillon under Oa. 
9618 is erroneous; that in the sixth line of the page should read: 
12,693. The name Guibert de Terragone (p. 303) appears as Gibert de 
Teracone in the good MS. 1448. This personage is lacking in the 
unique MS. of the Boulogne Covenant With regard to the note at the 
bottom of this page, the first conjecture of the editor is doubtless the 
correct one. In fact, the reading roia occurs in MS. 1448 of the poem 
concerned, while the line is lackmg in the MSS. of London, Boulogne, 
Berne and in 24,369. Note 1 at the bottom of p. 317 is probably in error. 
The MSS. which mention Guielin in the passage cited all mention with 
him Bertran, which would make of Guielin a son of Bernard. The MS. 
of Boulogne supports this by speaking of Guielin de Braibant. Hue de 
Florinville (pp. 363, 354) is said on p. 91 of Foucon to be a Norman, a 
statement wnich seems to be supported by the Silge de Barbastre, MS. 
1448, fol. 149 V**. This is a point of considerable interest. There is an 
error in note 2, p. 359. Instead of XIV, read XVIII. On page 478, 
tenth line from the bottom, the figure 2696 is erroneous. Three lines 
further down, 3641 should be 3644, and, near the end of the same line, 
insert 4651. In the first line on p. 479, insert 7063, and, in the third 
line, 365. On p. 480, the variant of 1. 410 is quite important, and 
indicates Naime of Bavaria. On p. 652, the first reference in the third 
line from the bottom should read : 7646. On p. 573, insert an article : 
' Rondel, nom de cheval. B} 333.' On p. 585, the reference from -B. C. 
under Saint Jacque is defective. Add to the note on p. 578: 'C£ le 
Codex de St-Jacques-de'Compostelle, Fita et Vinson, Pans, 1882, p. 8; 
aussi Romania, xi, p. 499, note 4.' The compiler has at times an 
awkward way of separating the references to personages, as for example 
Jaques (p. 368), and Saint Jacque (p. 585), which represent the same 
person. The recent discovery of the Chanson de OuUlaume makes 
clear that the Tiebaut d'Arabe listed on p. 84 of Aliscans is Tibaut 
de Berry or de Bourges, and the same person as Tiebaut No. 19. It is 
likely, too, that Nos. 19 and 21 are in origin one and the same person. 
Tibaut de Berry or de Bourges also is mentioned in Foucon (see notice 
by me in Modern Philology, ill, p. 228). The feet that the name 
Tibaut is spelled TebaU on page 140 of Qui de Bourgogne should be 
indicated. On p. 633, it is stated that Termes is the chclteau of 
Guillaume in the vicinity of Orange. There exists, to my knowledge, 
no evidence permitting us to locate this ch&teau. Torserose, mentioned 
on p. 648, is for Tortolose, and should be so indicated. This town is 
named in the Boulogne Covenant, and seems to be written Toulose in 
the CovenatU of Berne (fol. 19 i^). On p. 661, under Valfond^e, 2, the 
reference to AL should read : 155. 

The Table dee Nonis Propres is one of the most carefully constructed 
works of reference of recent years. It is invaluable to the searcher in 
the epic literature of France and in related fields. A scholar who has 
this book on his shelves will find that he will consult it more often than 
almost any other volume on epic sources. 

Raymond Weeks. 



Reviews 85 



The Poetical Works of John Keats, Edited with an Introduction 
and Textual Notes by H. Buxton Forman. Oxford: Clarendon 
Press. 1906. 8vo. xxx + 492pp. 

In the number for January last year we had occasion to notice 
Mr E. de S^lincourt's excellent edition of Keats. Now another one- 
volume edition has been published, containing the whole of Keats's 
known works in verse, including sixteen lines of The Eve of St Mark 
not previously published and a facsimile of the holograph leaf con- 
taining the hitherto lost passage. There are a few other illustrations, 
including the tracing bjr Keats of a Grecian Um, and it need hardly 
be said that the volume is pleasantly printed. We miss an alphabetical 
list of titles, which would have been of far more use than the present 
'Contents,' the extent of the separate works being already indicated 
throughout the text by means of naif-titles and head-lines. 

Mr Buxton Forman's present issue of the text of Keats is neither 
unannotated nor exhaustive in the matter of variant readings ; he gives 
a selection. The choice must have been a difficult one to make, and 
there does not seem to be any particular reason why a selection was 
needed. The general reader prefers, and will continue to prefer, a 
smaller and an unencumbered page ; the student prefers, and will con- 
tinue to prefer, Mr Buxton Forman's own complete variorum edition, 
published by Messrs Gowans and Gray, of Glasgow, some few years 
ago, at a price which enabled every student to possess it. That edition, 
and the Library edition which preceded it, will continue to have the 
aflfection of all lovers of Keats. Be that as it may, we may extend a 
welcome to the present volume for its particular qualities : its type ia 
pleasanter and less tiring to the eyes than that of the Glasgow volume ; 
the notes are, practically, confined to variants ; there are type-facsimile 
titles of Keats's three books ; there is a useful bibliography ; and the 
Introduction, chiefly bibliographical, contains all that readers ' need to 
know ' concerning Keats's volumes, before they begin to read them. 

We are glad to hear that Mr JSuxton Forman, in retiring from his 
official duties, is proposing to spend his leisure in continuing the work 
of perfection he has carried on for many years to the benefit of all lovers 
of Keats and Shelley. In the edition under notice it was deemed 
advisable, in order to meet the needs of those for whom the book was 
intended, ' to amend for the sake of reasonable uniformity.' We feel 
sure that Mr Buxton Forman, in the new impressions of his Library 
edition which he will certainly produce, will return to his earlier and 
more salutary practice; let us hope that he may even abandon his 
alteration of Keats's past participles, recording the presumed intention 
in a footnote ; in any case, may his labours on the text of Keats and 
Shelley continue for many a long year. 

A, R. Waller. 



86 Reviews 



Anthologie des Pokes Frangais Contemporains (1866-1906). Morceaux 

choisis, accompagn^s de notices biographiques et bibliographiques, 

par G. Walch, avec preface de Sully-Prudhomme. 3 volumes. 

raris: Delagrave, 1907. 16mo. 

Cette anthologie nous offre un tableau de toute la po^sie fran9aise 

contemporaine depuis Th^ophile Gautier jusqu'i Auguste Dupouy, que 

TAcad^mie couronnait Tan dernier. Tous les poetes actuellement 

vivants ont choisi eux-mSmes dans leurs oeuvres les pikjes qu'ils ont 

jug^es les meilleures ; et ce n*est pas le moindre attrait de ce recueil, 

d'y trouver les poesies d'^crivains qui se sont fait un nom dans d'autres 

genres comme A. Daudet, Guy de Maupassant, Jules Lemaitre, queloues 

pieces exquises, oh. s'exercait la muse juvenile d'Edmond Rostana et 

d'Anatole France; mais on ne saurait nommer les 250 pontes dont cette 

anthologie contient un choix. Depuis quarante ans en effet s'est 

^panouie en France la plus magnifique floraison de pontes et d'oeuvres 

qu*on ait vue depuis la Renaissance. 

A quoi en attribuer les causes ? Au d6veloppement de la culture 

Siut-etre; mais surtout au rcnouveau de prestige que Ijamartine, Vigny, 
ugo et tous les pontes de la premiere moiti^ du xix* sifecle ont valu 
k la po^sie elle-mSme : jamais la Muse n'a 6t6 plus honor^e, parce que 
jamais elle n'a donn6 plus de gloire ou d'honneurs. Toutefois ce n'est 
point par Timitation sterile de leurs glorieux devanciers que nos pontes 
contemporains ont pr^tendu rivaliser avec eux. La recherche de 
I'originalit^ et le culte mSme de la beauti les ont amends k renouveler 
les sujets et les formes po^tiques. En 1866 de jeunes pofetes se groupfe- 
rent autour de Leconte de Lisle, le maitre alors incontest^ de la po6sie 
fran9aise, et prenant le nom de Pamassiens ils publiferent leurs vers 
dans le recueil du Pamaase Contemporain, qui marque une date impor- 
tante dans Thistoire de la po^sie contemporaine. Malgr6 la diflKrence 
des temperaments et des talents, ils se firent remarquer par quelques 
traits communs, le respect de leur art, le goflt de la philosophic ou 
de rhistoire, et surtout par le culte de Texpression, la science de la 
facture. Ils pretendirent rivaliser avec la peinture par I'intensit^ des 
couleurs, avec la sculpture par la vigueur des reliefs et la fermet^ meme 
de Tex^cution, — po6sie plastique, comme on a dit, et puissamment ob- 
jective. Telle fut la conception de Th^ophile Gautier, de Leconte de 
Lisle, de Theodore de Banville, et mSme des poetes philosophes de cette 
6cole, de Sully Prudhomme ou encore de Madame Ackermann dont un 
fin critique (voir Madame Ackermann par Marc Citoleux, Paris, 1906, 
Plon) analysait r^cemment Tesprit si profond et si vigoureux. 

Vers 1880 des tendances nouvelles s'affirment; sous Tinfluence de 
St^phane Mallarm^ et de Paul Verlaine, de jeunes pofetes tels que Jules 
Laforgue, Paul Fort, Gustave Kahn revent d'une po^sie qui soit la 
synthase de la philosophic, des arts plastiques, et surtout de la musique, 
seule capable d'exprimer dans leur imprecision et leur illogisme mSme 
les sentiments fugitifs et les plus intimes de Vkme au contact des choses. 
Qu*on lise par exemple dans cette anthologie les poesies d'un Henri de 



Reviews 87 

R^mier, d*un Albert Samain, d*un Maeterlincki et Ton comprendra qufe 
Teffort des symbolistes et des decadents n'a pas 6t6 vain : ils ont voulu 
r&igir centre les formes trop airet^es, trop dures de la po6sie pamassi- 
enne ; ils ont r^ussi k rapprocher et k r^concilier la po&ie et la vie et 
ils ont su rendre les nuances d^licates et myst^rieuses des choses. 'Henri 
de R^gnier note d'imperceptibles apparitions, de fugitifs decors; une 
main nue qui s'appuie un peu crisp^e sur une table de marbre, un fruit 
qui oscille sous le vent et qui tombe, un 6tang abandonn^, ces riens lui 
suffisent, et le poeme surgit, parfait et pur. Son vers est ^vocateur...' 
Cette definition qu*un ing^meux ^crivain, M. R6my de Gourmont, a 
donn^ du talent du maitre pent expliquer les louables efforts des 
disciples : ils ne se soucient pas de peindre ou de modeler, ils veulent 
' ^voquer/ 

Mais pour reussir ils ont essay^ de modifier Tinstrument, d'assouplir 
le vers, la versification et le vocabulaire de la po^sie; car il s'agissait 
pour eux, comme pour Mallarm^, * de faire penser, non pas par le sens 
meme du vers, mais par ce que le rythme, sans signification verbale, 
peut ^veiller d'id6e; d*exprimer par I'emploi impr^vu, anormal m^me du 
mot, tout ce que le mot par son apparition k tel ou tel point de la phrase 
et en raison de la couleur sp^ciale de sa sonority, en vertu meme de sa 
propre inexpression momentan^e, peut 6voquer ou pr^dire de sensations 
immemoriales ou de sentiments futurs/ Les audaces de ces jeunes 
r^formateurs soulevferent des protestations. II leur a manqu6 de se 
justifier non par des pieces meritoires — elles abondent — , mais par une 
oeuvre de grand m6rite qui consacre leurs revendications et enleve 
Tapprobation du public. Mais encore, que valent leurs oeuvres, si courtes 
ou si fiugiles qu'elles puissent etre, — et leurs doctrines, si t6m6raires 

3u*elles paraissent ? L'Anthologie de M. Walch nous donne le moyen 
e nous faire une opinion, en nous livrant les pifeces du procfes. Les 
extraits de chaque poete sont prec^d^s dune notice biographique et 
bibliographique d*une grande valeur. Od trouver ailleurs une source 
aussi abondante de renseignements plus precis? 

Le recueil est pr6c6d6 a une curieuse preface de SuUy-Prudhomme ; 
Tadmirable auteur des Vaines Tendresses y resume avec sa nettet6 
habituelle le mouvement po^tique de cette fin du xix® sik;le, dont il est 
et restera le plus digne repr&entant et dont il fut le t^moin le plus 
attentif et le juge mSme le plus autoris^. Car il n'a jamais cess6 de 
suivre les efforts des novateurs, par curiosity sans doute, mais en quelque 
sorte par devoir et pour d^fendre ce qu'il considfere comme les fonde- 
ments in^branlables de notre po6sie. II reprend dans cette preface de 
VAnthologie des id^es d^jk d^velopp^es en 1901 dans son Testament 
Poetique; mais cette fois, adoucissant la s6v6rite de la doctrine pamassi- 
enne il se montre pret k des concessions sur Thiatus, sur la rime et leur 
altemance. II serait curieux de rapprocher de ces declarations le pro- 
gramme trfes mod6r6 de Pierre de Bouchaud (tome in, p. 235) auquel je 
me rallierais volontiers. 

Si j'ai besoin d'excuse pour m'etre un peu longuement ^tendu sur 
cette anthologie, je citerai la juste et fi^re declaration de Sully-Prud- 



88 Reviews 

homme dans sa preface: j'ai trouv^ \k 'roccasion de r^agir centre la 
f&cheuse impression faite sur les Strangers par certains 6cnantillons de 
notre litt^rature exposes dans les librairies. Les productions h&tives et 
malsaines y supplantent trop les ouvrages s^rieux. Cette anthologie est 
de nature k d^truire une impression si funeste au bon renom de la 
France/ 

F. GOHIN. 



Oil Vicente. Auto da Festa, Obra desconhecida, com uma explica^ao 
previa pelo Conde de Sabugosa. Lisbon : Imprensa Nacional, 
1906. 8vo. 129 pp. 

Some years ago the Conde de Sabugosa found among the other 
treasures of his famous library a little volume stamped on the outside 
with the title Varias Crusidiades], which containea a number of old 
Autos in 'folha volante/ printed in the latter half of the sixteenth 
century. The collection, which he was good enough to show me when I 
was at his house at Cascaes last November, is as valuable as it is curious, 
for it includes the Auto do Nasdmento de Sam Jodo by Femao Mendes, 
a hitherto unknown dramatist of the school of Gil Vicente, the Auto de 
Sam Vicente and the Avto de Santiago bv Antonio Alvarez, the Auto de 
Natural Invengam by Antonio Ribeiro Cfhiado, the three last regarded as 
utterly lost, an edition of the Auto da Barca do Inferno by Gil Vicente, 
diflfering widely from that published in his collected works, and finally, 
an unknown piece of his, entitled the Auto da Festa, It is the last 
which the noble author of Pago da Gintra has now issued in an edition 
of fifty copies, adding a facsimile reprint to his critical transcription of 
the text, and preceding the whole with a learned and lucidly penned 
introduction in ten chapters, dealing with Gil Vicente and his works. 

As is well known, Gil Vicente wrote most of his plays either on 
occasion of some religious festival like Christmas, or to celebrate a birth 
or marriage in the royal family, or simply for the entertainment of the 
Courts They were staged by their author, who himself acted in them, 
and some, including possibly the Auto da Festa, were printed in 'folha 
volante,' even during his life ; but the supposed complete collection was 
only published in 1562. After the performance of his last piece, the 
Floresta de Enganos, at Evora, in 1636, Gil Vicente began to gather 
together his various writings for the press, at the request of King 
Jonn III, but death came to him in the following year before he had 
completed his task. His son thereupon continued it, adding all the missing 
plays and lyrics he could meet with; but the absence firom the edition of 
both the Cafa de Segredos, which Gil Vicente tells us he wrote, and the 
Auta da Festa, proves that he failed to include all. A second edition, 
emended by the Inquisition, appeared in 1586, a third, reproducing the 

^ See The Portuguese Drama in tlie Sixteenth Century : Gil Vicente, in the Manchester 
Quarterly, Jaly and October, 1897. la view of recent discoveries the biographical portion 
of these articles requires revision. Cf. Oil Vicente, by General Brito Bebello. Lisbon^ 
1902. 



Reviews 89 

first, at Hamburg in 1834, and a fourth and last, reproducing the 
third, in Lisbon in 1852. The two first editions are very rare, all are 
unsatisfactory, and a critical edition, for which ample printed, though 
no manuscript materials exist, is urgently needed. 

The full title of the play now restored to literature in a handsome 
volume is as follows, in the original : Auto da Festa, Auto nouamente 
feito por Gil Vicente, e representadOy em o qual entrdo as figuras seguintes, 
S, primeiramSte a Verdade, hum VilSo, duos Ciganas, hua per iiome 
Lucinda e outra Gradana, e hum Paruo e ovtro Vildo per nome Jana- 
fonso e hua Velha, e hum Rascdo, q quer casar com, a Velha, hum Pastor 
per nome Fernando e tres mofas Pastoraa, hua per nome Mecia e outra 
Caterina e outra Filipa, Over the title is a rude woodcut of a man and 
two women, but neither the date nor the place of impression are given. 
A passage in the play confirms Gil Vicente's authorship, and goes on to 
say that he wrote it when he had passed the age of sixty, which, pre- 
suming him to have been bom in 1470, would mean after 1530, and the 
present editor gives his reasons for fixing 1535 as the year of its repre- 
sentation. He thinks it was composed in honour of D. Francisco de 
Portugal, Conde de Vimioso, and played in his house at Evora, the city 
of leamiug and elegance, during the festival of Christmas ; and the 
dramatist's relations with that famous statesman, soldier and courtier, 
who befriended DamiS,o de Goes, and was named the Portuguese Cato, 
make the supposition very plausible. This Conde de Vimioso was one 
of the best poets of the Cancioneiro de Resende, and he compiled a 
book of reflections under the title of Sentengas, published in 1605, which 
Senhor Mendes dos Remedies has recently reprinted in Vol. 7 of his 
useful series of Subsidios para o estudo da Historia da Litteratura 
Portngueza, 

Returning to the Auto da Festa, Vicentean students hardly need the 
declaration at the beginning and in the body of the play to determine 
its authorship, because Gil Vicente's peculiar manner and style, philo- 
sophy and scepticism, even his types and modes of speech, are all to be 
found in it. Moreover, there are a number of passages in the Auto da 
Festa analogous to those in other plays, the most striking being the lines 
beginning ' Quero ora cuspir primeiro,' about one hundred of which are 
repeated almost word for word from the Templo D* Apollo produced in 
1626^ 

The argument is as follows. Truth personified enters, salutes the 
master of the house where the piece is to be played (the Conde de 
Vimioso?) and speaks the prologue. She complains that after travelling 
over a great part of Spain, chiefly in Portugal", and finding mendacity 
everywhere triumphant, she hied her to Court for hospitality, but no one 
would even look at her, and she laments that the man who speaks verity 
in the palace is at once deprived of the king's favour*. She has heard, 

1 See Obras de Gil Vicente, ed. 1852, vol. ii, pp. 384—388. 

^ The term Spain is properly applicable to the whole Peninsula. So the Archbishop 
of Braga continues to style himself * Primaz das Hespanhaa.' 

> Cf. the dialogue between Todo o Mundo and Ninguem in the Auto da Ltuitania. 



90 Reviews 

however, that she will find a firiend in that house, and proposes to take 
up her abode there. First a Beira peasant enters with a complaint 
against his local magistrate, who had imprisoned him for adulterous 
intercourse with his wife ; the yokel admits the charge, but pleads the 
lady's consent and asks Truth to help him to win his case; but she tells 
him his only resource is bribery ^ and he retires dissatisfied. Next 
appear two gipies* intent on thieving, but they conclude that begging, 
accompanied by flattery and fortune-telling, will be safer and more 
profitable, and, after a song, Graciana begins to practise her arts on the 
master of the house and the male guests, while Lucinda pursues the 
ladies. Getting nothing they apply to Truth, who, however, tells them 
she makes small account of flattery and turns them out of the house. 
On their departure there comes along singing a witty country fellow 
(Parvo) in search of his mistress's porker, whicn has run away while he 
played, and spying Truth he takes a fancy to her and offers her marriage 
on the spot. After an amusing dialogue between them a villain, Jana- 
fonso, enters in the guise of a palmer, imparls with the Parvo, casts 
ridicule on pilgrimages and clerical morals, and winds up patriotically, 
*He a mais ruim rel6 esta gente de Castella/ While they are sparring 
with one another, the Parvo's mother, a widow, appears, and roundly 
abuses him for losing his pigs, but he repays her threats with others, and 
leaves her to lament the trouble such a son causes. However, her 
thoughts are soon turned elsewhere by a smooth tongued page (Rascao) 
who sees she prides herself on her charms, and guessing that she would 
not be averse to a second husband*, he plans to take advantage of her. 
He praises her beauty and youth and tells her she ought to marry, to 
which she replies: 

j& me a mim mandou rogar 

muitas vezes Gil Vicente 

que faz os autos a el Bei^ 

but she had refused him. The page asks why, saying : 

Pois he elle bem sesudo, 

but the old dame replies: 

He logo mui barregudo 
£ mais pas^a doa sesseuta. 

We can imagine the laughter which this sally of the poet at his own 
expense must have caused among the audience. The page next offers 
himself as a husband, and when the widow promptly accepts him, he 
pretends to go through the ceremony there and then, disregarding her 
wish to have it performed in church; but on hearing her name, he 
declares they are related in the fourth degree and cannot marry. The 
widow is not to be baulked, however, and says she made a mistake in her 

^ Cf. the Juiz da Beira, poMi'm. ^ Gf. the Auto das Cigaruis. 

' Gf. the Velho da Horta, passim and the Triumpho do Inverno, Obras, Ed. oit., ii, 
p. 459. 

^ Gf. the Auto Pastoril Portuguez (Ohras, Ed. oit., i, p. 126); also Auto da Lusitania 
{Obrasy Ed. cit., in, pp. 271, 272). 



Reviews 91 

name, but as the page is not convinced, she hastens away to get absolu- 
tion from the Nuncio who is a friend of hers ; in her absence the page 
makes merry over pleasure-loving old ladies, and departs well pletised 
with the success of his trick. At this point the villain returns, and 
pours out to Truth his complaints against the lack of justice in the 
world, and says some hard things of the Court. No sooner has he 
finished, than the old widow returns dressed as a bride with the Nuncio's 
bull which has cost her five cruzados, and she is thunderstruck when 
she finds her man gone, and her trouble and expense thrown away. 
However, the villain offers to console her, and goes to fetch a shepherd 
and shepherdesses to accompany them with dances and songs to church, 
and on their appearance the whole party moves ofi" and the auto ends. 

Though not one of Gil Vicente's oetter pieces, the Auto da Festa has 
considerable literaiy merit and philological value, while some of its 
verses are full of beauty and harmony; all the characters speak in 
Portuguese except the gipsies, who, because they belong to the lowest 
class, are made to use Castilian, according to the dramatist's practice in 
his later, but contrary to that in his early plays. In concluding this 
notice I should like to express my sincere thanks to the Conde de 
Sabugosa for the copy of his book which he was good enough to bestow 
on me, since it has enabled me to introduce to English readers a new 
play by the founder of the Portuguese theatre. 

Edgar Pbestaoe. 



Petrarch: His Life and Times. By H. C. Hollway-Calthrop. 
London: Methuen & Co., 1907. 8vo. xi + 319 pp. 

This book, which is the fulfilment — part fulfilment, we will say — of a 
pledge given by the author many years ago in another work, is, we 
believe, the first serious attempt at an English biography of Petrarch, 
since the publication of Henry Reeve's little book in the series of 
Foreign Classics for English Readers some thirty years ago. Reeve's 
volume was excellently adapted for the purpose it was intended to 
serve, but Reeve himself would have been the last to claim for it the 
rank of a biography. There was a gap, therefore, to be filled, and that 
Mr Calthrop was the obvious person to fill it, no one, we think, would be 
disposed to question who heard or read his recent admirable Taylor lecture 
at Oxford. If there were any doubt about the matter, .the present 
scholarly piece of work at any rate conclusively proves that Mr Calthrop 
as the biographer of Petrarch is emphatically the right man in the right 

flace. Apart fix)m an intimate ac(^uaintance with the whole corpus of 
etrarch's works, and a perfect familiarity with the currents and cross- 
currents of the intricate politics of the period, Mr Calthrop has had the 
inestimable advantage of a prolonged residence in Petrarch's country. 
To this last circumstance the reader is indebted, among other things, for 
some charming descriptions of scenery. Mr Calthrop, we may add, has 
the further advantage of being gifted with a peculiarly graceful style, 



92 Reviews 

which lends to his work a distinction too rarely met with in these days 
of careless writing. 

To those who are accustomed to regard Petrarch merely as *the 
famous renowner of Laura/ or even as a scholar and man of letters, it 
will no doubt come as a surprise to learn that he was the friend and 
inmate of Princes and Cardinals, on terms of familiarity with Pope and 
Emperor, and himself a dignitarj*^ of the Church and Count Palatine. 
Unhappily Petrarch's relations with certain of the great lords of Italy, 
spiritual and temporal, have left an indelible stain upjon his memory. 
Time after time he stooped to receive favours and hospitality from, and 
to load with eulogy, persons whom his biographer unhesitatingly brands 
as 'men steeped in crime, to whom treachery and assassination were 
mere moves m a game of political intrigue, and whose reputation for 
cruelty and lust is the blackest spot in the record of the Italian people/ 

We cannot help feeling that Mr Calthrop is unduly lenient in his 
judgment of Petrarch's relations with these * monsters rather than men,' 
to use a phrase Petrarch himself could apply to them when it suited his 
purpose. Petrarch, the friend of the bloodthirsty Jacopo da Carrara, 
and of Azzo da Correggio, the double-dyed traitor, to wnom might be 
applied the words of Junius about Wedderbum, * there was that about 
him, which even treachery could not trust ' ; — Petrarch, who accepted the 
* shameful patronage ' of Giovanni Visconti, that * monster of treachery 
and crime,' who had all * the cunning, the callousness, the poison/ of the 
viper which was the cognisance of his house ; — Petrarch, the writer at a 
patron's bidding of ' a letter of insolent reproof and impertinent exhor- 
tation, which we can hardly read for shame,' to the heroic Jacopo Bosso- 
ifitro ; — Petrarch, who exhorted Rienzi to strike down without pity, and 
to exterminate as noxious beasts, even those to whom the writer himself 
was bound by the strongest ties of gratitude and affection ; — this is not 
the man for whom we should have thought it possible for even the 
partiality of a biographer to find excuses. Yet Mr Calthrop can per- 
suade himself to write : * Loaded with honours and benefits, Petrarch 
may be forgiven if he ignored crimes, which he had not personally 
witnessed ' — crimes, be it said, which included murder and forgery. We 
are reminded of Voltaire, who glossed over the part played by the 
Empress Catherine in the murder of her husband with the remark, * Je 
sais bien qu'on lui reproche quelque bagatelle au sujet de son mari; mais 
ce sont des affaires de famille, aont je ne me m^le pas.' 

It is a i:elief to turn fi:om Petrarch the prot^g6 and panegyrist of men 
of blood, whose existence we would willingly forget, to Petrarch the poet 
and founder of humanism. The most valuable perhaps, and certainly 
not the least interesting portion of Mr Calthrop's book is that in which 
he defines and emphasises Petrarch's unique position as ' the scholar to 
whom, more than to any other man, we owe the revival of learning in 
Europe.' It is not pretended, of course, that Petrarch galvanised a 
dead corpse into life. Life had never been extinct. As Mr Calthrop 
finely expresses it, Petrarch's predecessors handed down the torch of 
learning unextinguished ; some quality in him enabled him to fire the 



Reviews 93 

world with it. Petrarch's father belonged to the same generation as 
Dante, yet so &r as classical taste was concerned. Petrarch and Dante 
might have been separated not by a generation, out by a whole age. 
Unfortunately for his reputation as a critic, Dante has left us in tne 
De Vvlgari Eloqventia a list of the Latin writers, ' qui usi sunt altissi- 
mas prosas,' those who were the greatest mastera of prose style. We 
would lay almost any odds that no one would correctly name Dante's 
four favourites — they were Livy, Pliny, Frontinus, and Orosius ! Yet 
Dante was familiar with and freely quotes at least half a dozen of 
Cicero's works' — Cicero, who for Petrarch was * the father and chief of 
oratory and style.' In connection with Cicero we note that Mr Calthrop 
accepts au pied de la lettre Petrarch's statement that he was at one time 
in possession of a MS. of Cicero's De Gloria, of which he was robbed 
by his old schoolmaster, to whom he had lent it. Considerable doubt, so 
far as the identity of the MS. is concerned, has been thrown of late 
years by Voigt, Nolhac, and other scholars, upon the literal accuracy of 
this statement, which was made for the first time, more than forty years 
after the alleged incident, in a letter written when Petrarch was quite 
an old man, in fact within a few weeks of his death. 

We should have been grateful for more information about Petrarch's 
library. An interesting chapter might have been written on this 
subject. Nolhac (whose valuable work on Petrarque et Vhumanisine 
appears to have been overlooked by Mr Calthrop) has succeeded in 
tracing some 40 MSS. which at one time belonged to Petrarch, nearly 
all of them containing marginalia in Petrarch's own hand. From the 
data he has collected, Nolhac calculates that the library must have con- 
sisted of at least 200 volumes — no inconsiderable collection for a private 
individual in those days. That it was held in high estimation in the 
poet's lifetime is evident from the fact recorded by Mr Calthrop that the 
Kepublic of Venice assigned to Petrarch a house in that city in con- 
sideration of his promised bequest of his books to the State — a bequest 
which unhappily for some reason unknown never took eflfect. 

Mr Caltnrop's judgment on the question of Laura is brief and 
decisive — ' Laura was a real woman, and Petrarch was desperately her 
lover.' We must be content to leave it at that. No doubt the up- 
holders of the laurel will continue to be sceptical. To ourselves the 
evidence for the reality of Laura, the date of whose death Petrarch 
recorded in the penetralia of his fevourite MS. of Virgil, is as convincing 
as is the evidence for the reality of Beatrice, to whom Dante assigned a 
definite place among the immortal souls in Paradise. 

Petrarch appears in these pages in the most attractive light as ' the 
incomparable tinend.' He seems to have had a genius for making friends 
among all classes of mankind, and his friendships, at any rate among 
those of his own condition, were deep and abiding. As Mr Calthrop 
remarks, there is no pleasanter episode in the chronicles of literature 

^ Trissino, the translator and first editor of the De Vulgari Eloquentia^ was apparently 
so scandalized bj Dante's omission of Cicero from his list, that in a MS. of the treatise 
which he possessed he altered Titum Livium into Tullium^ Livium. 



94 Reviews 

than the friendship of Petrarch and Boccaccio, and we cannot take leave 
of this book without expressing the hope that the writer may be induced 
to cany on the work he has so well begun, and give us one more chapter 
in the history of humanism in the shape of a companion volume on 
Petrarch's devoted friend and fearless critic, the author of the Decameron 
and of the De Oenealogia Deorum, 

The book is provided with an adequate index and some excellent 
illustrations, among which we may specially mention the admirable 
drawings by Mrs Arthur Lemon from the portraits of Petrarch and 
Laura m the Laurentian library at Florence. We would riadly exchange 
the two or three prints of Popes for a facsimile of Petrarch's handwriting 
and a reproduction of the highly interesting portrait of the poet con- 
tained in a Paris MS. of the De Viris fUastribus. This MS. was 
completed within six years of Petrarch's death by Lombardo della Seta, 
one of the poet's most attached and intimate friends, and was a present- 
ation copy destined for Francesco da Carrara to whom Petrarch had 
dedicated the work. There is every reason, therefore, to suppose that 
the likeness is an authentic one, quite possibly taken from the life. 
The volume is carefully printed, the only slips we have noted being 
* Macchiavelli,' and 'Lombardo della Sete,' which occur both in text 
and index. 

Paget Toynbee. 



George Buchanan: A Memorial, 1506-1906. Contributions by various 
Writers, compiled and edited by D. A. Miller. St Andrews: 
W. C. Henderson; London: D. Nutt, 1907. 8vo. xx+490pp. 

Oeo7'ge Buchanan : Glasgow Quatercentenary Studies, 1906. Glasgow : 
J. Maclehose & Co.,'^1907. xxxvi + 556 pp. 8vo. 

'Georgius Buchananus in Levinia Scotiae provincia natus est ad 
Blanum amnem anno salutis Christianae millesimo quingentesimo sexto 
circa kalendas Februarias, in villa rustica, familia magis vetusta quam 
opulenta.' So wrote George Buchanan in the declining years of his 
life ; and the two Scottish Universities with which he was most closely 
connected, resolved last year to celebrate the four-hundredth anniversary 
of the event thus recorded. The initiative was taken by St Andrews, 
while Glasgow followed some months later, and the celebrations in both 
cases took the form of an oration, a banquet, and an exhibition of books 
and relics, besides several other less important functions. It was also 
decided that each University should issue a memorial volume which 
should place the celebrations on record, and epitomise all that ancient 
and mooem research had succeeded in rescuing from oblivion concerning 
the great humanist. 

The outstanding events in the life of George Buchaaan are now com- 
paratively well known and need not here be dwelt upon. It may not be 
out of place, however, to mention that the standard biography is that 
of Professor P. Hume Brown, published in Edinburgh in 1890, and 



Reviews 95 

that little has since that date been brought to light upon the subject^ 
so that it may still be considered as holding a place first in importance 
amongst the many volumes — forty-one different works were alone ex- 
hibited in Glasgow — dealing with the* life of Buchanan. Yet the interest 
aroused by the Quatercentenary celebrations called forth several n6w 
'Lives/ the most important of which were a sane and well-reasoned 
biography by the Rev. Donald MacMillan ; a sketch written expressly 
for children by Professor Hume Brown, in which he takes the oppor- 
tunity of supplementing his longer biography with the little which 
later research has brought to light ; and a reprint* of the philosophical 
and suggestive life, a joint production of the late Dr Robert Wallace 
and Mr J. Campbell Smith, originally issued in the 'Famous Scots. 
Series * some years ago. 

In addition to these new works a large majority of the thousand 
odd pages in the memorial volumes are naturally devoted to the dis- 
cussion of incidents and events in the life of the man, and to his 
relations to the politics of his time. Here, as elsewhere, I cannot help 
thinking that too much importance is laid upon the latter phase of 
his career. We are told regarding his femous pamphlet of De Jure 
Regni apud Scotos, that it was awaited with bated breath, that its- 
popularity was instantaneous and universal, and that the doctrines 
enunciated in it revolutionised the whole trend of political thought 
and conduct, not only in his own day, but for close upon a century 
thereafter. But these doctrines were not the creation of Buchanan: 
so far was this from being the case that they were already well known 
long before his pamphlet appeared, and, in fact, before he was even 
bom. All that Buchanan really did was to produce a readable book 
in which the old ideas were reproduced in a new and more attractive 
form than any in which they had previously appeared. Buchanan did 
not invent the revolutionary ideals expressed m De Jure Regni; he 
only happened to be there when the time had come for their becoming 
popular, and they grew and bore fruit, not because his book appeared,, 
but independently of it altogether. 

The fame of Buchanan, however, rests primarily upon his eminence 
as a Latinist, and this side of his eictivity is much more fully elaborated 
in the Glasgow volume than in the St Andrews one. Still a goodly- 
portion of both is devoted to this part of the subject, and it is this, 
which must particularly appeal to the readers of the Modern Language 
Review. Buchanan was a humanist of the humanists, and was imbued 
with the ideas and traditions of classical antiquity. As a Latinist, how- 
ever, he was a mere imitator, and his work cannot be said to have been 
in any sense creative. Professor W. M. Lindsay, in an admirable essay 
on Buchanan, as a Latin scholar in the St Andrews volume, states : * he 
never edited the works of any Latin poet, although he read and read 
again all the Latin poets till he almost knew their verses by heart.*^ 
He wrote Latin verse as few have done since the Golden Age of Roman 
literature, but he never added anything to our knowledge, and his 
verse, excellent as it is, does not ring true. This doubtless had as 



96 Reviews 

much as anything to do with the comparative neglect of his works 
during the past century. His apologists explain away this neglect 
on the ground that Latin has ceased to be the language of cultured 
Europe ; but some other explanation must be sought, and to find this 
one need not, I think, go far afield. He made a bid for universal fame 
by writing in what was then the universal language of literary men, 
but his works lost thereby that subtle quality which the French de- 
signate esprit While we have the feeling in reading a satire of Horace 
that Latin was the only possible medium for such excellent wit, we 
cannot get rid of an oppressive and uncomfortable sense of archaism 
and artificiality in perusing a jeu (Tesprit by Buchanan. And this is 
perhaps most apparent in his most excellent work. Even his para- 
phrases of the Psalms are lacking in appropriateness ; one does not feel 
quite at ease in reading the beautiful and simple Hebrew melodies 
clothed in the luxurious dress of Horatian metres. This aspect of 
Buchanan's work, although it is but slightly touched upon in the 
volumes which we are considering, has been too much kept in abey- 
ance, and it is a fault of most of the contributors to these volumes 
that their critical faculties have been somewhat dazzled by the glamour 
of an academic function. 

Yet there is much in Buchanan that is worthy of careful study and 
consideration, and the question naturally arises whether these Quater- 
centenary celebrations are likely to bring about a revival of interest in 
his works, or whether new facts concerning his life and relations to the 
various schools of thought which existed in his time, are likely to 
be elicited. As regards the former question, Dr W. S. McKechnie in 
his essay in the Glasgow volume upon De Jure Regni, has something to 
say : * What manual of political science of the nineteenth century cites 
the De Jure as a work to be studied as even of secondary or third-rate 
importance ? Neither Prof. Ueberweg in his encyclopaedic History of 
Philosophy, nor Dr Noah Porter in his supplementary sketch of 
Philosophy in Oreat Britain and America, amid their long lists of 
obsolete and forgotten authors, so much as names Buchanan. Professor 
Flint in his History of the Philosophy of History discusses the works of 
Languet and Hotman, but has no niche in his temple for his own 
countryman. It is not too much to say that for every fifty books that 
refer to the original compact theories of Hobbes or Locke or Rousseau 
not more than one so much as mentions the De Jure. It may be 
enough in this connection to refer to three comparatively recent works, 
each eminent in its own province, and representing different schools of 
thought. Neither Sir Frederick Pollock in his Introduction to the 
History of the Science of Politics (1890), the late Professor Ritchie of 
St Andrews, in his valuable treatise on Natural Right (1895), nor his 
successor, Professor Bosanquet, in his Philosophical Theory of the State 
(1899), so much as mentions Buchanan's name.' In a foot-note, how- 
ever, Dr McKechnie adds : * A revival of interest in Buchanan's political 
tenets is notable as coinciding with the quatercentenary of his birth. 
Several books published in 1905 and 1906 mention the De Jure, 



Reviews 97 

e.g., Dunning, History of Political Theories (1905), Mackinnon, History of 
Modem LibeHy (1906), and David J. Hill Histori/ of Diplomacy {19QQ): 

An important work was published last year in Lisbon, in which the 
records of Buchanan's trial before the Inquisition are for the first time 
made public. Through the courtesy of the editor of this publication, 
Mr Q. J. C. Henriques, the St Andrews editor has been able to secure 
for his volume much of the material which formed the introduction to 
that work, as well as some valuable and interesting facsimiles of the 
various MSS. which have just been recovered from the Inquisition 
Archives. A verbatim copy of Buchanan s Defence written in Latin is 
also given as an Appendix. From the latter, the following statement is 
of rather a startling nature, throwing, as it does, entirely new light upon 
the motive of Buchanan's drama, the Baptistes : * Itaque cum primum 
potui ut illinc evasi meam sententiam de Anglis explicavi, in ea 
tra^oedia quae est de Jo. Baptista, in qua quantum materiae similitudo 
patiebatur, mortem et accusationem Thomae Mori repraesentavi, et 
speciem tirannidis illius temporis ob oculos posui.' It had long been 
suspected that the drama on the subject of John the Baptist was 
allegorical, and many surmises had been made regarding the identity of 
the characters, but not even Professor Hume Brown suspected Sir 
Thomas More to be the original of Buchanan's John the Baptist. 

There is much in these volumes of a controversial nature. The very 
date of the celebrations themselves might be disputed, * there being good 
grounds for arguing that, according to modem reckoning, Buchanan's 
birth-year was 1507, and not 1506.' But a question of great interest 
and no little importance, upon which there is certain to be a large 
amount of controversial writing, is whether John Milton was the 
translator of the English rendering of the Baptistes, which was first 
anonymously published in London as a pamphlet in 1643 (new style) 
under the title of Tyrannicall Government Anatomized, or a Discourse 
concerning Ecil-Gouncellors, being the Life and Death of John the 
Baptist, and presented to the King's Most Excellent Majesty, by the 
Author, Die Martis 30 Januarii 1642, etc. This is discussed in 
a separate essay in each of the volumes. Much erudition and a profound 
knowledge of Miltonic tradition is displayed by both writers, Mr William 
Bayne and Mr J. T. T. Brown ; and it is interesting to note that each 
arrives at a diflferent conclusion, the former rejects Milton, in which 
opinion he has the support of the late Professor Masson ; while the 
latter accepts him as the translator. The arguments adduced by 
Mr Brown in support of his contention are, however, so complete and 
conclusive that I cannot resist the feeling that, until better evidence to 
the contrary is forthcoming, we must accept the translation as a poem 
of Milton's. 

Both volumes are admirably printed on excellent paper, and 
sumptuously illustrated with views, facsimiles and portraits, a few of 
whicn are reproduced for the first time firom the originals. 

W. Saunders. 

M. L. R. III. 7 



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'-i 



Volume III JANUARY, 1908 Number 2 



THE INFLUENCE OF DANTE IN SPANISH 
LITERATURE. 

How far did the influence of the great poet of the Middle Age 
extend ? It has been traced in France and in England, and its echoes 
have been found in lands fer away; but it is only recently that serious 
attention has been bestowed upon the traces of it which can be dis- 
covered in the literatures of the Iberian peninsula. The writings of 
Signer Farinelli {Appunti su Dante in Ispagna nelV etd medid in the 
Giomale Storico deUa Letteratura Itcdiana, supplemento no, 8, Torino, 
1905), of Dr Paolo Savj-Lopez (Dantes Einfluss auf spanische Dichter 
des XV, Jahrhunderts, Neapel, s.d.), and Signer Sanvisenti (/ primi 
influssi di Dante, del Petrarca, e del Boccaccio sulla Letteratwra Spagnuola, 
Milano, 1904) have directed attention to the subject. To add to the 
information given by these writers is not the purpose of the present 
paper, but rather to analyse and sift the evidence which they adduce 
and the opinions which they express, to compare their judgment with 
that of other writers, to illustrate the subject from other sources, and to 
supplement the survey by one further note of the indebtedness of a 
great Spanish writer to * V altissimo poeta.' 

The prominent influences on the Spanish Literature of the Middle 

Age were three — the French, the Arabic, and the Italian. In the 

Gomedia de Oloria de Amor of Fra Rocaberti (c. 1461) is a contest 

between French and Italian literature : 

Quatre homens bells los tree d' una 8emen9a 
Lo quart parech Petrarca en son entendra 

The first three are Guillaume de Lorris, Michault, and Alain 
Chartier the poet of the Belle Dame Sans Mercy : the fourth, Petrarch, 
is victorious over his French rivals. But Rocaberti knew Dante also, 
as many passages proved and Dante's influence was earlier, more subtle, 
perhaps less .direct, because it was so closely bound up with the 
general influence of the allegorical style, which came to Spain from 
France as well as from southern lands. The French association was 

^ * In manchen Stellen schliesst sioh Bocaberti so eng an die D. C. dass er sie beinahe 
ubersetzt.* Savj-Lopez, Dantes EinfluM etc, p. 11. 

M. L. B. III. 8 



,-J 




106 The Influence of Dante in Spanish Literature 

strong: Rocaberti shows it in many a hint of indebtedness to JtSe 
Roman de la Rose, whose direct appeal, — 'el arte de amor fjs toda 
enclosa/ as says Santillana, — was more powerful on Spanish writers 
than ever Dante's could be. The early development of the French 
language counted for much : there, close at hand, Spain could find 
models of how to use words effectively, how to express common ideas, 
which she would have been indeed blind if she had neglected. And 
political association brought the influence home. Navarre, Castile, 
Aragdn, were each in their early days closely linked to Southern Gaul. 
The long rule of the house of Barcelona over much that was French fits 
well SIS Spanish wfius followed by the still closer tie that was formed 
when Thibault of Champagne, himself a patron of poets, like all his 
house, came to govern the mountain kingdom of Navarre; and when the 
house of Trststamara sat on the throne of Alfonso el Sabio the French 
power that had helped to place it there was joined to Spain in repeated 
alliance. The Church too came forward: the pilgrimages to Compostela 
brought many a French priest fiuid many a French hymn and prayer. 
The Misterio de loa reyea magos comes from a Latin office used in 
mid-Gaul : other Franco-Latin liturgical plays have left treuses in Spfidn ; 
and the Poema del Cid undoubtedly follows the model of the Chanson 
de Roland, The wonder indeed is not that French influence on 
Spanish literature wfius so great but that it wsus, comparatively, so small. 
But it wfiw counterjwjted, it may be, by a very different influence. 
For a long time scholars resisted the admission of the indebtedness of 
Spsdn, in constitutional life as in literature, to the Arab invaders : they 
still minimise it. But Dozy showed how the typical Spanish hero wfiw 
half Moor, and how the Crdnica general^ contained large extracts, 
translated, &om Arab chronicles: Julifim Ribera has shown how the 
charskcteristic institution, the Justicia, of Aragdn, is derived from a 
Moorish original. Alliance and intermarriage undoubtedly brought close 
association. If it is impossible to prove a structural imitation of Arabic 
by Cfiwtilian lyrics, the similarity has probably a greater significance thfiui 
hsis been generally admitted. The literary fiwsimilation must have gone 
far when Granetda surrendered in 1492, and not a thousand Arabs in 
the kingdom could speak their native tongue'. Indebtedness in general 
to the Arab apologue, in particular to certain definite collections of 
stories, may be trcu^ed. 

^ Leu quatr partes enterat de la Cronica de Eipafia^ first printed in 1541. On this 
see the extremely interesting paper by Mr Fitzmaurice-Eelly in Transactions of the Royal 
Historical Society^ third series, toI. i, pp. 139 sqq. (1907). 

* Fitzmaorice-EeUy, Spanish Literature, p. 19 : and see the preyious pages. 



W. H. HUTTON 107 

But the estimate of Arabic influence can only be made by an 
Arabic scholar who thoroughly knows the literature of Spain. It was 
one of the things that we hoped for in the elaborate study of Spanish 
civilisation which had been planned by Mr Butler Clarke, whose death 
was one of the most severe blows that English study of Spanish letters 
has ever received. But this at least we may say, that there was no one 
great Arabic writer whose influence may be seen in Spain, as we may 
see the influence of Dante and Petrarch. 

When the fields were irrigated firom Italian sources it was not from 
many little streams but from two mighty rivers that the inspiration 
came. Italian influence in volume and intensity far surpassed that of 
the Moors, the Franks or the Proven9als. Towards Italy Spain had 
never ceased to look, since the day when the arms of Justinian made 
the power of Rome again triumphant from the Pillars of Hercules to 
the Pyrenees. Religion was a close tie : a long series of ecclesiastical 
letters, and notably among them those of Gregory VII, show how close. 
Spaniards attended the Italian Universities and indeed held office 
there ^: in the fourteenth century the Spanish Universities had greatly 
decayed, and in 1364 Cardinal Carrillo de Albomoz founded at Bologna 
the College of S. Clement for the instruction of his countrymen. 

Politics confirmed the connection. Don Jaime el Conquistador 
taught Aragdn to look eastwards, and Barcelona in trade as well as 
letters was associated with the farther Mediterranean lands. Then 
came the rule of Spain over Sicily and over Naples, and with it, as 
Ticknor says', ' constant means and opportunities for the transmission 
of Italian cultivation and Italian literature to Spain itself.' Spanish 
writers could read Italian easily and imitate the Italian style. The 
famous Marqu6s de Santillana expressed the general feeling of his 
countrymen when he wrote in his Prohemio : ' Los itdlicos prefiero yo, 
s6 emienda de quien mas sabrd, & los fran9eses solamente. Ca las sus 
obras se muestran de mas altos engenios, 6 addrnanlas 6 compdnenlas de 
fermosas ^ pelegrinas estorias; 6 d los firan9eses de los it&licos en el 
guardar del arte ; de lo qual los itdlicos, sinon solamente en el pesso 6 
consonar, non se fayen men9ion alguna.' And when he wrote this he 
had no doubt in mind Dante his great master^ 

Already Dante had become well known in Spain. The early 
fifteenth century saw two versions of the Divina Commedia into 
tongues spoken within the Iberian peninsula. It seems that the two 

^ Ticknor, HUtory of Spanish Literature, vol. i, p. 316. 
a Ihid, p. 318. 

8—2 



108 The Infiuence of Dante in Spanish Literature 

versions were even made within a single year : so Ticknor says, but I 
do not know precisely what he means or what is his authority. Of this 
more anon. The year of the one version which is in Catalan is certainly 
1429, and it is the work of Andreu Febrer* — ' en rims vulgars Cathalans.' 
It is in the 'terza rima' with very often the exact line-endings of Dante 
himself, and is as nearly a literal translation as could well be. 

£n lo mig del cami de nostra vida 
Me retroM per una selva obecura, 

are its first two lines*. It is mentioned by the great literary dictator of 
the age, the Marqi;& de Santillana, who wrote 'Mossen Febrer 690 
obras notables 6 algunos affirman aya traydo el Dante de lengua fiorentina 
en Catalan, non menguando punto en la orden del metrificar 6 consonar': 
and who regarded the Catalans as the masters of Spanish letters in his 
day. * Los Catalanes, Valen5ianos 6 algunos del reyno de Aratgon fueron 
e son grandes o£Bciales desta arte ' he says. 

One might indeed think that it was tlyough Catalunia and Aragdn 
that the influence of Dante entered into Spain. The CataUns were 
well acquainted with Dante: Sanvisenti, who would restrict their 
acquaintance to Rocaberti and the translator, has been shown to be in 
error*. They were well acquainted with Italian writers of Dante's 
time: very likely the association goes back to the time of Ramdn 
Lull (1235 — 1315) who dwelt many years in Italy, a student, whom 
Men^ndez y Pelayo calls ' the knight-errant of philosophy, the ascetic and 
troubadour, the novelist and missionary*,' and who, though he probably 
did not know Dante's Commedia or the poet himself, yet very likely 
derived much of his thought in his mystical writings, directly or 
indirectly, from the Vita Nuova\ The CataUns had a genius for 
translation, and a passion for the literature of Italy. The great period 
of their literature, which the matchless humour and directness of the 
chronicle of King James himself proves to have been as rich in prose as 
in poetry, was the period when they were closely associated with the 
Italian states, and ended when the union of the Spanish kingdoms 
placed the centre of gravity in a more southern part of the peninsula, 
and Arag6n with its subject-states fell under the dominance of 

^ So the MS. in the Escorial says. August 1, 1429 is the date of the completion. See 
Schifl, Bibliothtque du Marquis de Santillane, p. 310. Ticknor, i, 297 note, says 1428 and 
has clearly misled many. 

* La Comedia de Dant trantlatada per N. Andreu Febrer (ed. C. Vidal y Valenciano), 
Barcelona, 1878. 

' Cf. Farinelli, p. 20, with Sanvisenti, pp. 15 sqq. 

* See Butler Clarke, Spanish Literature, p. 57. 
^ Gf. Farinelli, p. 22. 



W. H. BUTTON 109 

Castile. From Provence and the troubadours they turned to Italy and 
the poets. 

They were critics however as well as translators and debtors. The 
Dominican Vicente Ferrer seems to place Dante in the Inferno beside 
Vergil and Ovid, because his 'cadences' do not touch or convert like 
the Bible and the lives of the saints. Vicente had been a disciple of 
S. Bernardino of Siena, and a commentator on S. Thomas Aquinas, and 
his notes show that Dante he had read, marked and disapproved ^ 
Among the Catalans and the men of Valencia and Aragdn, whom 
Santillana deemed worthy of the distinction of his praise, Dante 
became well known. Bemat Metge, himself it seems a Medici by 
descent", and the 'gran cortesA he familiar real,' undoubtedly knew 
the poet and could not forget him when he himself wrote in verse. 
His own King Juan seemed to him like Cato in the Purgatorio, 'un 
hom de mitja estatura ab reverent cara': his Orfeo has many a 
reminiscence of the Inferno, which Signer Farinelli has collected ; and 
the poet throughout undoubtedly, as the Italian critic says, 'usa 
famigliarmente anche expressioni virgiliane e dantesche*.' Yet when 
the * penal conception ' of Dante is said to be the source of much of the 
imagery of Metge, I cannot but think it important to remember that 
this is largely taken from the early Christian Apocalypses, which, 
whether in tradition or in writing, were as accessible to Metge as to 
the Florentine himself: and there were hints too which the CataMn 
took not directly or indirectly from Dante at all, but from the Metamor- 
phoses of Ovid^ 

Of the CataMn, Dr Farinelli, repudiating the German assertion* 
that the language is too unbending for the purpose, asserts that it is 
the best of all the early translations. Febrer seems to have saturated 
himself in the language of his master, and of Vergil his master's master, 
and his work is, indeed, as the most superficial study of it shows, one 
of immense patience and extraordinary fidelity to the original, 'non 
menguando punto en la orden de metrificar y consonar,' as Santillana 
witnessed. 

The influence of Dante on Catalan literature was something unique 
and apart. It was not only poetic and spiritual, but the poem became 
regarded as a fount of wisdom and instniction in learning and in 
morals, and a monitor against vice. Thus a school of Cataldn commen- 

^ See Farinelli, pp. 24, 25. 

3 See references in Farinelli, note, pp. 25, 26. 

» Op, cit., p. 27. * Cf. Farinelli, p. SO, note. 

* Ebert, in Jahrb.f, ram. u. tng. Liter, n, p. 267. 



110 The Influence of Dante in Spanish Literature 

tators on Dante sprang up. In the early fifteenth century there were 
Jaume Ferrer de Blanes, in his Sententias catdlicas y conclusions 
principals del preclarissim ikeolech y dim poeta Dant (pdblished at 
Barcelona eventually in 1545), Bernat Nicolau Blanquer (who dealt 
with the Purgatorio alone), and a third whose name does not seem to 
be known, and whose work on the Inferno remains in MS., Coinentari 
dels cantichs y estancias del Infern del poeta Dant Under this 
influence rose a school of Catalan poets. 

Ausias March, the Valencian, perhaps *the greatest master of his 
native tongue ^' and whom the Marques de Santillana described as 'gran 
trovador 6 hombre de asaz elevado esplritu,' an imitator of Petrarch 
whom some have ranked as high as his master, was a student of Dante ; 
and Men6ndez y Pelayo" says that he was directly influenced by the 
Vita Nuova and the Convimo. Rocaberti (whom I have already men- 
tioned) in his Comedia de la gloria de amor (1461), was another who 
followed in the train, but, it would seem, without originality or true 
poetic feeling. He adapted many a phrase, paraphrased some scenes 
— such as the Francesca del Dant — and showed an acquaintance with 
much of the Dante scenario. Dante himself and Beatrice he places 
among the crowd of lovers who receive him in the garden into which he 
is led by the lady of the castle and who gather before Amor himself. 

There is also the small treatise of Francesch Carro^ Pardo de la 
Cuesta, Moral consideradd contra las persuassions vids y forces de 
amor\ in which the fatal power of Love is emphasised in the address to 
Paolo and Francesca — 'y vosaltres, o Paulo e Francisca, de qui los 
aguayts de negra sort trencaren los ligams de la humana servitut, e les 
animes vostres amant no foren separades, segons Dant recia en lo cant 
cinque de la sua primera cantica, per mostrar que fins al abis dels 
infems amor encara regna, pujau a fer los companya.* Signor Farinelli, 
from whom I quote this instance^ shows that Carro^ Pardo must have 
been a diligent student of Dante. Again, he influences Antoni Vall- 
manya, in his Sort.., en lohor de los monges de Valldonzella, at least 
through the Inferno ; Mossen Corella, Jaume Roig, and the writer of 
the curious Catald^n romance, Curial y Otielfa, who quotes from the 
Florentine as from a sacred book, uses the verse, Paradise ^ viii, 7, in a 
way which shows that he does not quote from Febrer's version but 
translates direct from the original', and when he would eulogise Pedro 

^ H. B. Clarke, Spanish Literature^ p. 53. 

^ Historia de Uu ideas est€ticas en Espana, i. 

» Barcelona, 1877. * Op. eit,, pp. 96-7. 

* Febrer has 'Mas Dyone honrayen 6 Cupido,' the romance * Ma Dlone adoravan e Gapido.' 



1 



; W. H. HUTTON 111 

) S Arag6n he gives to him the praise of Charles of Anjou (PurgatoriOf 
r Jii, 114) that he 
f d' ogni valor port6 cinta la corda. 

Thus at the end of the Cataldn literature of the Middle Age Dante was 
'} dominant influence. 

In Castile his fame if not so widespread was even more closely 
linked to a great revival of letters. P. Savj-Lopez (in Giomale Dantesco 
JV, vii-viii, pp., 360 sqq.) has shown that not long before Dante conceived 
the design of the Divina Commedia there were written in Spain two 
descriptions of the unseen world, one of Paradise, the other of the 
Inferno : neither make mention of Purgatory. One is in The Life of 
Sancta Oria by Gonzalo de Berceo : a vision of heaven to which the 
saint is admitted by three children, where is a bright tree in flower 
round which the saints gather, and where are the martyrs in their robes 
of red, the hermits, the apostles on their thrones, the evangelists in 
splendour, but where the voice only of the Lord is heard, solemn and 
sad, which bids the virgin saint return to her cell to await the hour of 
her liberation. 

The Inferno appears in the Book of Alexander (2nd half of the 
thirteenth century), a translation of the Alexandreis of Walter of 
Ch&tillon. There by the side of Styx wait the vices. Avarice, the 
mother of them all. Anger, Gluttony ; and beyond is the flame of the 
eternal furnace, the frozen torment where none may die, 

quia quorum hie mortua vita 
In culpa fuerit, ibi vivet semper eorum 
Mors ID suppliciis ; ut qui deliuquere vivus 
Non cessat, finem moriendi nesciat illis. 

It was this Latin poem of Walter of Ch&tillon which was translated 
into Spanish in a popular version. There the Inferno appears as a 
deep pit, dark, girt with walls of stone and of sulphur, full of serpents 
which hiss and bite the damned souls. No flowers grow there, but 
thomB, and the smoke of torment ascends for ever. The seven deadly 
sins stand at the entrance, and each has his own place, where the 
sinners are punished by the very sins they loved. Thus the gluttons 
ever hunger and suffer burning thirst. Pride^ alone is everywhere and 
has no place for herself alone. In the midst of Inferno is the throne of 
Lucifer who distributes and tempers punishments in regard to the 
degree of guilt. In limbo lie the unbaptized babes, who live without 
pain but without light, condemned ' nunca ver la faz del criador.' The 

* Cf. PurgatoriOi x. 



112 The Influence of Dante in Spanish Literature 

references to Paradise in Don Juan Manuel of Castile (1282 — 1347) ma^ / 
also show a similarity to Dante^ but he undoubtedly in some point? ? 
followed Ruiz, the arch-priest of Hita. \ 

In Castile, then, the soil was richly prepared. It was a land wher^ 
Allegory flourished and it was as an allegory that the Divina Commedia\ 
found its way into Spain. I have mentioned Gonzalo de Berceo : therej 
is also his Milagros de Nuestra Seflora, Similar thoughts are to bej 
found even in the scandalous arch-priest of Hita (c. 1290 — 1350), a; 
great influence in Spanish literature ; in the early imitators of Boethiu8,( 
whose doctrine was, as Professor Ker has told us, 'as fresh in the! 
fourteenth as in the sixth, a perennial source of moral wisdom',* andl 
whom Dante himself took for model; and in the French allegories which 
found a home in the peninsula. Beside the Allegories are the spiritual 
visions, the ' Klostervisionen,* as Savj -Lopez calls them. Both show^ 
that Spain was prepared for the Divina Commediay just as the 
Troubadours prepared the way in the same land for the appreciation of 
Petrarch. 

The triumph of Dante in Spain came with the reign of Juan II of 
Castile* (1406 — 54), the patron of letters, himself a poet, the corre- 
spondent of Aretino*, and the founder of a literary circle which gathered 
round the court. 

To Francesco Imperial, a Genoese by birth whose father settled in 
Spain, belongs the honour of — in the phrase of Mr Fitzmaurice-Kelly* — \ 
* transplanting Dante into Spain.' He knew Italian well, and read (as j 
few of his successors did) the poet in his own tongue, and through him i 
the passionate admiration which the chief poets of the time showed for ; 
the Divina Commedia was begun. Dante he claimed for his master. | 
In the Dedr de l-as Siete Virtudes^ he tells how inspiration came to him 
when he had fallen asleep in a green meadow. In a magic garden 
surrounded by a wall of emerald he saw a venerable man with a white 
beard, who held in his hand a book, wherein, written in letters of gold, 
were the first words of the Divina Commedia. The sage was Dante 
himself, crowned with laurel ; and he led his Spanish follower along the 
pleasant paths where stand the seven cardinal virtues in female form 
and with them their attendants, virtues who from them trace their 

^ I have nofc been able to trace them in detail. 
3 W. P. Ker, The Dark Ages, p. 40. 

* His reign is 1419 — 54. 

* See Sanyisenti, pp. 19, 29. 
B Spanish Literature, p. 98. 
" In the Cancionero de Baena and edited also anew by Amador de los Bios. 



W. H. HTJTTON 113 

descent. Line after line of the description is copied from the Commedia, 
Then the contrast is shown of vices, snake like, threatening destruction 
to the fiair town of Seville. But the disciple is warned and expresses 
his thankfulness in almost the very words of the Inferno where Dante 
lefuns the cause of the judgment on the incontinent, 

sol que sanas vista atribulada, 

tu me contentas tanto quanto absuelvesS 

and the vision ends with the sound of voices singing the Ave Maria and 

the Salve Regina: 

E commo en mayo en prado de floras 
se mueve el ayre, en quebrando el alva, 
Buavemente vuelto con olores, 
tal se moviera, al acabar la salva, 
feriame en las fas 6 en la calva, 
6 acord^ commo i fuer^a despierto, 
e en mis manos falM d Dante abierto 
en el capitol que la Yirgen salva. 

And Imperial's invocation*: 

suma luz, que tanto te al9aste 
del ooncepto mortal, d mi memoria 
represta un poco lo que me mostraste, 

is simply the Paradiso, xxxiii, 67 : 

O somma luz, che tanto ti levi 
dai concetti mortali, alia mia mente 
ripresta un poco di quel che parevi. 

The conception of the whole poem is Dantesque, and the whole 

atmosphere is that of Dante's moral environment. Dante is to him the 

great moral teacher, the fount of instruction for the modern world. 

And as a poet he takes rank among the great ones of old, 

Omero, Ora^io, Ver^lio, Dante 
e con ellos calle Ovidio de amante, 

he says in one place ; and in another, 

Omero Vergilio Dante 
Boecio, Lucain, de sj, 
en Ovidio, de amante. 

The influence of Francesco Imperial, of whom personally after all we 
know very little, was widespread, and it spread rapidly. Dante became 
the model for the Spanish poets and the typical sage of modem days. 

1 Cf. Jw/tfrno, xi, 91: 

O sol che sani ogni vista turbata 
Tu mi contenti si, quando tu solvi, 
Che, non men che saper, dubbiar m* aggrata. 
' Sanvisentl traces in detail the indebtedness of Imperial to Dante, with references to 
the Div. Com, (pp. 33 sqq.) but omits the invocation. 



114 The Influence of Dante in Spanish Literature 

Don Enrique de Aragdn, Seiior de Villena (1384 — 1434), the translator 
of Vergil, completed a Castilian prose translation of the Divina Conimedia, 
in 1428. It was thus the earliest translation in a Spanish tongue. The 
whole was believed^ to have been lost, but it has been rediscovered 
by M. Mario Schiflf' among the manuscripts of the Marques of Santillana, 
for whom it was executed ; and in his recently published study of the 
library of the Marques he gives a number of extracts* which show how 
closely and how admirably Villena followed his original. It was the 
study of Vergil no doubt which led Villena on to Dante*: it was also the 
influence of the Marques of Santillana, the brother and patron of the 
Castilian poets. 

Ifiigo Lopez de Mendoza, Marqu^ de Santillana, conde del Real de 
Manzanares (1398—1458), was the great leader of the men of letters at 
the court of Juan II. He was a warrior too and a statesman, one 
whom kings could trust and soldiers follow, because (says G6mez 
Manrique') he was one who counselled as he himself would act and was 
their companion in the dangers they incurred. He was a good husband, 
a good father, a good Christian, a generous benefactor. More than all 
else to the men of his day he seemed a great scholar, a man who loved 
learning, a man whom the Italian Renaissance might have produced, a 
man of whom the classic days might not have been ashamed. It has 
been questioned whether he knew Latin : M. Schiflf seems to doubt it': 
but he certainly quotes Latin, and the MS. of Villena's translation of 
the Divina Commedia which was in his library has marginal notes in 
Latin which there seems reason to think were written by himself. 

He was a poet, a lyric poet, almost a great Ijrric poet. Sefior 
Men^ndez y Pelayo has called attention to his profound sense of rhythm, 
his feeling for the music of verse, which makes him 'sin disputa el primero 
y mds armonioso de los versificadores de su tiempo^' It is a quality 
which links him to the Proven9al singers and which is so notable in his 
exquisite Serranilla — a ' little mountain song ' on a maiden tending her 
&ther*s sheep. But he is linked even more closely to the Italians, to 
Petrarch, to Boccaccio, and especially to Dante. To the Italians he 
turned when Villena had given him the translation of the Divina 
Commedia, in which Francesco Imperial had taught him to seek for a 
new inspiration. ' II est empr^gn^ de la Divine Com^die plus que de 

^ As by Tioknor, i, 326. 

' See La Bibliothique du Marquis de Santillane, 1905, pp. 275 sqq. 

» Pp. 278 sqq. * Cf. Farinelli, op. ctt., p. 38. 

« In Cancionero, t n, p. 8. * See his book, op. cit., cap. n. 

' So Sohiff, p. 277, and Savj-Lopez, p. 6. * Antologia, t. v, p. Ixxxvii. 



W. H. HUTTON 115 

tout autre livre ' says M. Mario Schiff ^ very truly. ' H en a propag6 le 
culte et encourage T^tude. Sans qu*il y a plagiat dans ses compositions 
telles que El Infiemo de los Enamorados; la CoroTiafidn de Mossen 
Jordi; la Comedieta de Pcmza, presque tout y est dantesque, Tatmosph^re, 
le ton, Tattitude des personnages, les questions, les r^ponses, le d^cor et 
les gestes/ He gloried in being a disciple of Dante. To the Constable 
of Portugal, to whom he wrote the famous Prohemio which is prefixed 
to his works, he spoke of his knowledge of the great master, and his 
nephew Q6mez Manrique addressed him as 

Yos que emendajs las obras del Dante 
e otras mas altais sabejs componer. 

What the first words may mean has been much disputed, but may 
they not refer to the very notes that are still to be seen on Villena's 
manuscript ? 

The Comedieta de Ponza, which has for historical basis the naval 
battle off Ponza in 1435 where the Genoese captured the kings of 
Arag6n and Castile, is full of imitation of the Inferno, and is notable for 
the prominent part assigned to Fortuna, in describing whom a passage 
is borrowed fix)m the seventh canto of the Inferno, lines 70 sqq.' For 
the use of comedia to describe a national disaster Santillana quotes 
Dante as justification ; and indeed at the end of the poem it is Fortuna 
who redresses the wrongs and shows that greater glories are still 
awaiting the kingdoms of Spain. 

Throughout the poetry of Santillana in fact, and not only in the 
three works which M. Schiff mentions in thq passage I have just 
quoted, reminiscences are continually found. Sanvisenti* has collected 
many of them : Farinelli has added others! The treatment of Fortuna 
especially recalls the Marques to his Italian model, and the Dialogo de 
Bias contra Fortuna is full of word- as well as thought-transference. 
The InfierTio de los Enamorados was a subject also which invited adapta- 
tion. It was founded on the Francesca episode and contains several 
reminiscences of it. The simile of the reeling vessel beaten by the 
waves, Pvrgatorio, xxxii, 115, 17, occurs in the form : 

como nave combatida 
De los adversarios vientos 
Que dubda de su partida 
For los muchos movimientos ; 

' La BibliotK^quef p. IxzY. 

^ Savj-Lopez, op. eit., p. 6, denies this and finds reminiscence only in details. 

• Op. cit, pp. 128 sqq. < Op. eit., p. 60 sqq. 



116 The Influence of Dante in Spanish Literature 

and the falcon which gazes at its feet before it spreads its wings returns 

to us as 

el falcon, que mira 
La tierra mas depoblada 
£ la fambre allf lo tira 
Por fa9er cierta volada. 

It is not only in verbal reminiscence, in following of thought, in 

atmosphere, that Santillana follows Dante; nor, certainly, was he 

anxious to conceal his indebtedness. He again and again quotes his 

master by name — as 

Dante k Acheronte 
alii do se passa la triste ribera — 

or among those who have written of love's victims, of TristAn, of 
Lancjarote, of Galeote, 

de los christianos d Dante. 

The Defunssion de don Enrique de ViUena, the Canonigacidn de 
Vigente Ferrer et Pedro de Villacrefes, the Doctrinal de Privados — the 
last the work which M. Mario Schiflf* considers Santillana's master- 
piece — and even the Proverbios are fall too of reminiscences. 

The library of the great Marqu6s was well stocked with his 
master's works. It contained Italian manuscripts of the Commedia, the 
ConviviOy the Ganzoniere, the Canzoni delta vita miova, and a second 
manuscript of the Canzoniere with Boccaccio's Life : the Italian text 
with Villena's translation; a Castilian translation of a Latin com- 
mentary on the Commedia, of Benvenuto da Imola on the Inferno and 
the Purgatorio. Santillana was certainly the great Dantist that his 
contemporaries call him, and he was a fit leader of the literary Renais- 
sance which radiated from the court of Juan II under Italian influences. 

Of the knowledge of Boccaccio and Petrarch nothing need here be 
said; we are concerned alone with Dante. It was by the Divina Gofiniedia 
almost alone that Dante was known ; but the ignorance of the rest of 
the works has doubtless been exaggerated*. It is certain from not a few 
imitations that the Vita Nuova was known, the Convivio is undoubtedly 
referred to, the Canzoniere too, and (as has been suggested) the De 
Vulgari Eloquentia, The library of the Marques of Santillana contained 
all but the last. It seems improbable that more than these was known 
in Spain at all ; and the knowledge of everything outside the Divina 
Commedia must have been very slight. 

^ op, eit.<, p. Izxviii. 

' I think even by Farinelli, op. eft., pp. 70, 71. But see his review of M. Sohiffs book 
in the BoUettino della Soeieta Dantetea Italiana, N.S., xiii, 4, p. 275. 



W. H. BUTTON 117 

The influence of the Divina Commedia was first seen, in any wide 
extension, in the circle of which the great Marques was the central 
figure. 

Of the relics of this literary movement the treasury is the 
Ccmcionero de BaenaK This was the work of Juan Alfonso de Baena, 
a poet who made the compilation by order of the king. It contains 
five hundred and seventy-six compositions, the work of sixty-two poets. 
It is a monument of the Italian influence on Spain ; the influence of 
Boccaccio and Petrarch quite as much as the influence of Dante. The 
attitude of all the poets who compose this collection towards Dante is 
practically the same. He is to them the classic poet of earlier times 
who ranks with the great singers of antiquity. 

Vergilio 6 Dante, Oracio 6 Plat6D* 

says Villasandino, the troubadour — ^a survival — of Seville who sang or 
recited his own poems before king and court 'por pan e vino*; and he 
speaks with a sort of reverent awe 

del alto poeta, rectorioo Dante 3, 

whom he quotes, as did so many of the Spanish writers of the Renais- 
sance, as a moral teacher side by side with the Disticha Catonia : 

Dante Vergylio e Caton 
En poetrja fundaron^ 

Santillana himself had set Dante in the same company in the ComedieUi 
de Ponza, 

Villasandino also is one of those, not a few among his contempo- 
raries, who were fascinated by the canzone 'Tre donne intomo al cor mi 
son venuteV and remembers it when he presents in his allegory, to 
bewail their lot, half real beings half abstract personifications, Catalina 
queen of Castile, la Giustizia (the ' Drittura ' of Dante) and the Church 
of Toledo. 

But the greater part of the collection of Baena is even more directly 
under Italian than under French influence, and other poets even more 
certainly than Villasandino recognize him for master. Diego de 
Valenza* for example ; and Diego de Valera, who refers also to him in 

1 Madrid, 1861. « Cane,, n. 80. » IHd., n. 371. 

^ Ibid. p. 260. On this it is interesting to follow the collection of passages quoted 
hy K. Pietsch, Two Old Spanish Versions of the Disticha CaUmis, Decennial Publications 
of the University of Chicago, p. 8. Alfonso Martinez de Toledo, Arohpriest of Talavera, 
in his Corvacho 6 Reprobacidn del amor mundano, when he refers to *Cato' has also a 
reminiscence of Purgatorio, xxix, 121. 

^ Canzone xx in Oxford Dante. 

• Cane, de Baena, n. 227. 



118 The Influence of Dante in Spanish Literature 

prose, discussing the origin and power of Fortuna ' un ministro entrado 
por la divinal Providencia'*; FemAn P^rez de GuzmAn (1378 — 1460), 
'caballero doto en toda buena dotrina' with the echo of the *buen 
florentin*' in his Generaciones y Seniblanzas, in his Copla8,.,d la muerte 
del Obispo de Burgos, and his SetedentaSy where it is at least suggested 
that he had read the Convivio\ To these may be added the name of 
Don Pedro, Constable of Portugal, to whom Santillana wrote his famous 
Prohemio. He was thoroughly imbued with the Spanish culture of his 
day, had long dwelt at the court of Juan II of Castile, read Spanish 
poets and tried to imitate them, and he has been claimed, with con- 
siderable plausibility, as ' versado na Divina Commedia*'; and certainly 
the infant of Portugal Don JoSrO Manuel, in his coplas dedicated to 
Joao II, was an admirer and copyist of the Inferno. But when once 
the two pictures of a beautiful garden and of a 'selva oscura* are 
sought in the Spanish literature of the late fifteenth century the search 
is endless. They had passed, with innumerable reminiscences or 
distortions of the Diirina Commedia, into the literary stock of Europe. 
We may pass over hosts of minor poets in whom they are found. 

But one greater name remains. It is that of Juan de Mena 
(1411-56). He was a learned scholar far above the trivial race of 
court poets with whom he mixed. He had studied in Italy, he was the 
king's personal friend, and still more the disciple and admirer of 
Santillana, to whom he dedicated his poem La Cororuicidn, His work 
is the best example of the influence of the Marqu^. He says that 
many foreigners came to Castile for the sole object of seeing him, and 
to make him known he devotes poem after poem of eulogy. The eulogy 
was returned in language even more glowing, and the affection — like so 
few literary fiiendships — was firm till the end Juan de Mena died in 
1456, and Santillana before he followed him two years later had set up 
a magnificent monument in his honour in the church of Torrelaguna. 

Juan de Mena certainly read Dante in the original. Dr Sayj -Lopez* 
finds in the Labyrintho, his chief poem, no imitation at all of Dante, but 
Signer Farinelli is certainly right in rejecting this view, even if all the 
similarities pointed out by Signor Sanvisenti cannot be accepted as 
evidence of indebtedness. It is an elaborate and mystifying allegory, in 
which the author is lost in the 'selva oscura,* delivered by a &ir lady who 
personifies the providence of God, and shown the three mystic wheels 

^ See Farinelli, op. ciU, pp. 74, 75 and Sociedad de hihlidf, eipan., Madrid, 1878, p. 162. 

> Cane, de Baena, n. 282. 

' See the question disousaed in Farinelli, pp. 76, 77. 

* Op, eit,, p. 11. 



W. H. HUTTON 119 

of destiny, past, future, and present, where the heroes and sinners of old 
time are arranged in the seven planetary circles. Not only the scheme 
but the style is indebted to Dante; the composition strives to follow 
the master and to carry out the precepts of the De Vulgari Eloquentia. 
Sanvisenti* happily calls it *una piccola commedia divina, ridotta ad 
intento schiettamente ascetico.' In the details there is much that is 
directly copied, — the wood, the crossing of the mysterious stream, the 
beautiful land in which stand the spirits of the blest: motives and 
situations alike as well as characters are borrowed from the Divina 
Commedia. But the three hundred coplas with their crabbed and 
elaborate prose commentary are dead for all that, and so are most of the 
twenty-four which were added at King Juan's request. 

The CoroTioddn is in some respects still more directly indebted to 
the Divina Commedia, Ticknor even says that it ' has the appearance 
of a parody/ The second copla is enough to quote : 

Del qual en forma de toro 
eran sub puntos y gouces 
del copioso tesoro 
crinado de febras de oro 
do Febo moraba ent(Snce8. 

Al tiempo que me hallaba 
en una selva mu^ brava 
de bosquee Tesahanos 
ignotos 4 loB humanos. 
yo que solo caminabal 

The poet goes through the Inferno and through the dwellings of 
the blest and then reaches Mount Parnassus to behold the apotheosis of 
Santillana. He spares no detcdls. Dante, suggests Signer Sanvisenti 
with a certain unconscious humour, does not describe the ' selva selvag- 
gia ' because he had too many things to think of, but Juan de Mena is 
too conscientious to omit a single decoration of his fantastic vision. It 
is impossible to deny to him a certain dignity of expression as well as of 
thought : he is really a poet as well as a patriot : he has lines of what 
Mr Fitzmaurice-Kelly calls *even marmoreal beauty'; but he has none 
of the sense of rhythm and music which belongs to Santillana, his 
master and friend. Bound the great Marques indeed all the interest 
of the Dante influence in the fifteenth century revolves. When he died 
the surviving poets united to do him honour. The greatest memorial 
is the Triunfo del Marquis, written by his secretary Diego de Burgos. 

1 Op. cit., p. 287. 

< Pp. 149, 150, edition of Madrid, 1S04. I have used also the Antwerp edition 
of 1552. 



* 120 The InfliLence of Dante in Spanish Literature 

In the pre£su» the strongest emphasis is laid on the Italian studies of 
the Marques. Dante himself is made to say of him : 

A mi no conviene hablar del Marquds, 
Ni menos bub hechos muy altos contar, 
Que tanto le devo, s^prn lo sab^ 
Que no se podria por lengua pagar: 
S<Slo eBte mote no quiero callar 
Por no paresoer desa^pradecido, 
Que si tengo fama, si soy conoscido, 
Es por qu'^1 quiso mis obras mirar^ 

With Dante for guide the poet passes into the world beyond, and as 
they pass the verses that describe what they see contain constant 
reminiscences of the Purgatorio (e.g, i, 4, 6; viii, 19 — 24; xviii, 118 sqq.), 
and the poet says : 

no pudo seguirle mis la memoria 

que Dante j el sueno de mi se partieron. 

In Paradise there is a throne specially prepared for Santillana — as 
for Henry VII in Paradiso, xxx, 133. Dante is the appropriate guide, 
for as Diego de Burgos says, 

ley6 el Marquds con gran atencion 
aquellas tres partes. 

Side by side with the Triunfo del Marquis must be placed the poem 
of Santillana's nephew G6mez Manrique, a la muerte del Marques^ 
This describes a fortress where the dead warrior is mourned by the 
Virtues and by Poesy. It is this poem which apostrophises Santillana, 

i oh fuente manante de sabiduria 

por quien s'ennoblescen los regnoB de Espana! 

and proclaiming his knowledge and his skill, cX^ 

en esta discreta e tan gentil arte, 

declares that he 'amended' (whatever that may meaJ^^^ie works of 
Dante. 

The great Marques was remembered, perhaps above all his honours, 
as * muy gran Dantista'.' 

But the memory and imitation of Dante did not pass away from 
Spain with the poetical apotheosis of his great disciple. The allegory 
became more and more popular at the end of the fifteenth century. 
Pedro de Escavias in the poetic and political lament sobre las devisiones 
del reyno ; the Oracia Dei of Jerdnimo de Art^s with its close imitation 

1 Triunfo in Cancionero general de H. del Castillo^ i, p. 246. 
^ Cancionero general de JET. del Castillo, n, 164. 
' So Jaume Ferrer de Blanes caUs him. 



L- 



W. H. BUTTON 121 

of the first canto of the Inferno, which Dr Savj -Lopez calls a ' getreue 
Wiedergabe^'; the Decires of Pero Guillen de Segovia, a follower of the 
Marques and of G6mez Manrique; Juan de Padilla in the Retahlo de 
la vida de Cristo and Los doce triunfos de los doce Apdstoles; Diego 
Guillen de Avila; Pedro Fernandez de Villegas; Hernando Diaz; 
Francesch Carro9 Pardo de la Cuesta; these are but a few of the 
names of imitators, translators, adapters, copyists of the episodes of 
Fraucesca and of Iseult, of the descriptions of ancient sages, of which 
Spanish literature for the next century is fiill^ The entire list would 

' Farinelli, p. 82, rightlj protests. 

' E,g. Lecciones de Job. 'Las lecciones d* Job Trobadas por vn renerendo & deuoto 
religiose dela orden delos predicadores. Cou vn Infierno de daiiados. £s obra may 
deaota y coteplatiaa. Agora nueuamente impressa. {Esta portada estd bajo de una gran 
vineta^formada con ires pequenas. Alfinse lee:) Fne impresso este tratado enla imperial 
ciudad de Toledo por Kemon de petras impresor de libros. Acabose a dos de setiebre: 
Ano de mil & d. zziiij (1524). aiios. 4<>. let. g<5t. Son 8 hojas sin foU con la sign. a. 

Obra diversa de la de Garci Sanchez de Badajoz, que se halla & fojas 161 del Cancionero 
general de Anveres. Tampoco encuentro el Infierno de daiiados reimpreso en ningnna de 
las colecciones generales. — Esta composicion est4 esorita en la misma dase de metro que 
las Lecciones. — Supone el autor quo arrebatado de este mundo, y acompanado de la Fe y 
la Esperanza, baja & los infiernos donde le van explicando los varios padecimientos de los 
condenados : 

Estos son los lujuriosos 
que quemaban sin quemarse, 
estos son los orgullosos, 
estos son los deseosos 
de en vano fuego abrasarse; 
y pues bien les pareci6 
el fuego que los quem6 
cuando el fuego no sentian; 
^' aquel fuego mere8ci6 

este fuego k do venian. 

Despues que estos vi arder, 
«^ vi penar los avarientos. 

«*»^ bien bambrientos por comer, 

■* ^ bien hartos en padecer, 

"^^ bien vestidos de tormentos: 

vi desnudos los vestidos, 
vi los ricos ser venidos 
& ser la misma pobreza, 
vi los grandes abatidos, 
vi caer su fortaleza. 

Vi que aquestos se quemaban 
con los bienes que guardaron, 
perdidos porque guuxlaban, 
caidos piles levantaban 
los bienes que aqui adoraron; 
vi los ricos que quisieran 
ser pobres si ellos pudieran, 
pues pobreza es buena amiga; 
vi que su riqueza dieran, 
pues esta les fu6 enemiga. 

Horrorizado de tantos tormentos, ruega k sus guias le saquen de aquel sitio, y termina 
exhortando k los cristianos k que reformen su conducta para no haoerse acreedores k tan 
duros castigos. Tratadito de extremada rareza.' iCatdlogo de la Biblioteca de Salvd, 
no. 712.) 

M. L. R. III. 9 



122 The Injluence of Dante in Spanish Literature 

take long to exhaust, and indeed it is not worth following in detail. 
And there is throughout it the difficulty of judging who copied the 
Commedia directly, and who borrowed from the common knowledge 
among the poets of the age. The Spanish poets of the early sixteenth 
century were indeed determined plagiarists. The great age was to 
begin anew with the great national impulse in the drama. And it was 
to be a popular impulse. 

The influence of Dante (and even that of Boccaccio and Petrarch, 
though it was more widely extended) was never really a popular 
influence on Spain. It was the influence of the Court, of the society of 
a number of men, brilliant or studious, who gathered round a literary 
king. It was closely associated too with the foreign interests of Spanish 
politics and the foreign experiences of Spanish scholars. Spaniards never 
quoted Dante in the streets or recited his lines as they sat at work : his 
name, it is true, seems to have passed into a proverb ^ but it is significant 
that the Castilian translation of Villena was even believed to have 
utterly disappeared, while that of Hernando Diaz, never printed, has 
almost certainly perished. 

But subtly his influence mingled with the atmosphere in which the 
great Spanish writers were bred. It reinforced the strong Catholicism, 
the deep and solemn faith, which is the mark of all the great writers of 
the great age. Though it may be difficult to trace any reminiscences or 
to assert any direct imitations in the poets who at last had found the 
strength of their splendid tongue. Lope de Vega in his sombre passage^ 
in the strength of his imagination, Calder<5n in the depth of his feeling 
and the accuracy of his vision, even Cervantes, it may be, would not 
have been what they were if Dante had not been the teacher of those 
from whom they learnt. The influence of Dante, like the influence of 
the Bible and the Fathers, was a part of the inheritance which made 
them great. It was not confined to poetry. It had been seen from the 
first in prose. But the novelist as well as the dramatist and the lyric 
poet was an imitator of the Italians. 

Thus Diego de San Pedro in the Cdrcel de amor is a link between 

the romances of chivalry and the allegorical style of the semi-religious 

literature of Spain. Living in the fifteenth century, he employed the 

1 E.g. the passage in Galder6D, No hay cosa eomo callaTf Act. in, Esc. xyii : 
Juana. Ye aqni por lo que no puede 
Hacer una en este tiempo 
Una obra buena. ^No habia 
Siquiera nn diamante viejo, 
Con que decir: *Toraa, Juana?' 
Mas ya el Dante no hace versos. 



W. H. BUTTON 128 

method of Santillana and the fourteenth century poets who had founded 
the fashion of playing variations on the theme of Dante. But his 
books were not popular works : they were * written for the gentlemen of 
Castile^' The circle is still a circle of the court. 

With Don Francisco de Quevedo y Villegas (1540 — 1645) we pass, in 
prose, into a wider sphere, and with a short account of his indebtedness 
to Dante, which will illustrate the use made in prose of the Dantesque 
' vision ' and * allegory,' we may conclude this sketch. 

Bom of a family of Northern country seigneurs, he was trained as a 
scholar and theologian at the University of Alcaic. A statesman in 
Naples, a politician and pamphleteer in Spain, a man of letters, a 
controversialist, a typical Spaniard of his age, it was impossible that he 
should be untouched by the dominant influence. He received it half 
seriously, and utilised it satirically. The framework of the Sueflos 
(Visions), which was his most popular work, is a strange parody of the 
Inferno, and it served to introduce the ideas of Dante to the populace 
who read only to be amused. 

In the first of the Sueflos^ the Suefho de las Calaveras, which some 
have called the Last Judgment, he represented himself as felling asleep 
while he had been reading Dante : — ' Digolo & proposito que tengo por 
caido del cielo uno que yo tuve estas noches pasadas, habiendo cerrado 
los ojos con el libro del Dante : lo cual fu^ de sofiar que ve'ia un tropel 
de visiones.' But what follows is a caricature rather than an adaptation. 
As M. M^rim6e' puts it, Quevedo replaces the terrible figures of Dante 
by the grimacing creatures which he excelled in portraying. There 
could not be a better example of this than the contrast between the 
solemn dignity of the poets as they are drawn with such pathos in the 
fourth canto of the Inferno and the bitter mockery of the descriptions 
in the Alguacil Alguadlado^ (which the old English translator calls The 
Catchpole possessed). 

But the same figures of course recur in the Inferno of Quevedo 
whom we have seen in the Inferno of Dante : the Alchemists'*; Judas, 
with whom Quevedo puts the fraudulent merchants'; the camallovers, 
the division of whom into classes seems a rough remembrance of the 
earlier cantos of the Inferno. There may be a reference to the Inferno^ 

1 J. G. Underbill, Spanish Literature in the England of Tudors, p. 77. 

« Ed. in Bihl. de Autores Espafioles, 1869, p. 298. 

' Essai 9ur la vie et Us csuvres de Francisco de Quevedo (1886), p. 175. 

4 El Alguazil etc., p. 304. 

» ±hid., p. 304: cf. Purg., xxix, 119, 137. 

« Ibu' cf. Purg., ix, 27. -J. iv, 31 aqq. 

9—2 



124 The Influence of Dante in Spanish Literature 

in the exaltation of the Patriarchs, or in the knowledge of the damned*, 

the moment they enter the infernal regions, that their doom is inevitable. 

In the Zahurdas de Plutdn^ appear the diviners and soothsayers, 

Michael Scott *non por hechicero y mAgico, sino por mentiroso y 

embustero/ Michael, 

che veramente 
delle magiche frode seppe il gioco^. 

Cecco d' Ascoli, the poet of the Acerba, it may be noted in passing, 
also appears: *muy triste y pelAndose las barbas, porque tras tanto 
experimento disparatado no podia hallar nuevas necedades que escribir.* 
Avicenna appears among the alchemists, not as in the Inferno\ among 
the great philosophers in Limbo, and with him Graber the Arab 
alchemist and, strangely, Ramon Lull. But a search for similarities 
leads rather to the discovery of differences ; and the differences, in the 
treatment of Mahomet for example and of the heretics, it were tedious 
to detail. Whatever may be said of Quevedo's originality it is certain 
that he was in detail no copyist of Dante. It would be more true to 
say that while he knew Italian and had very likely read the Divina 
Commedia, it was only the general idea of torment, and the use of vision 
and allegory to set forth principles of religion and government of the 
truth of which he was profoundly convinced, which affected him in 
the work of the great Florentine. He took some of the machinery of 
the Inferno, and utilised it; vulgarised it, it may be truly said. 
Quevedo indeed was too much of a realist to be a true disciple of Dante. 
He was one whose visions of wrong in the world were bitter, unsympa- 
thetic, unchastened ; and he was also of too robust, and too genuinely 
Spanish, a literary fibre, to owe any considerable debt to any of the 
great writers who had influenced the masters of Spanish literature. 

We conclude then that the influence of Dante in Spain was potent 
but not popular. It was allied to the religious spirit which found 
utterance in the later Middle Age in vision and allegory, and to the 
spirit of patriotism which created the great ballad literature and 
glorified the heroes of romance. It was akin to the noble spirit of 
Christian chivalry which made the glory of Spain ; and so it took root 
and blossomed into noble verse. But also it was an influence of learning, 
of moral depth, and of exquisite literary form, which appealed to the 
circle of a Court that honoured letters. It showed to poets a model 
which they might strive to copy after the fashion of their own l*na 

1 V, 1—23, iii, 121—3. « Obras, pp. 820 sqq. . 

» Inf.y XX, 116—17. * Inf., iv, 143. 



W. H. HUTTON 125 

And so at the age of the Spanish Renaissance in its beginnings, before - 
the greatest names had arisen, it taught what were the method and 
the manner of true poetry, how it was linked to the scholar's learning 
as well as to the priest's religion, and how there was no side of life 
which it might not dignify and enrich. The later influence of Dante, 
apart from that of the rest of the Italians, was more subtle and indirect ; 
but it survived in the ideal, solemn and Catholic, which he set forth ^ 

^ I wish to express my very grateful thanks to Sr. D. F. de Arteaga y Pereira, who has 
much helped me by reading through this paper in proof, and to whose kindness I owe two 
of my footnotes. 

W. H. HUTTON. 



THE DATE OF CHAPMAN^S 'BUSSY D'AMBOIS/ 

Chapman's best known play, Bussy D'Arniois: A Tragedie, was 
entered in the Stationers' Registers for William Aspley on June 3, 1607, 
and published in the usual quarto form in the same year. The title- 
page stated that it had often been 'presented at Paules,' i,e. played by 
the children's company connected with St Paul's Grammar School, who 
acted ' in their own singing school * (Fleay, History of the Stage, p. 133) 
from 1600 to 1607 \ In the latter year they seem to have ceased playing, 
at least in public (Fleay, p. 188), and the manuscript of Bvssy may have 
been surrendered to a printer on this account. 

The publication of the play furnishes, of course, only a terminus ad 
quern. The terminus a quo we may set, perhaps, in 1596, on February 12 
of which year Chapman's Blind Beggar of Alexandria was brought out 
at the Rose by the Admiral's Men (see Henslowe's Diciry for that date). 
It is hardly credible that Bussy in any form should have been written 
before this crude and amateurish play with which, so far as we know. 
Chapman's connection with the theatre of his day begins. We may, 
therefore, safely set the composition of Bussy between 1596 and 1607. 

This leaves, however, considerable room for conjecture, and con- 
jecture has been busy with the date of this play. The latest editor, 
Professor Boas, whose admirable edition has for the first time presented 
a scholarly and authentic text, has apparently been unwilling to commit 
himself on this point, but seems, if we may judge from the note on 
p. xii of his Introduction, to lean toward a first composition of the play 
before January, 1598-9^ and a revision ca. 1606. Inasmuch as we 
know that Chapman subjected this play to a very thorough revision 
somewhere between 1607 and his death in 1634, it seems to me that 
we ought not to set up the hj^othesis of a previous revision unless we 
are forced to do so. What are the facts, then, which would lead us to 
date the play before January, 1598-9 ? 

We have, in the first place, an entry in the inventory of * all the 

^ Mr Fleay is now inolined to hold that in these years Panl's Boys were acting at 
Whitefriars. 

^ The entries in Henslowe's Diary ^ to which Mr Boas refers as being in 1598, are Old 
Style. The true date is January 1599. 



T. M. PARROTT 127 

apparel of the Lord Admirars Men/ made by Henslowe on March 13, 
1598 : ' Perowe's sewt, which Wm. Sley were ' (Henslowe's Diary, ed. 
Collier, p. 275). On p. 153 of his Memoirs of Actors, Collier called 
attention to this entry and suggested that it referred to some character 
Pero, or Pierro — all things are possible in Henslowe's spelling — which 
Sly had played when a member of Henslowe's company. Fleay {Biog. 
Chron,, vol. I, p. 66) pointed out that Pero was a character in Bussy, 

Later on, Mr Hoyt of Harvard in an unpublished paper, the 
substance of which is reproduced by Professor Boas in the note already 
referred to {Bussy UAmhois, p. xii), called attention to this entry, and 
connecting it with two entries of loans on November 19 and 27, 1598 
(Henslowe's Diary, pp. 113 and 110), to Borne (or Bird) to buy a 
costume for the part of ' the Qwisse,' (the Guise), argued that the three 
pointed to a production of Bussy in that year by Henslowe's company. 
I must confess that I see no force in this argument. The allusions to 
'the Gwisse' may, as Collier pointed out (Henslowe's Diary, p. 110, note), 
refer to the Guise in Marlowe's Massa^cre of Paris, or more likely, to 
the same character in the lost plays. The Civil Wars of France, for 
which Drayton and Dekker were paid on September 29, November 3, 
and November 18, 1698. The Borne entries have no connection except 
a forced one with that in the inventory regarding * Perowes sewt.' 

The argument from this latter entry is that, inasmuch as in no 
extant play save Bussy is a character by the name of Pero introduced, 
we must conclude that the entry refers to this character in Chapman's 
play and thus proves that Bussy was in existence before March 13, 1598 
But when we consider the immense number of plays produced at this* 
time that have not come down to us, it becomes at once apparent 
that an argument of this sort can have very little weight. I think, 
moreover, that there is evidence of some importance against the identi- 
fication of the 'Perowe' of the inventory with the 'Pero' of Bv^sy 
D*Ambois. In the first place, Bvssy was performed, as we know from 
the title-page, by Paul's Boys. If it had been first produced by the 
Lord Admiral's Men one would have expected to see the fact 
mentioned, as an additional attraction, on the title-page ^ Nor is 
there any evidence as to the manner in which the play could have 
passed from Henslowe's hands into those of the manager of the 
children's company. On this ground alone, in the absence of further 

^ Thus The Widow's Tears (1612) is stated to have been performed at both the 
Blaokfriars and the Whitefriars. The title-page of All Fools, however, notes only the 
performance at the Blaokfriars and not the earlier one by the Admiral's Men. 



128 The Date of Chapman's ' Bussy UAmhois' 

evidence, we might conclude that Bussy was never played by the 
Admirals Men. And there is a further bit of positive evidence, 
unnoticed so feir, against this identification. 'Perowes sewt/ according 
to the statement of the inventory, had been worn by William Sly. 
Now Sly's name appears in the famous *plot' of Tarleton's Seven 
Deadly Sins, preserved at Dulwich, and printed by Malone (Malone- 
Boswell, Shakespeare, vol. iii, between pp. 348 and 349). A careful 
examination of this ' plot ' shows that Will Sly took the rdle of Porrex 
in the Second Part, playing up to Burbadge's Gorboduc, and Henry 
CondelFs Ferrex. The date of this 'plot* cannot be exactly determined, 
but it must be after Tarleton's death in 1588, since his name does not 
appear among the actors in this his own work, and before 1594, since 
in that year AUeyne, to whom the MS. belonged, and among whose 
papers it was found, broke off his connection with Lord Strange's 
Men, for whom, aa the names of the actors show, the plot was 
drawn up. Now if Sly was old enough to act the part of Porrex, 
a young prince who aspires to the throne, before 1594, it seems 
certain that he was too old to take the part of Pero, a soubrette's rdle 
which would be assigned to a boy actor, in, or shortly before 1598. 
This is confirmed by the fact that in the list of actors of Every Man in 
his Humour, produced by the Lord Chamberlain's Men in 1598, which 
is given in the First Folio of Jonson's Works, Sly appears as one of 'the 
principal comoedians,' as he does in the list added to the same edition 
of Every Man out of his Humour, acted by the same company in 1599. 
It is impossible to determine exactly what rdles Sly assumed in these 
plays, but he certainly did not take a waiting maid's part in either. 
I think, on this evidence, we are fairly entitled to conclude that the 
' Perowes sewt ' worn by William Sly, never decked the back of an actor 
who took the part of Pero in Bussy UAmhois, 

To this argument derived from Henslowe's inventory, Dr Lehman 
in his introduction to a reprint of Chabot (vol. x of the Series in 
Philology and Literature, published by the University of Pennsylvania), 
adds (p. 11) that Meres in 1598 mentions Chapman as renowned in 
tragedy. Dr Lehman takes the reference to be to Bussy, inasmuch as 
it is 'the only known tragedy of Chapman's that could have been 
written thus early.' But much of Chapman's early work has perished 
like that of his friend Jonson, who was also commended for his tragedies 
by Meres, although not a single tragedy of Jonson's exists which can 
possibly be dated so early as 1598. A nameless play in the Egerton 
MSS. (No. 9994), published by Mr BuUen in vol. iii of his Old Plays 



T. M. PARROTT 129 

under the title of The Distracted Emperor, shows strong traces of 
Chapman's hand and is certainly an early work, which in spite of its 
happy ending might perhaps be classed by Meres as a tragedy. There 
are tragic elements in Chapman's first extant play, The Blind Beggar 
of Alexandria, and within a few weeks after Meres' book was entered in 
the Stationers' Registers (September 7, 1598), we find Chapman at work 
on a tragedy ' of Benjamin's plot ' (Henslowe's Diary for October 23, 
1598), and on January 8 of the succeeding year he received payment 
in full for his tragedy. Mr Boas (p. xii, n.) asks if this tragedy may 
not be Bussy, I should be inclined to answer in the negative for 
reasons which will appear later on ; but at any rate enough has been 
said to show that Meres's reference to Chapman's work in tragedy by 
no means implies that Bussy must have been written before 1598. 

In an article in Modem Language Notes for November 1905, 
Dr StoU of Harvard attempts to fix the date of Bussy in 1600 on the 
grounds that the allusion to a leap-year in I, ii, 85 (I quote lines as 
given in Boas's edition; the passage occurs on p. 144, col. 2 of Shepherd's 
edition) implies that the play was acted in a leap-year, that in I, ii, 12 — 
18 (p. 144, col. 1) Elizabeth is spoken of as still living, and that a line 
in Satiromastix (S.R., November 11, 1601), 

For trusty D'Ambois now the deed is done, 

implies the existence of Bussy before Dekker s play was written — 
presumably in the late summer of 1601. These three allusions seem 
to Dr StoU to point certainly to the date 1600 for the composition of 
Bussy. 

I agree that the reference to ' leap-year ' gives a clue to the actual 
performance of the play, but this alone might refer to 1604 quite as 
well as to 1600. Further, Elizabeth, if referred to at all in the play, 
would of course be referred to as living and not as dead, since the 
events described therein took place some quarter of a centxiry before 
her death. Accustomed as the Elizabethan audience was to anachron- 
isms, it would have been somewhat startled to hear Elizabeth spoken 
of as dead by Henri III, Monsieur, and the Duke of Guise, all of whom, 
as it very well knew, had died before the Queen. And a point which 
escaped Dr StoU's notice seems to me to prove conclusively that the 
allusion in question cannot be taken to establish the composition of 
Bussy in Elizabeth's lifetime. Lines 14, 15 (p. 144, col. 1): 

Mont. No question she's the rarest queen in Europe. 
Ouise. But what's that to her immortality? 



130 The Date of Chapman's ' Bussy UAmhois' 

which very distinctly allude to Elizabeth as still living, were, as a 
matter of fact, written after her death. They do not appear in the 
Quartos of 1607 and 1608, but were added when the play was revised 
some time between 1608 and 1634 So far from the allusions to 
Elizabeth in this passage fixing the date of Buasy before her death, 
the phrase 'old queen' (1. 12) goes far, I think, to show that the play 
was written after that event. It is hard to believe that such a phrase 
would be spoken in the last years of Elizabeth's life by an actor in 
the company of the children of her own chapel, and it was for this 
company that Chapman was writing in 1600. 

The line from Satiromastix is an interesting reference and certainly 
deserves consideration. It is put into the mouth of Captain Tucca, 
who like Ancient Pistol, is forever spouting play-ends, such as * Go by, 
Jeronimo,' or * feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis.' It is not improbable, 
then, that the line in question is a quotation from some play in which 
Bussy D'Ambois appeared. But it is not found in Chapman's play, 
nor does that play contain any line which could be parodied in this 
form. After all, there is no inherent improbability in believing that 
there may have been a play on the subject of Bussy, or that Bussy 
may have appeared as a character in a play written before Chapman's 
tragedy, possibly in Dekker's lost play. The Civil Wars of France. 
There are a number of things in Chapman's work which suggest that he" 
may have been at times using an earlier play on the subject. And so, 
although I agree with Fleay that the line points to the existence of the 
character of Bussy upon the boards of the Elizabethan stage before 
1601, 1 cannot hold with Dr StoU that it fixes the date of Chapman's 
Bussy before that year\ 

Turning then to the date 1604 suggested by Mr Fleay, we find that 
the argument for it rests, first of all, upon an allusion to the new-made 
knights of James I. Dr Stoll waives this aside rather contemptuously, 
and implies, indeed, that it is non-existent, but the allusion is perfectly 

^ It is just possible that the allnsion in Sadromtutix has no reference to any play, but 
alludes directly to the historical Bussy. Bussy was a personage of considerable importance 
in his day, as is shown by the references to him in the despatch of the Venetian Ambas- 
sador, November 15, 1578, in the letters of Saracini to the Grand Duke of Tuscany 
{Negotiations diplomat iques de la France avec la Toscane^ Tome iv), and in the works of 
Brantdme, Pierre de L*Estoile, D'Aubign6, and Marguerite de Valois. The news of his 
murder reached England while his master, the Duke of Anjou, was in that country 
pressing his suit to Elizabeth and so would naturally excite special interest then. No 
source is known of Chapman's Biiasy, since the historical accounts are all too late to have 
been used by him, but it seems likely that his play was founded upon some account in 
French or English of Bussy's life and death, which is yet unknown to us. Such an 
account may, however, have been known to Dekker, and the name of Bussy can hardly 
have been unknown to the author of The Civil Wars of France. 



T. M. PARROTT 131 

plain. In I, ii, 135 — 6 (p. 146, col. 1) Guise is said to mistake Bussy 
for 'some knight of the new edition/ which can only be a contemptuous 
reference to the knights created in such numbers by James I immedi- 
ately after his accession. This allusion is strengthened by another in 
the same scene, I, ii, 193 — 4 (p. 146, col. 1), in which Guise is said to 
suppose Bussy to be *some new denizen'd lord/ i,e. some lord, newly 
settled in the country, a palpable allusion to the Scots who flocked 
into England in the train of James, and for whose naturalisation 
(* to denizen ' = * to naturalise,' New English Dictionary) the king was 
already pressing. These allusions fix the date of composition after the 
accession of James in 1603 ; and if the allusion to leap-year have any 
bearing upon the date, we are shut up to 1604, as the only leap-year 
between James's accession and the publication of the play. 

Mr Boas in the note on p. xii of his Introduction dismisses Fleay's 
statement that the date 1604 is determined in this manner as 'only an 
ingenious conjecture.' But I think it is something more than that. 
The whole passage runs as follows: 

Tarn, Has he [i.e. Bussy] never been courtier, my lord? 

Mons. Never, my lady. '^ 

Beau. And why did the toy [t,e. the fancy to become courtier] take him 

in tV head now? 
Bu8»y. 'Tis leap-year, lady, and therefore very good to enter a courtier. 

B\U9y UAmboiSy l, ii, 80—86 (p. 144, col. 2). 

The whole point of Bussy's unsavoury jest lies in the fact that it was a 
leap-year when he was * entered courtier.* Only one of two things can 
have suggested this jest to the author, either that it was a leap-year when 
the historical Bussy first appeared at court, or that it was a leap-year 
when the play was being composed for presentation. But the first date 
was probably unknown to Chapman, certainly unknown to the audience 
who could not, therefore, be expected to understand the jest, and, as a 
matter of fact, happens to be 1569 which is not a leap-year. Evidently 
then the author was thinking not of the past, but of the present, and 
alluded to a year in which his play was, or was meant to be, actually 
performed. The anachronism involved would trouble neither him nor 
his audience in their enjoyment of the jest. It has been suggested to 
me that this jest is more likely a stage 'gag' which has crept into the 
text than the composition of Chapman. Even so it would have the 
same bearing upon the date, for it could only have crept in in 1604, 
since the play, as we have seen, cannot have been composed before 
1603. 



132 The Date of Chapman s ' Bussy D'Amhois' 

The date 1604, moreover, would explain, as Fleay has suggested 
(Biog. Chronicle, vol. i, pp. 59, 60), how the play got into the hands of 
Paul's Boys. In 1604-5 Chapman was writing for the Children at 
Blackfriars, as shown by their performance of his All Fools at court on 
January 1, 1605, and by their production of Eastward Ho at Blackfriars 
in the summer of the same year. In 1604 Edward Kirkham, as we 
know from the proceedings in Chancery discovered by Mr Greenstreet 
and published in full by Fleay (History of the Stage, pp. 210 — 251), was 
one of the managers of this company. In 1605, possibly as a result 
of the scandal caused by Eastward Ho, Kirkham left this company 
and joined Paul's Boys. On March 31, 1606, he appears as 'one of the 
masters' of this company (Revels Accounts, p. xxxviii). It is natural 
to suppose that he took the MS. of Bussy with him. Whether it had 
been previously performed by the Children at Blackfriars we cannot 
say with positive certainty. 

Finally this date, 1604, puts Bussy nearer the series of plays dealing 
with French history which bulk' so largely in Chapman's work. The 
Byron plays were, as we know, performed in the spring of 1608^ (see 
Von Raumer, Letters from Paris, etc., vol. ii, p. 219, where the despatch 
of La Boderie concerning this play i^ given in full. The original is in 
the Biblioth^ue Nationale, MS. 15984). The Revenge of Bussy, almost 
certainly later than these plays, and certainly later than Grimeston's 
General Inventory (1607), from which large portions of it were drawn 
(Boas, Bussy, p. xxxii), was entered S.R., April 17, 1612, and may 
therefore be dated some time between 1609 and 1612. And Chabot, in 
its original form, was probably not much later since its source is found 
in the 1611 edition of Estienne Pasquier's Les Recherches de la France*. 

Mathematical certainty is, as all students of Elizabethan drama 
know, seldom attainable in attempts to date a play ; but the evidence 
for 1604 as the date of composition for Bussy appears to me fairly 
convincing. There may have been another play on the subject, or one 
in which the hero appeared as one of the characters, as early as 1600 ; 
but Chapman's play, as it appeared in 1607, cannot, I think, be dated 
before 1604. 

Bussy D'Ambois was reissued in 1608. This is not a new edition, 
but a mere reissue of the first with a different date on the title-page. 

^ The date in the English translation of the Letters is 1605, a mere misprint. The 
German original has 1608. 

^ Professor Koeppel in his invaluable study on the sources of Chapman {Quellen und 
Farschungen, 1897), mentions the 1621 edition ; but so far as the Chabot story goes, this 
is only a reprint of the text of 1611. The story first appears in the 1607 edition, but 
certain details which Chapman made use of were first added in 1611. 



T. M. PARROTT 133 

In 1641, however, a new edition of the play was published with the 
following title-page : * Bussy D'Ambois : | A | Tragedie : | As it hath 
been often Acted with | great Applause. | Being much corrected and 
amended | by the Author before his death. | London. | Printed by 
A. N. for Robert Lunne. | 1641.' This edition represents a thorough- 
going revision of the play. There are numerous omissions, one of a 
passage of fifty lines at the beginning of ii, ii, many additions, and 
constant changes in the diction. Most modem editions give us a 
mosaic of the two versions, and as a result, the reader is never sure 
whether any particular passage belongs to the first or the second 
edition. This confusion has led to some very natural mistakes. Thus 
Professor Koeppel, in the article already referred to, notes (pp. 15, 16, n.) 
that Bussy*s reference to Vespasian (v, iv, 90 — 93, p. 175, col. 1) is found 
in Pierre Matthieu's account of the execution of Biron, which (or rather 
the English translation of which by Grimeston) Chapman used for his 
Byron plays. Curiously enough, this characteristic passage does not 
appear in these plays, and Professor Koeppel suggests that it was 
omitted because Chapman had already made use of it in Bussy, But 
the passage in Bussy only occurs in the second edition, and is therefore 
later than 1607, and presumably later than the Byron plays. Again, 
Dr Root in his review of Boas's Bussy (Englische Studien, vol. xxxvii, 
1906) attempts to fix the date of the composition of the play by the 
reference to the 'Irish wars' (iv, i, 153, 154, p. 164, col 2), which he takes 
. as alluding to Mountjoy's suppression of the Tyrone rebellion in 1601-3* 
But this allusion, also, occurs only in the second edition and is therefore 
of no value as evidence for the date of the first composition of Bussy. 

Thanks to the apparatus criticus which Mr Boas has included in his 
edition of Bussy, we are now enabled to separate the old fi:om the new 
in this play, and mistakes of this sort should henceforth be impossible. 
A careful consideration of the variants presented by Mr Boas, has led 
me to believe that it is possible to fix the date of the revision of Bussy 
more precisely, and at the same time much earlier, than has yet been 
done. The only attempt, so far as I know, to fix the date of this 
revision is that of Fleay {Biog. Chron,, vol. I, p. 60), who speaks of it as 
' one of the latest of Chapman's literary occupations ' and states a few 
lines below that ' the corrections and emendations made " by the author 
before his death" were the very last writing left us of his pen.' I 
suppose the ground for Mr Fleay 's assertion is the statement he cites 
here from the title-page, i.e. that the play was 'much corrected and 
amended by the author before his death.' On the fistce of it one is 



134 The Date of Chapman's ' Bussy D'Ambois' 

inclined, I think, to take this phrase as meaning 'shortly before his 
death'; but this is not absolutely necessary, and I think no such 
meaning is implied in this instance. Consider the circumstances. 
Chapman had been dead seven years when it occurred to a publisher 
to get out a new edition of his best-known tragedy. The manuscript 
which he secured differed at many points from the old printed copy. 
This was a point in his favour, since it allowed him to assure the public 
that this was something more than a mere reissue of the old edition. 
But who had made these changes ? The author, so he was informed, 
perhaps by a member of the company to whom the MS. had belonged 
(the King s Men, see below), and as the author had been dead these 
seven years, the corrections, of course, were made before his death. 
And so we get the statement of the title-page. It is a publisher's puff, 
and does not, I think, contribute at all toward dating the revision. 

The clue to this date may be found in the curious prologue prefixed 
to the revised Biissy, There is a careful discussion of this poem in 
Boas's Bvssyy p. 145, to which I refer the reader. It was evidently 
written on the occasion of a revival of this play by the King's Men. 
This we know from its mention of Field, who had been a member 
of their body from ca. 1616 to ca. 1625, and from the fact that a per- 
formance of Bussy by this company was given at Court on April 7, 1634 
(Malone-Boswell, Shakespeare, vol. ill, p. 237), about a month before the 
old poet s death. Possibly it was for this performance, and not for one 
' shortly before 1641,' as Boas suggests, that the prologue was written. 

The mention of Field is an interesting one and throws light, I 
believe, upon the stage-history of the play. In 11. 15, 16 we find the 
phrase : 

Field is gone 
Whose action first did give it [ue, the play] name. 

If this be taken literally, it means that Field was the first actor to give 
the play a reputation, i.e., as the sequel shows, to create the part of 
Bussy. If this be so, we must suppose that Bussy, written in 1604, 
was first performed by the Children at Blackfriars, and that Field, 
whose name appears at the head of the lists of this company, annexed 
to Cynthia's Revels (1600) and the Poetaster (1601), in the Jonson Folio 
of 1616, took the part of Bussy. There is nothing inherently impossible 
in this ; yet it seems unlikely that in a prologue written for the King's 
Men, perhaps in 1634, perhaps between 1634 and 1641, the writer should 
have referred to Field's early performances with another company. It 
is more natural, I think, to suppose that he is alluding to Field's 



, -4^- Mr TrSfi&OTT 135 

performances of this part for the King's Men. And this assumption is 
strengthened by the general tone of the prologue. It says in substance 
that the company has been forced to revive this play in order not to 
abandon their claim upon it by default, since it had lately been produced 
with success by another company. Yet they are at a loss as to who 
shall take the principal r61e : Field is gone €uid the unnamed actor who 
* came nearest him ' {i.e. who took the part after Field retired) is now 
too old * to shew the height €«id pride of D'Ambois' youth.' Therefore 
in default of these a third man is put forward to defend their interest. 
He has been liked as Richard, and with proper encouragement he will 
be able to sustain the part of Bussy^ 

If we take it then that the writer of the prologue is referring to 
Field's performances for the King's Men, the meaning is that he was 
the first actor to play the part of Bussy for that company. A brief 
sketch of Field's life will show the significance of this. 

Nat. Field, player and playwright, was bom in 1587 and went on 
the stage as a boy of thirteen or younger. He was one of the Chapel 
Children in 1600 (see the list of actors annexed to Cynthia's Revels), 
and remained with this company after its reorganisation in 1604 as 
the Children of Her Majesty's Revels (Patent of January 30, 1603-4, 
printed in Collier's English Draynatic Poetry, vol. I, p. 353, n.) until 
their theatre, the ' private house ' at Blackfiiars, was resumed (Dec. 25, 
1609, Fleay, London Stage, p. 190) by its owners, the Burbages, for the 
use of their own company, the King's Men. Thereupon, under a patent, 
January 4, 1609-10, granted to Rosseter (Collier, vol. I, pp. 372 and 396), 
a new company under the same title, the Queen's Revels' Children, was 
organised to play at the private house in Whitefriars. One of the first 
plays performed by them at this theatre was Jonson's Epicoene, in the list 
of actors annexed to which Field's name stands first. By this time Field 
had become poet and playwright as well as actor. A copy of his verses 
is prefixed to The Faithful Shepherdess, published before May 3, 1610, 
and his first play. Woman is a Weathercock (S.R., November 23, 1611), was 
produced by the Queen's Revels' Children (see title-page of this play) 
at Whitefiiars, probably in the preceding year. To this play there are 
prefixed commendatory verses by Chapman addressed to ' his loved son 
Nat. Field.' In March 1612 Rosseter's company, i.e. the Queen's 
Revels' Children, united with Henslowe's company (see Alleyne Papers, 

^ This third man, by the way, was probably Ilyard (or Hilliard, or Eliard) Swanston 
who is known to have played Bussy (Gay ton, Pleasant Notes on Don Quixote, 1654, p. 25), 
and who had assumed the part of Bicardo in Massinger's The Picture^ as appears from the 
list of aotors prefixed to the first quarto of that play (1629). 



136 Tlie Date of Chapman' s ' B^ussy UAmhois' 

p. 78), and Field seems to have kept up some comiection with Henslowe 
both as actor and playwright till the latter's death in January 1616 
(see Alleyne Papers, pp. 78 ff. and Field's letters to Henslo^ve in 
Malone-Boswell, Shakespeare, vol. iii, pp. 337-8). As his name does 
not appear among the actors who signed an agreement with Alleyne on 
March 20, 1616, it is probable that he left this company immediately 
after Henslowe's death {Alleyne Papers, p. 129). His name next 
appears in a privy seal issued to the King's Men in 1619; but as it 
is not found in the Patent granted to the company by Charles I 
immediately after his accession in 1625, it is reasonably certain that he 
had withdrawn from the stage before that time. His death occurred 
early in 1632-3. 

The verses by Chapman prefixed to Woman is a Weathercock show 
in what esteem the poet held the actor. Field as a member of the 
Children at Blackfriars had no doubt taken part in many of Chapman's 
plays. Sir Giles Goosecap, May -Day, All Fools, Monsieur D' Olive 
(probably also The Gentleman Usher), The Widow's Tears, Eastward 
Ho, and The Conspiracy and Tragedy of Byron were all performed by 
these Children. During Field's connection with the Queen's Revels* 
Children at Whitefriars, as we know from the title-pages of the plays 
in question, that company revived The Widow's Tears and brought out 
The Revenge ofBtissy. 

Now what I have to suggest is that during this time, ca. 1610-13, 
Field took up Bussy UAmbois, in which it is possible, though not 
certain, that he had already acted (see above, p. 134), and which 
had been published after the withdrawal of its owners, Paul's Boys, 
from public performances. He induced Chapman to give the play 
a thorough revision, possibly put his own knowledge of stage-craft 
at the poet's disposal, and produced the play at Whitefriars. Its 
success was such that he asked Chapman to write a sequel, or second 
part, which the poet did under the title of The Revenge of Bicssy 
UAmhois. The title-page of the only old edition of this play, 1613, 
tells us that it had been ' often presented at the Whitfriers.' But we 
cannot imagine that it was ever a successful play and it was perhaps 
for this reason that the actors allowed Chapman to send it to press. 
The revised Bussy, however, remained in MS., passed along with Field 
to the King's Men, and remained in their possession till the very eve 
of the closing of the theatres, when they allowed it to be printed in 
1641. 

This revision of Bussy with a view to its production at Whitefriars 



T. M. PARROTT 137 

under Field is only a hypothesis ; but it can, I believe, be supported by 
several bits of evidence. In the first place, it explains, as nothing else 
so far put forward does, the way in which Bussy came into the hands of 
the King's Men, a company with whom Chapman had no connection 
and who never acted any other play of his. It explains also the 
connection between Field and the title-rdle of Bussy mentioned in the 
Prologue to the 1641 edition. Further, if Chapman were assisted by 
Field, or even advised by him, in the revision of this play, we should 
have a sufficient explanation of the superiority of the revised edition of 
Bussy, not only to all Chapman's other tragedies, but to the first form 
of that play itself. Such passages as I, i, 208—290; i, ii, 100—114; 
II, i, 210—218 ; ii, ii, 177—181 ; iii, i, 1—2, 45—61 ; in, ii, 131—8, 
311—312, the dialogue between Monsieur and Maflfi^ (ill, ii, 337—369), 
400—8 ; IV, i, 236 ; iv, ii, 1—19, 28 (half-line)— 30 ; v, i, 1—4, 42—44 ; 
v, ii, 53—59; v, iii, 16—16, 85—98; v, iv, 16—22, 33—36, 186—7 
— all additions to the first form — are all of one sort. With hardly an 
exception, they add nothing to the poetic value of the play, but they 
do in every case add to its stage efiects by inserting touches of humour, 
by linking a scene with what has preceded, or by furnishing a motive 
for what is to come, and by making the situation clearer to the 
spectator. Further instances of alteration for stage effect are the 
shifting of Montsurry into ii, i, by which he becomes a witness of the 
pardon granted by the king to Bussy. This shift permits a cut of fifty 
lines to be made at the beginning of the next scene without any 
damage to the construction. The change in the last act by which the 
long philosophic dialogue between Monsieur and Guise was transferred 
to its present place, v, ii, from its former situation immediately before 
the catastrophe, is a distinct dramatic improvement which must have 
been at once noticed upon the stage. And when one considers the 
sublime indifference which Chapman shows in The Revenge of Bussy 
and the Byron plays for the requirements of the stage, one feels 
that he must have had some expert advice before he made so many 
improvements of this nature, and I know of no one at any time who 
was so likely to give Chapman advice on this matter as his ' son,' the 
actor-playwright Field, nor any time at which Field was so likely to 
have given him such advice as between 1610 and 1612, when the actor 
was apparently at the head of the Whitefriars company. 

Again, if Bu^y had been successfully revived by Field at this 
theatre, we get a perfectly satisfactory explanation of the poet's com- 
posing The Revenge of Bussy for Field's company. Otherwise we must 

M. L. R. III. 10 



138 The Date of Chapman's ' Bussy UAmhois 

imagine that, although Bussy had been laid aside since 1607 when its 
owners, Paul's Boys, ceased to play, Field nevertheless called on 
Chapman between 1610 and 1611 to produce a sequel to it. For The 
Revenge is palpably a play made to order. It has a striking title and a 
good motive, but the theme is so little to Chapman's taste that he 
handles it in the coldest fashion possible, and being unable to invent 
matter enough to fill up the required five acts, bolsters up two of 
them with an episode taken from a book he had just been reading, 
Grimeston's General Inventory, which had not the slightest connection 
with the central subject. 

If Bussy was revised, as I believe, between 1610 and 1612 for Field's 
company, one might expect to get some internal evidence of this in the 
added passages. But, as I have shown, many of the additions, most of 
them, in fact, were simply bits of ' business ' in which one can hardly 
expect to find allusions that would help us to fix the date. Yet two 
such allusions may, I believe, be found among the added passagea 
The first of these is the reference to Vespasian, v, iv, 90 — 93 (p. 175, 
col. 1), which, as Professor Koeppel has pointed out, comes from Pierre 
Matthieu, and may well have been suggested to Chapman by the 
English translation of that historian, Grimeston's General Inventory, 
which he used in 1607-8 for his Byron plays. The second is the 
allusion to the Irish wars in iv, i, 153 — 4 (p. 164, col. 2). I know of 
nothing in Irish history between 1607 and 1634 — and between these 
dates the lines were certainly written — to which Chapman can be re- 
ferring except to the conspiracy and flight of Tyrone and Tyrconnel in 
1607 and the promptly crushed rising of Sir Cahir O'Doherty in 1608^ 

Finally, there is a correspondence between a passage in The Revenge 
and in the revised Bussy which appears to me to settle the matter. 
The second scene of the first act of The Revenge is in setting and 
atmosphere remarkably reminiscent of the earlier play. We find here 
Tamyra sitting on the ground where Bussy was slain, mourning his 
death, and kissing the blood-stained floor. To her enters her husband, 
Montsurry, who upbraids her in the following terms : 

Still on this hauut? Still shall adulterous blood 
Affect thy spirits ? Think, for shame, but this, 
This blood, that cockatrice-like thus thou brood'st 
Too dry is to breed any quench to thine. 

1 Possibly another link with Grimeston may be fonnd in Maff^'s epithet for Bussy, 
*the man of blood' (m, ii, 389, p. 160, col 2), a phrase which does not occur in' the first 
Quarto. Grimeston (p. 818, edition of 1611) speaks of Bussy as *a bloody, wicked, and a 
furious man.' The epithet may have stuck in Chapman's memory ; 1 do not wish to lay 
stress on this point, but in connection with the above, it is, I think, worth noting. 



T. M. PARROTT 139 

And therefore now (if only for thy lust 
A little covered with a veil of shame) 
Look out for fresh life, rather than witch-like 
Learn to kiss horror and with death engender. 

The Revenge of Buss^, li, ii, 25—32 (p. 166, col. 1). 

The diction, no less than the situation, is reminiscent of the earlier 
play. The last line of the passage is lifted almost bodily out of Bussy : 

For lust ; kiss horror and with death engender. 

Bussif lyAmhois, ill, ii, 502 (p. 162, coL I), 

a line which is found in both editions of Bussy, The third and fourth 
lines are so distinctly reminiscent of a line in Bussy, that they seem to 
me to have been composed, consciously or unconsciously, upon it as a 
model: 

Come, siren, sing, and dash against my rocks 

Thy ruffian galley [i.c., Bussy] rigged with quench for lust. 

Bussy lyAmhois, v, i, 67, 68 (p. 169, ooL 2). 

The similarity is unmistakable. In Bussy the hero is spoken of as a 
galley *rigg'd with quench' (a curious but characteristic phrase) for 
Tamyra's lust. In The Revenge his blood is said to be 'too dry to 
breed any quench* to her blood {i,e, passion), and the likeness in 
diction is strengthened by the occurrence of the word * lust ' in the 
fourth line of The Revenge passage. Such a likeness cannot, I think, 
be accidental. 

Now the interesting fact is that this likeness exists only between 
The Revenge and the revised Bussy, In the 1607 quarto of the latter 
the line in question reads: 

Thy ruffin Gallie, laden for thy lust, 

in which the peculiar phrase 'quench for lust' is missing, the very 
phrase that constitutes the main point of likeness between the passages. 
Now one of two things must have taken place. Either the passage 
in Bvssy was revised before The Revenge was written, and Chapman 
when writing this scene in the latter, a scene in every way reminiscent 
of the earlier work, of which this passage elsewhere echoes the diction, 
consciously, or not, reproduced with slight changes the diction of a line 
that was fresh in his mind ; or else the revision of Bussy was effected 
after The Revenge at some indefinite date between 1613 and 1634, and 
Chapman in this revision harked back to The Revenge for the phrase 
'quench for lust.' The latter alternative seems to me, I am free to 
say, so unlikely as to be psychologically impossible. If we accept the 
first alternative, we have a simple process and a single connection 
between Bussy and The Revenge) Chapman used in the passage cited 

10—2 



140 The Date of ChapmxirCs ^ Bussy UAmhois' 

from The Revenge a line which was fresh in his mind from his work in 
revising Bussy, as he used another line later on in the same passage, 
which appears in both forms of Bussy, If we reject this alternative 
we must imagine that Chapman first lifted a line fit)m the first form 
of Busey when composing The Revenge, and afterwards when revising 
Bussy turned back to The Revenge for the phrasing of a line he re- 
touched in this revision. There can be little doubt, I think, as to which 
process is the more likely to have occurred. Standing by itself, perhaps, 
this argument would not be conclusive, but coming as it does, in the 
wake of preceding indications and probabilities, it seems to me proof, 
as decisive as we can expect to find in these questions, that Bussy was 
revised before The Revenge was written. 

Fortunately we can date the Revenge between comparatively narrow 
limits. It was entered in the Stationers' Registers on April 17, 1612, 
and the title-page states that it had often been presented at Whitefriars. 
We must therefore put its composition somewhere before 1612. More- 
over, the episode of the seizure of Clermont, which occupies Acts ill — 
IV, is, as Mr Boas has shown (Bussy, p. xxxiv, and pp. 313 — 319), taken 
directly from Qrimeston's Oenerul Inventory, 1607. This episode in 
the original is a conclusion, or, so to speak, an epilogue to the tragic 
story of the Duke of Biron, and it is certainly most likely that 
Chapman who used Grimeston's work for his two plays on Biron 
composed them first — they were on the stage early in 1608 — and 
reverted to Grimeston later, when at a loss for material for The Revenge 
of Bussy. We are then, I think, quite safe in dating this play in 1610 
or 1611. If, therefore, the revision of Bussy preceded the composition 
of the Revenge, this revision must date, at any rate, before 1611. I 
should imagine that it was brought* about by the success of scandal 
which attended his Byron plays, and which would naturally suggest 
to Field a profitable revival of Bussy at his new theatre, Whitefriars, in 
1610. 

Summing up the whole matter then, I would say that a careful 
examination of all the evidence connected with Bussy UAmhois points 
clearly to the conclusion that this play was composed in 1603-4 for 
the Children at Blackfiiars and was revised in 1610 — after Byron 
and before 7%6 Revenge — for the Children of the Queen's Revels at 
Whitefiiars^ 

T. M. Parrott. 

^ I have purposely aToided all reference in this article to aesthetic tests, hut I may say 
in conclusion that a consideration of the highly developed blank verse, the grasp of 
character, and the constructive dramatic ability revealed in Bussy, seem to me to point 
certainly to a composition of this play after, rather than before 1600. 



NOTES ON SOME ENGLISH UNIVERSITY PLAYS, 

RiCHARDUS TeRTIUS. 

By Dr T. Legge. This play which has been frequently printed is 
also preserved in manuscripts of Caius College (126), Emmanuel College 
(1. 3. 19), the University Library, Cambridge and the Bodleism (MS, 
Tanner 306, fol, 42). The last contains the first * actio ' only. 

The play is dated in the University Library MS. * Comitii Baccha- 
laureorum A.D, 1579' [ie., 15|g]. This date is confirmed by the list of 
actors given in the Emmanuel MS. which shows also that the play was 
acted at St John's College. The Bodleian MS. has also a list of actors 
and the appended note * Acted in S\ John's Hall before the Earle of 
Essex 17 March 1582' [presumably 158|]. Two things are noticeable 
about this note ; first, that the list of actors agrees with that of the 
Emmanuel MS. and therefore belongs to the year 15|§: secondly, that 
the date ' 17 March 1682 ' is apparently in a different hand from that 
of the rest of the note. This is at least my own view, and it is partially 
confirmed by Mr F. Madan of the Bodleian, who kindly replied to a 
query on the subject 'The date "17 March 1582" may reasonably be 
thought to be, if not in a different hand, yet added cU another time by 
the scribe of the play.* Under these circumstances I am disposed to 
doubt whether any credit is to be given to this statement of date^ We 
know that at the time of the original performance Lord Essex was an 
undergraduate in Cambridge. In the spring of 1583, so far as we 
know, he was at his home in Pembrokeshire. 

Victoria. 

A Latin Comedy (c. 1580) by Abraham Fraunce (Bang's Matericdien, 

XI v). Since I published this play in 1906, a good deal more has come 

to light about it. For what is more important I must refer the reader 

to Professor Keller's review of the play on page 177, but I may perhaps 

1 Mr G. B. ChorchiU in Palaestra, z, p. 267, has questioned its correctness, bat not 
noticed the difference of handwriting. Professor EeUer suggests that the play was given 
again in 1583 and this date wrongly added to the preceding note. 



142 Notes on some English University Plays 

take this opportunity of correcting an error in my Introduction, p. xxi, 

where I speak — like better men before me — of Watson's Amyntaa as 

a translation of Tasso's Aminta, Mr W. W. Greg reminds me that the 

two works are quite different in character, as he showed in the Modern 

Language Quarterly for Dec. 1904. With regard to the life of Fraunce, 

I ought to have referred to the article 'Sidneiana' by Professor Koeppel 

in ^nglia, X, 522 ; xi, 25. I should also have mentioned the reference 

to Fraunce in Donne's Satire VII (written after 1603), addressed to 

Sir Nicholas Smith of Larkbeare, Exeter (ob. 1622): 

Destroyed thy symbol is. O dire mischance ! 
And O vile verse ! And yet our Abraham Fraunce 
Writes thus, and jests not. Good Fidus for this 
Must pardon me. Satires bite when they kiss. 

' Fidus * is, I suppose, Sir Nicholas Smith, and it would therefore seem 
that Fraunce was a friend of Smith's and probably known to Donne also. 

Pedantius. 

The following remarks are supplementary to my edition of this Latin 
comedy published in 1905 (Bangs Materialien, viii). 

Perhaps Pedantius, 11. 2482-4: 'Laurea et Lingua sunt etiam 
foeminini generis, sed lingua potissimum ' or Harington's reference to 
them in his note appended to Book xiv of his translation of Orlando 
Furioso, suggested a passage in Marston's What you will, Act ii, where 
the Pedant — also commenting on * Cedant arma togse, concedat laurea 
linguae ' — asks ' Why is lingua the feminine gender ? ' and goes on ' lingua 
is declined with hsBc the feminine because it is a household stuff, 
particularly belonging and most commonly resident under the roof of 
women's mouths.* I would suggest that there is another reference to 
Pedantius in the Pilgrimage to Parnassus (ed. Macray), 1. 217, 'an ould 
sober Dromeder' where for 'Dromeder' we should read 'Dromidot.' We 
may remember that Nashe in Strange News speaks of ' any Dromidote 
Ergonist * (no doubt with reference to Pedantius), I would supplement 
my account of the life of Edward Forsett, the probable author of the 
play, by pointing out that he was called as a witness to conversations 
overheard in the Tower at the trial of the Jesuit Garnet on March 28, 
1606, and that he is described in the State Trials as 'a man learned 
and a justice of peace.' He had probably only lately been appointed 
justice. In the Middlesex Sessions Rolls, vol. ii, ' Edward Forsett esq. ' 
is shown as acting as a justice at various dates between Aug. 7, 
4 James I (1606) and July 20, 20 James I (1622)^ 

1 pp. 22, 84, 47, 61, 68, 70, 76, 94, 118, 124, 167. 



G. C. MOORE SMITH 143 

TiMON. 
Ed. Dyce, 1842. This is clearly an academical play, but its 
authorship, date and place of production are not known. I should be 
inclined however to assign it to Cambridge and to the years 1581-90. 
In its satire of the rhetorician Demeas (ii, 2) and the Aristotelian 
philosophers Stilpo and Speusippus it resembles Pedantius, which in 
ray edition I have dated 1581. There is also a verbal coincidence 
between the two plays which can hardly be accidental. In Timon ii, 4, 
Demeas is made to say : * I an orator not an arator.' Fedantius speaks 
similarly (1. 1191): 'Sciebam me Oratorem, non Aratorem...esse.' It 
is obvious that the play on words is much more natural in Latin than 
in English. 

Psyche et filii ejus. 

The Latin play to which I have given this name is found in. the 
Bodleian MS. 14663 (otherwise called Rawl. MSS. poet. 171) fo. 60. It 
is described as a tragedy * de lugentis Anglian facie,' from a line in the 
Prologue : 

Lugentis ADgliie faciem dum Poeta pingeret. 

The Bodleian cataloguer says it deals chiefly with the evils of heresy, 

and apparently belongs to the reign of James I. 

The following Argument of the play is given in the Prologue : 

Psyche bis quatuor filios enidiendos dedit 

Thelimati pedagogo. iiivenum is indulget lusibus 

Cum Psyche in somniis monita, quod si beari caperet 

Legeret e Psdsto rosam^ quamprimum Eroti filio 

Decrevit curam. Is Pcestum mittitur. Mysus hoc »gre devorat. 

Preelatum Erota clamitat et fratrum aniraos 

Irritat stimulis odii, sed fnistra Euphrosynen 

Cum Thraso et Elpide tentat ab Erote ducere. 

Hinc dolos parat. opere Thelimatis Erota et comites capit 

Elpis evadens laqueum hsoc matri nuntiat. 

Mater accitos in unum filios tradit Philosopho, 

Sanius hie mores prsacipit et fingit animos. 

En prodit Thelima. 

The characters in the piece are Thelima, Eros, Misos, Euphrosyne, 

Thrasos, Orge, Elpis, Lype, Phobus, Psyche [Philosophus]. 

One might be at a loss to see how the allegory bears on the sad state 

of Elngland or the prevalence of heresy, but for the choruses nominally 

attached to each of the five acts, but written together at the end of the 

play. 

^ Was the author aeqnainted with the Romance of the Rose'l In that poem (of which 
the EngUsh yersion was then attributed entirely to Chaucer) the characters are mostly 
allegorical, Idleness, Hatred, etc., and the story is that of a lover who seeks to pluck a 
rose. 



144 Notes on some English University Plays 

From these we see that Psyche is England, Eros the Elnglish 

Catholics, Misos heresy. 

Erotis schemate omnes Catholici latent, 

Ho6 Mysus premit, Mysus quern hseresim nuncupo. 

Thelima, the too-indulgent pedagogue, is Free-will, Philosophus, I 
suppose, the Pope, or the Church, Orge the populace. 

Thelima hanc pestem fovet, 
Ma^iatum scandala timeat qui incusat Thelima... 
Orgen (populum intellige) movent 
In mitem Erota.... 

Erota gementem inspioe et Catholicum vides 
Vinctum catenis deaitum in Lypes carcerem. 

Finally we get a passage which perhaps throws a little light on the 

genesis of the play : 

Elpis evasit manus cruenti Mysi, 

Sic haaresis rabiem pauci qui Baatim modo 

Tyberim aut Pysuergam bibunt, det illis numen faciles 



* As Hope escaped the hands of bloody Hate, so have those few escaped 
the rage of heresy who now drink the waters of Bsetis, Tiber or Pysuerga, 
may heaven grant them an easy return to England.' The BsBtis is the 
Guadalquivir on which stands Seville, the Pisuerga is the river of 
Valladolid which fells eventually into the Douro. 

Having reached this point, I felt sure that the play emanated from 
Seville or more probably Valladolid, as a Catholic sympathizer at a 
distance would be hardly likely to introduce the non-classical name 
Pisuerga, even if he knew it, into his Latin verse. But were there 
communities of Catholic exiles at Seville and Valladolid such as to be 
likely to give birth to the play ? 

The question was soon answered. It appeared that under the 
energetic direction of the Jesuit, Father Robert Parsons, little Colleges 
of English students were established at both places, that at Valladolid 
in 1590, that at Seville in 1592. The Diary of the English College of 
Douay^ records under the year 1589 : 'S'' Maii. Hispaniam ad urbem 
qu8B Valladolid dicitur, ut ibi in seminarium cooptarentur, missi sunt 
D. Henricus Floidus diaconus, D. loannes Blackphan et D. Joannes 
Boswell, S. Theologiae studiosi.' A letter written by Father Parsons to 
the Pope from Seville on April 15, 1593', after speaking of the two 
English colleges at Valladolid and Seville says they contain more than 
100 persons and every day the number goes on increasing. It states 

1 Records of the EnglUh Catholics, i, 1878, p. 224. 

^ Letteri of Cardinal Allen {Records of the English Catholics) 1882. 



G. 0. MOOBE SMITH 145 

moreover that Valladolid received a subsidy of 1700 scudi a year from 
the King of Spain, while Seville received no such subsidy but was 
supported by other charitable contributions. A paper of Father 
William Holt* (1696) speaks of a third college which Father Parsons 
had founded at St Omer (in 1594) for boys 'qui inde ad duo ilia 
seminaria Hispani^e mittuntur/ and a letter of Dr Richard Barret" of 
28 September, 1596, gives the then numbers of the students. * Hispali 
[at Seville] in Hispania 70 et Valisoleti (at Valladolid) totidem 
erudiuntur: apud S^^ Audomarum (at St Omer's) in Belgio 40 sub 
eadem societate/ 

We get a vivid picture of the community at Valladolid in a pamphlet 
called ' A Relation of the King of Spaines Receiving in Valliodolid and 
in the Inglish College of the same towne in August last paste of this 
yere 1592. Wry ten by an Inglish Priest of the same College. Anno 
1592.' (No place or printer.) Even at that date the college had risen 
* from six or seaven persons that began the same unto above seventie/ 
It had even incurred the notice of Queen Elizabeth and Lord Burleigh; 
and the Royal Proclamation of November, 1591, had told how 'the King 
of Spaine...had dealt with Cardinal Allen and father Persons to gather 
together... upon his charges a multitude of dissolute youth to begin this 
Seminarie of Valliodolid and others in Spain.' Such a description of 
the inmates of the college is repudiated by the Valladolid chronicler ; 
most of the students, he says, * are of such houses and families at home 
as they might have lived with great commodotie of temporal estate in 
Ingland and divers others come that be their fathera heirs, or onelie 
children, and those of the principall gentrie within our land, others 
brought up and in the waie of good praeferment in... Oxford and Cam- 
bridge.' They are burning with zeal to return to England and gain the 
crown of martjnxiom, but they are not neglecting their studies : and at 
the King's visit on August 3, they were able to address him in ten 
languages, Hebrew, Greek, Latin, English, Welsh, Scottish (i.e. low- 
land Scots), French, Italian, Spanish, and Flemish. This pamphlet was 
translated into Spanish. 'Relacion de un Sacerdote Ingles. . .Traduzida 
de Ingles en Castellano par Thomas Eclesal cauallero Ingles. En 
Madrid. Por Pedro Madrigal 1592.' In the Bibliothique de la com- 
pagnie de Jisus which contains this entry, the following note is appended 
to it : * A la fin il y a des compositions en vers et en prose en h^breu, 
grec, latin, anglais, galiois, ^ossais, fran9ais, italien, castilian et flamand : 

1 Records etc, i, p. 378. 
« !&., p. S86. 



146 Notes on some English University Plays 

mais le traducteur dit qu'il ne donne pas celles qui ont ^t^ compos^es 
en h^breu et en grec, parce que Timprimeur ne posskie pas de 
caract^res de ces langues/ (In the English book, these compositions are 
not given in the original tongues, — merely brief extracts in French, 
Spanish and Italian.) 

Was it from this scholarly and interesting community of English 
exiles^ that the tragedy (or perhaps tragi-comedy) Psyche et filii ejits 
emanated ? We know that the acting of Latin plays of a serious kind 
was prescribed by the Jesuits as a part of their educational system. 
Their Ratio Studiomm directs that ' the subject of the tragedies and 
comedies (which should be in Latin and only given at rare intervals) 
should be sacred and pious, that there should be no interlude between 
the acts which is not in Latin and of a seemly kind: that no female 
character or actor should be introduced/ M. Gofflot has some interesting 
chapters on plays given in Jesuit schools in France up to 1764*. As to 
its date I see no reason why it may not have been written before the 
end of Elizabeth's reign, though the English College at Valladolid 
continued to exist as a Jesuit institution till the suppression of the 
Order in 1773*. It is now, as I am informed by Father Edmond Nolan, 
S. J., a ' Royal ' College, of which the Rector is appointed by the King 
of Spain from a list presented to him by the English bishops. 



Lingua, 

The anonymous English comedy Lingua was first printed in 1607. 
There has been, however, a good deal of dispute as to the date of its 
composition. 

On the one hand internal evidence supports Harington's statement* 
that it was written by Thomas Tomkis of Trinity College, Cambridge, 
who graduated in 160^ and who was the author of Albumazar (1615) 
and I think of Pathoinachia (about 1616). But in spite of Mr Fleay's 
denial. Lingua appears to have been written before the close of the 
reign of Elizabeth" and to contain an allusion to events which can 

^ Its history from 15S9 to 1615 is recorded by Father Blackfan in AnnaUi Collegii 
S. Albani in Oppido Valesoleti, printed in 1899 and very kindly sent me by Father Herbert 
Thurston, S. J. The annals tiirow no light however on the authorship of the play. 

2 Le TMatre au coUhge, Paris, 1907. 

* E. L. Taunton, The Jesuit $ in England^ p. 473. Much information about the early 
history of the CoUege is to be found in this work. 

< Brit. Mus. Add. MSS. 27632, printed by Dr Furnivall in NoUs and Queries, 7th Series, 
IX, 382. 

B This was pointed out by Dr A. W. Ward, Hutory ofEng, Dram, Lit, u» p. 152. 



G. C. MOORE SMITH 147 

hardly have been in Tomkis's recollection. I refer especially to a 
passage in Act ill, Sc. 5 (I quote from the edition of 1657): 

Com, Sensus, But what profitable service do you undertake for our dread 
Queen Psyche 1 

Lingtui. O how I am ravisht to think how infinitely she hath graced me with 
her most acceptable servica But above all (which you Master Register may well 
remember) when her Highnesse taking my mouth for her instrument, with the Bow 
of my tongue strucke so heavenly a touch upon my teeth, that she charmed the 
very Tigers asleep, the listning Bears and Lions to couch at her feet, while the 
HiUs leaped, and the Woods danced to the sweet harmony of her most Angelical 
accents. 

Memory. I remember it very well. Orpheus played upon the Harp, while she 
sang, about some four years after the contention betwixt Apollo and Pan, and 
a little before the excoriation of Marsyas. 

Anamnestes. By the same token the River Alpheiu, at that time pursuing his 
beloved Arethusa, dischanerd himself of his former course to be partaker of their 
admirable consort, and the musick being ended, thrust himself headlong into earth, 
the next way to follow his amorous Chase ; if you go to Arcadia, you shall see his 
coming up again. 

In interpreting this passage, it is the last speech which gives the 
clue. Here we have it clearly implied that on the occasion referred to 
when the Queen's words had so charmed her hearers, Sir Philip Sidney 
was present, though in order to be there he had had to desist from his 
pursuit of Stella, and that when the royal ceremony was over, he had 
retired from the world to follow Love's quest, and that the result was 
to be seen in his Arcadia. Sidney seems to have written most of the 
Arcadia in 1581 at Wilton during the months in which he was banished 
from Court. This is probably how we are to interpret the allegorical 
statement that ' Alpheus...thnist himself headlong into earth.' Assum- 
ing (as we are justified in doing if Tomkis was its author) that Lingua 
was a play acted at the University of Cambridge, what was the occasion 
which the dramatist speaks of, when the Queen made a speech ? It 
must have been, we remember, not long before 1580. I conclude that 
it was when the University officially visited the Queen's Court at 
Audley End on Sunday July 27, 1578, and *when the Oracion [of the 
Public Orator] was ended, she rendryed and gave most hartie thanks, 
promiseing to be mindful of the Universitie and so... departed out of 
the chambre^' 

If this is so, there are other allusions in Memory's speech which are 
more*difficult to explain. Who is meant by Orpheus ? Is it Spenser ? 
We do not even know that he was present at Audley End, though as 
Sidney and Harvey were there, it is possible. What by * the conten- 

^ Cooper's Annals, p. 364. 



148 Notes on some English Unwersity Plays 

tion betwixt Apollo and Pan * which had taken place four years before ? 
What by the * excoriation of Marsyas ' which occurred a little later ? I 
can only suggest that the contention between Apollo and Pan refers to 
the Whitgift-Cart Wright controversy of 1572, 1573, or to the Massacre 
of St Bartholomew, 1572', and the 'excoriation of Marsyas' to the 
Marprelate controversy of 1589. If so, the author's dating is very loose. 
But Tomkis was a child at the time of the Audley End visit, and unless 
he was bom in Cambridge or the neighbourhood, could hardly have 
been present at any part of the ceremonies, especially at the Queen's 
reception of the University. 

If Lingua was written in 1602, it would be natural to find in it some 
points of contact with Club Law, written, as I have elsewhere argued, 
about 1600, and the contemporary Parnassus Plays. Perhaps such are 
to be found In ii, 1 we have a reference to 'Gulono the gutty Serjeant, 
or Delphino the Vintner.' The latter words seem to point to the host 
of the Dolphin Inn at Cambridge, the former perhaps indicate the 
sergeant of the Mayor of Cambridge who appears in Club Law as Puff 
(called, 1. 157, * the fett Sargeant'). We may also perhaps see references 
to the satire of particular persons, so conspicuous in Club Law and to a 
less extent in the Parnassus Plays, when the author of Lingua exclaims 
(il, 4) *0 times! manners! when Boyes dare to traduce Men in 
authority,' and again (iv, 2) ' Com(Bdy^.,,is become now a daies some- 
thing humorous and too too Satyrical, up and down like his great 
grand-father Aristophanes! There is an echo of the theme of the 
Parnassus Plays in V, 16 where it is said of * the nurslings of the Sisters 
nine' 'their industry was never yet rewarded, Better to sleep then wake 
and toyl for nothing.' The words at the end of v, 19 * 'tis best to repair 
to our Lodgings' again recall the fi-equent use of 'our lodgings* 
(= 'college') in Club Law, while the names Prodigo, Inamorato, and more 
especially Qullio recall the Parnassus Plays. 

In the passage (iv, 6) ' I set a douzen maids to atire a boy like a 

nice Gentlewoman, but there is such... stir with...Partlets, Frislets, 

Bandlets, Fillets, Croslets, Pendulets, Amulets, Annulets, Bracelets, and 

so many lets, that yet she is scarce drest to the girdle ' we cannot help 

seeing a reminiscence of Heywood's Four PP, : 

Pardoner. I praj you tell me what cauaeth this : 
That women, after their arising, 
Be 80 long in their apparelling? 
Pedlar. Forsooth, women have many lets... 

As frontlets, fillets, partlets, and bracelets. 

^ The contention between Apollo and Pan in Lyly's Midas which perhaps suggested 
this passage seems to figure the struggle between Protestantism and Catholicism. 



G. O. MOORE SMITH 149 

There are more dubious imitations of Shakespeare. Compare Julius 
Caesar, ii, 4, 1, etc. with Lingua, I, 2 : 

Ltnaua. Run, you vile Ape. 

Jken, Whither ? 

Ling, What? dost thou stand? 

Me7i, Till I know what to do, 

and Midsummer Night* 8 Dream, v, 1, 305, etc. with Lingua, v, 16 ' Am 

I not dead ? is not my soul departed ? ' In Lingua, v, 4: 

Pots and Candlesticks, 
Join'd stools and Trenchers flie about the room, 
Like to the bloudy banquet of the Centaures, 

there is perhaps an allusion to some play on the 'battle of the Centaurs/ 
one of the subjects proposed for representation before Theseus {M. N, D., 
V, 1, 44). 

Pathomachia. 

Pathoniachia or The Battell of Affections [afterwards Pathomachia 
or Loues Loade-stone, running title Lou£S Load-stone] shadowed by a 
faigned siedge of the citie Pathopolis, Written some yeeres fince, and 
now first published by a FHend of tlie deceaffed Author, London. 
Printed by Thos. & Rich. Coats for Francis Constable,... 1630. Dedi- 
cated by.F. Constable to Henry... Earle of Dover. 

I think that this play is by the author of Lingua, i,e, presumably 
Thomas Tomkis, the author of AlbumazarK It is a University play 
(cp. p. 5, ' as if one should aske how many Colledges or Halles there 
be in the Vniuersitie '), and apparently to be dated soon after the 
performances of Albumazar and Ignoramus in March, 1615. It has 
references to the Gunpowder Plot (1606), to Coryat (Coryat's Crudities 
published 1611), to the assassination of Henry IV (1610), to the doctrine 
of equivocation (made notorious at Gamett's trial in 1606 and enunciated 
by Parsons in 1607), to the siege ofOstende (1601-4), and to Ignoramus 
(p. 27, * If I get within your Cony-burrowes, I shall disgrace you like 
Ignoramus '). The resemblance of the play to Lingua is striking and is 
pointed out by the author: (p. 2, Pride, *it were fit now to renewe 
the claime to our old title of Affections which we haue lost, as some- 
times Madame Lingua did to the Title of a Sence'; p. 31, 'By that 
sophistry Madame Lingua might sue as well for the office of an Affection 
as of a Sencc '). These allusions suggest that Lingua had been recently 
played. We may remember that a third edition appeared in 1617. 

1 Since I wrote this, I have seen in the preface to the play in Hazlitt-Dodslej, ix» 
p. 333, that Winstanley assigned this piece to the author of Lingua. 



150 Notes on some English University Plays 

There is a MS. of the play in the Bodleian (Eng. Misc. e. 5) headed 

* UaOofiuxf^ or loues loadestone/ It is imperfect at the end, having 
lost about 16 or 17 of the printed lines. It differs from the printed 
text in some small points, but especially in containing an ' alphabetical 
beadrole of Prides names,' most of which was cut out by the editor 
of the printed book. While the latter gives 'Antoniastro Adrino 
Alexandrino Bellarmino Baronio Bombo,' the MS. adds to the last words 

* Brecnock.' This is probably a local Cambridge allusion, as Brecknock 
is a chief character in Glvb Law (acted about 1600), whom in my edition 
of that play I have identified rightly or wrongly with one Robert 
Wallis. One would expect in a play written just after Ignoramiis that 
Brecknock would here represent * Brakyn ' the Cambridge Recorder. 
After this the MS. proceeds to run through the alphabet from Sir Belialo 
Bezeco Belzebub to S^ Zealamimo Zanzummim Zaine. Some of the 
titles are worth notice. Thus ' Koriato Knauemgrane ' (* knave in 
grain ') is another hit at Coryat, and * Owennist ' is probably a reference 
to John Owen, a Roman Catholic of Godstow, who achieved some 
notoriety in 1615 by being charged with using the treasonable ex- 
pression that it was lawful to kill the king since he was excommunicate ; 
and having sentence of death passed on him therefor^ 

If it is agreed that Pathomachia and Lingua are the work of the 
same author, we may see in the scornful references to Coryat in 
Pathomachia a fresh reason for attributing Lingua to Thomas Tomkis, 
the author oi Albumazar, In Albumazar Coryat was also ridiculed : 

Ron. Look you there, what now? 

Pan. Who? I see Dover Pier, a man now landing 
Attended by two porters, that seem to groan 
Under the burden of two loads of paper. 

R<yfi. That's Coriatus Persicus and 's observations 
Of Asia and Afric. (Act i, sc. 3.)* 

I suggest that Lingua was revived in 1616 or 1617 and Pathomachia 
acted at the same time or a year later. In this case the tradition that 
Oliver Cromwell played in Lingua may be trustworthy. He went up 
to Cambridge in 1616. 

We learn also from the title-page of Pathomachia (if we may depend 
on it) that Tomkis had died by the year 1630. 

^ See D.N.B. under * Owen, George.' 

^ The reference here seems Dot to be the Crudities which are confined to a tour in 
Europe made in 1608, but to Coryat' s more extended travels in Egypt and Asia on which 
he entered in 1612. The return to Dover is a flight of poetical imagination, as Ooryat 
never returned but died at Surat in India in 1617. 



G. C. MOORE SMITH 151 

Antipoe. 

This Elnglish play is MS. 31041 in the Bodleian. It is headed 
' The tragedye of Antipoe with other poeticall verses written by mee 
Nic® Leatt Jun, in AUicant In June 1622.' Nicolas Leatt (who also 
writes his name in cipher on the first page) was only the scribe : the 
author was Francis Verney who dedicates his play to King James I 
(*Illustrissimo principi magnse Britanni8e...Yo'" graces most affectiona** 
servant to command Francis Verney'). Another letter 'Ad Lectorem' 
is also signed Francis Verney. I imagine that the author of the play 
is to be identified with a remarkable character Sir Francis Verney 
whose life is given in the Dictionary of National Biography, This 
Verney matriculated in 1600 at the age of 15 from Trinity College, 
Oxford, but never graduated. He had been wronged by his stepmother 
as a boy and trapped into a marriage, and failing to obtain redress sold 
his property in 1607 and became a buccaneer in the Mediterranean, 
He died in 1615. It is curious that the play should have been tran- 
scribed in 1622 at Alicant. Had Leatt somehow in the Mediterranean 
become possessed of Verney 's papers ? 

If this Francis Verney wrote Antipoe, its date is probably about 
1604. It was perhaps an attempt to interest the King in his wrongs. 
The play is written in English couplet-verse, with the exception of 
some songs, each of which has the same rime running through each 
stanza. It is an extremely crude and boyish production. About a 
dozen people kill themselves one after the other at the end of the 
tragedy. Whether it was acted one cannot say, but the Prologue 
assumes an audience ('You brave assembly that doe here attend'). The 
dedication to the King, especially the form in which the author 
describes himself ('Yo' graces most affectiona**' servant to command'), 
would hardly have been ventured on by a young student who was not of 
good family and are thus evidence for the author being the Sir Francis 
Verney whose life is given in the D.N,B. 

Zelotypus. 
From the cast given in the Emmanuel College MS., 3. 1. 17, this play 
appears to have been acted at St John's College, Cambridge, in 160f . 

Exchange Ware. 
Exchange Ware at the second hand, viz. Band, Ruffe and Cuffe, 
lately out and now newly deamed vp. Or A dialogue, acted in a shew 
in the famous Vniversitie of Cambridge. The second edition London 



152 Notes on some English University Plays 

( W, Stansby) 1616, (Reprinted by Halliwell in Contributions to Early 
English Literature, 1849, 4**.) This is a piece of the same character 
and apparently by the same hand £is Worke for Cutlers, Or a merry 
Dialogue betweene Sword, Rapier and Dagger. Acted in a shew in the 
famous Vniversitie of Cambridge (T. Creede) 1615 (reprinted by 
Mr Sieveking, 1904). Mr Sieveking attributes Worke for Cutlers to 
Thomas Heywood,but does not take Exchange TTare into consideration. 

A MS. of Exchange Ware forms the first piece in Add. MSS. 
(British Museum) 23723 ('Dramatic Pieces on the visits of James I to 
Cambridge'). Mr R. B. M*^Kerrow has kindly looked at it at my 
request, and tells me that it omits the Introductory Part of the 
Interlude and begins 'Enter Band and CufiFe. B. Cufife where art 
thou?' The MS. however begins at p. 353, being apparently the last 
few leaves of a Commonplace Book, and as this piece comes first, it is 
possible that the Introduction has been lost. Mr M*'Kerrow says that 
the MS. differs but slightly from the printed text, the chief difference 
being in speech 32, where the words ' But doe you heare, we will fight 
single, you shall not be double Band' are crossed through, and the 
following (not in the printed text) written below: 'B. Well He meete 
you, but we will fight single, you shall not come double ruffe' (as 
though the writer had tried to improve the play while copying it out). 

I imagine that both Exchange Ware and Worke for Cutlers, being 
alike so short, were played as Interludes in the course of some of the 
longer plays performed before King James on his earlier visit to 
Cambridge in 161 5 ^ 

Fraus Honesta. 

By Edmund Stub. From the cast of the play given in the 
Emmanuel College MS., 3. 1. 17, it would seem to have been acted at 
Trinity College, Cambridge, in 161f. The MS. has the note 'Scaena est 
Florentiffi decimo die Februarii, 1616,' but apparently this in a different 
hand from the cast. The MS. adds 'Authore M° Stubbe CoUegij 
Trinitatis socio.' Stub did not become Master of Arts till 1618. 

FUCUS SIVE HiSTRIOMASTIX. 

There are two manuscripts of this Comedy, one at the Bodleian 
(Rawl. poet. 21), the other in the Lambeth Palace Library (No. 838). 
The play was classed among Oxford plays by Mr Fleay*, apparently 

^ The Ratio Studiorum of the Jesaits mentions, with tragedies and comedies, interludes 
between the acts : and in an account of the performance of a play, The Conversion of 
St Ignatius J at the Jesuit College of Pont-^-Mousson in 1623 we are told definitely *il y eut 
des interm^es entre chaque acte ' (Gofflot, Le TMdtre au College, p. 138). 

* Biographical Chronicle, ii, 360. 



G. C. MOORE SMITH 153 

because the Bodleian possessed the only manuscript known to him. 

The list of performers affixed to the dramatis personse in the Lambeth 

MS. proves, however, that the play was acted by men of Queens' College, 

Cambridge, about March 1623. The part of 'Hirsutus' was taken by 

Peter Hausted, afterwards Fellow of Queens' and the author of The 

Rival Friends, Senile Odium and possibly Senilis Amor. The chief 

part — that of ' Fucus,' a hypocritical Puritan minister — was taken by 

'Mr Ward': who, as we learn from another source, was the author. 

William Beale, Fellow of Jesus College, Cambridge (afterwards Master 

successively of Jesus and St John's Colleges), writes from Cambridge 

on Jan. 24, 162f , to William Boswell, Secretary to the Lord Keeper, 

Westminster : * comoedia habenda est novissime a nostratibus Jesuanis ; 

et iam scenae omnes in actu sunt quotidiano. Qemina comcedia in 

fieri est, non quidem et in agi, apud Trinitarios : autoribus Hacket, et 

Stubs: lepidis Jupiter et comicissimis. Altera pol excudenda exclu- 

denda [sic] a Wardo quodam Reginali Artium magistro et quidem 

lepidarum^' Hacket's play was Loiola, If Stubs' play was different 

and he was not merely a part-author with Hacket (the phrase ' gemina 

comoedia ' being rather ambiguous) it was probably not his well-known 

Fraus honesta (which was acted earlier) but another. For the Jesus 

play, see the next note. 

Both MSS. of FiLCus contain two Prologues and two Epilogues, the 

latter Prologue and Epilogue being written for a performance before 

the King^ The Bodleian MS. is far more carefully written, but the 

Lambeth MS. appears to give the text as revised for the performance 

before royalty. Besides having a number of small alterations, it speaks 

in the last scene of Act I of 

scenica spectacula... 
Qii8B ipsa AcademisB approbarunt lumina 
Suaque non semel prsesentia honestarit princeps augustissimus. 

Here the Bodleian version has merely : 

Quae lumina Academias approbarunt saapius 
£t pradsentia honestarunt sua. 

The date at which Fucus was performed before the King (whether 
James or Charles) is a little obscure. We know that King James 
visited Cambridge on March 12, 162f , and then saw Loiola at Trinity. 
But he does not appear to have seen any other play at that time. 

^ State Papers, DomeatiCy Addenda 1580—1625 (vol zliii, 1). The abstract of the 
paper printed in the Calendar is very inaccurate. 

^ The second Epilogue in the Bodleian MS. is headed * Epilogue posterior coram 
Rege.' 

M. L. R. III. 11 



154 Notes on some English University Plays 

However he came over from Newmarket, and if Fucua had had a 
successful performance at Cambridge just at that time, it is quite likely 
that the actors were invited to give a second performance at Newmarket. 
The Lambeth MS. while giving the two Prologues and Epilogues only 
gives one list of players and does not specify at which performance 
they acted. One would therefore conclude that the same actors took 
part in both performances, and presumably the performances came very 
near together. 

A little additional difficulty is caused by the fact that the Bodleian 
MS. after the word ' Finis' has the date ' 1616 ' or ' 1610 \' It is written 
however in another hand to that of the rest of the MS. and is possibly 
an error. Dr Beale's letter shows that Mr Ward of Queens' was 
engaged on his play in January 162} and makes it clear that Dr Beale 
at any rate thought he was doing something more than patching up a 
comedy which had been acted some years before. The text of the 
Bodleian play is, as we have seen, that of the play as presented before 
the King. It is not likely that to this play there should be appended 
a contemporary date referring to an earlier performance. 

Adrastus parentans. 

This play is thus described by Fleay, under the name 'Peter Mease ': 
'Adrasta parentans aiue Vindicta, Brit. Mus. Add. MS. 10,417. Dedi- 
cated to Lancelot Andre wes, Bishop of Winchester. Plot from Herodotus. 
The date must lie between 1618 and 1627.' Mr M°Kerrow tells me, 
however, that the MS. has 'Adrastus' not 'Adrasta.' The records of 
the Cambridge University Registry show that Peter Mease matriculated 
as a sizar of Jesus College on April 16, 1614, became B.A. 161|, M.A. 
1621, S.T.P. 1628 and Prebendary of Southwell 1631. We may assume 
therefore that Adra^stus parentans was a Jesus College play, the only 
one surviving in connexion with that College. The statement of 
Dr Beale quoted in the previous note that a 'comedy' was being 
rehearsed at Jesus in January 162| is confirmed by an entry in the 
College accounts for 1623, kindly communicated to me by Mr Arthur 
Gray: 'for mending Mr Jenks window broken at ye comodie 4d.' 
Adrastus, being a tragedy, can hardly however be identified with this 
play, and the only other reference to plays in the College accounts of 
these years ('1618. To Bond for the common plaie*) seems also 
inapplicable. 

1 It has generally been read ' 1616.' Mr F. Madan, however, who has kindly examined 
it for me, thinks the date is 1610. 



G. C. MOORE SMITH 155 

Veesipellis. 
This play, of which the cast is given in Baker's Biographia Dramatica 
from a MS. which had belonged to Thomas Pestell, one of the actors, 
appears to have been acted at Queens' College, Cambridge, in 163J. 
This agrees with the date on the MS. ' 1631.' Another of the actors is 
William Johnson, author of Vcdetudinarium, acted at Queens' College, 
February 6, 163J. 

Confessor. 

This Latin play is MS. 14,571 (MS. Rawl. poet. 77) in the Bodleian. 
It is dedicated by the author Thomas Sparrowe to a Bishop unnamed, 
who had probably sent him to College ('Episcope Reverende! Patrone ! ' 
' Alumnus vester humilis '). The Matriculation lists of the University 
of Oxford do not include any ' Thomas Sparrow,' but at Cambridge (as 
I am kindly informed by the Registrary) Thomas Sparrow matriculated 
as a pensioner of St John's College on March 22, 16|^, and took the 
degree of Bachelor of Arts as 'Thomas Sparrowe' in 1632 (that is, 
163f). The comedy is therefore probably to be dated about 1634. 
Unfortunately the Admission Lists of St John's College begin just 
too late (Jan. 1, 16|§) to include Sparrow's name. 

The play contains what appears to be a reference to A Midsummer 
Night's Dream : 

Ab Oberone Lemurum 

Cimeriorum Regulo 
Veni spectator lusuum 

lUius jussu Robbio. 
Nunc Canis nunc Accipiter 

Et homo nunc obambulo, 
Nunc equi forma induor 

Et lev is circumcursito, 

and also an apparent allusion to Lyly's Sappho and Phao : 
Phaonem regina Sappho deperibat. 

Fraus PIA. 
Sloane MS. 1855, art. 3. The reference to Smectymnuus in the 
Prologue fixes the date as 1640 or after. Whether the play was 
produced at Oxford or Cambridge is not clear. There is an indirect 
reference to Cambridge in Act v, Sc. 3 : 

Eugenivs. Num academicus audit? 
Sconce, ita domine: minim in modum 

literis instructus, quern, licet nunquam 

Academiam appulit, sutor quidam 

Novanglicus egregie cantibrigiavit. 

11^2 



156 Notes on some English University Plays 

But this little hit at the Cambridge in New England may well have 

come from an Oxford pen. In the next scene there are some topical 

allusions : 

strenuo impugnando sacratsa Monarchiss 
usque ad raucedinem sed gratias Amnestiae... 
communium precum codicem sancte lacerasse, 
fenestras vanegatas me ccelo violasse. 

The statement about ' attacking monarchy, thanks to the amnesty ' 
seems to point to a post-restoration date. At any rate I am not aware 
of any date before the Commonwealth when it would be applicable. 
The ' amnesty ' in this case would mean the Declaration of Breda or 
the Act of Indemnity of 1660. 

The Bursar s book of Trinity College, Cambridge, has no reference 
to the performance of a College play between 1642 'Dr Cooley's 
Comedy' and 166^ when we find the entry 'To Mr Hill senio' for ye 
expences of ye stage and other charges for ye Latine Comedie £20. 0. 0.* 
Whether this Latin comedy was Fraus pia is of course doubtful. But 
I imagine that Fraus pia was performed about this time in one 
University or the other. 

G. C. Moore Smith. 



DANTE AND THE * GOSPEL OF BARNABAS/ 

The Clarendon Press has recently published an Editio princeps of 
the Mohammedan Gospel of Barnabas from an unique MS. of the 
latter half of the sixteenth century in the Imperial Library at Vienna^ 
This document — apart from its theological and dogmatic importance — 
should prove to be of considerable interest to students of Italian 
literature, as well on account of its grammatical and orthographic 
peculiarities, as for the positive literary merits which not infrequently 
relieve a style in general somewhat rough and bald. 

The task of preparing for the press a translation of this remarkable 
document could not fail to bring before one's mind certain points of 
contact with Dante, more especially as the curious archaic Italian in 
which the ' Gospel ' is written lends itself, in a certain measure, to verbal 
coincidences and quasi-coincidences with passages in the poet's writings. 
The points of contact which will be adduced in the present paper are 
none the less interesting because the date of the original Oospel of 
Barnabas still remains, to a certain extent, an open question, and with 
it also the nature of the relations, direct or indirect, that may have 
subsisted between its compiler and the author of the Divina Commedia. 

But first a word is due about the character and scope of this very 
apocryphal Gospel. The MS., as we have already suggested, is of com- 
paratively recent date. Paper, binding, and orthography all combine 
with the script to place it — not, as its eighteenth century critics sup- 
posed, in the fifteenth century, or earlier, but — in the latter half of 
the sixteenth century*. It is, however, of course possible that the 
Vienna Codex may be a copy of an earlier MS. ; and, curiously enough, 
one of the strongest arguments for this earlier original arises, as we 
shall shortly see, out of an apparent reference to the famous Jubilee 
of 1300 A.D. which looms so large in Dante's life and writings. 

^ The Gospel of Barnabas. Edited and translated from the Italian MS. in the Imperial 
Library at Vienna by Lonsdale and Laura Bagg. Oxford, 1907. 
^ See Introduction to Oxford Ed., pp. xiii sq. and xliii. 



158 Dante and the 'Gospel of Barnabas' 

The book is a frankly Mohammedan Gospel, giving a full, but 
garbled, story of the life and teaching of Jesus Christ, from a Moslem 
point of view. It claims to have been written by Saint Barnabas 
(who figures in it as one of the Twelve — to the exclusion of poor 
Saint Thomas !) at the injunction of his Master, for the express purpose 
of combating the errors taught by Saint Paul and others. These errors 
are summed up under three heads : (1) the doctrine that Jesus is Son 
of God, (2) the rejection of Circumcision, and (3) the permission to eat 
unclean meats. Of these three errors the first is regarded as of the 
greatest importance; and not only is the Gospel narrative contorted 
and expurgated to suit the writer's purpose, but Christ Himself is 
made repeatedly to deny his own Divinity and even his Messiahship, 
and to predict the advent of Mohammed, the ' Messenger of God.' 

About two-thirds of the material is derived, without question, from 
our four Canonical Gospels, of which a decidedly unscientific * harmony ' 
forms the framework of Barnabas' narrative; the remaining third, 
which takes the form of discourses put into the mouth of Christ, is 
purely oriental in character, and largely an elaboration of germs or hints 
to be found in the Koran or in Jewish tradition. It is on this section 
of the book that the Dantist's interest will be concentrated. 

The brief words of awftil solemnity in which the Gospels speak of 
the doom of the lost are supplemented in Barnabas by elaboi-ate de- 
scriptions of infernal torments which, whencesoever ultimately derived, 
are expressed in terms which exhibit remarkable coincidences with the 
Inferno and Purgatorio of Dante. Mohammed's two favourite themes 
were, the final Judgment and the horrors of Hell on the one hand, 
and, on the other, the delights of Paradise. And the second theme 
is treated in Barnabas almost as fully as the fiirst. The Paradise of 
Barnabas has perhaps little in common with the Earthly Paradise of 
Dante, and still less with the Celestial ; but it gives our author scope 
for an excursion into the realms of astronomy, whereby he finds him- 
self (perhaps unconsciously), at the end of his journey, much nearer to 
Dante's scheme of the Ten Heavens than to the normal tradition of 
the Jews and Arabs. 

It will be convenient to deal first with this teaching on Paradise, 
secondly with the Inferno of Barnabas, and thirdly with certain verbal 
and other points of contact between Barnabas and Dante ; concluding 
with some more general considerations regarding the tone and colouring 
of the ' Gospel.' 

It would be strange if the Paradise of Barnabas had not some features 



LONSDALE RAGG 159 

in common with Dante's. Man's dreams of an ideal resting-place 
whether past or future have a tendency to express themselves in terms 
of greensward and flowers and luscious fruits, cool streams and sunshine 
tempered by refreshing shade. The name * Paradise ' itself means ' park ' 
or ' plaisance ' as we know, and though Barnabas is not conspicuously 
happy when he poses as an etymologist ^ the connotation of the word 
was too securely established alike in Moslem and in Christian tradition 
to admit of much variation. Paradise, of course, has two different 
meanings in Dante, and the same is true of its use in Barnabas ; but 
inasmuch as the distinction in the latter is not expressly marked, it 
will be convenient for our purpose to group together the conceptions 
of the EJarthly and the Celestial Paradise. In Barnabas, as in Dante, 
the name is applied to the scene of man's creation, 

il loco 
Fatto per proprio dell* umana spece*, 

and of his temptation, fall and expulsion*. In both again it is used 
also of the eternal home of God, the good angels and redeemed man- 
kindl Speaking generally, the main features of the Paradise of 
Barnabas resemble more closely those of Dante's EJarthly Paradise; 
while its. position in the scheme of the universe corresponds rather to 
that of the Celestial Paradise of Dante. Thus the four perfumed 
rivers" of this ' Gospel,' though derived, almost certainly, from the Koran, 
correspond, in a sense, to the miraculously clear and limpid stream 
which arrested the poet's progress* ; while its profusion of flowers and 
fixdts' recall the scene pourtrayed in Virgil's parting words : 

...r erbetta, i fiori e gli arbuscelli^, 
and 

La gran varlazion dei freschi mai^, 

which drew Dante's wondering eyes across the stream to where Matelda 
tripped singing through the painted meadow : 

Cantando ed iscegliendo fior da fiore 
Ond' era pinta tutta la sua via^*>. 

Again, a somewhat terse definition of Paradise in Barnabas reminds 
one of a still shorter phrase of Dante's. The author of the De 

^ As for instance in his definition of the word ' Pharisee,* ^farUaeo propio uolle dire 
eercha DIO nella linggtui di chanaam * {Barnabas, 167**). 
» Par, I, 66-7, cf. Bam, 40*, sq. 
» Purg. XXVIII, 94 Ac, cf. Bam, 41*'— 43'». 

* Bam. 189*, cf. (for angels) Canz. iv, 24, 26, Par, xx, 102. 

" Barn, 189^, Koran, Sarah XLvn. The original soorce is perhaps Oen. ii, 10 sqq. 
« Purg, XXVIII, 25 sqq. ' Bam, 187», 189*. * Purg, xxvn, 184. 

• Purg, xxviii, 36. ^^ Purg, xxvin, 41, 42. 



160 Dante and the 'Gospel of Barnabas' 

Vulgari Eloquentia describes the home which man forfeited by his 
first sin as * delitiarum patria^ ' ; while for Barnabas, ' II parradisso he 
chassa doue Dio chonsserva le sui delitie' * ; or, as he puts it further 
on, ' DIO ha chreato il parradisso per chassa delle sui delitie'/ 

But the heavenly Paradise of the Empyrean is also described by 
Dante in material phrase as * God's garden.' * Questo giardino* ' is the 
name by which Saint Bernard designates the Mystic Rose, as he 
unveils its mysteries to Dante; and already in the Eighth Heaven 
Beatrice had essayed to divert the Poet's gaze from her own loveliness 

...al bel giardino 
Che sotto i raggi di Cristo s' infiora*. 

Here we may note that in Barnabas' God (not Christ, of course) is 
the sun of Paradise, while Mohammed is its moon. 

But there is another passage in the Paradiso, where Dante himself 
is speaking in answer to Saint John's catechizing : a passage which 
may well detain us a little longer. Here Paradise is described in so 
many words, as the * Garden of the Eternal Gardener ' : 

Le fronde onde s' infronda tutto V orto 
Dell' ortolano eterno, am' io cotanto, 
Quanto da lui a lor di bene b porto^. 

Is it fanciful to see a subtle resemblance — in thought, perhaps, more 
than in phrase (though Dante's symbolic meaning is wanting) — in 
Barnabas' description of Paradise as a place 'doue...ogni chossa he 
frutuossa, di/ruti proportionati ha cholui che lo ha choUiuato^'l 

There emerge, at any rate, from both passages, the thought of the 
Divine Gardener... and of a proportion for which He is in some way 
responsible. But perhaps a more striking coincidence — if coincidence 
it be — is that between the answer given to a problem raised by Saint 
Bartholomew in Barnabas and the assurance vouchsafed by Piccarda* 
in resolution of Dante's difficulty concerning degrees of glory in Heaven. 

'O Master,' says Bartholomew ^^ 'shall the glory of Paradise be 
equal for every man ? If it be equal, it will not be just, and if it be 
unequal, the lesser will envy the greater.' Jesus answers : ' Non sera 
equalle perche Dio he iusto he ogniuno si chontentera perche hiuui 
non he inuidia'; and again. There shall be 'tutta una gloria sebene 
sara ha chi piu ha chi meno. Non portera alloro inuidia ueruna,* So, 

1 V. E. I, 7, 10—11. » 186*. 8 186^ 

* Par, XXXI, 97; xxxii, 39. • Par, xxm, 71, 72. « 190». 

7 Par. XXVI, 64—66. 8 i85b^ 9 par, in, 70 sqq. 

10 Bam. 189^ 



LONSDALE RAGG 161 

when Dante questions the beatified Piecarda, in her earth-shadowed 
sphere : 

Desiderate voi piti alto loco...?* 

[ the spirit replies, in words which, though more beautiful and more 

I profound, are inevitably called up by the passage of Barnabas just 

quoted : 

Si che, come noi sem di soglia in soglia 
Per questo regno, a tutto il regno place 
I * Come alio re ch' a suo voler ne invoglia : 

, E la sua volontate h nostra pace^. 

Turning now to the geographical or rather astronomical aspect of 
the subject, we find in Barnabas a definite divergence from the doctrine 
of the Koran, and adoption of a Ptolemaic scheme closely resembling 
that of Dante's Paradiso. There are nine heavens, not counting Paradise, 
i.e. ten heavens in all. * Noue sono li cielli li quali sono distanti luno 
dal altro chome he distante il primo cielo dala terra. II quale he lon- 
tano dalla terra cinquecento hanni di strada^' In the *five hundred 
years' journey' there is a reminiscence of Jewish tradition: but the 

\ seven heavens of the Talmud and of the Koran have become ten. And 

though these heavens are not definitely stated to be arranged, like 
Dante's, as a series of concentric spheres with earth as the centre, they 
form a graduated series, in which each is to the next as a 'punto di 

f Sigo\* or as a grain of sand'. The planets, again, have their place in the 

scheme. They are not, apparently, identified with the several 'cieli,' 
as in Dante's arrangement, but are ' set between * or ' amongst ' them : 
'li cielli fra li qualli stano li pianeti'.' 

The point of resemblance is to be found in a graduated series of 
ten (and not seven) heavens, characterised by an ascending scale of 
magnitude, and culminating in the Paradise of the Blessed. 

So far, it may be said, the suggested points of contact between 

' Barnabas and Dante have been somewhat vague and hypothetical. 

i They may, perhaps, be adequately accounted for on the basis of a 

common tradition — the practically universal tradition of a Garden- 
Paradise, and the Aristotelo-Ptolemaic scheme of astronomy common to 
all the civilised West, whether Christian or Mohammedan, till the days 
of Copernicus and Galileo. But in the Inferno of Barnabas we may 

, 1 Par. Ill, 65. 

I « Par. in, 82—85. A reviewer of the Oxford Edition {Guardian, Ang. 21, 1907) points 

out a further significant resemblance between Par. zxxi, 7 sqq. and Bam. 56^, where it is 
said of the angels that, ' ohome appe nenirano intorno per circnito deUo nontio di DIO.* 

g 9 Barji. 111», cf. 190»». * 111». » iiib, 190^ « 190^ 



162 Dante and the ^Gospel of Barnabas' 

discover more definite and more convincing resemblances to features 
and passages of the Divina Commedia. 

Islam, except in its later developments^ has no place for a Purgatory. 
There is no mention of a Purgatorio in the Koran or in this * Gospel/ 
though Barnabas gives even the Faithful a probationary residence of 
torment in Hell, varying from Mohammed's own brief term of 'the 
twinkling of an eye ' to a duration of 70,000 years' ! But the Bamaban 
arrangement of Hell itself furnishes an almost exact parallel to the 
scheme of Dante's Purgatorio. The framework of the arrangement is 
that of the seven capital sins. Hell is divided' into seven circles or 
'centri' wherein are punished respectively (1) lo irachondo, (2) il 
gollosso, (3) lo acidiosso, (4) il lusuriosso, (5) lo hauaro, (6) lo inuidiosso, 
(7) il superbo. The order of the sins dififers considerably from that 
adopted by Dante, and indeed is not repeated in any of the tjrpical 
arrangements given in Dr Moore's well-known Table*; coming nearest 
to that of Aquinas. In common, however, with Dante's arrangement it 
has the juxtaposition of Pride and Envy and their position at the lower 
end of the series : a point which is perhaps the more significant in that 
Barnabas approaches his Inferno from the bottom (not, as one would 
have expected, from the top), beginning with 'il piu basso centre' of 
Pride.* There is another point also, in which the Inferno of Barnabas 
resembles both the Inferno and the Purgatorio of Dante — the principle 
which runs through all its torments 'per quae peccat quis...per 
haec et torquetur.' The proud shall be ' trampled under-foot of Satan 
and his devils''; the envious shall be tormented with the delusion 
that even in that joyless realm ' ogniuno prendi allegrezza del suo malle 
he si dolgia che lui non habia peggio''; the slothful shall labour at tasks 
like that of Sisyphus', and the gluttonous be tantalised with elusive 
daintiest Nor can we fail to notice here how in the story of the 
serpent's doom* there comes out the idea of all pollutions of human 
sin — especially repented sin — streaming back eventually to Satan : the 
conception which underlies the system of Dante's rivers of Hell, 
including the ' ruscelletto ' that trickles down from Purgatory "^ 

There is a vivid description in Barnabas of the ' Harrowing of Hell ' 
at the coming of God's Messenger, which though it has nothing in 
common with the account of the Saviour's Descent as related by Virgil 

^ E.g. in the Motalizite Sect (see Encycl. Brit, vol. zvi, p. 592). 

2 U9^ sqq. » 146»»— 149*. * Studies in Dante, Series n. 

» 14C»'. « 147*. ' 148*. 8 148'». 

8 43*. 10 It^, xiv, 85 aqq. ; xxxiv, 130. 



LONSDALE KAGG 163 

in Ldmbo, is strongly suggestive of a later scene where at the advent of 
the much-debated 'Messo del cielV who comes to open the gates of 
Dis, both banks of the Styx tremble, and more than a thousand * anime 
distrutte ' fly headlong like frogs before a water-snake'. * Onde tremera,' 
says Barnabas, ' lo inffemo alia sua pressenzza'. . .quando elgi ui andera 
tutti li diauoli stridendo cercherano di asscondersi sotto le ardente 
brasse dicendo luno alio altro : scampa scampa che elgi uiene machometo 
nosstro innimicho^' 

While the general atmosphere of Hell in Barnabas, with its ' neui he 
giazi intollerabili'/ its torturing fiends, its biting serpents, its Sisyphus- 
labours and Tantalus-pains, its harpies, its burning filth and nameless 
horrors, has the same 'reek' as that of Dante's Inferno, there are 
passages which present an almost verbal parallel. In his description 
of the cries of the lost, Barnabas says: 'malladirano...il loro padre he 
madre he il loro chreatore.' Who can but recall Dante's words about 
the dismal spirits assembled on the bank of Acheron, who 

Bestemmiavano Iddio e lor parent!®? 

This brings us to the subject of actual verbal coincidences, of which 
we must confess we have found but two, though a more systematic 
investigation might well yield a much larger number. 

Barnabas' recurring characterisation of the idols of the heathen as 
*dei falsi he bugiardi'' is surely too remarkable to be without signi- 
ficance, and is enforced and supported by the occurrence of another 
cadence of the same canto of the Inferno in the phrase * rabbiosa fame,' 
which in Barnabas, however, applies not to the symbolic lion of the 
Divina Commedia^ but to the torments of the Lost. 

There remains one more point to be adduced — an incidental and a 
somewhat subtle one which makes, not so much for a relation between 
Dante's writings and the Oospel of Barnabas as for a relation of con- 
temporaneity between the two writers. The inference which it would 
suggest is so definite and precise, that it is only fair to remark that 
there are puzzlingly contradictory arguments to be drawn from the 
language and style of Barnabas. 

Our point, then, is as follows. Barnabas puts into the mouth of our 
Lord, as we have observed above, numerous predictions of the ftiture 

1 Inf. IX, 85. » Inf. ix, 66 and 76 sqq. 

» 149*'. -* 160». 

« Bam, 113% cf. Inf. xxxn, 22 sqq. • Bam. 63': Dante. Inf. iii, 103. 

' In 23% 81^, 225*. It is oharacteristio of the MS. that the three passages furnish as 
many different spellings of the last word : bugiari, bugiardi and buggiardi I Cf. Inf. i, 72. 
^ Inf.i, 47; -Bam. 62»». 



164 Dante and the * Gospel of Barnabas' 

advent of Mohammed as ' Messiah ' and * Messenger of God/ In one 
of these a ' Jubilee ' is spoken of as recurring every hundred years : * il 
iubileo...che hora uiene ogni cento hanni\' The writer or compiler here, 
as often, fails to throw himself back into the Palestine of the first 
century, in which, as his very considerable knowledge of the Old 
Testament" should have reminded him, the Hebrew Jubilee of fifty 
years would have been in force. Whence, then, comes this Jubilee? 
He cannot have derived it from the Koran. We are almost forced to 
the conclusion that the ' hora ' of the passage quoted is a literal * now ' 
and refers to a contemporary institution — to the Jubilee as conceived 
of at the moment when the lines were penned ; and that, the Jubilee of 
Western Christendom. This carries us back beyond the twenty-five 
years' Jubilee of modem times — beyond the year when Clement VI, 
for his own ends, instituted a Jubilee of fifty years after the Hebrew 
model; and would give us as our terminus ad quern the year 1349. 
For the upper limit — the terminus a quo of the original Barnabas we 
must turn to the famous Jubilee of 1300, the ideal date of Dante's 
pilgrimage. For though the Bull' by which that Jubilee was promul- 
gated alleged antecedent tradition, and the contemporary chroniclers 
naturally followed suit*, there seems to be no sufiicient historical 
evidence for a precedent. Thus, between the years 1300 and 1350 — 
and, apparently, only during that period — it would have been possible 
to speak of the centennial Jubilee as an established institution. If 
this be so, the writing of this passage in Barnabas is relegated to the 
years in which the Divina Commsdia took its final shape, or those just 
after the poet's death in 1321 when the poem so swiftly took its place 
among the classics of the world's literature. 

The foregoing sketch does not pretend to be exhaustive'; it does 
not even claim to have proved anything of a substantial nature : but it 
may perhaps suggest to some more competent mind a line of study 
which has at least the merit of freshness, and it may serve to introduce 
to those who are not acquainted with it, a document of no ordinary 
interest and of no little beauty. 

1 S5^ and 87». 

3 A little earlier (76**) he has what seems to he a quotation from memory of Lev. zxvi, 
11, 12; the Law of the Jabile is to be found, of ooarse, in the chapter immediately 
preceding. 

' Antiquorum habet (Coqneline, ni, 94). 

* E.g. Cron. Astense (Muratori, R. S. I., torn, xi, p. 192): Jacobus Gardinalis (in 
Baynald., tom. iv, sub an. 1300): Villani, vin, 36. 

' Another point that might have been adduced is the counsel ^habbandonare il perohd,' 
Bam. 95»»; cf. Purg. in, 37. 



LONSDALE RAGG 165 

It is sometimes stated that Dante places Mohammed not among 
pagans nor among heretics but with the schismatics: as though he 
shared the optimistic view of some of his contemporaries, that the 
Moslems were but an extreme form of Christian 'sect.' 

But Dante distributes his pagans without prejudice throughout the 
successive circles, from the 'Nobile Castello' in Limbo to the central 
seat of infamy in the Giudecca ; and, as a matter of fact, a pagan, Curio> 
is partner of Mohammed's doom in the penultimate 'bolgia' of Malebolge. 
Obviously ' scisma ' must not be taken too technically from Mohammed's 
lips, supplemented as it is by the more general phrase * seminator di 
scandalo^' The * schism ' of which the False Prophet is guilty is rather 
that introduction of discord and strife into the civilised world, which 
makes ' Macometto cieco ' in the eighteenth canzone a personification of 
the factious spirit of Florence. 

Yet if it had fallen to Dante's lot to judge the Founder of Islam by 
the spirit of this Mohammedan Gospel, he might have shared that 
milder and more optimistic view of Mohammedanism which, according 
to a recent writer', inspired Saint Francis when he set out upon his 
Egyptian mission. For here he would have found, side by side with 
the inevitable denial of our Lord's Divinity, an attribution to him not 
only of the Gospel miracles, but of others besides. He would have 
found deep teachings on prayer and fasting and almsgiving ; on humility^ 
penitence' and self-discipline ; on meditation and mystic love. He would 
have found an asceticism in some ways as extravagant as any to be 
discovered in mediaeval legend, yet tempered with saving humour and 
common sense ; a tolerant and charitable spirit which rivals even that 
of the *Cristo d' Italia,' and 'a succession of noble and beautiful thoughts 
concerning love of God, union with God, and God as Himself the final 
reward of faithful service, which it would be difficult to match in any 
literature*.* 

Lonsdale Ragg. 

^ Inf. xxvni, 35. 

' Prof. K. Tamasfiia, S, Francesco d* Assisi e la sua Leggenda, p. 88. 
^ Including (38^) a striking statement of the impossibility of penitence (and therefore 
of absolntion) to one meditating fresh sin: of. Dante, Inf, xxvn, 118 sq. 
^ Introduction to Oxford Edition, p. zzziy. 



THE MISSING TITLE OF THOMAS LODGE'S REPLY 
TO GOSSON'S 'SCHOOL OF ABUSE/ 

Stephen Gosson*s 'pleasaunt invective against Poets, Pipers, Plaiers, 
lesters and such like caterpillars of a commonwelth,' published in the 
summer of 1579, raised quite a storm of opposition. Only two of the 
replies have come down to us, one being Sidney's celebrated Apology 
for Poetry and the other the earliest known work by Thomas Lodge, 
the author of Rosalynde, Lodge's counterblast was first reprinted in 
1853 for the old Shakespeare Society, under the editorship of David 
Laing. He gives its title as A Defence of Poetry, Mtmc and Stage 
Plays, but this is nothing more than a convenient description of its 
contents, as the tract originally appeared without a title-page in order 
to escape the censor's eye. At that time books were licensed, not as 
later, by the Archbishop or the Bishop of London, but by the Stationers' 
Company acting upon the advice of some ' discreet minister.' Perhaps 
the said minister in 1679 was an opponent of playsS or perhaps the City 
Corporation, always ready to do their enemies the actors a bad turn, 
brought their influence to bear upon the Stationers' Company. In any 
case, Lodge was refused a license, and his book could not therefore be 
published in the ordinary fashion. Apparently only a very few mutilated 
copies found their way into circulation. In spite of this it is possible, 
I believe, to reconstruct in part the missing title-page. In his Apologie 
for the School of Abuse published late in 1579, Qosson declares that he 
has heard that the players had *got one in London to write certaine 
Honest Excuses, for so they tearme it, to their dishonest abuses which 
I reuealed.' My object is to prove that Honest Excuses was the name 
which originally stood in the forefiront of Lodge's book. 

Gosson had not seen Honest Excuses at the time of writing, so that 

what he tells us about it in his Apologie is only hearsay, and he promises 

to answer it properly when it reaches his hands. He did not actually 

reply to Lodge until 1582, when he devoted a large portion of Playes 

^ This view receives support from Lodge's words, * the godly and reverent that had to 
de&le in the cause, misliking it, forbad the publishing.' (Alarum against Usurers, Dedica- 
tion.) 



J. DOVER WILSON 167 

Confuted in five Actions to a consideration of his ' patchte pamphlet.' 
We are therefore in a position to compare his description of Honest 
Excuses in 1579 with that of Lodge's tract more than two years later^ 
which he informs us ' came not to my hands in one whole yeere after 
the priuy printing thereof These passages, together with what 
we know of the condition and publication of Lodge's book, are all the 
evidence we possess upon the subject. 

Let us first see how far Gosson's remarks upon Honest Excuses and 
its author tally with what we know of Lodge and his book. The secret 
publication, the limited circulation and the suppressed title-page, seem 
to be indicated in the words 'How he frames his excuses, I know 
not yet, because it is doone in hudder mudder*. Trueth can neuer be 
Fakehods Visarde, which maketh him maske without a torch and keepe 
his papers very secret.' Yet, though he has not seen the book, he 
appears to know the author by name and reputation. This is not 
unimportant since we have proof that he was a contemporary of Lodge 
at Oxford, and knew him later in London*. The only difficulty is to 
be found in certain expressions which have been held to prove that 
Honest Excuses was not written by a University man. It is true, 
indeed, that Gosson tells us how the players had ' trauailed ' to some 
of his ' acquaintance of both Vniuersities ' to induce them to take up 
the pen against him and how ' when neither of both Vniuersities would 
heare their plea' they were forced to fall back upon a Londoner. 
Possibly, for spiteful reasons, he wished to suggest that his opponent 
was not a man of University education. The point he makes, however, 
is that the players had taken the trouble to journey up to the Uni- 
versities and had returned home empty handed. Lodge was undoubtedly 
at that time living in London, having been admitted at Lincoln's Inn 
in 1578. If Gosson be here referring to him he would not spoil a good 
point by going out of his way to remark that he had previously been to 
Oxford. In short, Gosson's words describing Honest Excuses encourage, 
rather than forbid, us to believe that it was written by Lodge. 

The passage in Playes Gonfutedy which saw light more than two 

years later, leaves us no doubt upon the point. 'Amongest all the 

fauorers of these uncircumsised Philistines' the Puritan play-hater 

declares, * I mean the Plaiers, whose hearts are not right, no man til 

of late durst thrust out his heade to majmtaine their cause, but one, in 

1 See Arber's School of Abuse, pp. 73 — 75 and Hazlitt'g English Drama and Stage, p. 169. 
" I.e. hurriedly and in secret ; op. * in hugger-mugger ' Hamlet, iv, 6, 67. 
' Lodge himself teUs us this in his ' Beply,* see Saintsbury, Elizabethan and Jacobean 
Pamphlets, pp. 8, 28. 



168 Missing Title of Lodge's Reply to * School of Abuse' 

wit simple : in learning ignoraunt : in attempt rash : in name Lodge/ 
If Lodge be not the author of Honest Excuses of which Gosson had 
heard in 1579, then it is nonsense to describe him as the first to reply 
on behalf of the players. The words have but one interpretation: 
that Lodge wrote Honest Excuses and that this pamphlet, long known 
to Gosson by hearsay, did not reach him till a considerable period after 
it was issued * in hudder mudder/ Both Pajme Collier and Professor 
Arber assumed without question the truth of what is here for the first 
time proved. But Lodge's earliest editor, David Laing, has led subse- 
quent opinion astray by some very loose reasoning in his introduction 
which has hitherto passed without question. One of his arguments has 
already been considered. The other is, that since Gosson declares that 
Lodge's pamphlet did not come into his hands until * one whole yeere 
after * its publication, he cannot therefore have been speaking of it in 
his Apologie for the School of Abuse. This argument, which is blindly 
accepted by Dr Elbert Thompson in his Controversy between the Puritans 
and the Stage^ the most recent book upon the anti-dramatic writers, 
proves nothing except that neither David Laing nor Dr Thompson can 
have read the Apologie which, as has already been noticed, expressly 
states that Gosson had not seen a copy of Honest Excuses at the time 
he was writing. As a matter of feet we know what the date of 
Lodge's tract was, for it must have appeared between The School and 
the Apologie since it makes no reference to the latter. In other words, 
it was published about August or September 1579 ; that is, just when 
rumours of Honest Excuses began to reach Gosson. 

Any future editor of Lodge's reply to Gosson may, I think, without 
hesitation write the title Honest Excuses at the head of his pages. 

J. Dover Wilson. 



MISCELLANEOUS NOTES. 

A Note on Bishop Hall's Satiresj ' Virgidemiae/ v, i, 65—72. 

There is an allusion in the following passage from Bishop Hall's 
Satires that requires explanation : 

A starued Tenement, such as I gesse, 

Stand stragling in the wasts of Holdemesse, 

Or such as ahiuef on a Peake-hill side, 

When Marches lungs beate on their turfe-clad hide : 

Such as nice Lipaius would grudge to see, 

Above his lodging in wild Wwtpkalye : 

Or as the Saxon King his Court might make, 

When his sides playned of the Neat-heards cake. 

Virgidemiae, Bk v, Sat. i, 11. 65—72. 

The text is quoted from the 1st edition of Books iv — vi : The three last 
Bookes. Of byting Satyres (1598), pp. 56. 57. 

In Warton and Singer's edition (1824), where stand of 1. 66 appears 
as stands, no comment is offered on * Such as nice Lipsius . . . wild West- 
phalyeJ Hall is here alluding to the singularly vivid account which 
Lipsius gives of his unpleasant experience of Westphalian inns in the 
month of October, 1586. This account is not included in the editions 
of Lipsius's Opera Omnia, It is to be found in the four letters after- 
wards suppressed which were printed as Xlii — xvi of his Epistolarum 
Centuria Secunda^, the dedication of which is dated April 11, 1590. On 
learning that his sarcastic remarks had given deep offence in Germany 
Lipsius withdrew the obnoxious letters, renumbered xvii to c, and 
added at the end four others (the first, 'Typographus Lectori,' being 
dated September 1, 1592) preceded by a notice to the reader in which 
any intention of assailing the Gennans as a nation is disclaimed. (See 
his Op, Omn., ed. 1637, tom. ii, p. 108 ; ed. 1675, vol. ii, p. 207.) His 
criticism of their inns had certainly been unsparing. Ep. Xlii written 
at Oldenburg, is dated 'in Barbaria.' In Ep. xiv after writing *Crede 
mihi amice, barbaria nulla barbaria est, prae hac Westphalia,' he 

^ Pp. 203—207 of Ivsti Lipti EpUtolarvm Centuriae Dvae (Lugd. Bat. Ex Officina 
Flantiniana, 1691). 

M. L. R. III. 12 



170 Miscellaneous Notes 

concludes with ' Oldenburg, at a pigsty which they call an inn.' In xv 
on mentioning the inns of the country, he says that he will call them 
so, but they are really stables or rather pigsties. 

Lipsius's ' niceness ' though partly accounted for by the state of his 
health was chiefly due, no doubt, to the superior cleanliness and comfort 
that prevailed in the Netherlands. Erasmus in his Colloquies (see 
Diversoria) had emphasized the same contrast in dealing with German 
inns, and Nisard in his life of Lipsius {Le Triumvirat litt^aire au xvi^ 
Slide, p. 67) refers to Clenardus's similar complaints of Spanish 
hostelries. Sir W. Temple's story of what happened to him in the 
house of M. Hoefb in Amsterdam (Memoirs frcym 1672 to 1679, Works, 
ed. 1750, vol. I, p. 472) proves that to an English gentleman in the last 
quarter of the seventeenth century one of the first principles of domestic 
decency still presented itself as a piece of humorous eccentricity, 
Joseph Hall is not the only English writer who gives evidence of having 
read and marked these suppressed letters. Robert Burton (as I pointed 
out in Notes and Qiceries, 9th series, vol. xi, p. 264) has referred in his 
Anatomy of Melancholy (Partition I, sect, ii, memb. ii, subs, iii) to a 
passage in Ep. xv. 

Edward Bensly. 



An Unbecobded Reading in 'Piers Plowman.' 

In line 215 of the Prologue of the C text the Phillipps MS. printed 
in the E. E. T. S. edition reads : 

For hadde }e ratones 30ure reed ye couthe nat reulie 30w-selue. 

Prof. Skeat gives no significant variants. But MS. Bodl. 814 has : 

For hadde 3e ratouns 30ur reik 3e cou])e not reule 30W8ylue. 

There seems to be no doubt that reik (= ' course,' ' way,' Old Norse reik, 
see Raik in the Oxford Dictionary) is the superior reading^ It makes 
better sense than reed — if indeed the latter makes any at all — ^and is 
supported by the occurrence of the phrase to have one's raik, exactly i 
corresponding to mod. Eng. ' to have one's way,' in the Political Foem^ 
(Rolls Series), vol. ii, p. 73, of date 1401 : 

that 36 ray3ten have 3our reyke 
and prechen what 30U list. 

^ The reading appears first in print (so far as I know) in my little edition of the 
Prologue in Messrs Horace Marshall and Son's Carmelite Ckutia, 



Miscellaneous Notes 171 

Moreover, the word, being peculiar to northern dialects, would be very 
liable to alteration at the hand of a southern scribe. The line was 
evidently a general stumbling-block to the copyists. The unintelligible 
' no roife ' of MS. Douce 104, may very well be a scribal mangling of 
'jour reik.' The corresponding line of the B text has been so far 
mutilated as to lose its alliteration in the first half: 'For had je rattes 
jowre wille.' 

C, Talbut Onions. 



Middle English 'Coveise.' 

This word seems to have been missed by the lexicographers, yet it 
appears to be sufficiently well authenticated by the following two 



And by )>is hope binej^e bileue shulden be two synnes fled, pride of men, and 
coueise. {Tractattcs de Ecdesia ascribed to Wycliffe, ed. Todd, cap. i, p. vi.) 

For coueyse of copes contrarieden summe doctoures. {P%er$ Plowman^ Pro- 
logue, C text, line 59, in MS. BodL 814.) 

It represents, of course, the Old French covise {ftom Latin cupidiUa) 
which existed side by side with the more usual coveitise (answering to a 
type-form *cupid%titia). It is probable that in some Middle English texts 
where covetise has been printed, this is due to an editorial * correction ' 
of a manuscript coveise. 

C. Talbut Onions. 



Shakespeareana. 

(1) Twelfth Night, I, v, 150: 

01. What kinde o* man is he? 
Mai, Why of mankinde. 

A little knowledge of Elizabethan phraseology would save editors 
from stumbling over this passage. Mr Fumess, for example, says ' this 
dallying with words ... I do not understand.' * Mankind ' is regularly 
used of women in the sense of ' virago,' and there is dramatic irony in 
making Malvolio apply it to Viola who is disguised as a man. He has 
an instinctive feeling that she is a woman, though he has not defined 
it. 'He speakes verie shrewishly,' he says afterwards. For 'man- 
kind '=' virago,' cf. Roister Doister, iv, viii, 41, 'she is mankine'; 
Tell'trothes New-yeares Gift (ed. Fumivall, p. 80), 'She was a mankinde 
creature'; The Two Angry Women of Abington (Hazlitt's Dodsley, vii, 

12—2 



172 Miscellaneous Notes 

319), 'Why, she is mankind'; Orim the Collier of Croydon (Hazlitt*s 
Dodsley, viii, 439), ' O, she's mankind grown ' ; Coriolanus, iv, ii, 16, 
'Are you mankind?' [of Virgilia] ; Winter's Tale, li, iii, 67, * A mankind 
witch,' [of Paulina]. 

(2) Twelfth Night, i, v, 205 : 

Tell me your minde, I am a messenger. 

Warburton, followed by other commentators, unnecessarily proposed 
to divide these words between the two speakers. Others have suspected 
corruption. They are quite intelligible as they stand, if it be remembered 
that a common formula of dismissing a messenger in the Tudor and the 
Elizabethan drama was ' You know my mind.' The converse of this is 
' tell me your mind.' In answer to this request Olivia says, * Your Lord 
does know my mind ' (l, v, 255). For * you know my mind,' cf Roister 
Doister, i, ii, 175, 'Ye knowe my minde'; Marlowe, Jew of Malta, iv, i, 
' Friar Barnadine, go you with Ithamore, You know my mind ' ; Edward 
the Second, I, iv, 423, ' You know my mind : come, uncle, let's away.' 

W. H. Williams. 



REVIEWS. 



Vn PoUe Rialiste Anglais, George Crahhe, 1754-1832. Par Ren£ 
HucHON. Paris: Hachette & Cie., 1906. 8vo. xi + 688 pp. 

George Crabbe and his Times, 1754-1832. A Critical and Biographical 
Study. By Ren£ Huchon. Translated by Fbederick Clarke. 
London: John Murray, 1907. 8vo. xvi + 561 pp. 

M. Huchon's excellent bibliography of the successive editions of 
Crabbe's works and the principal articles relating to them modestly 
makes no pretension to completeness ; but it shows how timely is his 
own study, and it justifies tne fullness with which he has treated The 
Village, The Borough and the Tales in Verse. To the first life of 
the poet, by his son, M. Huchon will not allow substantial merits. He 
insists that it was the biographical eflFort of a ' pasteur nuUement pofete ' 
and therefore apologetic rather than appreciative in reference to the 
poetical part of its subject. More cogent objection is urged that what 
value it might have had was spoilt by its inaccuracies and its abuse of 
editorial power. It is probable that higher recognition should be made 
of its Qualities of construction and proportion, as also of its fine balance 
in filial tone. But students of Craobe will agree with M. Huchon that 
the work of its redactors Mr Kebbel and Canon Ainger has been merely 
perfunctory, repeating earlier errors and making no essential advance 
m critical standpoint. In the bibliographical list a striking illustration 
is offered of the varying mood of a century in the frequency and 
importance of its references to Crabbe. Three pages are occupied in 
accounting for the years 1780 to 1854, one more suffices to brmg the 
reference up to date. It is safe to say that *a neriected poet' is a 
recurring phrase in the majority of these later articles ; and even the 
activity of reprints, of which the three Cambridge volumes are the 
crown, has left this author in what one reviewer aptly calls a state 
of 'suspended animation.' At this juncture M. Huchon presents an 
elaborate and authoritative study, which is not only the first adequate 
treatment of a poet who has every claim to it, but will be readily 
accepted as a standard of accomplishment. 

M. Huchon has had access to many important sources of information, 
of which use has not hitherto been made ; and he has spared no labour 
in interpreting and supplementing them. He has travelled observantly 
through parts of England associated with Crabbe, acting on the assump- 



174 Reviews 

tion, with which few will quarrel, that the subject of his study is * uii 
poete dont le regard est toujours rest^ fix^ sur le sol natal, sur les 
spectacles et les hommes familiers k son enfance.' And there is no 
quarter of information or suggestion that has not been searched. 
Collections of letters and of miscellaneous material, unpublished poems, 
sermons in manuscript, the resources of the library at Bel voir Castle, 
the papers of the historical Manuscripts Commission — all that is 
available has been pressed into service. And the result is a minute 
and consecutive narrative that gives us a new sense of intimacy with 
the Reverend George Crabbe. As usual fuller knowledge implies 
rejection of some well-established and pleasing fictions; but on the 
whole the processes of research are here constructive ; many points are 
brought forward and elucidated for the first time, and passages from 
the poems have their natural place in the story, and bring their proper 
contribution to the whole psychology. We subscribe without reserve 
to the praise with which M. Huchon's biography has been received ; but 
we would remind his readers that the volume had a further purpose ; 
its aim was not only to rewrite with modern resources the life of 1834, 
but to analyse and criticise in detail the talent of the poet ; and some 
reservations must be made in indicating the success of this second 
endeavour. It is true that M. Huchon confesses that the biographical 
part of his task proved for him * de beaucoup la plus int^ressante.' And 
it is true on the other hand that the final judgment of his criticism is 
admirable for its penetration and its sincerity. On p. 627 he writes : 
'fieri vain de transition, classique d'origine, r^aliste par temperament 
et romantique en de tr^s rare instants, il ne r^ussit pas k concilier les 

contraires qui se heurtent en lui-mSme et dans ses vers Son caractere 

et son oeuvre manquent de cette ^l^vation, de cette harmonic auxquelles 
se reconnait la vraie grandeur. II demeura isol^, sans imitateurs, et 
sans disciples. Mais il avait exerc^ une influence decisive au moment 
opportun. Mieux encore, il avait ^t^ un de ces hommes, rare en tout 
temps, qui osent, ne f&t-ce qu'en un point, regarder la r^alite en face, 
et dire ce qu'ils ont vu, sans se soucier des pr^jugfe. Qu*importent 
apr^s cela les timidit^s de sa pens^e philosophique ou religieuse et les 
feiblesses de son style V 

That is a summary that leaves Crabbe exactly where he was, at the 
parting of the ways ; like Cowper in some aspects but with a stronger 
interest on the human side, like Thomson also, but more realistic and 
more detailed. In his earlier period he has almost the manner of the 
eighteenth century, in his later he is almost of the nineteenth. But 
he does not belong exactly to either. The true parallel to Crabbe is 
Gray. Both are romanticists only in a very limited sense, yet neither 
of them is a classicist as Pope is a classicist. M. Huchon does not fail 
to disengage in the poems the true transition quality of his author; 
but he is less clear and less convincing where he attempts to relate it 
to the past and to the futura His critical perspective is not quite fi'ee 
firom fault. 

His thesis, for instance, of Crabbe's realism is that it was in harmony 



Reviews 175 

with the tradition of the eighteenth century, and opposed to the 
dawning Romanticism. And he presents the realism of the century in 
these terms (p. 329) : ' En philosophie Locke fut conduit, ]jar la nega- 
tion des id6es inn^es, k faire de Pexp^rience la source unioue de noe 
connaissances ; en th^ologie, les d^istes voulurent ramener la religion 
du ciel sur la terre, et la justifier, non plus par une r^v^lation sur- 
naturelle, mais par une interpretation rationnelle de la creation et de la 
conscience. La po^sie elle-mSme, renonfant aux accents lyriques et 
aux chansons du pass6, se rapprocha du sol et de la vie r^elle, se plut 
avec Thomson et Cowper k dicrire la nature sous ses aspects grandioses 
ou familiers, se fit satirique, affronta hardiment la lutte des partis avec 
Dryden, se mit au service des rancunes personnelles de Pope, et fustigea 
laborieusement les travers de la soci^t^ contemporaine dans les distiques 
antith6tiques de Young.' We have not space within our limits to 
analyse this unhappy page, or to go beyond it and ask what is meant 
by the statement that ' it was in order to accentuate the realism of his 
illustrious predecessor that Fielding wrote his Joseph Andrews! But 
surely the whole passage, with its inconsequent grouping, its partial 
reference, its inept epithet, is quite inadequate as a r&um^ of the 
classical tradition, ana thus fails to secure the only historical back- 
ground for the treatment of The Borough, The impression conveyed 
by the whole chapter too is the same, that M. Huchon has not realised 
suflBciently that rope is the centre and culmination of the classical 
movement, and that no theory of naturalism is available for critical 
purposes until it has squared itself with Pope's explicit exposition of 
what his age meant by 'Nature' as the basis of Art. This is not 
merely an initial consideration for the century in general ; it will lead 
direct to the definition of Crabbe's place in the English sequence firom 
which M. Huchon always seems to escape. Nor is it to call for any 
unusual appreciation of rope and his creed. On the contrary it depends 
upon a clear discrimination of its actual limitations. And this is not 
difficult. To follow the difierent channels of Romantic reaction requires 
a nice critical equipment : to note the points at which it began is a 
simpler task. It is easy to detect the weaker elements of a code ; and 
the critic of Crabbe must begin in that way with Pope, by defining the 
limits of his aesthetic conception. In placing nature in fi-ont of the 
artist as the source of his copy, and requiring his imagination to limit 
itself to tracing out or completing the processes of nature. Pope does 
not allow for his imitation an unfettered choice even of what is in 
nature ; he must not copy at hazard and without discernment. There 
are functions in life that are either indifferent and nonproductive, or 
are low and ignoble, humiliating^ in their consequences, jret both natural 
for all that. And Classicism will not admit their ignominy into Art for 
the sake of what is natural in their suggestion ; it would pay respect in 
Art to the etiquette of life, to the sentiment of what is ordered and 
decent. Roscommon's couplet was: 

Immodest words admit of no defence 
For want of decency is want of sense. 



176 Reviews 

This elimination of the representation of inferior orders in nature is 
inherent in Pope's injunction to * follow Nature/ He meant, and he 
was the epitome of his age in this as in other respects, that lower orders 
of experience are held by us in common with the animal creation, that 
it is not by virtue of them that we achieve our human nature, but in 
spite of them; that what makes us human is that we can parry their 
sollicitations with the power to check or guide them. We add to 
instinct reason, and since the latter distinguishes us it rather than 
instinct should form the main reference of Art. And where lower 
orders are used it is in subordination to a strict didactic purpose ; and 
the choice of language much be such that the things of original 
experience pass through its medium into intellectual recollections or 
summaries of what they were. ' Homer ' says Bossuet * and so many 
other poets whose works are as serious aa they are agreeable, extol only 
the arts that are useful to humanity ; they breathe only the public weal 
and its admirable civility/ 

Crabbe is the inheritor of this code. But his poetry is essentially 
a modification or an extension of it. He is partially in sympathy with 
it, in its emphasis for instance on the normal average elements in 
humanitv. He chose his characters from the middle class, * because on 
the one hand they do not live in the eye of the world, and therefore are 
not kept in awe by the dread of observation and indecorum ; neither on 
the other are they debarred by their want of means from the cultivation 
of mind and the pursuits of wealth and ambition.' But his sympathy 
ends there ; and his real work is the restoration of the lower orders of 
experience that Classicism had proscribed. The sordid and the ugly 
and the unvarnished, the outcast and broken in life, the noxious or the 
despised in nature — his material always lies there, and the resultant 
picture conveys their original gloom, the almost unrelieved despair. 
His temper is not exactly pessimistic, and it certainly is not cynical. 
The personal motive is practically always one of compassion. But the 
literary presentment rests on a deliberate choice of the processes of 
depression and degeneration. It aims persistently at the reproduction 
of the elements that Pope ignored ; and it cannot therefore be repre- 
sented as 'in harmony with the tradition of the eighteenth century.' 
We know that Jeffrey who was in such harmony censured Crabbe on 
the ground of indelicacy. 

This differentiation of Crabbe's method from the procedure of 
Classicism does not imply however its approach to positive Romanticism. 
M. Huchon recognises this amply, and is drawn into no misleading 
parallels; but he scarcely states the reason for it with suflicient 
emphasis. The old charge against the eighteenth century was that it 
was artificial and insincere. As a matter of fact artificiality is now 
more apparent in the reaction ; the early Romantics are seen to be less 
sincere than what they reacted against. And Crabbe though he 
extended the classical interpretation of Nature is not in sympathy with 
the Romantic mood simply because of his plain sincerity. He is alien 
to the dilettante experiment of the Sentimentalists, and his art is not 



Reviews 177 

a pastiche as is that of the Walpole group. He protested more than 
once against their unreality. Their characters he said were 

Creatures borrowed and agaiu conveyed 
From book to book— the shadows of a shade. 

And it is his sense of this that gives him his essential independence. 
His conception of Nature is not Pope's ; but like Pope he is as a literary 
factor artistically and aesthetically sincere. And that is why he has 
more points of contact with the naturalism that succeeded the Romantic 
expression than with that expression itself The exact nature of that 
contact M. Huchon indicates succinctly and accurately when he says 
(p. 389), ' Le realisme psychologique de Crabbe a ses limites ^videntes. 
Son domaine est Tindividuel; sa matifere est la passion isol^e'; and 
that the task of modem naturalism was (p. 390) ' replacer le personnage 
dans son milieu social, le suivre dans ses d-marches, dans ses cama- 
raderies, dans ses occupations.* But is not the same argument an 
insuperable proof that Crabbe was not in * harmonjr with the tradition 
of the eighteenth century,' which everywhere subordmated the individual 
to the general interest ? 

A. Blyth Webster. 



Victoria. A Latin Comedy. By Abraham Fraunce. Edited from 
the Penshurst Manuscript by G. C. MooRE Smith. (Materialien 
zur Kunde des dlteren Englischen Dramas, xiv. Band.) Louvain : 
A. Uystpruyst, 1906. 8vo. xl + 130 pp. 

Professor Moore Smith, dem wir schon eine treffliche Ausgabe der 
lateinischen Komodie Pedantivs verdanken, hat uns hier mit einem 
Universitatsdrama aus dem Anfang der achtziger Jahre des sechzehnten 
Jahrhunderts bekannt gemacht, von dem die Literarhistoriker bisher 
noch gar nichts wussten. Es ist ein erfreuliches Zeichen wie das 
Interesse an den lateinischen Dramen der Elisabethzeit gewachsen ist. 
Dies ist ein Lustspiel von Abraham Fraunce und keinem Geringeren als 
Philip Sidney gewidmet. Der Herausgeber hat das bis heute in Sidneys 
Schloss Penshurst erhaltene Originalmanuskript genau abgedruckt und 
durch knappe, sehr'fleissige Anmerkungen erlautert, die vor allem die 
in dem Sttick vorkommenden Citate una sprichwortlichen Redensarten 
nachvveisen und die okkultistischen Riten erklaren. In der Einleitung 
erhalten wir einen erschopfenden Bericht Uber das Leben und die 
sonstigen Werke von Fraunce, der auch fiir die Schulverhaltnisse der 
Zeit ailgemein Interessantes bringt. Dagegen ist der Herausgeber auf 
die literarhistorische Stellung der Victoria nicht eingegangen, obwohl 
sie mir das Wichtigste an seiner Veroffentlichung zu sein scheint. Nur 
eine Inhaltsangabe des StUckes bringt die Einleitung. ' Es ist eine alte 
Geschichte,* von Fidelis dem treuen, und Fortunius, dem glUcklichen 
Liebhaber der Victoria, die bei der Barbara ihre Rollen vertauscht 
haben, also einer Liebeskette, noch geschlossener als im Sommemachts- 
traum. Die Knoten sind gut geschurzt, aber die L5sung ist ungeschickt 



178 Reviews 

und gewaltsara. Victoria wird Fidelis wieder zugetan, well dieser ihren 
Gatten Cornelius, den er erst selbst gegen die Treulose aufgehetzt hatte, 
wieder besanftigt; Barbara aber fligt sich einer aus Verwechslung 
entstandenen Tatsache und nimmt Fortunius zum Gemahl. Dazu 
kommt Gift und Liebeszauber, ein verliebter und genarrter Pedant 
und ein mit Prtigeln bedachter Bramarbas. Diener und Magde, die in 
der Not fUr die Herrschaft genommen werden, dtirfen nattirlich nieht 
fehlen. Ea ist der tvpische Apparat der italienischen Komodie des 
sechzehnten Jahrhunderts. 

Dass Fraunce also eine italienische Quelle vorlag, ist auf den ersten 
Blick zu erkennen. Aber die Namen der beiden Liebhaber' Fidelis und 
Fortunius, sowie der des Bramarbas Frangipetra weisen noch nach einer 
anderen Richtung. Ich meine das Anthony Mundajr zugeschriebene 
Lustspiel The Two Italian Gentlemen, in dem auch em Liebhaberpaar 
Fidele und Fortunio und ein Bramarbas Crackstone vorkommen. 
Collier kannte noch zwei Exemplare dieses Stilckes, Halliwell scheint 
nur eines gesehen zu haben : heute sind sie beide, weil sie keine Titel- 
blatter menr hatten, verschoUen. Es ist klar, dass sowohl das englische 
als das lateinische Lustspiel auf ein gemeinsames italienisches Original 
zuriickgehen, schon deshalb weil das erstere, das die italienischen 
Namensformen beibehalt, ausdriicklich als tJbersetzung bezeichnet wird. 
Ich teilte meine Bemerkung Herm Professor Moore Smith mit, und es 
ist nun ihm selbst gelungen, die gemeinsame Quelle zu finden, namlich 
in Luigi Pasqualigos nach der Vorrede zuerst 1575 erschienener Kom()die 
II Fedele, & hat mir freundlichst gestattet, die Vergleichung vor- 
zunehmen und sie hier zu verwerten. Ich habe das Exemplar der 
Weimarer Bibliothek bentltzen kdnnen : ' II Fedele, Comedia del 
clarissimo M. Luigi Pasqualigo. Di nuouo ristampata, & ricorretta. 
Con priuilegio. In Venetia, Appresso gli Heredi di Francesco Ziletti. 
1689/ Dabei stellt sich heraus, dass Fraunce im Allgemeinen eine 
fast wortliche tJbersetzung geliefert hat. Er hat die italienische 
Prosa in seinen terenzischen Rhythmus umgegossen und ist dabei 
im Wesentlichen nur ktirzend verfahren. Gewonnen hat das Sttick 
dadurch nicht viel, der Realismus ist in dem akademischen Stil 
verloren gegangen, und die schon so nicht einfache Liebesintrige ist 
durch seme iuirzung nicht klarer geworden. Selbstandige Zusatze 
hat Fraunce in der ersten Halfte des Stiickes gemacht : im ersten Akt 
Monolog und Lied des Dieners Gallulus (Sc. 8), im zweiten einen 
philosophischen Dialog zwischen den Dienstboten Narcissus und 
Attilia (Sc. 7, Vers 929 — 977), der wahrhaftig keine Besserung 
bedeutet, und im dritten, ausser der Scene 7, wo der Pedant mit 
seinem Knaben eine Liebeserklarung eintibt — ein oft wiederholtes 
Motiv — noch eine Diebsgeschichte (Sc. 8), die, wie Koeppel, Anglia 
Beiblatt, xvil, 365, gezeigt hat, aus Boccaccios Decamerone, ii, 5 
stammt. Fttr die erstere Zugabe brauchte er den von der Pedanten- 
figur fast unzertrennlichen SchUler, den er Pegasus nennt und zum 
Teil mit der einen Dienerrolle (Renato) ausstattet, und fUr die 
letztere zwei Diebe, Pyrgopolinices und Terrapontigonus. Aber dann 



Reviews 179 

scheint er gefiirchtet zu haben, das Stuck werde zu lang, und ktirzt 
nun energischer als vorher. Er lasst zwei Scenen im dritten Akt 
(9 und 12 bei Pasqualigo) zwischen Victoria, der Maj^d Virginia und 
dem Knaben Pegasus (bei Pasqualigo Vittoria, Beatrice, Renato) und 
zwischen der Zauberin Medusa und Virginia (Beatrice im Italienischen) 
weg; ebenso im vierten Akt ein Selbstgesprach des Pedanten (9 bei 
Pasqualigo) und im fUnften eine sehr wirkungsvolle Scene, wo der 
Bramarbas wie ein Kalb im Netz durch die Strassen geschleppt wird. 
Dass Fraunce sich diese packende Situationskomik entgehen liess, stellt 
seinem Humor kein gutes Zeugnis aus. Sein Werk ist also wenig 
mehr als eine kurzende tJbersetzung von Pasquali^os Komodie. Auch 
die lateinischen Sentenzen, mit denen namentlich die Reden des 
Pedanten fleissig gespickt sind, finden sich meist schon dort. 

Wesentlich anders ist das Verhaltnis von Munday zu dem italien- 
ischen Original. Leider ist ja, wie erwahnt, kein Exemplar der Two 
Italian Oentlemen auffindbar, so dass wir auf den Auszug angewiesen 
sind, den J. O. Halliwell 1851 in dem Privatdnick The Literature of the 
Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries illustrated by Reprints of very rare 
Tracts gedruckt hat. Die Widmung des am 12. November 1584 in die 
Register der Stationers' Company eingetragenen Buches tragt die 
Unterschrift 'A. M.,' woraus Collier {History of English Dramatic Poetry, 
III, 60) auf Anthony Munday als Verfasser schloss. Durch die Liebens- 
wtlrdigkeit des Herm Professor Robertson habe ich eine Abschrift von 
Halliwells Auszug erhalten, der mir eine Vergleichung ermoglicht hat. 
Munday hat in seiner Komodie, die in reimenden Septenarpaaren abge- 
fasst ist, die Namen Pasqualigos unverandert beibehalten, wahrend 
Fraunce aus irgend einer Laune den Namen Virginia von der liebenden 
Jungfrau auf eine der Magde tibertrug. Aber von dieser Ausser- 
lichkeit abgesehen halt sich Munday durchaus nicht sklavisch an die 
Vorlage, obwohl sein Stuck als tJbersetzung bezeichnet wird ('translated 
into Englishe,' Stat, Reg.), Namentlich hat er die Rolle des 'miles 

f:loriosus ' weiter ausgestaltet und diese Figur in den Vordergrund des 
nteresses geriickt : er hat deshalb auch im Titel ' The merie deuises of 
Cajjtaine Crackstone ' besonders erwahnt. Wahrend der Bramarbas im 
italienischen Sttick nur eine passive Nebenfigur ist, greift er hier von 
vomherein selbst aktiv in die Intrige ein : er ist nicht nur wie dort ein 
gemieteter Bravo, sondem er handelt auf eigene Faust und fiir sich 
selbst. Er hat zum grossten Teil die Rolle des verliebten Pedanten 
Onofrio tibemommen. Ebenso scheinen Fidele und Fortunio bei 
Munday ihre Charaktere getauscht zu haben. Die Komik ist natUrlich 
in dem englischen Volksstilck viel derber als in der Komodie des 
Italieners oder dem akademischen Lustspiel von Fraunce. Eine sehr 
wirksame Situation ist die, wo der Pedant sich in dem alten Sarkophag 
versteckt hat, um die anderen zu belauschen und dann angstlich den 
Kopf herausstreckt und sofort wieder einzieht. Bei Munday taucht der 
* Capitano ' ' continually ' auf und unter, wie der Teufel im deutschen 
Kasperle-Theater. Die Frauen haben die Kerzen in den Sarkophag 
geworfen, die sie bei ihrem liebeszauber gebraucht hatten, und Onofrio 



180 Reviews 

steigt mit einem brennenden Licht in der Hand heraus. Das ist 
Munday nicht drastisch genug : ' Crack-stone riseth out of the tomb, 
with one candle in his mouth, and in each hand one/ Da ist es kein 
Wunder, wenn ihn die Anderen flir den Teufel halten und davonlaufen. 
Der gelehrte Fraunce dagegen hat aus den Kerzen Lampen gemacht, 
die in das Grab geworfen werden. Noch viel derber ist bei Munday die 
Scene, wo der Bramarbas im Netz gefangen hereingebracht wird, wobei 
er von der Magd Attilia mit etwas Hasslichem begossen wird — auf 
ofFener BUhne ! Mit dem scenischen Aufbau seiner Vorlage ist Munday 
sehr frei verfahren. Seine erste Scene ist aus der vierten bei Pasqualigo 
abgeleitet, seine zweite entspricht der vierten und funften dort. Das 
kommt wohl daher, dass Munday den Dienerapparat vereinfacht hat: 
der Pedant hat die RoUe der Diener ubemommen, indem er seine eigene 
an den Bramarbas abtrat. Noch mehr als Fraunce hat Munday Lieder 
eingeftifft. Ein Lied der Victoria, das sich auf eine Stelle in der flinfben 
Scene der ersten Akts bei Pasqualigo grttndet, und ein zweites von 
Fedele hat Halliwell abgedruckt; das erstere steht auch (mit einer 
bedeutungslosen Abweichung) in Collier's History of Dramatic Poetry y 
III, 62. Eine Zauberstrophe der Hexe Medusa wiederholt genau die 
Prosaworte des Italienischen, wie liberhaupt die ganze Liebeszauber- 
scene sich vielfach wcJrtlich an Akt I, Sc. 9 des Originals anlehnt. Der 
zweite Akt wird mit derselben Scene bei Munday wie bei Pasqualigo 
eroflfnet, aber aus dem Pedanten 'Onofrio travestito da servitor' ist 
* Captain Crackstone als Schulmeister verkleidet ' geworden. Wenn es 
dann weiter heisst 'Fedele reads the letter in Italian, and Pedante 
interprets it in English,' so erinnert diese Ungeschicklichkeit schon 
stark an des alten Hieronymo Tragodie 'in sundrie languages.' Wahrend 
in der dritten Scene dieses Akts im italienischen Sttick die Frauen als 
Magde verkleidet auftreten, lasst sie Munday NonnenkostUme anziehen: 
denn der Sarkophag oder das Grab befindet sich in einem Tempel oder — 
wie es spater heisst — in einer Eapelle. Umarbeitungen von Scene 4 
und 6 druckt Halliwell aus dem zweiten Akt der Two Italian Gentle- 
Tiien ab, wahrend die Bramarbas-Scene (ii, 15) bei Munday in den 
dritten Akt gezogen zu sein scheint. Sehr frei sind auch die beiden 
letzten Akte behandelt, von denen Halliwell iv, 1, 5 und 6 (auf iv, 4(?), 
8 und 11 bei Pasqualigo zurtickgehend) abdruckt. Es finden sich kaum 
mehr als ein paar Anklange an das Original. Dann folgt in seinem 
Auszug die von Fraunce weggelassene Scene .fedefe, v, 6, wo Crackstone 
im Netz durch die Strassen geschleppt wird. Dies ist von Munday in 
der oben angedeuteten Weise ausgeschmiickt worden. Ausserdem aber 
singt auch hier wieder Crackstone ein Lied auf seine traurige Situation. 
Mit einer Rede des Bramarbas und einer * AUemande ' des Orchesters 
schliesst der vierte Akt. Der fiinfte beginnt mit Akt iv, Sc. 13 des 
Originals, wo der Pedant, hier der Bramarbas, die Magd fiir die Herrin 
nimmt und mit ihr verhaftet wird. Endlich druckt Halliwell noch einen 
Teil von Akt v, Sc. 4 (v, 7 bei Pasqualigo), ab, die die Losung und die 
Vereinigung der Liebenden bringt. Die Kuppelhexe Medusa spricht 
sehr passend statt des Pedanten die Schlussverse des Stiickes. 



Reviews 181 

Die beiden englischen Dichter haben ungefahr gleichzeitig Pasqua- 
ligos Komodie bearbeitet— Fraunce vor 1583, Munday vor November 
1584; aber wie verschieden stehen sie dem Original gegeniiber! Der 
pedantische Gelehrte Fraunce liefert eine fast wortliche lateinische 
Ubersetzung, der volkstumliche Poet Munday dagegen schafft das Stuck 
selbstandig um zu einem zwar derben aber ganz geschickt aufgebauten 
englischen Braraarbas-Lustspiel. In seiner Vorrede zu den Two Italian 
Gentlemen empfiehlt ' A. M. ' (Munday) seinem Conner * this prettie 
conceit, as well for the invention, as the delicate contrivance thereof, 
not doubting but you will so esteeme thereof, as it dooth very well 
deserve/ Dazu bemerkt Collier (Hist Dramat Poetry, ill, 61): * Had 
Munday been more than the translator, he would scarcely have spoken 
of the piece in the terms he has here employed/ Das sollte man aller- 
dings denken : und doch hat sich bei dem Vergleich mit Pasqualigos 
Fedele gezeigt, dass Munday viel mehr ist als ein blosser Ubersetzer. 

Zum Schluss mochte ich noch Pi^ofessor Moore Smith und dem 
Herausgeber der MateHalien, Professor Bang den besten Dank aus- 
sprechen filr die Veroflfentlichung der interessanten lateinischen Komodie, 
(fie uns zum Verstandnis eines halbverschollenen englischen Lustspiels 
aus der Frtihzeit des J)ramas verholfen hat. 

Wolfgang Kelleb. 



English Metrists in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries. Being a 
Sketch of English Prosodical Criticism during the last two hundred 
years. By T. S. Omond. London: H. Frowde, 1907. 8vo. 
viii + 274 pp. 

Mr Omond's new book is a thorough and conscientious study of 
English metrical theory, written without undue partiality; but the 
exposition is coloured, unwittingly no doubt, by the writer's own views 
of metre. This has the advantage of giving unity and cohesion to the 
presentment of a hundred and one theories all at sixes and sevens, but 
it also means that Mr Omond's history must, to a considerable extent^ 
stand or fall with his own theory. 

To the main position of this theory, that (to quote from Mr Omond's 
Study of Metre, p. 6) ' time is the real basis of... metre, and syllables are 
comparatively unimportant ' ; that, ' in other words, the periods may be 
either occupied by sound or left blank (to some extent at least) 
apparently as the writer wills,' no exception can be taken, except by 
uncompromising exponents of the historical or of the pseudo-historical 
position, who refuse to go behind the facts, real or supposed, of 
prosodical history. But the metrist has next to face the question: How 
are verses to be read? As prose or as verse? On the answer to this 
depends the nature of all that follows. Professor Qummere answers 
unnesitatingly, and Mr Omond with some restrictions and provisos, ' as 
verse.' Both insist that ' those subtle effects in rhythm which mean so 
much in the poet's art ' can only be brought out by a certain insistence 



182 Reviews 

on the metrical structure. Although Mr Omond expressly denies 
(p. 152) ' that word-accent and metrical beat must coincide/ his insist- 
ence on 'the process of adjustment which has to be reckoned with in 
addition to prose feet and accents' and 'which constitutes the life of our 
verse/ would seem to indicate that the essential difference between a 
prose and verse reading is not in the main, in his opinion, a question of 
accent but of time. It is diflBcult, however, to accept this point of 
view, that, namely, the same syllables can be 'marshalled to various 
times.' The facts would seem rather to substantiate the view that the 
poet uses the prosodic elements with which the normal rhythm of the 
phrase provides him, without attempting to force words into a metrical 
scheme to which they do not naturally correspond. In fact, Poe is 
right, in spite of Mr Omond's disapproval (p. 143), in asserting that 
' in perfect verse there would never be any disagreement between the 
rhythmical and the reading flow/ 

The next problem which confronts Mr Omond is the relation of 
accent and quantity. No one, except Mr Dabney, now holds with 
Lanier that * English speech habitually utters svllables in definite and 
simple relations of equality or proportion,* and that English quantity is 
as definite as Latin or Greek quantity (hypothetically) was. But the 

Question cannot be evaded : Does the quantity of a syllable in English 
epend on its accent or not ? Mr Omond denies this, while Professor 
Wulff, and many of the metrists criticised adversely in this particular 
by Mr Omond, as unhesitatingly affirm it. But the question is, after all, 
not fundamental. As long as we scan by groups of syllables and not by 
separate syllables, the value to be assigned to each syllable of the group 
is of little importance compared with the value of the whole group. 
Mr Omond's is the first attempt to write a history of English 

Srosodical theory, and he deserves the credit due to a pioneer in a very 
ifficult subject ; he has done more than anyone else to throw light on 
the obscure byways of English prosody. He has done ample justice to 
the work of Monboddo, Steele and, nearer at hand, of Poe, Guest and 
Coventry Patmore, besides rescuing from oblivion many lesser lights. 
It is to be regretted that Mr Omond did not see his wav to include, in 
his bibliography at least, foreign work on English prosody, but he must 
be judged by what he has set out to do, and that he nas done exceedingly 
well. 

Thomas B. Rudmose-Brown. 



VillanHs Chronicle, Translated by Rose E. Selfe and edited by 
Philip H. Wicksteed. London: Constable, 1907. 8vo. 
pp. xlvi + 461. 

This little book serves a double purpose, as was no doubt intended 
by its joint-authors. It puts the English reader in possession of a 
selection from Villani's Chronicle which is, for its object, complete, and 
in a wider sense representative, yet will whet his appetite for more; 



Reviews 183 

and at the same time it. supplies him with a running commentary on 
what may be called the political background of Dante's writings. 

To get a really vivid glimpse of the life of that earlier generation 
whose heroes figure preponderatingly in the Divina Commedia, one flies, 
of course, instinctively to Salimbene. And for the Florence which saw 
Dante's political activity and exile — the Florence of 1300 — Dino 
Compagni supplies, perhaps, a more detailed picture, and one more ap- 
proximate to Dante's own point of view. But 'John Villani,' as Miss Selfe 
boldly styles him, remains as indispensable as ever he was before these 
other two became accessible; and, in Books iv — viii becomes, as the 
editor of this selection well puts it, * the best of all commentators upon 
one phase of Dante's manysided genius,' giving us, and from a point of 
view slightly diflferent from Dante's, ' the material upon which Dante's 
judgements are passed.' 

It is well that the Dante student, even in the elementary stages of 
his study, should have a more continuous and satisfactory acquaintance 
with Villani than is aflforded by those little entrie-like portions that are 
served up in the footnotes of commentaries on the Divina Commedia ; 
and the reader is fortunate in having his Villani * dished up ' by such 
competent hands. The editor of these selections is well and widely known 
as a meritorious popularizer of the poet's writings, and a deadly foe to 
certain traditional * popular errors,' to some of which, it may be hoped, 
he has here given the coup de ardce. The translator, if she had only 
this present work to shew, would yet have earned our congratulations 
on a presentation of Villani's classic prose in a garb at once pleasing, 
dignified and literal. The book is well printed and bound and pleasant 
to handle. Perhaps we ought to notice an error on p. 22, whereby 
four misplaced lines make nonsense and the reader is left hopelessly 
mystified. 

Lonsdale Ragg. 



La Vita Nuova di Dante Aughieri. Per cura di Michele Barbi. 
Milan : Hoepli, 1907. 8vo. cclxxxvi + 104 pp. 

'Exspectata venis!' we may well cry to Barbi's critical edition of 
the Vita Niwva, for, as he reminds us in his preface, it has been 
announced to * appear shortly ' for fourteen ^ears. ' Other occupations, 
and the discovery of a fresh MS. of ^eat importance, of which I was 
unable to obtain an adequate collation before November, 1905,' says 
Barbi, are the causes of this delay. The MS. in question, which is one 
of the Zelada MSS. in Toledo, is of extreme interest. It was known to 
students of the text of the Vita Nuova that the majority of the existing 
MSS. preserve the work not in the form in which its author left it, but 
in a recension due to Boccaccio. Several of these MSS. preserve a 
marginal note, in which Boccaccio gives a charmingly characteristic 
account of his proceedings. He relegates to the margin the analyses of 



184 Reviews 

the poems which Dante (to the great annoyance of his readers, it must 
be confessed) had incorporated in the text ; and this, in the first place, 
because he thinks that is their most fitting place, and, in the second place, 
because he has heard on good authority that Dante himself was ashamed 
in his maturity of ever having written so juvenile a work as the Vita 
Nuova, and was especially distressed at having incorporated the analyses 
in the text. So Boccaccio, ' being unable to remedy the other defects,' 
at least consulted the wishes of the author in this, and made his copy 
accordinglv ! It should be added that a few consequential changes are 
introduced into the text. The result was exactly what might have 
been foreseen. A few of the copyists followed Boccaccio exactly. 
Others dropped his note, preserved his changes in the text, and re- 
incorporated the analyses, putting them all after the poems to which 
they refer, instead of making them precede the poems from the point of 
Beatrice's death onwards. And yet others omitted both the note and 
the analyses, and presented the continuous text, as modified by Boccaccio, 
without them. 

Now the Toledo MS. turns out to be nothing less than the original 
MS., in Boccaccio's own hand, fi'om which all this family is derived. It 
is, in fact, Boccaccio's original recension of the Vita Nuova, Moreover 
it is one of the oldest MSS., and according to Barbi's grouping there are 
only two (lost) codices between it and Dante's autograph, whereas there 
are respectively three, four, and five (all lost) between the autograph 
and each of the other three MSS. which rival Boccaccio's in antiquity. 
Seeing then that the alterations introduced into the text are few and 
easily recognised, the Toledo MS. must rank with the very first 
authorities for the construction of a critical text. Had Boccaccio been 
less intelligent and more careful than he actually was, its authority 
would have been higher yet ; but his carelessness allowed him to drop 
out many words and phrases and his intelligence often induced him to 
alter expressions, which a more plodding scribe would have copied 
exactly whether he had understood them or not. 

The four earliest MSS. — the Chigi, the Toledo, the Magliabecchian, 
and the Martelli — are representatives of four distinct families of MSS., 
denominated respectively A, 6, «, and x by Barbi. The archetypes of the 
families k, 8 and x no longer exist, and they have to be reconstructed 
by a comparison of several descendants. The archetype of s for example 
was copied by the scribe of the Magliabecchian MS. and the scribe of a 
Verona MS. of half a century later. It is by comparison of these two 
that the archet3T)e of the group must be reconstructed. The archetypes 
k and x have to be recovered fi'om more complex and abundant data, 
and by a more elaborate process ; but the immense progeny of b (far 
more numerous than all the others -put together) now rejoice in the 
possession of their actual paterfamilias, so that there is no need to 
reconstruct their prototype conjecturally. It stands before us. Of these 
four ^oups or families, k and b are assigned by Barbi to a common 
tradition — a, and 8 and x to another common tradition — /8. The proto- 
types of a and ^, Barbi supposes to have been copied firom the same 



Reviews 185 

MS. But it wa43 not the* autograph, for it already contained some 
obvious corruptions. 

The proximate sources for the establishment of the text, therefore, 
are the reconstructed archet3T)es a and ^, and the proximate sources for 
the reconstruction of these latter are the reconstructed archetypes of 8 
and X for )8, and the reconstructed archetype of k together with the 
Toledo MS. itself for a. Thus:— 

Autograph 



itoffrap 



I 1 

/3 



i T^(6) 



I I 

s X 



These results are reached by a minute examination of the ultimate 
mcUeria critica in the 77 existing manuscripts (complete, fragmentary 
or selective) of the Vita Nuova or its poems. 

By far the most valuable and laborious portion of Barbi's work 
consists in the collection and tabulation of the characteristic variants on 
which his genealogical tree of the texts is based. Its accuracy must be 
tested by time, but its acuteness, caution, and minute conscientiousness 
proclaim themselves at a glance. It is interesting to compare the results 
with those of Beck's edition of 1896, and to note the immense advance 
in precision and system. Even in the numerous cases in which Barbi 
confirms Beck's general grouping, he constantly corrects it in detail, 
showing for example that two MSS. directly affiliated by Beck must be 
regarded as independent copies of a lost codex. 

Assuming that Barbi's work stands the test of future verifications, 
it is impossible to speak with too much gratitude of what he has given 
us, and yet he has not given us enough. There is no complete register 
of the variants. The tables give tnose readings that Barbi regards 
as characteristic for the grouping of the MSS. and the determination of 
the reading of the archetype. And on this point there is, of course, 
ample room for diversity of judgment. At the foot of the text itself 
there are discussions of special points and a meagre apparatus criticivs, 
thus described by the editor : ' In cases of disagreement between a and 
^, the variant that has been rejected is registered.... If special reasons 
determine a departure fi"om the reading common to the two traditions, 
or the reading common to one of them and a family of the other, the 
rejected reading is registered. The variants of a single group are also 
registered, when from their nature it seems impossible absolutely to 
exclude their attribution to the author, however improbable it may 
seem. Only where the readings of the archetypes cannot be established 
with certainty by a comparison of the derived MSS. are the elements 
necessary for its critical reconstruction supplied.' In other cases the 
reader is referred for information as to the actual MS. readings to the 

M. L. R. ill. 13 



186 Reviews 

elaborate tables that have been drawn out^n the Introduction. It is 
obvious from this that the reader is almost entirely at the mercy of the 
editor. It seems a pity that having given us so much he has not been 
more generous here. Moreover, he barely fulfils even his promise. 
There are numerous cases, for example, in which words have fallen out 
fix)m one of the traditions, leaving a more or less obvious hiatus. The 
letter of Barbi's promise would lead us to expect that these cases would 
be noted in the apparatus criticus ; for it is clear that the hiatus may in 
theory be due to the common source of a and 0, and that one or other 
of them may have conjecturally filled it. The expectation however is 
not fulfilled. Beck's edition, then, remains the only one in which the 
editor, to the best of his power, has given us the whole material at his 
command; and a glance at his edition will at once reveal variants 
which Barbi does not register. 

It should further be noticed that Barbi excuses himself from any but 
incidental notice of those MSS. of the Vita Nuova Canzoni, which are 
not obviously excerpts from the complete Vita Nuova itself He does 
so on the ground that the relation between the text of the Canzoni as 
incorporate in the Vita NiLOva and their text as independent poems 
is unknown to us. But surely the fact that the external tests for the 
value of evidence- are as yet doubtful Is no reason for suppressing the 
evidence itself We ought to have before us the whole material, and 
nothing short of it should have been offered us in so elaborate and 
laborious a work as this. 

To have riven all the MS. readings at the foot of the page, as Beck 
has done (tnough very inaccurately, according to Barbi and the 
authorities he cites), would no doubt have involved much labour, but it 
need not have swelled the bulk of the volume inconveniently, and the 
absence of such a register leaves us, after waiting fourteen years, still 
without a reliable ecfition of the Vita Nuova which places the whole 
critical material before us. 

Barbi has bestowed extreme care on the question of orthography, 
'taken in its widest sense,' as he well says. In the absence of any 
evidence as to Dante's own practice in the matter of spelling he has 
attempted to establish the text on phonetic and morphological principles, 
and to make it represent, to the best of his power, the actual linguistic 
usage of Dante's time ; and for this he deserves the grateful thanks 
of the reader who is not an expert. All the genealogical and other 
tables are models of clear arrangement. Beautiful facsimile specimens 
of five MSS., including the chief representatives of the four great 
families, are added. 

Philip H. Wicksteed. 



Reviews 187 

A Orammar of the German Language. Designed for a thorough and 
practical Study of the Language as spoken and written to-day. 
By George O. Curme. Isew York: The Macmillan Co., 1905. 
8vo. xix-|-662pp. 

A grammar of more than 600 pages written in English and devoted 
to German, is a noteworthy event. That such a book come from the 
pen of an American scholar is a proof of the thoroughness with which 
the 'motley crowd' of modem languages are being studied in the 
United States, and will serve, it is to be hoped, as a stimulus to scholars 
in England, whose interests lie in the same direction. Up to the present, 
Mr Curme's subject has been very much neglected by English scholars. 
There has been little or no attempt to discharge the debt which we owe 
to German scholarship for its contribution to the scientific treatmenit of 
the English language. We have in this respect been receivers, not 
givers. Would that Mr Curme's book might be the herald of a new, 
and for English scholarship more flattering state of affairs ! The author 
of the present book has performed his task with great industry. The 
capacity for taking pains may or may not be an attribute of genius, 
but it is certainly a very necessary quality in a scholar; evidently 
Mr Curme has not that contempt for ' spade-work,' which is perhaps 
one reason why German exponents of the methods of modem philology 
have met with so few rivals of equal calibre among the two great 
Anglo-Saxon nations of to-day. If the present book does ever so little 
to remove the reproach of dilettantism from Anglo-Saxon scholarship 
in such fields, it will more than justify its existence. 

If I am inclined to criticise Mr Curme's work adversely in certain 
particulars, it is for the present almost entirely on the score of method. 
It has to be admitted that our ideas of method, as regards the treat- 
ment of a modem *Kultursprache,' are still in a transition stage. I hold, 
however, that for the ends indicated, the proposals of Ries, and 
following on those, the break with tradition made by SUtterlin in his 
most stimulating book, Die deutsche Sjyrache der Oegenwart, represent a 
great advance in the treatment of modem German grammar. Of this 
movement, however, there is little or no trace to be found in the present 
book, greatly, as it appears to me, to the limitation of its usefiilness. 

Perhaps Mr Curme meant to disarm criticism of this kind by the 
statement in his Preface — where he might certainly have found room to 
discuss his attitude to the theories mentioned — that the book 'is written 
entirely from the standpoint of the needs of English-speaking students.' 
This means that the grammar is intended for such students as a means 
not only for theoretical, but also for practical study of the language : in 
other words, a repetition of the fatal mistake which for long smothered 

f)rogress by making Grammar — essentially the theoretical study of 
anguage — the slave of practical aims. The present book seems to 
demonstrate anew the fallacy of this. To mention only one of many 
disadvantages, it crowds up the book with a great deal of unnecessary 
ballast. For example, six closely printed pages are devoted to rules of 

13—2 



188 Reviews 

gender. These have no theoretical value, as the author confesses when 
he calls them *only...a practical guide/ But they have also no practical 
value, on account of the number of exceptions. The practical observa- 
tion that in cases of doubt one refers to the dictionary for the gender of 
a word rather than to the grammar, suggests in itself that such rules, 
if to be made at all, do not belong to the grammar. The scientific 
exposition of the facts of the language, which Mr Curme has doubtless 
aimed at, suffers tremendously by the frequent interruptions rendered 
necessary in order to tell the student how to translate this, that and the 
other into German. Sometimes the effect produced on the reader is 
almost comical, e.g., in the case of such a statement as * the English 
gerund is variously translated.' As if German speakers were translating 
their thoughts out of English ! Surely it is time we freed ourselves 
from the naive assumption that the student of a foreign language is 
burning with the desire to translate his mother-tongue into it, and that 
this is the attitude of mind in which it must necessarily be approached 
by him ; or, even should this be so, that the grammarian is necessarily 
bound to minister to this attitude of mind. If grammarians really 
undertake the ambitious programme which Mr Curme has mapped out 
for them, viz., to show ' the power of language to express man's highest 
thoughts and deepest feelings,' it may be suspected that they will have 
considerable difficulty in carrying it out, so long as they submit to such 
limitations. It is accordingly my opinion that the author's plan of making 
not only an ' outline of German Grammar,' but also ' a valuable book of 
reference,' and one 'as complete as possible' on the lines he has adopted, 
was a mistaken plan. A scientific grammar of German in English is a 
great want, probably also an Englisn work of reference on the lines of 
Paul's not to be overvalued Deutsches Worterbuch, but can these things 
be combined ? It is admittedly difficult to draw the line between the 
Grammar and the Dictionary'; but it would be a great gain if we could 
do so, however vaguely, and Paul's Worterbiich^ so far as German is 
concerned, has, among many other merits, that of being a contribution 
towards solving the problem. 

The best feature of this book is to be found in the fact that it is 
the fruit of an independent investigation of the linguistic material. 
Mr Curme's determination of usage in German speech is the result of 
his own observation of the German language as it is written and spoken 
to-day based upon extensive collections made by himself. He has not 
therefore fallen into the mistake, which natives often make, of repre-. 
senting the language as it ought (?) to be, instead of as it really is. He 
has likewise taken great pams to distinguish between literarjr and 
colloquial usage, and to devote to the latter the attention wnich it 
deserves, but seldom receives, as well as to make the necessary temporal 
distinctions. While, however, he seems on the whole to have adequately 
defined the relationship of the literary to the colloquial language, it is to 
me doubtful whether he has devoted sufficient attention to the boundary 
between the former and the dialects. This appears, for example, in the 
treatment of the construction in 'Da gehort ein Grogchen draufgesetzt.* 



Reviews 189 

As Paul calls this south-west German, it is certainly rather inadequate to 
notice it here merely ' by reason of its pithy terseness/ But whatever 
deductions fall to be made on such score or on the score of plan and 
method, it seems to be certain that Mr Curme's book has consider- 
able value as an independent examination of the problem of German 
linguistic usage at the present day. It is a testimony to the author's 
care and industry that his facts are, so far as I have noticed, correct. 
But his manner of stating grammatical things is often vague and 
lacking in precision; so much so that one may occasionally receive 
a general impression of inaccuracy, where it is not present. 'The 
growth of letters has not kept pace with that of sounds,' or 'This 
change of vowel in the diflferent tenses is the result of a different 
accent which obtained in an earlier period, but is now used to make 
more clear certain grammatical distinctions such as tense and number,' 
or, speaking of Verner's Law, * seen in Gothic and less perfectly in Old 
English and other Germanic languages,' is not put with felicity. Nor is 
one much attracted by such rhetoric as 'The historic memories of 
Germany lie in the South, but the present and future seem firmly seated 
in the North.' Most probably this air of vagueness of expression results 
from the fact that the book, as already mentioned, ' is written entirely from 
the standpoint of the needs of English-speaking students.' One knows, 
alas, what such needs are, on this side of the Atlantic at any rate: 
examinations and cram-books! But in spite of the handicap under 
which Mr Curme has voluntarily worked, his book merited more than 
to be noticed under the heading ' school books,' as actually happened in 
the pages of a contemporary journal. 

R. A. Williams. 



Das PHamel bis Hans Rosenpliit Studien zur Volkspoesie, Von 
Earl Euling. {Germanistische Ahhandlungen, xxv.) Breslau: 
M. und H. Marcus, 1905. 8vo. viii + 583 pp. 

Wer Gelegenheit hatte, eine grossere Anzahl deutscher Hand- 
schriften des XV. und xvi. Jahrhunderts durchzublattem, dem werden 
gewiss, sei es im Texte selbst, auf Blattrandern oder auf ursprunglich 
rreigelassenen Stellen einzelne Beispiele jenes kleinen poetischen 
Gebildes aufgestossen sein, dessen Wesen und Entwicklung bis auf 
Hans Rosenpliit uns Euling in dem vorliegenden stattlichen, von 
storenden Druckfehlem* fast freien Bande vor Augen fuhrt. Seit 
Herders Tagen hat das Priamel (so und nicht 'die' Pnamel werden wir 
nun mit Euling zu schreiben haben) manchen denkenden Kopf be- 
schaftigt, manchen Definitionsversuch hervorgerufen, ja im Jahre 1897 
erschien darliber ein Buch von W. Uhl, der das Priamel dem Witz 

^ Mir sind nur folgende aufgefallen : S. 65 zweite Zeile von unten lies: van einer; 
S. 125 SchluBBzelie : Zeile 2 im ersten Vers ; S. 29S: Circlaria; S. 175 wird die Schreibang 
* exprefi,' ' prooefi ' Englander seltsam anmuten. 



190 Reviews 

gleichstellte und seine lateinische Bezeichnung auf akademische Kreise 
zuriickfiihrte. Die Unhaltbarkeit seiner Theorie wies sein Recensent 
Ehrismann im Anzei^erfilr deutsches Altertum, 26, 160 ff. nach. Und 
nun nennt Euling, die Grenze enger ziehend, epigrammatische Impro- 
visation als Ausgangspunkt des rriamels, gibt mm also einen wohl 
uralten, volkstUmlichen, unliterarischen Nahrboden, auf dem das 
Priamel, ein Heckenroslein, lange, lange wild und keck bliihte, bis Hans 
Rosenpiut einen Strauch von der Hecke mit alien Wurzeln ausgrub, 
kunstgerecht veredelte und ihn mit einem lateinischen Namen versehen 
in den grossen Garten der Literatur setzte. Draussen an der Hecke 
aber bliihte es und bluht es noch heute lustig weiter. 

In der allseitigen Beleuchtung und Begrlindung dieses Gedankens 
beruht m. E. die Bedeutung der Schrift Eulings, dessen eindringend 
liebevoUes Verstandnis fUr deutsches Kultur- und Literaturleben im 
XIV. und XV. Jahrhundert, wie friiher in seinem Buch Uber Kunz 
Kistener, so auch hier, besonders im zweiten und neunten Kapitel, 
uns fbrdert und fesselt ; sie wird, was der Titel verheisst, ein wichtiger 
Beitrag zur Volkspoesie, und gibt dem klassischen Priamel einen selb- 
standigen Platz in der deutschen Literaturgeschichte des ausgehenden 
Mittelalters, wie man ihn beispielsweise schon lange den Ehrenreden 
der Heroldspoesie zuerkannt hat. 

Euling hat auf den 583 Seiten seines Buches einen langen, z. T. 
noch wenig betretenen Weg durchwandem mlissen, den er sich, wie 
mich bedtinkt, freilich bfters noch langer und beschwerlicher gemacht 
hat, als zur Sache gerade notwendig war. Was Wunder, wenn man 
dem Buche das MUnevoUe der Wanderung ansieht! Erschwert wird 
seine Lekttire zudem durch die fortwahrenden Verweisungen unter 
den Text ; fiir viele Falle hatte ein vorausgeschicktes Verzeichnis der 
benutzten Literatur geniigt. Der reiche Stoflf ist in neun Kapitel 
eingegliedert. Es scheint mir zweckdienlich, ihren Gedankengang kurz 
wiederzugeben und daran einzelne Zweifel und Bemerkungen anderer 
Art zu kniipfen. 

Ausgehend von einer Kritik der bisherigen Definitionen des Priamels 
von Herder bis auf die neueste Zeit stellt Euling im ersten Kapitel 
(S. 15) seine eigene z. T. auf Wendeler fussende Definition desfertigen 
Priamels auf, d. h. des klassischen Priamels, wie es sich im xv. Jahrhun- 
dert in NUmberg durch Rosenpliits Kunst ausgebildet hatte. Neben der 
charakteristischen Stilform — eine Reihe paralleler Einzelheiten werden 
in bestimmten Formen (den spater au^estellten Typen A — C) mit 
klinstlerischer Absicht zu einer inneren Emheit verbunden — wird darin 
gleichstarkes Gewicht gelegt auf die Existenz des Priamels als selb- 
standiger literarischer Gattung epierammatischer Improvisationsdich- 
tung. Der Rest des Kapitels grenzt das so karakterisierte Priamel gegen 
verwandte Gattungen ab, wie Prosasentenzen, Triaden, Sprichworter, 
Ratsel, Quodlibet (mit beachtungswerten Bemerkungen Uber Hermen 
Botes Koker, S. 33 £), Schnaderhiipfel u.a. Das zweite Kapitel 
beschaftigt sich mit dem Namen des Priamels. Euling fiihrt ihn auf 
einen musikalischen terminus technicus zurUck, den Rosenpiut bewusst 



Reviews 191 

aus dem Musikleben seiner Vaterstadt NUmberg entlehnte und auf 
das kleine poetische Gebilde tibertrug. Unter Praeambula (Priamel) 
verstand man znnachst unselbstandige zum Gesang uberleitende und 
lange nicht aufgezeichnete Improvisationen auf der Orgel oder Laute, 
die nach der Erfindung der Lautentabulaturschrift durch die Lauten- 
bticher bald weit verbreitet wurden. Das Ansprechende dieser neuen 
Hypothese, die auch durch die parallele Entstehung der Sonett- 
bezeichnung eestutzt wird (S. 61), lasst sich nicht leugnen und diirfte 
sich wohl anderen Herleitungen gegeniiber (z. B. aus der Fechtkunst, 
akademischer Disputation, Predict) behaupten, solange wenigstens als 
sich die Existenz des Namens auf die Dichtungsgattung bezogen, nicht 
vor Rosenpliit mit Sicherheit nachweisen lasst. Wenn Lautenbticher 
zur Verbreitung des musikalischen Priamels und damit der Wortbe- 
zeichnung viel beitrugen, so waren umgekehrt noch spate Lehrer der 
holden Lautenkunst dem poetischen rriamel nicht abhold. Johann 
Stobaus z. B., den wir als tUchtigen Musiker wie als Freund des 
Konigsberger Dichterkreises schatzen, hat die Bander eines Autographs 
(nun MS. Sloane 1021 des British Museum), das 1640 geschrieben, 
Lautenkompositionen, Abhandlungen liber die Lautenkunst u. a. 
enthalt, mit ReimsprUchen und Priameln gefUUt, worunter sich auch 
die 'Krone aller Priamelvierzeiler des Mittelalters ' (Euling, S. 408) 
befindet, halb in alter, halb in Lutherischer Pragung: 

Ich leb vnd weis nicht wie lang, 
Ich sterb vnd weis nicbt wan, 
Ich fahr vnd weis Qott Lob wohin: 
Mich wundert das ich so trawrig bin^. 

Kapitel ill handelt von der tJberlieferung des Priamels. VoUstan- 
digkeit wird sich erst anstreben lassen, wenn das grosse, auf Beschreibung 
aller deutschen Handschrifben bis zum xvii. Jahrhundert gerichtete 
Untemehmen der Berliner Akademie vollendet ist. Handschrifben vom 
XV. Jahrhundert ab, Drucke des xvi. und xvii. Jahrhunderts, Stamm- 
bticher werden als Fundstatten des klassischen Priamels genannt und die 
ersteren recht hiibsch eingeteilt in (a) Priamelblichlein der umherziehen- 
den Sprecher, (6) Liebhabersammlun^en, (c) Lesebticher, (d) grosse 
Sammelhandschrifben. Neben dieser literarischen iTberlieferung geht 
die miindliche einher, d. h. die Fortpflanzung des volkstUmlichen 
Priamels, mit dem der Einzelne nach Gutdtlnken schaltet. Gute 
Bemerkungen liber das Verhaltnis von Volks- und Kunstdichtung 
schliessen das Kapitel. Ob das Priamel als selbstandige literarische 
Gattung in der Weltliteratur zu Hause sei? das ist die Frage, deren 



^ Zum Motiv ygl. (was Enling nicht anfuhrt) : 



VIVO 

morior 
ambulo 



et nescio 



quomodo 

quando 

quo 



(MS. Arundel 243 vom Jahre 1476 ; vgl. Priebsch, Deutsche Handschriften in England, 

n, 45), und : 

Si quifl sentiret quo tendit et undo veniret, 
Numquam gauderet sed in omni tempore fleret. 

(MS. Sloane 1888, ziv. Jh.) 



192 Reviews 

Beantwortung Kapitel iv gewidmet ist. Die Vergleicher waren allzu 
rasch bereit, auf Grund ausserer Ahnlichkeiten (Stilformen wie der 
Aufzahlung, der Anapher, des Parallelismus, der Kliraax) das Vorhan- 
densein des Priamels zu bejahen. Euling hatte es nicht schwer, den von 
Bergmann aufgebauten Roman von der mdischen Abkunft des Priamels 
zu zerstoren und Wackemagels Behauptung, wir batten das Priamel 
gemeinsam mit der Sanskritpoesie, zu widerlegen. Nach Durchmuste- 
rung auslandischen Materials (insbesonders wird die finnische Poesie 
berbeigezogen) kommt Euling zu dem Resultate (S. 140): das Num- 
berger Priamel (d. h. das klassische Priamel Hans Bosenpltits) scheidet 
sich deutlich von den ktinstlicheren romanischen Formen des Mittelalters, 
es ist weder orientalischer Abkunft, noch den Indogermanen gemeinsam, 
ja selbst der Versuch R. M. Meyers ein urgermanisches Priamel zu 
erweisen, ist als gescheitert zu betrachten, denn blosse priamelbafben 
Formen altgermanischer Poesie konstituieren noch keine eigene Dich- 
tungs&^attung; erst in der deutschen Literatur findet sich das Priamel 
als solche und auch da hat es sich erst allmahlich entwickelt. Diese 
scharfe Scheidung zwischen literarischer Gattung und blosser Stilform 
muss man sich bei der Lektiire von Eulings Buch stets vor Augen 
halten; auf ihr baut es sich auf. 

Nachdem Euling im funften Kapitel sich kurz mit einigen ThBorien 
zur Entstehung des Priamels auseinandergesetzt und ausmhrlicher die 
Ansicht R. M. Meyers (siehe jetzt auch dessen Stilistik, S. 39) die alt- 
germanische Figur der Haufung hatte das Priamel zur Bltite gebracht, 
zurtickgewiesen hat, nennt er am Schluss des Kapitels als Wurzel der 
primitiven Volkskunst des Priamels Improvisation. Das fUhrt ihn 
im sechsten, sehr umfangreichen Kapitel zur Karakterisierung des 
Vierzeilers als der Hauptform volkstumlicher Improvisation; er ist 
uralt, international und noch bis heute die eigentliche volksmassige 
Priamelform (S. 186). Hier kommt seine Unterart, der epigram- 
matische Improvisationsvierzeiler, besonders in Betracht, den im SUden 
Deutschlands eine starkere lyrische Grundstimmung, im Norden das 
Vorherrschen schwerfalligen Ernsts und Pedanterie auszeichnet. Eine 
FuUe von Bezeichnungen — ' Schnaderhtipfel' ist darunter wohl die 
gangbarste — werden S. 200 aufgezahlt; sie zeigen seine Beliebtheit 
und Verbreitung. 

Aus diesem Vierzeiler hebt sich durch seine specifische Form der 
priaraelhafte Vierzeiler heraus. Wiederholung und Parallelismus, 
Uauptformen der volkstumlichen Improvisationsdichtung sind die Mittel, 
mit denen er arbeitet ; mit der volkstUmlichen Kunst im allgemeinen 
teilt er Beschrankung auf einen Gedanken. In drei Typen lassen sich 
alle Priamel vierzeiler einordnen: den Typus des synthetischen Priamels 
(A) und der Klimax (B), beide mit steigender Gedankenbewegung, und 
(C), den fallenden Typus des analytischen Priamels, genau betrachtet, 
der Umkehrung von A. Diese Typen sind nichts neues, schon Berg- 
mann und Wendeler batten sich erganzend sie aufgestellt (vgl. Uhl, Die 
deutsche Priamel, S. 116), aber trotzdem litt die Forschung bis in die 
neueste Zeit an der Hintansetzung von C, was entweder zu enge Defini- 



Reviews 193 

tionen oder abzulehnende Herleitungen der Bezeichung ' Priamel * ergab 
(siehe Euling, S. 10, 58). So ist es ein Verdienst Eulings, nachdriicklich 
auf diese Form hingewiesen zu haben. Aber wean er S. 209 A und B 
im Grunde identisch nennt (S. 223 spricht er freilich nur von dem 
verwandten Typus B), wenn er welters S. 233 von der oft schwierigen 
Unterscheidung der Typen A und B redet, so wundert man sich billig, 
warum er sich nicht an dem synthetischen und analytischen Typus 
geniigen liess und sein B etwa als Unterart von A mit A2 bezeichnete. 
Mir allerdings erscheinen bei Betrachtung der S. 212 und S. 226 

fegebenen Schemata die beiden Typen durchaus nicht identisch. Das 
arakteristische von A ist die Zusammenfassung in der letzten Zeile 
(daran andern die Bemerkungen Eulings S. 224 f. nichts), bei B aber 
fehlt diese, indem an ihre Stelle ein neues, im Verhaltnis zu den 
voraufgehenden steigemdes oder ge^ensatzliches Glied tritt. Freilich, 
ob eine solche Steigerung vorhanden ist oder nicht, scheint ofters subjek- 
tivem Ermessen anheimzufallen; so kann ich in dem als Schema gewahlten 
BeispieP (S. 226), das doch in dieser Hinsicht besonders karakteristisch 
sein miisste, schlechterdings nur parallele Aufzahlung erkennen, deren 
einzelne Glieder mit demselben EflFekt beliebig vertauscht werden 
konnten. Ebensowenig vermag ich den Typus B an einzelnen anderen hier 
zusaramengestellten Beispielen zu finden (mafa vgl. z. B. S. 229 die aus 
Oberbayern und Bohmen). Gleiches gilt von Beispielen fiir die Typen 
A und C und gelegentlich von spater beigebrachtem Material. Es will 
mir daher schemen, dass Euling m dem IsLlichen Eifer reichlichen StofiF 
zusammenzutragen, ofters liber das von ihm selbst gesteckte, strenge 
Ziel hinausgeschossen ist, wahrend er an anderen Stellen (z. B. S. 427) 
fast wieder zu enthaltsam wird. Nachdem Euling noch einen Blick 
geworfen hat auf das Vorkommen des Priamelvierzeilers in unliterari- 
schen, volkstlimlichen Gattungen der Poesie, d. h. im Arbeitslied, Ratsel, 
Kinder- und Volksreim, Zauberspruch und Segen — hier interessiert uns 
besonders die Beobachtung S. 252, dass es immer das KemstUck, der 
eigentliche Heilspruch ist, welcher priamelhaften Bau zeigt — verfolgt er 
das Leben des deutschen Priamelvierzeilers bis ins xvi. Jahrhundert, 
wobei natiirlich die reichlicheren Niederschlage des xv. Jahrhunderts, 
selbstverstandlich auch der mnd. und verwandten mnl. t)berlieferung, 
zu Rate gezogen werden. Ein paar Stellen aus Otfrid, eine aus Notkers 
Psalmenubersetzung, der Sprucn des xii. Jahrhunderts (MSD*, XLix, 2), 
je eine Stelle in Heinrichs von Melk Erinnerung und bei Wemher von 
Elmendorf : das sind samtliche, im einzelnen nicht einwandfreie Zeugen 
aus alterer Zeit. Doch aus dem Umstande, dass in Freidanks Be- 
scheidenheit einige ganz vollendete Priamelvierzeiler auftreten, und dass 
femer mnl. tJberlieferung mit der deutschen eine Fulle von Motiven 
gemeinsam hat, was auf alteren gemeinsamen Besitz deuten mochte, 
schliesst Euling schon fiir das xii. Jahrhundert auf einen ziemlich 

^ Alte leute kraaen sich, 
zornige leute hauen sioh, 
weise leote besinnen sioh: 
junge lente minnen sioh. 



194 Reviews 

betrachtlichen Schatz gut gepragter Priamelmotive. Moglich ist das 
ja, aber zwin^endes wohnt dem Schluss nicht inne. Warum sollen sich 
Freidanks priamelhafte Vierzeiler nur unter dieser Annahme erklaren 
lassen ? Aus der Reihe der Glieder, die zum Beweis alter Gemeinsam- 
keit des in ihnen enthaltenen Motivs S. 274 aufgefiihrt werden, scheidet 
der S. 317 abgedruckte englische Vierzeiler sicher aus: seine Schluss- 
zeile 'never agree in one ' lasst handgreiflich die blosse Uberaetzung aus 
dem mnl. 'komen zelden over een' erkennen. Auch die S. 276 — 77 
angefiihrten Ausweichungen des voraufgehenden, aus dem Hoch- 
deutschen tlbersetzten mnl. Vierzeilera beweisen nichts fiir ein altes 
gemeinsames Motiv ; sie erklaren sich aus dem von Euling selbst S. 73 
erorterten *Herren verbal tnis' des Volkes zum gegebenen Stoflf. Ahnlich 
erklare ich mir die S. 275 angezogenen hd. und mnl. Fassungen. Wie 
priamelhafte Reimpaare wandem konnen, habe ich Zeitschr. /. deut 
Phil,, 38, 804 an einem Beispiele zu zeigen versucht. Vorsicht ist 
hier also jedesfiills geboten. Sichereren Boden, wie gesagt, gewinnt 
Euling bei Freidank (S. 286 — 98), dann schalt er — ein vielleieht nicht 
ganz unbedenkliches Verfahren — einige Vierzeiler aus ktlnstlicheren 
Strophensystemen Spervogels heraus, endlich bringt er mehr oder 
weniger sicheres Material aus dem Goto, aus Tischzuchten, Thomasin 
von Circelaria, Konrads von Haslau Spiegel der Tugend, also durchweg 
aus gnomisch-didaktischer Dichtung. Der spatere Minnesang, ebenso 
die hofische Epik sind ertragslos ; um so reichlicher fliesst der Brunnen 
wieder bei dem Didaktiker Hugo von Trimberg, S. 301 — 14 : volkstUm- 
liche Vierzeiler, die sich eben deshalb Jahrhunderte lang fortgeerbt 
haben, aber noch reichlicher solche mit allgeraein moralisierendem oder 
geistlich-gelehrtem Inhalt durchziehen semen Renner, Im xiv. Jahr- 
hundert entstehen im Sliden die sogenannten un^hten Freidankverse, 
zugleich springt Hand in Hand mit der starken religiosen Bewegung 
des Jahrhunderts, gefordert durch die Bettelmonche u. a. eine geistlich 
theologische tTberlieferung auf, die den priamelhaften Vierzeiler 
inhaltlich vertieft, wahrend der stets daneben einhergehende volkstum- 
lich sich haufig zur Adoologie neigt, aber auch das Genrebild (S. 339) 
schaflFt und ofters zu Inschriften verwendet wird. Sebastian Brant und 
sein Interpolator schliessen fiir Oberdeutschland ab; Mitteldeutschland 
und der Niederrhein spenden wenig, um so mehr die Niederlande und 
Niederdeutschland (S. 358 — 87); zu den S. 358 angefiihrten Quellen 
moge man MS. ii 144 der kgl. Bibliothek in Brttssel hinzufllgen 
(Zeitschr. f. d, Phil. 38, 39). Aufinerksam sei endlich in diesem 
Kapitel noch gemacht auf die Bemerkungen Uber den Einfluss der 
St&idtekultur auf die vierzeilige Priamelimprovisation, die sie geist- 
reicher zugleich aber auch salziger machte, und auf die von Euling 
aufgezeigte Existenz des Priamelvierzeilers im Fastnachtsspiel, wo ihn 
auch RosenplUt handhabt. 

Das siebente Kapitel bespricht langere 'priamelhafte Reimpaare/ die 
sich z. T. durch Erweiterung vom Vierzeiler aus entwickelten. Wunsch 
und Gruss (S. 422 £) bedienen sich ihrer mit Vorliebe. Freidank, der 
deutsche Bearbeiter der Sermones nulli parcentes, sowie Hugo von 



Reviews 195 

Trimberg sind die besten Zeugen fiir diese Form; die mnl. tTber- 
lieferung verfehrt hier selbstandig. Daas man beim Minne- und 
Meistergesang von dem Priamel als selbstandiger Dichtungsgattung 
nicht reden kcJnne, ist nach Durchmustening der einschlagigen Spruch- 
dichtung das Resultat des achten Kapitels. Damit ist aer tTbergang 
gegeben auf Hans Rosenpliit, den ' Klassiker * des Priamels, der es zur 
literariscben Gattung erhob. Das neunte Kapitel ist ihm vollstandig 

fewidmet. Eine treffliche Karakterisierung des mittelalterlichen 
rtimbergs steht voran, eine feinsinnige Hervorhebung soleher Ztige 
in Bosenpluts Karakter, die seine Hmneigung zur Priameldichtung 
erklaren, schliesst sich an; dann eine Untersuchung der Stoffe una 
Motive : Rosenpliit hangt stark von der kirchlichen Volksliteratur ab, 
in der auch die Wurzeln des geistlichen Priamels liegen ; dessen Vater 
ist also Rosenpliit nicht, wie man gewohnlich annahm. Populare 
Medicin gewahrt ihm PriamelstoflF, auch Schwankerzahlungen nalten 
als Quellen her, aber die Hauptgrundlage fur Rosenpliits weltliche 
Priamel ist doch die altere Gnomik una Stegreifdichtung ; was er 
daraus zu gestalten vermag, zeigt etwa der priamelhafte Spruch vom 
Pfennig; mit Recht werden S. 557 die Handwerkspriamel J)esonder8 
hervorgehoben. Weiters beschaftigt Euling die Form des Rosenpliitschen 
Priamels (S. 566 fgg.); Umfang (8 — 14 Verse das haufigste Ausmass), 
die Typenwahl, Sorgfalt, womit der Schluss von ihm behandelt wird. 
Mit einem gedrangten vorlaufigen Ausblick auf die Wirkung, die seine 
Priamelpoesie auf die spatere Literatur ausgetibt hat und in einer 
warmempfundenen commendatio dieser Kleinkunst Rosenpliits klingen 
Elapitel und Buch aus. Wir diirfen mit Interesse dem zweiten Bande 
entgegensehen, der die Geschichte des Priamels zu Ende fiihren wird. 
Hoffentlich wird ihm auch ein Gesammtregister nicht fehlen. 

R. Priebsch. 



Ooethe en France, jStude de littirature comparde. Par F. Balden- 
SPERGEB. Paris: Hachette, 1904. 8vo. 392 pp. 

Bibliographie critique de Ooethe en France, Par F. Baldenspergeb. 
Paris: Hachette, 1907. Svo. ix + 251 pp. 

With the publication of the promised bibliography Professor 
Baldensperger has completed his study of 'Goethe en France.' A 
second reading of the work with the bibliographical volume at hand for 
reference, has not merely corroborated the impression that we have here 
a contribution to the history of Goethe's influence outside Germany 
which it will not be easy to surpass, but has also convinced me of the 
value of the book as an object-lesson in that branch or method of 
literary study of which Professor Baldensperger is so able an exponent, 
'la litterature compar^e.' The importance of his treatment of the 
subject will be understood if his work is compared with the majority 
of similar studies published during recent years. A critic schooled in 
strictly ' scientific ' methods of literary research — and the comparative 



196 Reviews 

student is usually inspired by scientific motives — would probably, in 
discussing a subject of this kind, have proceeded differently ; instead of 
publishing his bibliography three years after the work itself, he would 
have begun by laying down the bibliographical foundation, and would then 
have conscientiously proceeded to build upon it. But M. Baldensperger 
has realised that if * comparative literature* is to justify itself, it must 
do so, not merely as a science, but also as an art. The ' morphological ' 
method might have given us a more methodically arranged biblio^phy 
— although with the very excellent indices to both volumes this is of 
small account — but it would have certainly resulted in a much less read- 
able, less vital book than M. Baldensperger has produced. In other 
words, we have here, not merely materials for a comparative history of a 
field of literature — and what passes as comparative literature at present 
is usually little more than such materials — but also that history itself. 
With an artist's instinct for arranging and grouping, for relief and 
shadow, M. Baldensperger has marshalled his facts and brought them 
into an order that is something better than scientific, while the dis- 
advantages of occasional overlapping and repetition are unimportant. 
The work is divided into four parts, ' L'Auteur de Werther* ' Le Pofete 
dramatique et lyrique,' 'Science et Fiction,' *La Personnalit^ de Goethe,* 
and each of these parts is made up of four chapters. The great mass of 
facts pertaining to Goethe's influence in France, which at a first glance, 
seem so hopelessly confusing, have here segregated naturally and 
symmetrically round certain centres ; at the same time, the author has 
not violated to any appreciable degree, the principle of chronological 
development. It is in this rare combination of scholarly thoroughness 
and artistic skill and taste that the value of M. Baldensperger's treatise 
as a lesson in method seems to me to lie. 

There is no ambiguity in the title of the book, for Goethe's two 
sojourns on French soil precluded any real contact with France itself. 
Strassburg was, as far as Goethe was concerned, a German city, and at 
Longwy in 1792, Goethe was one of an invading army. Indeed, it is 
strange — and to the literary generation that came after Goethe it was 
wellmgh incredible — that this most cosmopolitan of poets should never 
have seen, and never have manifested much desire to see Paris. 

From the ' comparative ' point of view, no work of Goethe's was so 
important as Werther. Goethe began in France as the *auteur de 
Werthe7' ' and he remained the ' auteur de Werther ' until his life was 
nearly over. The chapters of this study dealing with Werther and its 
influence in France seem to me particularly admirable. The history of 
that novel is traced with a sure hand from the earliest translations to 
Chateaubriand, and through Chateaubriand to S^nancour. I would 
note especially the excellent comparison of We^^ther and Ren^. These 
chapters are so full of new points of view and suggestive ideas that they 
whet one's appetite for that history of the Emigrant literature on which 
M. Baldensperger is at present engaged. Particularly skilful is his 
distinction of the peculiarly Werthenan influence from the main current 
of pre-revolutionary thought in France, which came down fi'om Rousseau, 



Reviews 197 

and had itself been, in the first instance, responsible for Werther. One 
of the most instructive aspects of M. Baldensperger s book — and it is 
very noticeable in his discussion of Werther — is its conformity to the wise 
reflection which is stated in the preface : * II est bien certain qu*une 
^poque litt^raire, lorsqu'elle d^couvre et qu'elle annexe des idees ou 
des formes exotiques, ne ffoftte et ne retient vraiment que les ^l^ments 
dont elle porte, par suite de sa propre Evolution organique, Tintuition et 
le d&ir en elle-mSme. Les influences ^trangferes, k qui Ton fait une 
gloire ou un crime, suivant les points de vue, de "lib^rer" ou de 
"d^voyer" une litt^rature, n'agissent jamais que dans une direction 
conforme aux tendances de celle-ci. Elles nous informent de nous, et, 
selon le mot de Pascal, " elles nous font part de notre bien." II en est 
en effet de ces actions intellectuelles comme des destinies morales des 
individus, ou Ton donne des conseils, mais od Ton n'inspire point de 
conduite/ 

We are warned against the temptation of confusing the drama of 
1830 with that of Goethe, or of attributing too much to the stimulus of 
the latter; we see how easy it is to exaggerate the influence of Goethe's 
lyric on French poetrjj^ M. Baldensperger lays emphasis on the strange 
grotesque quality which the French extracted from Faust, and one is 
mclined at times to wonder how far Retzsch's famous Outlines may have 
been responsible for the distorted reflection of Goethe's work in the 
French art of the thirties. It is characteristic at least for the psychology 
of French romanticism and its attitude towards the German romantic 
spirit, that it should have shown so marked a predilection for the 
bizarre, the theatrical and the tinselly in what it borrowed fi-om across 
the Rhine. And this is particularly evident in the French interpre- 
tations of Faust, from Gerard de Nervals translation, which Goethe 
himself approved of, to Ary SchefFer*s Gretchen, who, more sentimental 
than naive, had, as Heine said, *read all Friedrich Schiller,' and 
Gounod's opera. In other words, the French romantic mind was in- 
capable of grasping just this naive element in Goethe's work ; of all 
that generation, George Sand was perhaps the only one who came 
within measurable distance of understanding it. This, too, affords the 
natural explanation of Hoffmann's enormous popularity in France ; for 
Hoffmann was exactly what, according to the French point of view, the 
German romanticist ought to have been, and so rarely was. Needless to- 
say, Goethe was but ill-adapted to fit this Hoffmannesque standard 
which the French set up for German literature, and M. Baldensperger 
sums up the relationship of Goethe to the Romanticists in the woras : 

* Leur imitation a ^t^ presque toute de surface ; ou plutdt ils ont 
distingu^, dans I'oeuvre ou poete allemand, les aspects les plus analogues 
k leurs propres ambitions, et, faisant abstraction du reste, ils ont 
revendiqu^ I'auteur comme un alli6' (p. 169). Again, in the chapter on 

* Le Lendemain du Romantisme ' he suggests an interesting comparison 
of Wilhelm Meister — a novel from which the romanticists were unable to 
draw any real or lasting profit — with L Education sentimentale, and the 
still modern WaJUverwandtschaften with the psychological processes in 



198 Reviews 

which the younger Dumas delighted, or, in our own time, M. Bourget. 
Perhaps M. Balaensperger is right in concluding that the ideals of the 
*roman d*6ducation' in Germany and France were too essentially diflferent 
to allow us to carry such comparisons very fer, but I am inclined to 
think there is more room than he will admit for a plea for the solidarity 
of the European — or, at least, of the continental — novel in the nineteenth 
century. 

In recommending this book to English readers as the most important 
contribution to Goethe literature that has come from France in recent 
years, I cannot help expressing the hope that some day a similar task 
will be attempted for Goethe m England. It is true, the influence of 
Goethe in England shrivels up into a very trifling affair compared with 
the full reconi of this volume ; but on one pomt M. Balaensperger 
throws light that is of value to us, namely, on the mediating rdle of 
France. Victor Hugo, in an eloquent passage at the close of his 
Histoire d'un Crime, compared Paris to the central focus where the 
ra^s of coloured light from various lands met and crossed ; and despite 
Bjomson's recent taunt that Paris had surrounded herself with a 
Chinese wall against the best thought of the Germanic peoples, France 
still remains, m great measure, the intellectual meaiator between 
Germany and the rest of Europe. One need only, for instance, look 
up Gerhart Hauptmann in our chief English handbook of contemporary 
biography to find that that writer is the author of, amongst other 
dramas, Les Tisserands and Les Ames solitaires! The future inves- 
tigator of Goethe in England will, if I am not mistaken, discover 
that a very great deal of what we have thought and written about 
Goethe during the last hundred years — from that eventful moment 
when Carlyle first lighted on Madame de StaeVs De VAUemagne, to 
Matthew Arnold — has been stimulated and coloured by the active 
interest of France in Goethe which M. Baldensperger here chronicles. 

J. G. Robertson. 



MINOR NOTICES. 

With all their faults of style and imperfections — from a modem 
standpoint — of critical method, the lectures of Francesco De Sanctis on 
Petrarch {Saggio critico sul Petrarca di Francesco De Sanctis. Nuova 
edizione a cura di Benedetto Croce. Naples, A. Morano. 1907) 
delivered fifty years ago, retain their value and their exceptional 
interest. Indeed, this study of Petrarch, which represents a brilliant 
and successful effort on the part of the exile of '58 to inspire an 
unsympathetic audience with a true and just appreciation of Italy's 
second great poet, is in itself in some sense a classic. Based on the 
conviction that 'il base dell' arte...fe il vivente, la vita nella sua 
integritii,' this criticism is itself extraordinarily alive, candid to a 



Minor Notices 199 

degree in pointing out the faults and littlenesses of its subject, en- 
thusiastic in its appreciation of his merits and his greatness. Often, 
perhaps, mistaken (though not so often as even Carducci supposed), it 
IS never superficial ana never commonplace. No one can read it 
without gain. The present edition is exceedingly well edited by an 
ardent and judicious disciple of De Sanctis, who has handled its 
blemishes tenderly and well, and supplemented its criticism, where 
necessary, by footnotes. His preface and the author's Postilla and 
Appendice to the second edition of 1883 (the first appeared in 1869), 
are full of interesting matter, and afford a glimpse of the development 
of a mind of no common order. The volume forms the thira in a 
collected edition of De Sanctis* works. It is marred by few printer's 
errors, and the type, though not of the best, is fairly clear. 

L. R. 

Two of the three chapters which make up Professor C. Alphonso 
Smith's Studies in English Syntax (Boston, Ginn and Co. 1907), are 
founded on articles contributed to the Publications of the Modem 
Language Association of America and Modem Language Notes) the 
third chapter is new. The influence of Jespersen is traceable in these 
studies, but Professor Smith's attitude and results are his own. Indeed, 
this suggestive little book has a value out of all proportion to its size, 
and it cannot be neglected by serious students of the English language. 
We have noticed two unimportant slips: the examples from Antony 
and Cleopatra on pages 38 — 9 are doubtful, the inflexion in 'kindly,' 
'sickly' not being clearly adverbial; and 'go' on page 21 is twice 
misprinted for 'grow.' We would urge, too, with deference that 
Jespersen's explanation of case-shifting in the personal pronouns has 
been rejected too sweepingly : at any rate, a contributory influence of 
phonetic similarity in the e-forms cannot, we think, be denied. C£ the 
instances from Malory cited in Jespersen's Progress in Language (1894), 
p. 248. 

J. H. G. G. 

The Development of Standard English Speech in Outline, by 
J. M. Hart (New York, H. Holt and Co., 1907), claims to be 'merely 
an attempt to show how the Englishman and American of to-day has 
come by his pronunciation.' The author is certainly in advance of some 
of his English contemporaries in starting from Mercian, rather than 
from West Saxon forms ; but we cannot say much more in favour of his 
book. It is too technical for the general reader, and too sketchy and 
inaccurate for the student of language. The changes of pronunciation 
since Chaucer are either passed over lightly or ' explained ' by a little 
pseudo-phonetics. We trust that ' as a whole, the book may ' not ' be 
said to represent Cornell aim and method.' 

J. H. G. G. 



200 Minor Notices 

We have received the Festschrift zur 49. Versammlung deutscher 
Philologen und Schuimdnner in Basel im Jahre 1907 (Basel, E. Birk- 
hauser; Leipzig, C. Beck, 1907). Of its contents we note the following 
items as of interest to the readers of this Review: A. Barth, Le fabliau 
du Buffet; G. Binz, Untersvchungen zum altenglischen sogenannten Crist; 
W. Bruckner, tJber den Barditus; Ch. de Roche, Ifne Source des 
Tragiques ; A. Gessler, Franz Krutters Bernav£rdrama ; E. Hoffmann- 
Krayer, Femdissimilation von r und I im Deutschen ; J. Meier, Wolfram 
von Eschenbach und einige seiner Zeitgenossen ; A. Bossat, La Poesie 
religieuse patoise dans le Jura bemois catholique; E. Tappolet, Zur 
Agglutination in den franzosischen Mundarten, 

The * Kisfaludy-TdrrsasAg,* one of the most prominent literary 
societies in Hungary, has appointed a 'Shakespeare Committee,' 
presided over by Albert de Berzeviczy, formerly Minister of Public 
Instruction and now President of the Academy of Sciences. The object 
of this Committee is to revise the already existing translation of 
Shakespeare's works, and to publish a periodical of the nature of the 
Shakespeare-Jahrbuch. A bibliography of Hungarian Shakespeare 
literature is in course of preparation. 

A. B. Y. 

The second volume of The Cambridge History of English Literature^ 
The End of the Middle Ages, will be published in the spring. It will 
deal with Piers Plowman (by Professor J. M. Manly of Chicago), 
Bichard Rolle, Wyclif and the minor poetn^ and prose of their period 
not already dealt with in volume i; Gower, Chaucer and the Chaucerian 
school ; the beginnings of English prose ; and those of Scots literature 
(Huchoun, Barbour, James I, Henryson, Dunbar, Douglas) ; the work 
of the Westminster Press, etc. 

We are glad to learn that Messrs Chatto and Windus have arranged 
to publish in this country the handy and inexpensive Bibliotheca 
Ronianica, which we have already recommended to the attention of 
students of Romance languages. The list of recent additions will be 
found under New Publications. In preparation are Cervantes, Novelas 
ejemplares ; Camoes, Os Lusiades, v — vii ; and Molifere LAvare, 

A 'Societal di Filologia Modema' has been formed in Italy with 
a view to the publication, in the first instance, of a new quarterly 
journal, Studi di Filologia Modema, The provisional Committee 
includes the well-known names of Benedetto (jroce, Cesare De Lollis, 
Arturo Farinelli, Guide Manacorda and Paolo Savj -Lopez. Professor 
Manacorda (Catania, Via Caronda, 270) is secretary and the annual 
subscription is, for ordinary members, 15 L., for foreign members, 20 L. 



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Leipzig, Hesse. 10 M. 80. 
Kralik, K. von, Die Gralsage. Gesammelt, emeuert und erlautert. Ravensburg, 

Alber. 4 M. 
Matthews, B., Inquiries and Opinions. New York, Scribner. 1 dol. 25. 
Saintsbury, G., The Later Nineteenth Century. (Periods of European Litera- 
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Travbr, H., The Four Daughters of God. A Study of the Versions of this 

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Taylor. 1 dol. 50. net 

ROMANCE LANGUAGES. 

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7 M. 

Pascal, C, Poesia latina medievale : Saggi e note critiche. Catania, Battiato. 
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Traube, L., Nomina sacra. (Quellen und Untersuchungen zur lat. Phil, des 
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H. L. R. III. 14 



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Biblioteca de Autores Espanoles. Orieenes de la Novela. Tomo ii. Novelas 
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Getino, L. G. a., Vida y proceso del Maestro Fr. Luis de Le6n. Salamanca, 
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New Publications 205 

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\ 
i 



Volume III APRIL, 1908 Number 3 



RABELAIS AND GEOGRAPHICAL DISCOVERY. 

11^ 

JACQUES CARTIER. 

In the summer or early autumn of 1646 Rabelais returned to the 
project which he had announced thirteen years before of conducting 
Pantagruel on a long sea-voyage. During this interval the interest 
of Frenchmen in maritime adventure had been sensibly quickened by 
the discovery of Canada. For it was the achievement of their own 
countryman, Jacques Cartier, the Breton pilot*. On his first voyage 
(1634), starting from Saint-Malo, he had sailed through the strait of 
Belle Isle between Newfoundland and Labrador, and ^ had reached, 
though without being aware of it, the mouth of the St Lawrence. 
On his second voyage (1635 — 36), after failing to find a passage to 
Cathay — for this was the primary object of his expedition — he sailed 
up the St Lawrence to Stadacone (Quebec) and Hochelaga (Montreal). 
When he returned to France (July, 1636) the second war with Charles V 
had broken out, and for the next four years Francis I was diverted from 
all thoughts of maritime enterprise. It was not till October, 1540, that 
he commissioned Cartier to organise a fi-esh expedition on a larger 
scale, with the object of establishing a French settlement in Canada. 
A little later, he appointed Jean-Franyois de La Rocque, Seigneur de 
Roberval, to be lieutenant-general and chief captain of the enterprise. 
It was RobervaFs task to furnish the artillery and the colonists, and 
as this took a considerable time, Cartier, who had the title of * captain- 
general and master-pilot of the ships,' without waiting for his chief, 
put to sea with five ships on May 23, 1541. He returned in the 

^ Continued from Yolome n, p. 25. 

' The most recent work on Cartier is J. P. Baxter, A Memoir of Jacques Cartier^ 
New York, 1906. See also Ch, de la Bonoidre, Histoire de la marine franQaise^ in, 
307—838, Paris, 1906. 

M. L. a III. 15 



210 Rabelais and Geogi*aphical Discovery 

following year having established and afterwards abandoned a fort at 
Charlesbourg Royal, a little above Quebec. On his way home he met 
Roberval in a harbour of Newfoundland, and disobeyed his orders to 
go back with him to the St Lawrence. Deserted by his subordinate, 
Roberval applied himself with great energy to the settlement at 
Charlesbourg Royal, but after a terrible winter's experience Cartier 
was sent out again to bring him home (June, 1543). They reached 
France in the following February. 

The initiative which Francis I had taken in the exploration and 
colonisation of Canada had stimulated his subjects to a corresponding 
activity. From 1540 to 1544 fishing-ships from various Norman and 
Breton ports sailed for Canada every year. In May, 1541, a Spanish 
spy reported to his government that in addition to Cartier's expedition 
ships were being fitted out or had already sailed from Dieppe, Harfleur, 
and Honfleur, from Morlaix, Quimper and Croisic^. But in 1545 the 
interest in Canada began to slacken. Though the third war against 
the Emperor had been ended by the treaty of Cr^py in the preceding 
September, France was now at war with England, and Jean Ango, the 
great ship-owner of Dieppe, who had hitherto been the guiding spirit 
of French maritime exploration, was devoting all his energies and money 
to the maintenance of the royal navy. However, in the early part of 
the year, the foment seemed still propitious for the publication of an 
account of Cartier's discoveries, and on February 28 a privilege was 
granted to Ponce Roffet and his brother-in-law Antoine Le Clerc for 
the publication of a book entitled Brief redt et succincte narration^ de 
la navigation faicte es ysles de Canada, Hochelaga et Sagiienay, et autres, 
avec particulieres meurs, langaige, et cerimonies des habitans d'icelles: 
fort delectable a veoir^. It is a simple and modest narrative, occupying 
only forty-eight leaves, of Cartier's second voyage. Probably a printed 
account of the first voyage appeared about the same time, but no copy 
of it now exists. Indeed, when Raphael Du Petit Val published an 
account of this voyage at Rouen in 1598, he had to translate it from a 
langue etrangire. This was the Italian version which Ramusio had 
included in the third volume of his great collection of voyages (Venice, 
1556), and which was probably translated from a printed text. Some 
forty years ago a MS. which bears evident traces of being Cartier's 
original account was discovered in the Biblioth^ue Nationale, and 

^ Baxter, op, ctt., pp. 348 ff. 

' The only known eopy is in the British Museum. Tross discovered a second, but it 
was lost with the ship which was taking it to America. See H. Harrisse, Bibliotheca 
Americana vetustistima, for a facsimile of the title-page. 



ARTHUR TILLEY 211 

edited in 1867 by H.Michelant and A. Bam^ under the title of Relation 
originale du voyage de Jacques Cartier au Canada. Cartier's third 
voyage and that of Roberval are represented only by firagmentary 
narratives in Hakluj^'s Voyages^, 

It was, as I have said, in the summer or early autumn of 1545 that 
Rabelais reverted to the idea which he had foreshadowed at the close 
of the Second Book of making a long sea-voyage the framework of his 
narrative. We read in chapter xlix of the Third Book that Pantagruel, 
having agreed to accompany Panurge on a voyage to the ' Oracle of the 
Bottle/ assembled his followers at the port of Thalasse near Saint-Malo, 
and there made the necessary preparations ^ The Third Book was 
published early in 1546, and in the summer of 1547 Rabelais, who had 
made a hurried flight to Metz immediately after its publication, began 
his Fourth Book with an account of the voyage. In the first half of 
1548 he published ten chapters with the fragment of an eleventh. In 
June of the same year we find him at Rome with Jean Du Bellay. He 
returned to France in July, 1550, and obtained a fresh privilege on 
August 6. We may therefore assume that at that date his Fourth 
Book was nearly ready for the press. But it did not appear till 
January, 1552, and internal evidence points to the fact that the 
later chapters — xlviii to Ixvii — were added during that interval. 

In the first chapter we read that Pantagruel put to sea at the Port 
of Thalasse, and that he was accompanied by ' Xenomanes, the great 
traveller and traverser of perilous ways, who had been sent for by 
Panurge and had arrived certain days before.' This is followed in the 
complete edition of 1552 by the statement that 'Xenomanes had left 
with Qargantua, and marked out in his great and universal Hydrography 
the route which they were to take in their visit to the Oracle of the 
Holy Bottle Bacbuc' Later on in the chapter we learn that the course 
of the ships was set by the principal pilot, and in the 1552 edition we 
are told that the pilot's name was Jamet Brayer. Now, as all students 
of Rabelais know, M. Lefranc, developing an idea first suggested by 
M. Margry in his Navigations frangaises, has adduced several excellent 
reasons for identifying Jamet Brayer with Jacques Cartier, and Xeno- 
manes with Jean Fonteneau, commonly called Jean Alfonse of Saintonge, 

^ For the first voyage Mr Baxter translates the Relation originale, for the second a MS. 
(No. 5589| one of three) in the Bihliothdque Nationale, as he found several errors and 
omissions in the Brief recite including the omission of two whole d^apters (xi and xii). 
He adds the fragments from Haklnyt. 

> The privilege for the Third Book is dated September 19, 1540; the concluding 
chapters were probably written not long before this. 

15—2 



212 Rabelais and Geographical Discovery 

who accompanied Boberval to Canada as his pilot. That Xenomanes 
stands for Jean Alfonso there can I think be no reasonable doubt. We 
are told in III, xlix that Xenomanes ' had some small holding of the 
domain of Salmigondin in mesne-fee/ and all the commentators are 
agreed that Salmigondin stands for Saintonge. We also know that 
Jean Alfonse before he sailed on his last voyage, on the return from 
which he was attacked by the Spaniards and mortally wounded in the 
very port of La Bochelle (1544), had written a Cosmographte which was 
practically an Hydrography, and that it eventually came into the hands 
of the poet Mellin de Saint-Gelais, who secured it for the Royal Library. 
Rabelais, who was a firiend of Saint-Gelais's, may well have heard of 
this circumstance. Moreover, the part played by Xenomanes in the 
voyage, and the air of authority with which he gives advice and 
explanation is in complete keeping with the reputation of Jean Alfonse 
as the most experienced French pilot of his day, who had sailed the 
seas, as he tells us in his Gosmographie, for forty-four years, and had 
explored the coasts of America from the Straits of Magellan in the 
south to Davis Strait in the north ^. 

As regards the identification of Jamet Brayer with Jacques Cartier, 
there is more room for doubt, but M, Lefranc has considerably strength- 
ened the case for it. He points out that Cartier, like Jean Alfonse, 
had the requisite experience for acting as pilot to Pantagruel on this 
particular route. He also lays stress on a statement made by one 
Jacques Doremet, who in a little volume on the antiquities of Saint- 
Malo, prints the following marginal note opposite a passage dealing 
with Cartier's discoveries: 'Rabelais vint apprendre de ce Cartier les 
termes de la marine et du pilotage k Saint-Malo pour en chamarrer 
ses bouffonnesques Lucianismes et impies ^picureismes.' Doremet's 
book was not printed till 1628, and the writer was not bom till from 
fifteen to twenty years after Rabelais's death. The statement therefore 
rests on tradition only, and without further support cannot be said to 
have much authority. But there are certain indications in Rabelais's 
book of a personal acquaintance with Saint-Malo, where Cartier lived 
till his death in 1557. In iv, Ixvi Panurge, who is generally the mouth- 
piece of Rabelais's reminiscences, says that he had seen the islands of 
Sark and Herm between Brittany and England, from which we may 
reasonably infer that Rabelais visited them from Saint-Malo. Again 
in III, xxiv Panurge suggests that they should make a voyage to the 

^ See M. Georges Muaset's introduction to his edition of the Cosmographie in the 
Recueil de Voyages, Yol. xx, 1904. 



ARTHUR TILLEY 213 

Ogygian islands which ' are not fiw* from the harbour of Saint Malo/ 
Lastly we find scattered up and down Rabelais's book various remi- 
niscences of Brittany, shewing that he was acquainted with the country 
generally. The bjct that no name is given to the pilot in the 1548 
edition of the Fourth Book leads M. Lefranc to suppose that it was 
not till after this date that Rabelais became intimate with Cartier^. 
If so, the intimacy cannot have begun till after Babelais's return from 
Rome in the summer of 1550. Rabelais had then, it is true, his parish 
of Meudon to look after, but doubtless his parochial duties were not 
so exacting that they did not admit of an occasional holiday. 

But the question whether Jamet Brayer is Jacques Cartier or not 
is comparatively unimportant in comparison with the undoubted &ct 
that the influence of Cartier's voyages is plainly to be traced in 
Rabelais's narrative. In chapter xxx of the Fifth Book Cartier is 
mentioned without any disguise among the travellers whom Pantagruel 
and his company encountered in the country of Satin, and in the Fourth 
Book there are several reminiscences of his first and second voyage. 
Pantagruel sets sail, as Cartier did, from Saint-Malo. On the fourth 
day (according to the primitive edition), which was June 12, he meets 
with a merchant-vessel returning home, and learns that they are 
Frenchmen from Saintonge and that they came from Lantern-land. 
This agrees with the account of Cartier's first voyage, where we read 
that on June 12, off Labrador, 'we perceived a great ship which was 
from La Rochelle, which had passed the night seeking the harbour 
of Brest.* For Lantern-land, though it stands for other places as well, 
certainly stands for La Rochelle, where there was a Tower of the 
Lantern, besides two towers in the harbour. 

In the partial edition of the Fourth Book, the first land at which 
the travellers touch is the Island of Ennasin (Noseless ones) or Alliances. 
* The men and women,' we are told, * are like the red-&ced Poitevins, 
except that they all... have their nose in the shape of an ace of clubs; 
...and all the people were kindred and related to one another*' 
M. Lefranc very ingeniously sees in this people a double reminiscence 
of Red Indians and Eskimos, the red skin pointing to the former and 
the abnormally flat nose to the latter. In his First Voyage Cartier, 
speaking of the inhabitants of Blanc Sablon on the coast of Labrador, 
says that * they paint themselves with certain tawny colours.' These, 
Mr Baxter thinks, belonged to the tribe of the Beothics who inhabited 

^ Les navigationt de Pantagmel, pp. 270-1. 
' IT, iz (iv of 1548 edition). 



214 Rabelais and Geographical Discovery 

Newfoundland in Cartier's day, but have since been utterly exter- 
minated. They were probably, he adds, the same people whom John 
Cabot described as painting themselves with red ochre, and three of 
whom he brought to England. As for the trait recorded by Rabelais, 
that * all the people were related to one another,* it exactly represents 
the condition of an Indian totem clan. There is, however, nothing 
either about this peculiarity or about Eskimos in the accounts of 
Cartier's voyages, so that if Eabelais is here recording actual ex- 
periences he must have got his information fix)m oral sources — either 
from Cartier or, if he had not made his acquaintance when he wrote 
this chapter, from Jean Alfonse. For Jean Alfonso's home was at La 
Rochelle, and there seems good ground for suggesting that Babelais 
had met him there in the Fontenay-le-Comte days, and he may have 
met him again during the interval between his return firom Canada in 
the spring of 1543 and his departure on his last voyage in July, 1544. 

From the Island of Ennasin the travellers sail to the Island of 
Cheli\ and M. Lefranc suggests that there may be 'some relation 
between King Panigon's reception of the travellers and that of the 
Canadian chiefs who fill so large a place in the narrative of Cartier's 
second voyage/ I am prepared to go a step further, and to identify 
' the good King Panigon ' with Donnacona, the ' Agonhanna * or lord of 
Canada. For in the complete edition of the Fourth Book he is called 
' King Saint Panigon,' and in a curious passage in chapter xxv of the 
Fifth Book, which only occurs in the MS. of the Biblioth^ue Nationale, 
we are told that 'Panigon in his last days had retired to a hermitage in 
this Island' (the Island of Odes) *and lived in great sanctity and the true 
Catholic Faith.' Now this forcibly reminds one of the fate of Donnacona, 
who was treacherously captured by Cartier's orders, carried off to France, 
and baptized at Saint- Malo, and who died in ' the tnie Catholic Faith ' 
just before Cartier started on his third voyage in 1540*. This resemblance 
between Donnacona and Panigon leads one the more readily to accept 
M. Lefranc's suggestion, and to see in Babelais's words, * Panigon voulut 
qu'elle [the queen] et toute sa suite baissassent Pantagruel et ses gens. 
Telle estoit la courtoisie et coustume du pays,' another reminiscence 
of Cartier's second voyage, in the narrative of which we read that 
Donnacona * pria notre cappitaine luy bailler les bras pour les baiser 
et accoller qui est leur mode de faire chfere en ladicte terre®.' The 

1 lY, z (v of 1548 edition). 

> Hakluyt, viii, 263 and 145 (Discoiirse of Christopher Carleill). 

* Bahelais has donbtlesB also in his mind Erasmae's account of the similar custom in 
England. 



ARTHUR TILLEY 215 

expression * faire ch^re ' probably suggested to Rabelais the contempt 
which Brother John expressed for these ceremonies compared with the 
more substantial cheer of king Panigon's kitchen. 

There is also, if I am not mistaken, another reminiscence of the 
Indians whom Cartier carried oflf to France. In iv, xlii we are told 
that the Queen of the Chitterlings in pursuance of the treaty with 
Pantagruel sent to Gargantua seventy-eight thousand royal Chitterlings 
' under the conduct of the young Niphleseth, Infenta of the island. The 
noble Gargantua sent them as a present to the great King of Pans ; 
but from change of air and also for want of mustard,... they nearly 
all died.' But ' the young Niphleseth was preserved and honourably 
treated ; afterwards she was married in a high and wealthy position, 
and had several fine children, for which God be praised.' Does not 
this too recall the fate of Cartier's Indians, all of whom died with 
the exception of one little girl of ten years old^ 

After leaving the Island of Cheli Pantagruel came to that of 
Procuration, 'which is a country all blurred and blotted. I could 
make nothing of it. There we saw Pettifoggers and Catchpoles — folk 
with their hair on. They invited us neither to eat nor drink ^.' Here 
again there seems to be a reminiscence of Cartier's First Voyage. 
Between Chaleur Bay and Gasp^ Bay they met with * thick fogs and 
obscurity,' and of the people whom they encountered on the shore of 
Gasp^ Bay, we are told that ' they are the poorest folk that there may 
be in the world,' and that ' they have their heads shorn close all about 
except a tuft on the top of the head which they tie like a horse's tail*.' 

The 1548 edition of the Fourth Book ends abruptly with the 
fragment of a chapter which tells of the arrival of Pantagruel and 
his companions after the storm at the Island of the Macreons. Though 
I do not agree with M. Lefranc in thinking that the greater part of 
the Fourth Book was already written when this partial publication took 
place, it is probable that at any rate this particular episode was in 
a more or less finished state, and that therefore Rabelais was still under 
the influence of Cartier's voyages when he wrote it. The analogy which 
M. Lefranc points out between Rabelais's description of the spirit- 
haunted Island of the Macreons and that which Andr^ Thevet gives 
in his Cosmographie Universelle of the imaginary Island of Demons is 
very striking and interesting. For, as M. Lefranc says, in several maps 
of the sixteenth century an Isle of Demons figures oflf the coast of 

^ Haklayt, lo€, cit, 

* IV, xii (vi of partial edition). » Baxter, pp. 108, 109. 



216 Rabelais and Geographical Discovery 

Labrador^, and its legend may well have been femiliar to Rabelais. At 
the beginning of the seventeenth century we find the similar name of 
the Isle of Devils applied to the Bermudas. It is the name which they 
bear in the two accounts of the shipwreck of the Sea Adventure, by 
Silvester Jourdan and William Strachey respectively, which Shakespeare 
probably read before he wrote the Tempest^ 

Nearly all the foregoing instances have been taken from the partial 
edition of the Fourth Book, which Rabelais published in 1548. In the 
rest of the book, as it appeared in the complete edition of 1552, there 
are only slight traces of Cartier's influence. Canada indeed is men- 
tioned by name, the Island of Medamothi, the account of which forms 
the second chapter of the 1552 edition, being compared with it for 
size ; but I very much doubt whether, as M. Lefranc suggests, Meda- 
mothi stands for Newfoundland. For while Medamothi is described as 
a single island, Newfoundland is represented in all the maps which 
appeared about the time of Cartier's narratives, and which were based 
for these parts on his discoveries, as a group of islands, varying from 
nine in the Harleian Map to three in Descelier's Map of 1550. I 
think also that M. Lefranc exaggerates the realism in Rabelais's 
description of the tarande which Pantagruel bought from a Scythian 
merchant of the country of the Gelones (Siberia). It is true that the 
presence of such a merchant in the neighbourhood of Newfoundland 
agrees with the idea, which Cartier and Jean Alfonse had both formed, 
that Canada was ' an end of Asia,' but the description of the tarande 
is practically identioal with that of the Scytharum tarandrus given by 
Pliny, and I doubt whether Rabelais knew that it fairly well represents 
a real animal, the reindeer. 

There is another possible reminiscence of Cartier's voyages in the 
Fourth Book. May not the vocabulary of the language of the natives 
which appears at the end of the First and Second Voyages* have 
suggested to Rabelais the Briefve declaration d*aiLCun£8 dictions plus 
obscures which he appended to the Fourth Book ? 

In the episode of the Ringing Island which opens the Fifth Book, 
M. Lefranc finds another reminiscence. He suggests that the idea of 

1 In the map of * Sebastian Cabot ' (1544) it is placed near the Strait of BeUe Isle. 
In Michael Lok's map (1582) it occupies maoh the same position. In the map from 
Peter Martyr's De orbe novo, published at Paris and dedicated to Hakluyt (1587), it is pat 
several degrees farther north. 

3 Jourdan's narrative is entitled A Discovery of the Bermudcu otherwise called the Isle 
ofDivils, 1610. 

' There is a similar vocabulary at the end of the French abridgment of Pigafetta's 
narrative of Magellan's vojages. 



ARTHUR TILLEY 217 

an island inhabited by birds who were once men is inspired by Cartier's 
First Voyage. There we read of three Islands of Birds ; first, the Funk 
Islands to the East of Newfoundland, which were so full of Apponatz . 
(great auks), Qodez (guillemots or razorbills, or possibly both), and 
Margaulx (solan geese) 'that it seemed as if they had been stowed 
there^'; secondly. Greenly Island oflF the coast of Labrador, which was 
inhabited by guillemots and puffins; thirdly, the Bird Bocks in the 
Gulf of St Lawrence, which were ' as full of birds as a field of grass,' 
and which Cartier named Isles des Margaulx. Now the termination 
of Margaulx is identical with that adopted by Rabelais for the clergaulx, 
monagaulx etc. of his Ringing Island. This may be a mere coincidence, 
but I am inclined to regard it as lending support to M. Lefi-anc's sug- 
gestion. Further support is to be found in the mention in chapter iii 
of Robert Valbringue, whom all the commentators agree to be Roberval. 
I may also note that this theory that the fi^mework for the satire of 
the Ringing Island was suggested to Rabelais by Cartier's voyages 
agrees with a view which I put forward on other grounds in a former 
number of this Review, namely, that the episode was written in 1546*. 
At the same time I still hold to the opinion that the main source of 
inspiration is the legend of St Brandan, in which an Isltmd of Birds, who 
were formerly men, plays a prominent part^. Indeed one source may 
easily have suggested the other. For had Rabelais looked at a con- 
temporary map, as, for instance, the great map made by Pierre Desceliers 
at Arques near Dieppe in 1546*, he would have seen the Isle aux 
Margaulx in the Gulf of St Lawrence, and the ♦Isle of St Brandan 
almost due East of Cape Race. 

I must reserve for discussion in another number the interesting 
question of Rabelais's views on the ' short and straight way to Cathay.' 

Arthur Tilley. 

1 Arrimez. Da Petit Val has senUs, a translation of Ramnsio's seminati (see Baxter, 
p. 77). 

> II, 25 (October, 1906). > See my Fran^ RabeUUs, p. 252. 

* Known as La Mappemonde de Henri II. It is reprodaoed by Jomard. St Brandan's 
Isle appears in the maps of Sebastian Cabot and Michael Lok, and in the Paris map 
dedicated to Haklnyt. Professor Egerton in the Cambridge Modern History (iv, 746) notes 
that in 1631 a grant of the island was gravely requested and as gravely made. 



'EARTH UPON EARTH/ 

Theodor Fontane verdeutscht in seinen Gedichten (4. Aufl., Berlin, 

1892, S. 447) eine Inschrift, die er auf einem Grabsteine im Kirchhof 

von Melrose Abbey gelesen : 

Erde gleisst auf Erden 
In Gold und in Pracht; 
Erde wird Erde 
Bevor es gedacht; 
Erde tUrmt auf Erden 
Schloss, Burg, Stein; 
Erde sprichl zu Erde: 
AUes wird mein. 

Im Original lauten die Zeilen : 

The Earth goeth on the Earth 

Qlistring like gold 

The Earth goes to the Earth 

Sooner then it wold 

The Earth builds on the Earth 

Castles and Towers 

The Earth says to the Earth 

All shall be ours. 

Auf der andem Seite des Steines steht : 

memento mori 
Here lyes James Ramsay, portioner of Melrose who died July 15th 1761. 

Die Zeilen sind aber viel alter und stammen aus einem mittel- 
englischen Gedichte, das in mehreren Fassungen tiberliefert ist. 

Eine derselben, erhalten in dem Porkington MS. (damals im Besitz 
von W. Ormsby Gore Esq. in Porkington, Salop) wurde bereits 1855 
gedruckt in den Early English Miscellanies in Prose and Verse 
selected from an incited Manuscript of the Fifteenth Century, edited 
by J. O. Halliwell for the Warton Club. In einer Anmerkung zu dem 
Gedichte sagt Halliwell : ' The poem here printed, of Earth upon Earth, 
is the most complete copy known to exist. Other versions, varying 
considerably from each other, are preserved in MS. Seld. sup. 63; 
MS. Rawl. C 307 ; MS. Rawl. Poet. 32 ; MS. Lambeth 853 ; and in the 
Thornton MS. in Lincoln Cathedral. Portions of it are occasionally 
found inscribed on the walls of churches.' Die beiden letzten Fassungen 



H. G. FIEDLER 219 

in dieser Liste sind 1867 gedruckt worden, und zwar die aus MS. 
Lambeth 863 in Hymns to the Virgin and Christ, edited by Frederick J. 
Furnivall, E.E.T.S., vol. 24, S. 88—90, und die aus dem Thornton MS. in 
den Religious Pieces in Prose and Verse, edited by George G. Perry, 
E.E.T.S., vol. 26, S. 96. 

Noch eine andre Fassung des Gedichtes habe ich mir vor einigen 
Jahren aus einer Handschrift abgeschrieben, die damals im Besitze 
eines Antiquars in Brighton war, iiber deren weiteren Verbleib ich aber 
nichts ermitteln konnte. Es war eine Pergamenthandschrift, folio, von 
90 Blattern. Sie enthielt eine lateinische Abhandlung liber die sieben 
Sacramento 'Oculi Sacerdotis,' und auf der urspriinglich jfrei gebliebenen 
Biickseite des letzten Blattes war von einer Hand des fiinfzehnten 
Jahrhunderts das englische Gedicht eingetragen. 

Diese inr Brighton MS. liberlieferte Fassung des Gedichtes scheint 
mir den Vorzug vor alien anderen zu verdienen. Ich gebe zunachst einen 
genauen Abdruck derselben mit alien Schwankungen der Orthographie, 
Uber auslautendem n findet sich durchgangig ein f^, doppeltes 1 ist 
meist durchstrichen (ft), u und v werden ohne Unterschied gebraucht, 
fiir th wird zuweilen )? geschrieben. 

(1) 
Erthe oute of erthe is wondyrly wroghte 
Erthe vpon erthe gete nobley of noughte 
Erthe vpon erthe has 8ete all his thovghte 
How erthe vpon erthe may be hye brovghte 

(2) 
Erthe vpon erthe wolde be a kynge 
How erthe sail to erthe thenkvs he nothyng 
For whan erthe byddes erthe his rent home brynge 
pan sail erthe from erthe haf petus partynge 

(3) 
Erthe vpon erthe Wynnes castells and tours 
Than says erthe vnto erthe *this is all ovres* 
But whan erthe opon erthe has bigged his borowes 
Than sail erthe for the erthe sofur ^harpe shovres 

(4) 
Erthe gothe vpon erthe os movlde opon movlde 
Erthe gothe opon erthe glyd«ryng os fi^olde 
Lyke as erthe to erthe neuer go shulde 
Jyte shall erthe to erthe rather }ian he wolde 

(6) 
Why J?at erthe loues erthe wonder me thynkes 
Vr why yat erthe vpon erthe swetys or swynkes 
ffor whan erthe opon erthe is brente wttAin ^ biynkes 
pan sail erthe of the erthe hafe a foule stynke 



220 'Earth upon Earth' 

(6) 
Lo erthe vpon erthe consider |iou may 
How erthe comes into )« erthe nakydf all way 
Why Bulde erthe ypon erthe so stovte or gay 
Sethen erthe oute of erthe sau passe in por aray 

(7) 
I concell erthe opon erthe }pai wykkydly has wrouthe 
The whyle >>at erthe is vpon erthe to turn vp his thouthe 
And praye to god vpon erthe )>at all the erthe wrouhte 
pat erthe oute of erthe to blys may be browthe. 

Wie die Orthographie so schwankt auch der Dialekt. Neben 
nordlichen Formen wie 'ha«/ *say«/ '«all/ '«ulde/ etc. finden sich 
solche wie 'gothe* '«Aall/ '^Aulde/ * glyderyngr/ die nach dem Siiden 
oder Mittellande weisen. Wir haben es also wohl mit einer Abschriffc 
(entweder einer sudenglischen Vorlage durch einen- nordenglischen 
Schreiber oder umgekehrt) zu tun. 

Gegentiber den Schwankungen in Orthographie und Dialekt ist eine 
eigentiimliche Vers- und Strophenform streng durchgefUhrt. Die Strophe 
besteht aus vier Zeilen, deren jede in zwei Halffcen zerfallt. Die erste 
Halfte endet ausnahmslos mit dem Worte * erthe.' In jeder Strophe 
ist ein Reim durchgefiihrt. 

Die von Fumivall gedruckte Fassung aus dem Lambeth MS. (c. 1430) 
enthalt flinf Strophen mehr als die obige aus dem Brighton MS. : 

Lambeth MS. 1 i 2 I 3 i 4 | 5 I 6 i 7 I 8 i 9 | 10 I 11 i 12 I 
Brighton MS. 1I2I3I4I — I — I — Islel — ItI— I 

Diese fUnf Strophen aber zeigen eine von der aller andem abweichende 
und auffallend unbehplfene Form. Es gentigt eine derselben (6) anzu- 
fiihren : 

O wrecchid man, whi art ^u proud >at art of >e er]« makid ? 
Hider brou^ttist )k)u no schroud, But poore come )k>u, and nakid; 
Whanne >i soule is went out, & >i bodi in er))e rakid, 
pan )>i bodi ])at was rank & Vndevout, Of aJle men is behatid. 

Die sieben andem Strophen sind dieselben wie im Brighton MS. 
Wenn die beiden Handschriften im Einzelnen von einander abweichen, 
hat das Brighton MS. durchgangig bessere Lesarten, namentlich sind 
die Zeilen im Lambeth MS. oft arg liberladen, z. B. in Strophe 8 
(= Strophe 5, Brighton MS.) : 

Whi >at er>e to myche loue]> er>e, wondir me \>\v^ 
Or whi >at er>e for superfine er))e to sore sweete wole or swynk; 
For whanne l>at er)« upon er]>e is brou3t withinne )« brink, 
pan schal er^ of >e er)>e haue a rewful swynk. 

Die von Perry gedruckte Fassung des Thornton MS. (c. 1440) giebt 
nur die ersten ftinf von den sieben Strophen des Brighton MS. Im 



H. G. FIEDLER 221 

Ganzen ist die Strophenform gut gewahrt. In Strophe 4, Zeile 3 ist 
die Form durch Umstellung verdorben : 

Lyke as erthe to erthe neuer go scbolde. 

(Brighton MS.) 

Lyke as erthe neuer more goo to erthe scholde. 

(Thornton MS.) 

Ausserdem bietet die 3te Zeile der zweiten Strophe eine schlechtere 
Lesart : 

For whan erthe byddes erthe his rent home brynge. 

(Brighton MS.) 
When erthe bredis erthe, and his rentis home brynge. 

(Thornton MS.) 

Die noch ungedruckte Fassung in MS. Arch. Seld. B, supra 53, 
folio 159, verso (c. 1450) enthalt sechs von den sieben Strophen des 
Brighton MS., Strophe 5 ist ausgelassen. Strophe 4 und 6 des 
Brighton MS. sind umgestellt. In der letzten Strophe (= Str. 7 des 
Brighton MS.) ist die Form durch Auslassung der Worter * upon erth ' 
in Zeile 3 offenbar entstellt : 

I cowsayl erth apon erth Jwt wykytly hath wroht 
Whyle erth ys apon erth to tume al hys thowth. 
Now pray we to god pat al erth wrowth 
pat erth owt of erlh to blys myth be browth. 

In Zeile 2** und 3* bietet des Brighton MS. bessere Lesarten. 

Die ebenfall^ bisher ungedruckte Fassung in MS. Bawl. C. 307, fol. 2 
(c. 1460) enthalt ausser den ersten fiinf Strophen der Brighton Fassung 
noch drei andere, die nur in diesem MS. iiberliefert sind. Zwei davon 
zeigen in der letzten Zeile eine abweichende Form. Diese drei Strophen 
lauten: 

What may erthe sav to erthe at beste tyme of all? 
Nought blot JHzt erthe opon erthe shall hafe a fall. 
But when erthe oute of erthe shall com to the last call, 
pan sail erthe be fuH ferde for \>e sely sail. 

Beholde >ou erthe opon erthe what worship pon base, 
And thynk )>ou erthe opon erthe what maistres pou. mase, 
And how erthe opon erthe what gatis at jton gase, 
And pou. sail fynde it forsuthe that pon haste many fase. 

Now he pat erthe opon erthe ordande to go 
Graunte )>at erthe vpon erthe mav govern hym so, 
pat when erthe vnto erthe shall be taken to, 
That pe saule of )>is erthe suffre no wo. 

Die vorletzte Strophe muss in Nordengland entstanden sein, da die 
Versausgange in der sUdlichen Dialektform nicht reimen wurden. Auf 



222 'Earth upon Earth' 

nordenglischen Ursprung der Handschrift deuten auch zwei lateinische 
Gedichte am Ende derselben (in deraelben Hand wie das tTbrige) auf 
den Tod eines Gilbert Pynchbeck, der 1468 in York starb. Da aber 
iinser Gedicht in dieser Hs. neben ncJrdlichen Formen ('«all/ 'base/ 
*ma«e/ 'ga^e/ *fa«e/ ' glitterawd ') auch eine Anzahl stidliche Formen 
('ha^A,' *goeth' *sheM') zeigt, so diirfen wir wohl darin die Abschrift 
eines nordlichen Schreibers aus einer siidenglischen Vorlage erkennen. 

Die ebenfalls bislang ungedruckte Fassung in MS. Rawl. Poet. 32, 
fol. 32, verso (c. 1440) tragt dieselbe tJberschrift wie die im Lambeth 
. MS., zu der sie auch andere Beziehungen zeigt. Die Halbzeilen sind 
darin als Vollzeilen geschrieben, so dass wir an Stelle jeder Strophe je 
zwei erhalten. Zuerst kommen acht Strophen, die den ersten vier der 
Brighton und Lambeth Fassung entsprechen : 

Erthe oute of erthe 
Is wonderly wrou3te. 
£rthe hath of the erthe 
Getyn a diguite of noughte. 

Erthe apon erthe 

Hath set alle his thoughte, 

How erthe apon erthe 

May be hiere ybroughte. etc. 

Auf diese acht bezw. vier Strophen folgen die Verse, die im Lambeth MS. 

die siebente Strophe bilden, aber mit wesentlichen Abweichungen : 

Oute of the erthe cam the erthe 
Wantynge his garnament, 
To hide the erthe to lappe the erthe 
To hym was clothing ylent. 

Now ^oth the erthe apon erthe 
Disgesily ragged and to rent, 
ThOTfore schal erthe vnder erthe 
Suffer ful grete turment. 

Dann folgt Strophe 5 des Brighton MS. : 

Whi that erthe loueth erthe 
Wonder y may thinke, 
Or whi that erthe for the erthe 
Unreasonably swete wol or swynke. 

For whanne erthe vnder erthe 
Is brou3te withynne brynke 
Thanne schal erthe of the erthe 
Haue an oribyll stynke. 

Dann folgen die Strophen, die auch noch im Lambeth MS. und zwar • | 

an zehnter und flinffcer Stelle stehen, dort aber arg iiberladen : I -i 

Yif erthe wold of erthe j 

Thus hartily haue thynkynge, > 

And how erthe out of erthe |» 

Shal at last haue risynge. ^ 



^ 



1 
1 



H. a ITEDLEB 223 

Thanne schal erthe for erthe 
Yelde right sweite rekenjnge, 
Thanne schuld for erthe 
Neuer mysplese beuene kynge. 

Tbow wrecchid erthe \Kxt thus for erthe 
Trauelist nyht and day 
To florische the erthe to paynte the erthe 
With thi wanton array, 

Yit schalt thou erthe for alle thi erthe 
Make thou neuer so gay, 
For thi erthe in to erthe 
Clynge as clotte in clay. 

Dann folgen sieben (bezw. vierzehn) Strophen, die nur in dieser Hs. 

tiberliefert sind. Die erste zeigt einen Formfehler, insofem als der 

Reim nicht durchgefUhrt ist — grace: race; hate: gate — die andem 

bringen kaum einen einzigen neuen Gedanken, sondem wiederholen nur 

redselig und langatmig bereits Gesagtes : 

Thinke now erthe how thou in erthe 
Goist euer in dethis CTace, 
And thanne thou ertne for all the erthe 
Shalt neuer stryue ne race. 

Bute for thou erthe with thi erthe 
Hauntist enuye and hate, 
Therefor schsJ erthe for erthe 
Be excluded from heuene gate. 

Fowle erthe whi louyst thou erthe 

That is thi dedly foo, 

And bildeet on erthe 

As thou schuldist dwelle euer moo. 

But thou erthe forsake the erthe, 
Or that thou hennys goo, 
Vnder erthe for lust of erthe 
Thou schalt haue sorow and woo. 

Whiles erthe may in erthe 
To festis and to drynkis gone 
Til the be made frome the erthe 
As bare as any bone. 

Thanne if erthe comyth to erthe 

Makyng sorow and mone, 

Thanne saith erthe to the erthe 

Thou were a felow but now art thou none. 

Thus the erthe queytith the erthe 
That doith to him seruyse 
Or trystin on erthe or plese the erthe 
In any manor wise. 

Therfor thou erthe be ware of erthe 
And thou the auyse, 
Lest thou erthe perische for erthe 
Byfore the hihe lustyse. 



224 'Earth upon Earth' 

For the erthe was made of erthe 
At the first begynDynge 
That erthe schuld labour the erthe 
In trowthe and sore swynkynge. 

But now erthe lyueth in erthe 
"With falshode and begilynge 
Therfor schal erthe for erthe 
Be punsched in payne euerlastynge. 

But erthe forsake the erthe 
And alle his falshede, 
And of the erthe restore the erthe 
Goodis that ben mysgete. 

Or that erthe be doluyn in erthe 
And vnder fote ytrede, 
For synne of erthe jwt hath do in erthe 
Ful sore he schalle be bete. 

Drede thou erthe while thou in erthe 
Hast witte and resonne at thi wille 
That erthe for loue of erthe 
Thi soule thou nought spille. 

And thou erthe repente the in erthe 
Of alle that thou hast don ille 
And thanne schalt thou erthe apon erthe 
Goddis biddyngis fulfiUe. 

Den Schluss bilden zwei Strophen, die der Schlussstrophe im 

Lambeth MS. entsprechen: 

And god that erthe tokist in erthe 
And suffredist paynes ful stille 
Late neuer erthe for the erthe 
In dedly synne ne spille. 

But that erthe in this erthe 
Be doynge euer thi wille 
So that erthe for the erthe 
Stye vp to thi holy hille. 

Der Dialekt ist sudenglisch. 

Die im Porkington MS. (aus der Zeit Edward IV) vorliegende 

Fassung unseres Gedichtes (gedruckt 1855 von J. O. Halliwell, siehe 

oben) ist offenbar eine tJberarbeitung der Brighton Fassung. Der 

alte Kem ist deutlich erkennbar. Der tJberarbeiter hat zuerst zwei 

siebenzeilige Strophen vorausgeschickt, in denen er zum Lesen des 

Gedichtes und zu emstem Denken an den Tod auflFordert^ : 

Lo ! wordly folkus, thouj this procese of dethe 
Be not swetene, synke not in youre mynde. 
When age commyth, and schorteth is here brethe, 
And dethe commyth, he is not far behynde; 
Then here dyscression schal wel know and fynde 
That to have mynd of deth it is ful nessesery, 
For deth wyl come; doutles he wyl not lang tarrye. 

^ Der Druok ist selten ; deshalb and weil eine Yergleichtmg dieser Fassung mit den 
andem fiir nnsern Zweck wesentlioh, ist sie hier wieder abgedmckt. 



H. G. FIEDLER 225 

Of what estate 30 be, 30iiDg or wold, 
That redyth uppon this drodful storrve, 
As in a myrroure here ye may be-holde 
The ferful ende of al youre joye and glorie : 
Therefore this mater redus us to youre memorie: — 
Je that syttyth nowe hye uppon the whele, 
Thynke uppon youre end, and alle schal be wele. 

Die ihm vorliegenden sieben Strophen hat er dann in der Weise 

tiberarbeitet, dass er jeder zwei Zeilen angehangt hat : 

(1) 
Erthe uppo erthe is woundyrely wro3te; 
Erthe uppon erthe has set al his thou3te, 
How erth uppon erthe to erthe schall be brou3te; 
Ther is none uppon erth has hit in thou3te, — 

Take hede; 
Whoso thinkyse one his end, ful welle schol he sped. 

(2) 
Erth uppon erth wold be a kynge. 
How ertn schal to erthe he thinkes nothinge; 
When erth byddyth erth his rent whome brynge, 
Then schal erth fro the erth have a hard parttynge ; 

With care; 
For erthe uppon erthe wottus never wer therefor to fare. 

(8) 
Erth uppon erth wynnis castylles and towris; 
Then saythe erth to erth, al this is ourus, 
When erth uppon erth has bylde al his boures, 
Then schal erth fro the erth soffyre scharpe schorys, 

And smarte; 
Man, amend the betyme, thi lyfe ys but a starte. 

(4) 
Erth gose one erth as mold uppone molde 
Lyke as erth to the erth never agayne schold: 
Erth gose one erth glytteryng in gold, 
Jet schale erth to the erth rather then he wolde. 

Be owris; 
:)efe thi almus with thi hand, trust to no secatour. 

(5) 
Why that erth lovis erthe merwel me thinke. 
For when erth uppou erth is brotht to the brynk, 
Or why erth uppon erth wyl swet or swynke, 
Then schal erth frou the erth have a fool stynke 

To smele. 
Wars then the caryone that lyis in the fele. 

(6) 
Lol erth uppon erth consayfe this thou may, 
That thou commys frome the erth nakyd alway; 
How schuld erth uppon erth goe* prod or gaye? 
Sene erth into erth schal pase in symple araye, 

Unclad : 
Cloth the nakyd whyl thou may, for so God the bad. 

1 Halliwell*s Dmck : «oe. 
M. L. B. III. 16 



226 'Earth upon Earth' 

(7) 
I ooncele erth uppon erth, that wykydly has wro3t, 
Whvl erth is one erth, to torn alle his thou3t, 
And pray to Qod uppon erth, that al mad of nou3t, 
That erth owte of erth to blys may be brou3t*, 

With myrthe*, 
Thorow helpe Jhesu Chryst, that was ouer ladus byrthe. 

Der tJberarbeiter hat seine Vorlage an mehreren Stellen verschlech- 
tert. In Strophe 6, Zeile 1, ist ' consayfe ' kaum so gut wie ' consyder/ 
und in Zeile 2 ist *frome' entschieden schlechter als 'into.' Die 
Umstellung der Zeilen in Strophe 1 ist ungeschickt, und Zeile 4, die 
Zeile 2 der Vorlage entspricht, ist schon des identischen Reimes wegen 
*thou3te: thou3te* (statt 'noughte') zu verwerfen. Die Umstellung 
der Zeilen in Strophe 4 mag hingehen, die Umstellung der Zeilen in 
Strophe 5 dagegen hat Konstruktion und Sinn entstellt. 

Zwischen der sechsten und siebenten Strophe hat der tJberarbeiter 
die folgenden fiinf Strophen eingefUgt. Dass diese Strophen, die nur 
in diesem MS. uberliefert sind, in der Tat eine Interpolation sind, 
beweist schon ihre abweiehende Form : wahrend in den andern sieben 
Strophen jede der ersten vier Halbzeilen (wie in der Brighton Fassung) 
mit dem Worte * erthe ' schliesst, ist dies in diesen Strophen nicht der 
Fall: 

Erth uppon erth, me thinkys the ful blynd, 

That on erth ryches to set al thi mynd: 

In the gospel wryttyen exampul I fynde, 

The pore went to heyvyn, the rych to hel I fynd. 

With skyle: 

The commandmentus of God wold he not fulfyle. 

Erth uppon erth, deyle duly thy goode 

To the pore pepul, that fautt the thi foode; 

For the love of thi Lord, that rent was one the roode 

And for thi love one the crose schedhis hart blode — 

Go rede; 
Withoute anny place to reste one his hede. 

Erthe uppon erth, take tent to my steyvyne; 
Whyl thou levyst, fulfyle the'werkys of mercy vij. 
Loke thou lete, for oode ne for ewyne. 
For tho byue the werkus that helpyne us to heyvyne. 

In haste; 
Tho dedus who so dose thar, hyme never be agaste. 

Erth uppon erth, be thou never so gaye, 
Thow moue wend of this world an ureydy waye; 
Turue the be-tyme, whyle that thou maye, 
Leste it lede the into hele, to logege therefor ay. 

In pyne; 1 

For there is nother to gett, bred, ale ne wyne. ' 

^ Halliweirs Druck : bou3t. ^ Halliweirs Druck : myjthe. 



H. G. FIEDLEB 227 

Erth uppon erth, God 3eyf the grace, 
Whyle thou levvyst uppon erth to purway the a plas 
In heywyn to dweylle, whyl that thou hast space; 
That myrthe for to myse, it wer a karful case, 

For whye, — 
That myrth is withowttyn end, I tel the securly. 

Die oben besprochene Strophenform ist so eigentiimlich, dass sie 

beabsichtigt sein muss. Die Brighton Fassung ist die einzige, in der 

sie in alien Strophen strong durchgefuhrt ist. Die Bearbeiter kehrten 

sich wenig daran, bemerkten auch vielleicht die KUnstelei gar nicht. 

In der Brighton Fassung bringt ausserdem jede Strophe einen neuen 

Gedanken, wahrend in den langeren Fassungen derselbe Gedanke wieder- 

holt wird, oder triviale Glossen zu bereita Gesagtem gemacht werden. 

Von den uberlieferten Strophen finden sich 

4 in alien 7 Manuskripten 

1 in 6 

2 in 4 

3 in 2 

alle andem in nur je einem Manuskripte. Die ersten sieben Strophen 
zeigen in alien Handschriften jene eigentumliche Strophenform, und 
diese sieben Strophen und keine anderen sind im Brighton MS. Uber- 
liefert. Wir dtirfen also wohl annehmen, dass diese Fassung, wenn sie 
nicht die Original-Fassung ist, doch derselben am nachsten steht. 

Das kleine Gedicht hat sich ofifenbar grosser Beliebtheit erfreut und 
hat weite Verbreitung gefunden. Wahrscheinlich im Siiden Englands 
entstanden, wurde es auch im Norden wiederholt abgeschrieben. Nach 
Halli weirs Mitteilung finden sich Teile desselben hie und da an den 
Wanden englischer Kirchen, noch im achtzehnten Jahrhundert wurde 
eine Strophe daraus auf einen schottischen Grabstein gemeisselt, und 
eine Ubertragung derselben hat schliesslich einen Platz unter den 
Gedichten eines deutschen Dichters gefunden^. 

H. G. Fiedler. 

1 Walter Scott interessierte sich fur das Gkdicht. In einem Briefe, den Furst Piickler- 
Muskau am 12. April 1828 aus England in die Heimat sandte {Briefe eines Verstorbenen. 
Stuttgart 1831. Bd. r^. S. 352), heisst es: * Ich war zum Mittag wieder bei der Herzogin 
Ton S. A. anf ihrem Landhause versagt, wo mich eine angenehme Uberrasohung erwartete. 
Man plazierte mich zwischen der Wirtin und einem langen, sehr einfach aber liebevoll 
und freundlich aussehenden, schon bejahrten Manne, der im breiten sohottisohen, nichts 
weniger als angenehmen Dialekte sprach, und mir ausserdem wahrscheinlich gar nicht 
aufgefallen ware, wenn mir nicht nach einigen Minuten bekannt geworden--<la8B ich 

neben dem beriihmten — Unbekannten sa«se Gegen Ende der Tafel gab er und Sir 

Francis Burdett wechselweise Geisterhistorien zum Beaten, balb schauerlich halb launig... 
Er rezitierte nachher noch eine originelle alte Inschrift, die er vor Eurzem erst auf dem 
Eirchhofe von Melrose Abbey aufgefunden hatte. Sie lautete f olgendermassen : ' [hier 
folgt eine ziemlich getreue Wiedergabe der oben p. 218 mitgeteilten Inschrift und eine 
deutsche "Qbersetzung derselben]. 

16—2 



THE INQUISITION AND THE 'EDITIO PRINCEPS' 
OF THE *VITA NUOVA/ 

With the exception of the Latin Eclogues and Letters, the Vita 
Nuova was the last of Dante's works to appear in print. The Divina 
Commedia was first printed in 1472, the Convivio in' 1490, the Quaestio 
in 1508, the De Vvlgari Eloquentia (in Trissino's translation) in 1529, 
and the De Monarchia in 1559. The editio princeps of the Vita Nuova 
did not appear until 1576, more than a hundred years after the first 
edition of the Commedia, It was printed at Florence, and in the same 
volume were included fifteen of Dante's Canzoni, and Boccaccio's Vita di 
Dante. 

' Habent sua fata libelli ! ' Certainly the fate of Dante's works, as 
printed books, has been a curious one. The Divina Commedia, after 
it had been in print for over a century, and more than forty editions of 
it had been published, was placed on the Index, as a book which no good 
Catholic might read until it had been expurgated by the Holy Office. 
The De Vulgari Eloquentia^ first printed in Italian, was for fifty years 
regarded as a felsification by Trissino, until the publication of the 
original Latin text by a Florentine exile in Parish The De Monarchia, 
which was in all probability seen through the press by an Englishman, 
an Oxford scholar, the famous John Foxe, the martyrologist, made its 
first appearance in print in the guise of a Reformation tract*, and was 
promptly in its turn placed on the Index. The Eclogues and the Letters, 
the QaaestiOy which owes its rehabilitation to the scholarly labours of 
two members of the Oxford Dante Society, have all been denounced, at 
one time or another, as contemptible forgeries. While, strangest fate of 
all, the Vita Nuova, the work of Dante's earliest years, ' the first and 
tenderest love-story of modem literature,' as it has been called, had to 
submit to defacement and mutilation at the hands of the Inquisition, 
before it was allowed to leave the press in its native Florence. 

^ By Jacopo CorbineUi in 1577. ^ See my letter in the Athenaeum, April 14, 1906. 



PAGET TOYNBEE 229 

It was long ago remarked by Milton that the version of Boccaccio's 
Vita di Dante contained in this same volume is a garbled one. In an 
entry in his Ommonplace Book, under the heading Rex, he notes that 
Boccaccio's account of the De Motiarchia, and of its being condemned to 
the flames as a heretical book by the Cardinal Bertrand Poyet, which is 
to be found in previous editions of the Vita, was suppressed by the 
Inquisitor in this edition^: 'Authoritatem regiam a Papa non dependere 
scripsit Dantes Florentinus in eo libro cui est titulo Monarchia, quem 
librum Cardinalis del Poggietto tanquam scriptum haereticum comburi 
curavit, ut testatur Boccatius in vita Dantis editione priore, nam e 
posteriori mentio istius rei omnis est deleta ab inquisitore ' (fol. 182)*. 

That certain passages of the Divina Commedia should have been 
censured as too plain spoken, or that the De Monarchia should have 
been placed on the Index, is perhaps not altogether surprising; but 
that in the Vita Nuova even the Inquisition should have been able to 
discover anjrthing offensive to the Church, or to religion, is almost 
incredible. Yet such was the case. Witte, thirty years ago*, pointed 
out that certain terms applied by Dante to Beatrice in the Vita Nuova, 
and certain phrases, have been altered or suppressed in the editio 
princeps ; and Professor Barbi has recently drawn attention to the same 
fact in more detail*. Allusions to the Deity, quotations from Scripture, 
words with sacred associations, and so on, have in nearly every instance 
come under the ban of the censor. One cannot help being struck with 
the triviality, not to say absurdity, of the majority of the alterations. 
For example, Dante five times applies to Beatrice the epithet gloriosa. 
Once, apparently by an oversight, the word has been allowed to stand 
(§ 38, 1. 12); in the four other instances it has been changed eifller to 
graziosa (§ 2, 1. 5 'la graziosa donna della mia mente '), or to leggiadra 
(§ 33, 1. 6), or to vaga (§ 34, 1. 6), or to unica (§ 40, 1. 4 ' questa unica 
Beatrice '). Again, for salute the censor has substituted in one passage 
quiete (§ 3, 1. 41 ' la donna della quiete '), in another dolcezza (§ 11, 1. 3), 
and in a third donna (§ 11, 1. 18), which last has been adopted in several 
modern editions, including the Oxford Dante, although all the MSS. read 

^ See my article on tlie Earliest Beferences to Dante in English Literature in Miscellanea 
di Studi Critici edita in onore di Arturo Qraf (1903). 

^ The Inquisitor's imprimatur runs as follows : ' Si d veduto la Vita Naova desoritta da 
Dante AUighieri, insieme oon la Vita dell* istesso Dante desoritta da Qioaan Boocaooio, e 
si ^ conoesso licenzia che si stampino qaesto dl ultimo di Dioembre 1575. Fra Franoesoo 
da Pisa Min. Conu. Inquisitor Generale dello stato di Fiorenza^T.* 

s In his edition of the Vita Nuova (Leipzig, 1876), p. zzxii. 

* In his oritioal edition of the Vita Nuova, published by the Societh Dantesca Italiana 
(1907). 



230 The Inquisition atid the 'Vita Nuova^ 

salute. In like manner beatitvdine is replaced six times out of twelve 
by felidtd (§ 3, 1. 14 ; § 6, 1. 4 ; § 9, 1. 12 ; § 18, 11. 35, 38, 49, 59) ; twice 
by quiete (§ 10, 1. 16 ; § 11, 1. 27); and elsewhere by chiarezza (§ 11, 1. 21), 
or by aUegrezza (§ 12, 1. 2), or by fermezza (§ 18, 1. 38). While beato is 
either omitted altogether, as where Dante speaks of ' quella nobilissima 
e beata anima' (§ 23, 1. 61), or of 'questa Beatrice beata' (§ 29, 1. 11), 
or else it is altered to contento (§ 23, 1. 83, ' o com* h contento colui che 
ti vede '). 

On occasion, however, the tampering with the text is of a much 
more serious nature. For instance, at the beginning of § 22 a whole 
sentence has been radically altered. Where Dante wrote 'Siccorae 
piacque al glorioso Sire, lo quale non neg6 la morte a ahj the censor 
prints ' Siccome piacque a quel vivace amore, il quale impresse questo 
aflFetto in me ' ! In § 26 (11. 14 — 17) where Dante describes how people 
in the streets of Florence exclaimed of Beatrice as she passed by, 
' Questa non h femmina, anzi h uno de' bellissimi angeli del cielo', the 
censor has thought it necessary to substitute * anzi h simile a uno de* 
bellissimi angeli.' 

Still more serious are the suppressions, affecting as they do some of 
the most beautiful passages in the book. In § 23 the words ' Osanna in 
excelsis,' chanted by the angels who receive the soul of Beatrice, are 
omitted, and their place is supplied by dots. In § 24 the reference to 
St John the Baptist, * quel Giovanni, lo quale precedette la verace luce, 
dicendo : Ego vox clamantis in deserto : parate viam Domini J which is 
introduced in order to explain the connexion between the names 
' Giovanna ' and ' Primavera,' is ruthlessly cut out ; as is the touching 
cry ilr the words of Jeremiah from the Lamentations : ' Quomodo sedet 
sola civitas plena populo! facta est quasi vidua domina gentium,' by 
which the narrative is interrupted (in § 29) when Dante comes to record 
the death of Beatrice. These words occur a second time a little later 
on (in § 30), and are again omitted by the censor ; but by an oversight 
he has allowed Dante's twice repeated reference to ' le allegate parole ' 
to remain in the text, whereby he has thrown the whole paragraph into 
confusion. 

The last, and in some respects the most cruel and senseless mutilation 
of the text occurs in the closing sentence of the book. Dante, after 
expressing the hope that he may be spared to write that concerning 
Beatrice, which has never yet been written of any woman, concludes in 
these words : ' E poi piaccia a Colui, che h Sire della cortesia, che la mia 
anima se ne possa giro a vedere la gloria della sua donna, ciofe di quella 



\ 



PAGET TOYNBEE 231 

benedetta Beatrice, la quale gloriosamente mira nella faccia di Colui, 
qui est per omnia saecula benedictus. Amen,' The censor has destroyed 
the whole significance of this impressive passage by cutting out the 
reference to Beatrice in the last lines, so as to read 'E poi piaccia a 
Colui, che h Sire della cortesia, che la mia anima se ne possa gire 
a vedere la gloria di Colui, qui est per omnia saecula benedictus.* 

Such treatment of a book is indeed like ' raking through the entrails 
of an author,' as Milton puts it*, 'with a violation worse than any 
could be oflfered to his tomb'! The outrage is all the more flagrant 
because in the dedicatory epistle prefixed to the book the reader is 
solemnly told that the Vita Nuova, 'operetta del famosissimo Poeta 
e Teologo Dante AUighieri, da esso Dante, e da altri riputata di non 
piccol valore,' is one of those works, * le quali ne migliorare, ne pareg- 
giare si possono, bastando dir solamente essere opera di Dante/ 

Paget Toynbee. 

' In the Areopagitica, 



MILTON'S HEROIC LINE VIEWED FROM AN 
HISTORICAL STANDPOINT. 

VIII.1 

The caesura is one of the most importaot variable elements of the 
heroic line. It changes with great frequency in English blank verse 
and more so, or at least with more skill, in the poems of Milton than of 
any other, as the first critics allow. We notice, indeed, how keenly alive 
Milton was to the metrical eflFect of a break in the measure coupled 
with the practice of run-on lines, when he speaks in his preface to 
Paradise Lost of ' the sense variously drawn out from one verse into 
another.' A careful study of his art in this respect will therefore repay 
attention. 

Originally, as we saw, the English decasyllabic had a traditional 
pause after the fourth sounded syllable. This rule, brought over fi^m 
France with the metre itself, was observed by Chaucer's contemporaries 
in most cases and recurs in the earliest examples of blank verse written 
by the Earl of Surrey in the former half of the sixteenth century. 
Chaucer, however, after he had been influenced by Italian versification, 
shifted the caesuras more freely in his later compositions^. This in- 
novation of his was adopted by the Elizabethan dramatists after Marlowe. 
Milton, too, a close student of bhe Italian masters, took the same liberties 
as the latter did. From them he learnt, like the French l3rrical poets of 
the thirteenth century, to break the line after an unaccented syllable ^ 
e.g.y P.L., I, 34 : ' Th' Infernal Serpent ; he it was whose guile ' (and 
c£ P.i., II, 159; IV, 413; vi, 223; vii, 412; xi, 573; P.R, ii, 465; iv, 
352, etc.), and he did so in masterly fashion. 

Whereas, however, with the French and the earlier English poets a 
caesura was mainly a regular break in each line, Milton seems to widen 

^ Continued from p. 39. 

* See B. Ten Brink, op. eiU, pp. 178-81. 

* This has been termed the lyrical oaesara by modem critics, espeoiaUy when it follows 
a fourth unaccented syUable in the heroic line. 



WALTER THOMAS 233 

out the conception, and the stress he lays on ' the sense variously drawn 
out from one verse into another' marks his preference for run-on lines 
and for a grammatical, and not merely a metrical, stop. Still, even in 
these we must distinguish between two kinds, one of which forms a 
sharp break in the measure, and the other a less important and a slighter 
one. The former we shall therefore term actual caesura^y and the latter 
simply pauses. 

True caesuras are made conspicuous by a marked silence in the 
verse, as is the case in P.L., ix, 99-100: *0 earth, // how like to 
Heaven, // if not preferred / More justly^ /// Mere pauses imply, not a 
total interruption, but only a delay, a momentary rest, in the progress 
of the sentence, such as may occur between a verb and its object, e.g., 
inP./;., XI, 311-13: 

But prayer / against His absolute decree / 

No more avails / than breath against the wind, / 

Blown stifling back / on him that breathes it forth. 

All these breaks in the metre are intermingled either in one and the 
same line or in consecutive ones, as in P,L., Hi, 600-1 : 

The stone, // or like to that, // which here below / 
Philosophers / in vain / so long have sought 

and the subtle art of Milton is nowhere more conspicuous than in the 
blending of the two. 

In some cases the poet, for variety's sake, even tones down the 
interruption in the sense or suppresses it altogether. This, however, is 
not a frequent device of his, and out of 798 lines in the first book of 
Paradise Lost we have only found 58 practically without a break. The 
decasyllabic then fairly often forms a complete whole in itself, e,g,^ P,L., 
Ill, 591 : ' The place he found beyond expression bright,' while some- 
times the grammar connects it with the previous or with the following 
metre in such a way as to lengthen it apparently intd an ampler measure. 
Thus Milton now and again cleverly removes the traditional limits of 
the heroic line, as in P./?., i, 305-6 : 

Under the covert of some ancient oak 
Or cedar / to defend him from the dew 

(and cf. P.Z., VI, 775-76 ; viii, 586-87) and reverts, so to speak, for a 
while to a kind of metrical prose the effect of which, if sparingly and 
aptly used, is to extend the province of verse. 

^ We note a Btrong caesura by means of a double stroke, a pause by a single one. 



234 Miltons Heroic Line 

With respect to the placing of the caesura, we find in these poems 
due regard paid to traditional rules and room left for more recent 
innovations. Early French and Italian poets preferred to break the 
line after the fourth, and less often after the sixth, sounded syllable. 
This reappears in Chaucer and the first Elizabethan playwrights. 
Milton, too, favours such caesuras above all others, and in the fifth 
book of Paradise Lost, for instance, out of 907 lines, 472, or more than 
half, are thus divided. But to add a little variety the poet firequently 
inserts a secondary pause in the measure, as in P.Z., vil, 630-32^ : 

A race of worshippers / 
Holy and just ! // thrice happy, / if they know / 
Their happiness, // and persevere upright ! 

Milton's instinctive sense of harmony also prompted him to place a 
caesura in many cases after an unaccented syllable following on the 
fourth or sixth traditionally accented ones, as in P,L., Vlii, 560-61 : 

To whom the Angel, / with contracted brow : — 
Accuse not Nature ! // she hath done her part 

or again in P.i., viii, 589-912: 

Wherein true Love consists not. // Love refines 
The thoughts, and heart enlarges // — hath his seat 
In Reason, / and is judicious. 

A caesura is sometimes found after the third syllable, when the second 
is stressed, as in P,L.y ix, 247 : * Assist us. // But, if much converse 
perhaps' (and cf. P.i., i, 139; iii, 382; vi, 697; ix, 377; xi, 208; 
P.K, II, 96, etc.), but more seldom than in the previous instances. 

All three breaks of the line from the third to the seventh sounded 
syllable are made use of by Milton to secure variety. Now and again 
he allows two breaks in one verse. When he does so, the former 
generally comes after a stressed and the latter after an unstressed 
syllable, or vice versa^ by a sort of compensation, as in P.i., vii, 510 : 
* Govern the rest, / self-knowing, // and from thence ' (and cf. P.Z., ii, 
142; V, 229; vi, 627; ix, 659, 1135; x, 987; P.B., i, 324; iii, 248). 
Sometimes, indeed, we observe them after two accents, as in PX,, vi, 

^ Notice that Milton hardly ever places a break after the fourth syllable, if unaccented, 
as Dante does in Inferno^ vi, 14: 'Con tie gole / caninamente latra' (where we fancy the 
adverb must have been displaced from the beginning of the metre). The only instance we 
have met with is P. L., z, 986 : *Me, me only, / just object of his ire/ while in P. L., iv, 556, 
as we said in a previous section, we would accent sunbeam on the second syllable. 

' The traditional break of the heroic line being after the fourth sounded and accented 
syllable and its natural stress iambic, Milton in his later blank verse no longer stresses the 
tifth sounded syllable, as he once did in Comus, 1. 86 : 'Who with his soft pipe and smooth- 
dittied song.' 



WALTER THOMAS 235 

147 : ' From all : // my sect thou seest ; // now learn too late ' (and cf. 
P.i., II, 230; III, 600; viii, 270; x, 741, 1074; xi, 71; F.R, ii, 242), 
and more rarely still two caesuras after unstressed syllables, as in P.L., i, 
167 : 'Shall grieve him, // if I fail not, // and disturb' (and cf. P.L., ii, 
164; IV, 878; ix, 566; P.R, i, 273). Fewer still are the decasyllabics 
with three caesuras, e.g, P.L,y l, 620 : ' Tears, / such as Angels weep, / 
burst forth: // at last' (and cf P.L., ii, 894, 990; vi, 422; xi, 585; 
PR,, III, 51), and mostly found in enumerations, e.g., ' And flowering 
odours, // cassia, / nard, / and balm ' (P.Z., v, 293 ; and cf P,Ly X, 114), 
and with six stresses. Four caesuras are an exception in perfectly 
regular blank verse, as in PX,, i, 568 : ' Anguish // and doubt // and 
fear // and sorrow // and pain ' (and cf P.Z., li, 950 ; iv, 538 ; v, 601 ; 
IX, 116; P.R, III, 268), and more than four in such a case are unknown. 
Lines with six accents also allow many caesuras. The following (P.Z., 
V, 411), * Of sense, // whereby they hear, // see, // smell, // touch, // taste,* 
has five (and cf P.i., viii, 527), while the line of eight accents {P^L,, 

II, 621) quoted in section vii, has six. If we put aside decasyllabics 
with but one break, we see that the next most frequent are those with 
two and the rarest those with the greatest number of caesuras. 

All the above-mentioned interruptions of the sentence, we take it, 
are adopted to vary the metre. Those, however, which the poet admits 
after the first or the second syllable serve a distinct purpose in the line. 
The latter caesura is oftener met with as more agreeable to the iambic 
rhythm of the measure and of the English language^, e,g, in P.Z., xi, 

126-27 : 

He ceased, // and th' Archangelic Power prepared / 
For swift descent. 

In this case the first foot of the line is almost always an iambus 
and out of five instances in point, especially in the earlier books of 
Paradise Lost, only one is found to begin with an initial accent, as 
P.Z., 1, 747 : * Erring, for he with this rebellious rout ' (and cf P.Z., 

III, 227; V, 673; viii, 553; xi, 40; P.B., ii, 320; iv, 240). Such a 
break in the sentence befits a vehement apostrophe, or short pregnant 
clauses, and occasionally brings out an emphatic final word. The break 
after the first syllable is far less frequent. It occurs only four times in 
the 798 lines of the first book of Paradise Lost {P.L., i, 6, 203, 347, 
394) and eleven times in the second book {P.L., ii, 12, 54, 99, 129, 187, 

^ We differ on this point from the views expressed by the French critic M. Mother^ 
(op. ciu, p. 80), and consider the natural rhythm of the language to be iambic since so 
many English words, such as nouns and adjectives, stressed on the first syUable are 
frequently preceded by unemphatic monosyllables, such as articles or prepositions. 



236 Milton's Heroic Line 

361, 471, 488, 566, 793, 1023) in 1055 lines. The monosyllable thus 

isolated at the beginning of the verse is usually a conjunction, a pronoun, 

an imperative, or a noun brought into special prominence, as in P.Z., li, 

187-88 : 

War, // therefore, open or concealed, alike / 
My voice dissuades. 

Very seldom, however, such a word completes the sense of a preceding 

line, as in P.L., iii, 41-2 : 

But not to me returns 
Day, // or the sweet approach of even or mom 

and instances in point {e.g. P.L., iv, 747; xi, 492) are few and far 
between. 

As for caesuras at the close of the heroic line, they are even rarer 
than those at the beginning. In the first book of Paradise Lost, we 
notice seventeen after the eighth syllable {P.L., i, 12, 193, 209, 245, 
316, 358, 376, 382, 422, 424, 442, 559, 562, 599, 604, 620, 768) and 
three only after the ninth {P.L., i, 250, 661, 728), and fourteen of the 
latter kind in the second book (P.L., ll, 163, 361, 466, 547, 573, 583, 
787, 789, 810, 821, 864, 895, 931, 1043). A caesura after the fourth 
foot, or the eighth syllable, of the line may now and then set oflF some 
words, as in P.L., VI, 801-2 : 

Stand still in bright array, / ye Saints; // here stand, / 
Ye Angels armed, 

but as a rule it marks the beginning of a fresh sentence and prepares 
an overflow into the next line, as in P.L, v, 568-70 : 

how, last, // unfold / 
The secrets of another world, // perhaps / 
Not lawful to reveaL 

The caesura after the ninth syllable, the rarest of all, sometimes allows 

the following monosyllable to stand out, as in P.Z., ii, 787 : ' Made to 

destroy. // I fled, / and cried out // Death ! ' or again in P.L.y iii, 342 : 

* Adore him / who, / to compass all this, // dies.* Fairly often, too, a 

fresh clause begins with the last word and runs into the next line, e.g., 

P.I., VIII, 458-59: 

called 
By Nature / as in aid, / and closed my eyes 

(and cf P.L., ix, 963-64; xi, 515-16; P.R., in, 377-78). Thus of 
these final caesuras the most frequent is the one after an even syllable, 
or a complete foot, and the other chiefly helps to bring out the close 
of a sentence, or to start a new development. They are both com- 
paratively scarce and when they, or the corresponding caesura at the 



WALTER THOMAS 237 

commencement of the verse, become more numerous, without being 
specially called for by the sense, as in the seventh book of Paradise 
Lost {e.g,, P.L., vii, 108, 306, 323, 374, 640), they argue some slight 
negligence on the part of the poet. 

Run-on lines, of course, are closely connected with this form of the 
caesura and Milton was rather partial to them, as we have already 
inferred from his express mention of this device in his metrical prefguie 
to the earlier epic. Indeed, when rhyme had been discarded, it was 
well nigh impossible for him not to stray beyond the limits of the 
measure, if he wished to avoid monotony. With regard to his use of 
the overflow or enjambement, we fully agree with Professor Masson*s 
statements. The latter remarks^ that Milton usually extends a clause 
up to the fourth syllable of the next line and seldom beyond the 
eighth, his sentences being generally concluded (if not at the end of 
the decasyllabic) between these two extremes, as in P,L., il, 252-53 : 

but rather seek 
Our own good from ourselves, 

(and cf P.Z., ii, 215-16; v, 704-5, 788-89; vi, 854-55; viii, 607-8; 

XI, 287-88; P.K, ii, 99-100; iii, 250-51). Sometimes even a line 

may be divided from the preceding or the succeeding one by no caesura 

at all, thus giving rise to a sort of poetical period, as in P.L., vi, 

586-87 : 

whose roar 
Embowelled with outrageous noise the air 

and again in P.L., ii, 701-2 : 

That underneath had veins of liquid fire 
Sluiced from the lake. 

But such instances ai'e not very common owing to the difficulty of 

reading so many words together without a break. 

Besides, if the essential element of the line in Milton is, as we have 

seen, a fixed number of syllables, it seems equally necessary that 

a listener should be able to distinguish one fixed series of syllables 

from the others, and therefore that each series should close with at 

least a slight pause of the voice. So much is this the case that the 

poet occasionally makes use of the last place in the verse to give 

special importance to an otherwise rather insignificant word, e,g,, to 

then in P.L., il, 231-32: 

Him to unthrone we then 
May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yield 

^ Cf. Prof. MasBon, op, eiLt vol. m, pp. 228-29. 



238 Milton's Heroic Line 

(and cf. / in P.i., II, 807; do in P,L., iv, 475, and even adjectives 
like grave in P.Z., II, 300 ; provd in P.i., vi, 89 ; and mild in P,L,, x, 
1046). Sometimes, however, as we just saw, but very rarely, Milton 
discards the final pause altogether, writing for instance : 

watered all the ground, and each 
Plant of the field (P.Z., vii, 334-^) 

or 

which compelled 
Me thus (/>.Z., IX, e09-10), 

or again, more harshly still, 

Eurynome (the wide- 
Encroaching Eve perhaps)^ had first the rule 

(P.Z.. X, 581-82) 

(and cf. P.i., IV, 468-59; vi, 758-59; vii, 373-74, 581-82; x, 65-6, 
100-1). These are blemishes which mostly occur in the latter half 
of Paradise Lost, possibly owing to hasty composition, but are easily 
excused by reason of their infrequency. 

Such a use of run-on lines also serves the purpose of welding the 
separate metrical units together into a whole in which even the mo- 
mentary breaks of the sentence add to the general eflFect. When Milton 
adopts slight pauses and places them regularly after the fourth or the 
sixth sounded syllable, he produces an impression of calm and smooth- 
ness, as in P.i., IV, 598-99 : 

Now came still Evening on, / and Twilight grey / 
Had in her sober livery / all things clad, etc. 

or in Mammon's honeyed speech : 

As He our darkness, / cannot we His light / 
Imitate when we nlease? / This desert soil / 
Wants not her hiaden lustre, / gems and gold, / etc. 

{P.L., II, 269-71.) 

We notice the same method in Eve's account of her first day in Paradise 
(PL., IV, 440-88), or again in Satan's flattering description of imperial 
Rome {P.P., IV, 44-108). There are few slight rests of the voice 
which chiefly follow the second or the third foot of the metre and 
give the rhythm a kind of quiet stateliness. 

In other passages various caesuras irregularly succeed each other, 
coining after a whole or a half foot. If they merely alternate between 
the fourth and the seventh sounded syllables, as so frequently happens 
in Milton's epics, they charm the e'ar by grateful changes and bring out 

1 This was perhaps borrowed from the practice of the earlier Italian poets. Cf. 
Mod. Lang. Review, vol. ii, p. 296. 



WALTER THOMAS 239 

words and phrases by contrast. It is here that we chiefly meet with 
pauses, while actual caesuras are usually found towards the beginning 
or the end of the line and frequently divide a foot. When caesuras, 
however, are the rule, the overflow metre also reappears and the verse 
is often broken up into short abrupt clauses ending with some forcible 
monosyllable the very position of which helps to make it prominent. 
Such instances are particularly common iji passionate speech, as in 
Adam's indignant address to Eve after the fall : 

Out of my sight, / thou serpent ! // That name best 

Befits thee, // with him leagued, / thyself as false 

And hateful, etc, (P.Z., x, 867-69.) 

or Satan's despairing soliloquy : 

All good to me is lout ; // 
Evil, // be thou my Good ; // by thee at least / 
Divided empire / with Heaven's King I hold, // 
By thee, // and more than half perhaps will reign ; // 
As Man ere long, // and this new World, // shaJl know 

(P.L.y IV, 109-13), 

in Death's apostrophe to Satan (P.L., ii, 689-703), or Abdiel's (P.i., 
VI, 131-48), and the Redeemer's reply to the Tempter (P.R, ill, 
122-44). In all these cases the many strong caesuras are not only 
conducive to metrical variety, but serve to express the vehement feelings 
of fche several speakers. 

IX. 

After investigating the component parts of Milton's heroic line, we 
have to inquire into its harmony and the means which Milton used 
to achieve this harmony, since that alone stamps the work of a true 
poet and is often wanting in the compositions of inferior writers. Milton, 
however, whose father was a musician of some repute, had learnt as 
a child to appreciate both melody and rhythm^. Hence he mentions 
* apt numbers ' among the essentials of the epic measure along with the 
syllabic principle and the sense drawn out from one verse into another. 
The fact that he gives this quality the first place in his enumeration 
shows how highly he esteemed it, and quite rightly too, for all the 
other elements of the metre are subservient to it. We shall therefore 
have to examine each of these elements successively to see how Milton 
turned them to account in order to make his decasyllables harmonious. 

If we study the poet's vocabulary in Paradise Lost and Paradise 

^ Gf. the simUar case of the French historian, J. Miohelet, whose prose has such a 
musical flow and whose father and grandfather had a talent for masic. 



240 Milton's Heroic Line 

Regained, we cannot but notice how carefolly he avoids certain letters. 
The English language, it has been often remarked, tends to accumulate 
sibilants in passages of some length. To guard against this, Milton 
seldom uses many plurals or words ending in a consecutively. And as 
far as he could, he discarded terms containing such combinations as 
sh or ch sounded tck. This fastidiousness, of course, led to his rejecting 
a great number of words and, as a matter of fact, he uses fewer on 
the whole than the Elizabethans, and fewer, by a long way, than 
Shakespeare. Thus child and children are very seldom found in 
these poems {e.g., P,L,y i, 395; x, 194, 330; xi, 761, 772; F.R, i, 201 ; 
IV, 330), or derivative words like childless {P.L., v, 989, 1037), childish 
(P.R, I, 201), childhood (P./?., iv, 220, 508) and child-hearing {P.L,, x, 
1051), while the synonyms son, daughter and offspring are very frequent. 
Both charm and chase are rare; we meet with but two instances of 
to fetch {PX.y VIII, 137 ; P.JR., iv, 589) and to chill (P.Z., v, 65 ; xi, 
264), and with but one of the adjective chill {P.L.y IX, 890) and with 
few instances of short. Again, Milton is very sparing of th, except 
perhaps in one line (P.Z., il, 164) : *Thu8 sitting, thus consulting, thus 
in arms,* where it is purposely repeated. But if he disapproves of harsh 
consonants he favours certain vowels, as Professor Masson has pointed 
out, preferring, after the Italian fashion, the broad a in sovran and 
harald to the less sonorous sovereign and herald, and the preterites 
sprung and sung to sprang and sang. 

We can now easily understand why a good many of his words are 
aTraf Xeyofieva or rare instances, such as church (P,L,, IV, 193), a^ccessible 
(P,L,, IV, 546), advantageous (P.L., ii, 363), undesirable (P.L,, ix, 824), 
contagious (P.Z., ix, 1036), courageotcs {P.L., iv, 920), unsuccessful (P.i., 
X, 35). Few adjectives are to be found ending in -geous or -gious, 
probably because of their combination of sibilants. And it would 
also seem as if the poet were not very partial to polysyllables, and were 
better pleased with words of three syllables, or such as the current pro- 
nunciation of his day reduced to three syllables by contraction. 

We may notice, too, in the epic poems that Milton's words are 
chiefly contracted in the case of liquid consonants, e.g., murniring, 
several, vtlate, hastening, etc., which has no inharmonious eflFect. And it 
is no less remarkable that the poet deliberately omits some harsh nouns 
or substitutes softer ones for them, as river-horse (P. L., vii, 474) for 
hippopotamus, and perhaps leviathan {P.L., I, 201 ; vii, 412) for whale\ 

^ We find whale once in P.L.^ vn, 391 and crocodile in P,L., vn, 474, whereas river- 
dragon is used in P.L., zn, 191. 



WALTER THOMAS 241 

What minute attention Milton paid to the study of verbal sounds, 

we see in the case of words that may take one of two endings. Thus 

he chooses dreamed in preference to dreamt in P.i., ill, 459 ; v, 31-32 ; 

P.jB., II, 264, and he writes /rore in P.Z., ii, 594-96 : 

the parching air 
Bums frore, and cold performs th' effect of fire, 

to prevent a second sibilant from coming just after the first one, while 
he admits the usual form frozen in P.Z., ii, 602 : * Immovable, infixed, 
and frozen round/ A similar reason probably explains the expansion 
of sentries into senteries (P.L, ii, 412) and ministries into ministeries 
(P.Z., VII, 149). The same delicate feeling for harmony accounts for 
his use of sometime instead of sometimes in P.L., ix, 824-25 : 

A thing not undesirable — sometime 
Superior ; 

and oifar-fet before spoil instead ot far-fetched in P.JS., ii, 401 : * Whose 
pains have earned the far-fet spoil. With that,' and justifies, as Pro- 
fessor Masson noticed \ the adoption of voutsafe (e.g., P,L,, ii, 332; 
V, 365; XI, 318) for vouchsafe, of strook {P.L., ii, 165; vi, 863) for 
struck^ — the latter occurring in P.R,, ill, 146: 'Satan had not to answer, 
but stood struck,' to avoid a repetition of oo — and the choice of the 
softer forms^ Siloa (P.Z., i, 11) for Shiloah (as found in IsaiaJi, viii, 6), 
Basan for Bashan in P.i., I, 398, Hesebon (P.L., I, 408) for Heshbon and 
Sittim (P,L,, 1, 413) for Shittim. Thus, too, the poet elects to write 
amerced (P.i., i, 609) instead of deprived, libbard (P.L,, vii, 467) instead 
of leopard, emmet (P.L., vii, 485) instead of ant, and fougkten rather 
than fought in P.L,, vi, 410 : ' Victor and vanquished. On the foughten 
field.' Here again, as in most cases where he prefers the older form of 
words, he aims not at an archaic colouring for his style, but at the 
attainment of perfect euphony in his verse. 

Milton is no less attentive to the eflect produced on the ear by 
an accumulation of terms and here, too, he does all he can to avoid 
harshness. English versification, as we know, does not object on prin- 
ciple to hiatus as such (and several metrists, with G. Conway, have 
deplored the fact), the reason probably being that in a strongly stressed 
tongue, such a conflict of vowels is less offensive than in other languages, 
since the open syllables that give rise to it are seldom both accented. 
Still, despite the freedom thus granted, the author of Paradise Lost 
is very chary of hiatuses. He seems loath to admit two of these 

^ See Prof. Masson, op. cit., vol. m, p. 170. 

« 2d., p. 173. « Id., p. 171. 

M. L. R. III. 17 



242 Milton's Heroic Line 

in the same line, and we only find eleven instances in the third 
book {P.L., III, 3, 33, 270, 440, 521, 584, 636, 645, 658, 683, 703) in 
742 verses, nine in the seventh book (P.i., vii, 39, 48, 170, 172, 256, 
524, 527, 560, 633) in 640, and thirteen in the third book of Paradise 
Regained (P.R, iii, 46, 69, 88, 107, 152, 199, 212, 229, 248. 308, 347, 
360, 365) in 443. And as for a hiatus between two accented vowels 
without an intermediary caesura, such as perhaps occurs in P.i., vi, 
721 : 'Ineffablj^ into his face received/ it is hardly ever to be found in the 
epic poems. While therefore Milton cannot entirely avoid a concourse 
of vowels, he endeavours, as far as he is able, to rob it of all harshness. 

The same applies to the crowding of consonants in his verse. Such 
a repetition of sibilants as Sion's songs (P.R., iv, 347) or Moab*s sons 
(P.L., I, 406) is extremely rare with him, as also are instances like sad 
drops {P.L,, IX, 1002), run not {P.R., I, 441), reign not (P.-ft., ill, 215), 
or the double aspirate in he her met {P.L., ix, 849). Here, too, Milton 
strives after softness and harmony. 

It is curious, from this point of view, to notice — though the remark 
may seem trifling — that the poet avoids accumulating in one line a 
series of monosyllables, however much they abound in the English 
language. Indeed, he reacts against the natural tendency of the tongue 
and, for instance, out of 653 lines in the eighth book of Paradise Lost 
only twenty-five (i.e., P.i., viii, 43, 66, 103, 172, 206, 210, 270, 277, 281, 
320, 339, 341, 395, 397, 448, 488, 499, 521, 525, 549, 578, 612, 613^, 629, 
640) are formed of ten separate words each, and out of 502 lines in the 
first book of Paradise Regained only twenty-four (i.e., P.P., I, 39, 60, 66, 
153, 207, 246, 252, 271,' 276, 286, 299, 321, 322^, 327, 343, 366, 377, 
399, 404, 446, 459, 473, 478, 484). Even in these Milton places the 
most important words in such a position that they stand out from the 
rest, and thus guards against the unpleasant effect of a line wholly 
broken up. Notice in this respect the collocation of monosyllables in 
PL., VI, 131 : ' Proud, art thou m6t ? Thy h6pe was to have reached ' 
(and cf. P.i., I, 637 ; iii, 174, 341 ; x, 770 ; P.P., ii, 383). Very often, 
too, he sets a word of two or more syllables in a conspicuous place 
which brings out its importance in the sentence, as in P.L., ii, 76-77 : 

descent and fall 
To us is adverse. Who but felt of late 

(and cf PL., iv, 299; vii, 171; xi, 36, 626-27; P.P., iii, 426) But 
lines wholly made up of polysyllables are the rarest of all, as PL., ii, 

^ Two consecutive lines formed of monosyllables, as here, are rarer stiU (of. also P.R., 
III, 223-24). 



WALTER THOMAS 243 

186 : * Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved ' (and cf. P.L,, III, 373 ; v, 245, 
622, 899; P.JS., ii, 138, 446 ; in, 131, 429)^ As a rule, however, we 
find one polysyllable at least in Milton's heroic line to which the mono- 
syllables, we may say, lead up as in P.R,y I, 429: 'For lying is thy 
sustenance, thy food ' (and cf. P.i., ii, 138, 373 ; v, 888 ; vii, 436 ; ix, 
861 ; P.jK., IV, 399). His felicitous use of the vocabulary, no less than 
his mastery over the whole resources of his art, thus contributes to 
break the monotony of too regular verse by introducing a fresh 
element of variety. 

The poet evinces the same mastery in the disposition of accents in 
his decasyllabic. His custom of breaking the iambic rhjrthm by a 
trochee at the beginning of the Une and after the caesura, while it 
does not spoil the harmony, helps him to produce a sonorous metre and 
to start a new sentence with a strong stress. This is no less true of 
the device by which he often places an emphatic accent between two 
slighter ones that act as a foil to it. And he now and again adds 
to the effect by causing the voice to dwell on some polysyllable thus 
emphasized, as in P.Z., x, 107 : * Or come I less conspicuous, // or what 
change,' or in P,K, IV, 679 : * Ruin, and desperation, // and dismay ' 
(and cf. P.i., II, 707 ; iv, 606; ix, 249-50; P.B., ii, 434). It may be 
remarked that, unless for some special purpose Milton happens to 
accumulate several stresses in one half of his line, he prefers to place 
a particularly strong one near the middle. Thus the reader, in ac- 
cordance with the usual rhythm of English sentences, increases the 
volume of sound from the beginning of the verse till he reaches the 
most important word and then allows it to decrease from that point 
to the close. 

Nor are the above considerations true only of isolated decasyllabics. 
The charm of so many passages in Paradise Lost, as, for instance, of the 
speeches delivered in Pandemonium, is due, not only to a careful choice 
of terms, but to the artful alternation of strong and weak accents. We 
may also add the different place occupied in each line by the most 
prominent word and the various breaks in the sense made conspicuous 
by forcible caesuras, e.g., 

Sight hateful, / sight tormenting! // Thus these two 

Imparadised / in one. another's arms, / 

The happier Eden, // shall enjoy their fill 

Of bliss on bliss ; // while I // to Hell am thrust, etc, 

(P.L., IV, 505-8) 

1 It may be noticed that three of these lines (P.L., u, 185; v, 899; P.R., in, 429) 
are formed of three words beginning with un-. 

17—2 



244 Milton's Heroic Line 

(and cf. P.i., II, 163, 194, 249; v, 679-83), or, again, toned down to 
slight pauses and following milder stresses, which give an equable flow 
to the verse as in PX., ii, 119-23 : 

I should be much for open war, / Peers, / 
As not behind in hate, / if what waa urged 
Main reason / to persiiade immediate war / 
Did not dissuade me most, / and seem to cast / 
Ominous conjecture / on the whole success 

(and cf. P,L,, ix, 867-75; P.B., ii, 302-6, 379-82 ; iii, 182-86). This 
skilfal combination of both breaks and emphases helps to make the 
heroic line powerful and melodious. 

We must also notice the eflFect of the caesuras at the beginning and 
at the end of the metre coupled with the influence of the overflow or 
enjambement In his carefully written verse-paragraphs containing 
some passionate speech the poet frequently changes the breaks in 
the sentence. Thus in the Saviour's indignant reply to Satan : 

I never liked thy talk, // thy offers less ; // 

Now both abhor, // since thou hast dared to utter / 

Th' abominable terms, / impious condition. // 

But I endure the time, / till which expired / 

Thou hast permission on me. // It is written, / 

The first of all commandments, / Thou shalt worship / 

The Lord thy God, // and only Him shalt serve, etc. 

{P,R., IV, 171-77) 

we observe that almost every line is distinguished from the preceding 
one by a -different pause or caesura, and that the run-on lines are 
separated by others in which the sense ends with the decasyllabic. 
The latter, however, is not a constant practice, since we find three 
overflows following, as in P.Z/., ix, 1091-94, or four, as in P.i., xil, 
295-99, or five as in P,R., Hi, 298-303, and sometimes even more, as 
in P.Z/., VI, 240-53. But, allowing for exceptions, we may say that 
Milton disapproves of many continuous irregular lines and, if only for 
metrical variety, reverts with considerable persistence to the perfectly 
regular type. 

We take it therefore that the poet, who knows of few things 
*More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear' (P.Z/., viii, 606), 
owes his mastery in this respect to the art with which he blends 
strict * observation of the essential laws of verse with fiill freedom 
on minor points. He strictly discards harsh words, preferring even 
archaic forms to them, he taboos all discordant accumulations of con- 
sonants or vowels, and makes a clever use of polysyllables in order to 
avoid the monosyllabic tendency of the language. But, if he frequently 



WALTER THOMAS 245 

varies in his verse the position of the emphatic accent and its reinforcing 
caesura, if he now allows the line to overflow into the next and now 
ends a sentence with the measure itself, he never fails to preserve the 
fixed number of ten syllables in his heroic metre, he always lays a 
notable stress on the tenth syllable and almost always places a pause 
after it. Lastly, he breaks with the custom of the Elizabethan dramatists, 
and mostly begins or concludes his paragraphs with a whole line. In 
a few cases we find a speech commencing in the middle of the metre 
(e.g., P,L, II, 968, 990 ; iv, 724; v, 321, 404; vi, 150, 282 ; P,K, ii, 317; 
IV, 560), in fewer still ending there (e.g., P.i., ii, 378, 466 ; xi, 460, 546, 
552; P.R,, II, 321), and quite exceptionally^ both commencing and 
ending thus {e.g., P.L., iv, 851-54 ; xi, 466-77). All these instances 
can be explained by the impulsive character of the discourses and are 
far outnumbered by those in which this does not take place. Milton 
therefore remains a rare example in English literature of a poet who, 
while he shook ofiF the yoke of many traditional observances connected 
with the epic decasyllabic, yet remained true to the principle of the 
metre and achieved such perfection in his art that his verse remains 
a model to future generations. 

X. 

In examining the composition and the harmony of Milton's heroic 
line, we have paid but slight heed to his subject-matter. And yet 
how important an influence the latter has exerted will be noticed by 
any careful reader alive to the marked change of tone in difierent 
passages. This may be comprised in the poet's phrase * apt numbers,' 
which seems to imply the adaptability of the verse to its object. It 
was certainly present to his mind when he remarked in P.L., ill, 17-18 : 

With other notes than to the Orphean lyre 
I sung of Chaos and eternal Night, 

when he spoke of 'answerable style' in PX., ix, 20, and made mention of 

thoughts that voluntary move 
Harmonious numbers. (-P-^-> m* 37-38). 

His highest achievement, indeed, was to wed closely both matter and 
form in his epics, and all the elements of versification became subservient 
to this supreme purpose. 

^ We cannot therefore bat dissent from Mr Symonds (see Fortnightly Review, 
July-Dec, 1874, p. 774) when he says *Llke Virgil fMilton) opened his paragraphs in the 
middle of a line, sustaining them through several clauses till they reached their close 
in another hemistich at the distance of some half-dozen carefully conducted verses.' 



246 MiltorCs Heroic Line 

A close investigation into the author's vocabulary will show his 
minute care in this respect. Whenever Milton aims at description, 
his line is filled with vivid picturesque terms. He renders the uproar 
of the furies round the Saviour resting at night by : * Some howled, 
some yelled, some shrieked ' {P.Ky iv, 423), in which the various noises 
are reproduced on an ascending scale. When he mentions the Bac- 
chants as : 

the race 
Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard 

(P.Z., VII, 33-34), 

the violent deed is echoed in the very words. A mild form of death 

he depicts as 'a gentle wafting' (P.Z., xii, 435), the murmur which 

survives a past storm as * hoarse cadence ' after * The sound of blustering 

winds ' (P.Z., II, 286-87), and of the birds' warbling in Paradise he tells 

us that 

airs, vernal airs 
Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune 
The trembling leaves. (P.Z., iv, 264-66). 

This may seem an undesigned imitation of the various sounds 
arising from the language itself. But it must be intentional when we 
fiind it recurring in more than one line. Thus Milton renders the 
efiFect of audible reverberation in P.Z/., ii, 787-89 : 

I fled and cried out Death! 
Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sighed 
From all her caves, and back resounded Death 

I (P.Z., II, 787-89); 

the diflSculties of Satan's journey through Chaos in P.L., ii, 947-50: 

so eagerly the Fiend 
Oer bog or steep, through straight, rough, dense, or rare, 
With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way. 
And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies ; 

the approach of morning in P.L., v, 5-8 : 

which th' onlv sound 
Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan. 
Lightly dispersed, and the shrill matin song 
Of birds on every bough ; 

and the falling of night in P,L,y iv, 598-609. Here the result is not 
brought about by a few casual onomatopoeias but by studied verbal 
felicity. 

Milton's art is perhaps seen at its best in his use of alliteration to 
make his lines more effective and harmonious. Thus in 

A dismal universal hiss, the sound 

Qf public scorn (P.Z., x, 508-9) 



WALTER THOMAS 247 

we seem to hear a number of serpents, in P.Z/., i, 768 the whirring of 
insect wings, in P.Z/., iv, 656 a swift descent, in P.R, iv, 247-49 : 

Hymettus, with the souiid 
Of bees* industrious murmur, oft invites 
To studious musing, 

the humming of a busy hive. Of course, if the alliterations are but 
few, they conduce to euphony and not to imitative efifects (e.^r., PJi., 

II, 902-3; P.R., ii, 358-59; iii, 1, 323-24; iv, 605). In that case we 

often find three repetitions of the same consonant in three words of the 

same line, as in P,L., i, 250 : * Where joy for ever dwells ! Hail, horrors ! 

hair (and c£ P.i., ii, 540, 553, 560; iii, 73, 296 ; iv, 441 ; v, 646; vii, 

298; VIII, 342; x, 1006; xi, 489; P.R, i, 482; iii, 278, 398; iv, 63, 

517), and sometimes the alliteration runs on into the next verse, as in 

P.i., 11, 650-51 : 

The one seemed woman to the waist, and fair. 
But ended foul in many a scaly fold 

(and cf Pi., II, 464-65, 585-86, 772-73 ; in, 606-7 ; viii, 83-84 ; P,R, 
1, 160-61 ; II, 257-58). The poet very cleverly distributes his alliterative 
words : at one time they are nouns or adjectives, as in P.L,, XI, 489-90 : 

Dire was the tossing, deep the groan, Despair 
Tended the sick 

(and cf P.i., II, 836, 1021; iii, 11, 44; iv, 511, 888; ix, 491; P.U., 
IV, 406) ; at another they are both adjectives and nouns or verbs, as in 
P.L,, II, 579: 'Cocytus named of lamentation loud' (and cf P.i., ii, 174 ; 

III, 20, 691; IV, 293; v, 896; vii, 286; x, 225; P.B., ii, 257; iii, 48; 
rv, 561). Occasionally we even notice two different alliterations in the 
same line, as in P.L,, ill, 99 : ' Sufficient to have stood, though yree to 
/air (and cf P.Z/., I, 555; ii, 433. 624; iv, 326, 990; vi, 876; ix, 250; 
P.R, II, 431 ; III, 268). According to Mr J. A. Symonds who carefully 
investigated this part of the poet*s versification^, Milton has a marked 
preference for the letters /, f , m, r and w, and artfully distributes his 
alliterations in a series of consecutive lines which he thus connects 
into a whole for purposes of argumentation or description. Thus he 
uses a reiteration of d and / to depict the war waged in heaven by the 
angels, in P.L,, vi, 211-14: 

o^ire was the noise 
Of conflict ; overheaif the rfismal hiss 
Of fiery rfarts in /laming volleys /lew, 
And, /lying, vaulted cither host with /ire, 

' Cf. Fortnightly Review for July-Dec, 1874, p. 776, etc., from which we horrow 
Beveral of oar quotations. 



248 Milton's Heroic Line 

and welds the different decasyllables by this means into one continuous 

paragraph. 

Nor is he indifferent to vowel alliteration, as we may see by the 

predominance of a (as m father) in P.Z., iv, 962: 'But mark wliat I 

areed thee now: Avaunt'; of the ee sound in P.R,y iv, 411: 'From 

many a horrid rift abortive poured ' (and cf. P.R,, IV, 248^9), and of 

i in P,K, IV, 198-99 : 

If I, to try whether in higher sort 
Than these thou bear'st that title. 

We remark something akin to this in P.L,, III, 373 : ' Immutable, Im- 
mortal Infinite ' (and cf. also P.L., ii, 185 ; iii, 231 ; v, 899 ; P.K, in, 
429)^, where, however, the repetition perhaps bears more on the initial 
prefix than on the vowels. Occasionally the vowel alliteration is found 
in consecutive lines, e.g,, the ee sound in P.i., iv, 40-45 : 

Till pride and worse ambition threw me down, 
Warring in Heaven against Heaven's matchless King ! 
Ah wherefore? He deserved no such return 
From me whom he created what I was 
In that bright eminence, and with his good 
Upbraided none, nor was his service hard. 

Actual assonance, as practised in the early French epics or ' chansons 
de geste,' that is, a similarity between the final vowel sounds in successive 
verses, is much rarer, e.g.y in P.Z/., xi, 853-55 : 

With clamour thence the rapid currents drive 
Towards the retreating sea their furious tide. 
Forthwith from out the ark a raven flies 

(see, too, P.i., XI, 857-58 and 860; and cf. P.Z., i, 612-13). 

Lastly, some rhyming couplets, but extremely few (as we might 

expect in blank verse), have been discovered, e.g., P.L., ii, 220-22 : 

This horror will grow mild, this darkness light; 
Besides what hope the never-ending flight 
Of future days may bring 

(and cf. P.i., IV, 24-25, 26-27), and a few straggling rhymes perhaps 
in P.i., I, 146, 148, 151 : 

Have left us this our spirit and strength entire, 
Strongly to suffer and sui>port our pains, 
That we may so suffice his vengeful ire, 
Or do him mightier service as his thralls 
By ri^ht of war, whate'er his business be, 
Here m the heart of Hell to work in fire, 

all of which, if really intentional, may be meant to add to the sonorous- 
ness of the metre. 

^ See above, p. 243. 



/ 



WALTER THOMAS 249 

A similar attention to the efifect of vowel sounds appears in the 

repetition of whole words or portions of a word, as in P,L,, iv, 411 : 

' Sole partuQT and sole part of all these joys * (and cf. P,L,y ii, 995-96 ; 

IV, 852 ; VI, 656 ; P.R., iii, 387-88 ; iv, 434, 597). We have akeady 

noticed the impressive iteration of the name of Death in P.Z/., ii, 787-89. 

The same occurs with the words foreknow and foreknowledge in the 

following passage, P.i., iii, 117-19: 

If I foreknew, 
Foreknowledge had no influence on their faulty 
Which had no less proved certain unforeknown; 

with/aM and/aZfen in P.i., v, 540^t3 : 

in this we stand or fall. 
And some are fallen, to disobedience &llen, 
1 And so from Heaven to deepest HelL fall 

From what high state of bliss into what woe ! 

I with lost in P.R, i, 377-80 : 

Though I have lost 
I Much lustre of my native brightness, lost 

To be beloved of God, I have not lost 
, To love, at least contemplate and admire; 

j with worse in P.jK., hi, 205-9, and glory in P.jK., hi, 109-20. Some- 

times, indeed, this subtle sense of verbal harmony beguiles the poet into 
admitting what are virtually puns, as in P.i., v, 868-69 : 

, and to begirt th' Almighty Throne 

I Beseeching or besieging 

(and cf. Pi., VI, 625-27; xi, 627, 756-57; P.P., i, 222; ii, 391). 

j These, though perhaps not inappropriate on the lips of rebel angels, 

I have been blamed by the best critics as undignified in epic poetry. 

; They bear witness, however, to Milton's study of sounds in his heroic 

I verse. 

The very rhythm of the line adds to the impressiveness and sublimity 
of the whole. It is apparent even in the poet's disposal of words, and 
above all of the polysyllables, in his metre. He would seem to have 
noticed the tendency of a reader to sink his voice at the end of the 
measure and he therefore frequently concludes, most effectively, with 
a long word followed by a single monosyllable as in P.i., i, 106-7 : 



All is not lost — th' unconquerable will, 
And study of revenge, immortal hate, 



or in P.i., X, 311-13 : 



And scoui^ged with many a stroke th' indignant waves. 
Now had they brought the work by wondrous art 
Pontifical — a ridge of pendent rock 



250 Milton's Heroic Line 

(and cf. P.I., I, 77, 175 ; ii, 88 ; in. 68 ; vi, 866 ; xii, 455 ; PM., iv, 53). 

This is frequently the case when a noun exceeds the accompanying 

adjective in length, so that the former is made conspicuous by its size 

and the latter by its position after the substantive, e.g., P.L., xii, 291 : 

' Save by those shadowy expiations weak,' or P.L., vii, 267 : ' Of this 

great round — partition firm and sure ' (and cf. PX., ii, 898 ; in, 367 ; 

IV, 502; V, 290; vi, 193; ix, 35; x, 238; P.R., ii, 109; iv, 628). In 

fact, the poet modifies the place of his adjectives at will, as the following 

example shows : 

Thus roving on 
In confused march forlorn, th' adventurous bands, 
With shuddering horror pale, and eyes aghast, 
Viewed j6rst their lamentable lot. {P-L., ii, 614-17). 

But he commonly sets short adjectives after the noun and longer ones 
before it, so as to make them stand out the better in his verse. 

If, however, Milton means to strike the reader's mind by some 
forcible expression, he carefully selects an important word severed fi:om 
the rest by a strong caesura and on which the voice is thus compelled 
to dwell. In P.i., v, 611-15, for instance: 

Him who disobeys 
Me disobeys, breaks union, and, that day. 
Cast out from God and blessed vision, falls 
Into utter darkness, deep engulfed, his place 
Ordained without redemption, without end. 

the awful ruin of the rebel angels and their future punishment beyond 

all reach of hope are foretold and almost foreshadowed in the words 

falls and end which close the lines, proclaiming the divine judgment. 

If, on the other hand, the author wishes to express happier or calmer 

sentiments, he places a longer term before the caesura, as rejoiced in 

P.L., VI, 878-79 : 

Disburdened Heaven rejoiced, and soon repaired 
Her mural breach, 

or acceptance in P.Z/., xi, 457 : 

For envv that his brother's offering found 
From Heaven acceptance 

(and cf perhaps P.i., xi, 665; P.K., i, 444; iv, 181). By such means 

the words are made to illustrate the sense. 

Again, Milton aptly uses monosyllables for the same purpose. An 

early commentator, Dr Newton, points out that the lines (P.i., ii, 

947-49) 

so eagerly the Fiend 
O'er bog or steeu, through straight, rough, dense or rare. 
With head, hands, wings or feet pursues his way 



WALTER THOMAS 251 

admirably describe Satan's toilsome progress in short broken clauses 
which we find it hard to pronounce. Sometimes the poet brings out the 
full force of the monosyllable by isolating pauses, as in P,R, iv, 561-62 : 

He said, and stood ; 
But Satan, smitten with amazement, fell, 

or the apostrophe 'Fool!* in P,R, vi, 135 (and cf. P.i., n, 180 ; ni, 171 ; 

XI, 515). We notice, too, that apart from any intent to express emotion, 

he often begins his metre with tiny words to allow the reader's voice 

to rise gi-adually towards the middle or he rounds up the line with 

them to let it gently down, as in P.Z/., i, 60 : ' The dismal situation 

waste and wild,' and in P.i., ii, 485 : * Or close ambition varnished o'er 

with zeal ' (and cf P.L„ i, 133 ; n, 376 ; iv, 680, 735, 819 ; vi, 159, 745, 

etc). Frequently, too, he allows two monosyllables to close one measure 

while two more open the next, thus easing the transition to the ear, as 

in P.L., V, 402-3 : 

only this I know 
That one Celestial Father gives to all, 

or again in P.R, i, 450-51 : 

What, to the smallest tittle, thou shalt say 
To thy adorers 

(and cf. P.i., II, 642-43, 981-82; iii, 412-413, 724-25; v, 426-27; X, 
206-7, 617-18 ; P,R, i, 407-8 ; iii, 249-50, 350-51, etc.). Thus Milton 
with great skill felicitously disposes these minor elements of his verse 
as a general carefully places his soldiers in the field. 

Nor is the distribution of stresses in the decasyllable less worthy of 
notice. The poet delights to insert lines of perfectly regular iambic 
rhythm between others of a more mixed character, just as Shakespeare 
lets violent and soothing scenes alternate in his plays. In such cases 
Milton allows the accent to rest on even syllables, none being more 
strongly emphasized than the others, and the quiet tenor of the narrative 
or the description flows peacefully along. We have an instance of this 
in Pi., IV, 449, efe.: 

That day I oft remember, when from sleep 

I first awaked, and found myself reposed^ 

Under a shade, on flowers, much wondermg where 

And what I was, whence thither brought, and how etc, 

(and cf P.i., V, 563 etc, ; ix, 532 etc, ; PR, ii, 368-77 ; iv, 581-90). 
The easy progress of the measure, with but very few metrical licences, 
marks the tranquil tone of such passages. 

But all is changed of a sudden when the poet means to stir the 



252 Milton's Heroic Line 

passions. Take the indignant speech of Abdiel to Satan in P.L., vi, 

135-39: 

Fool ! not to think how vain 
A^inst th' Omnipotent to rise in arms, 
Who, out of smallest thingp, could without end 
Have raised incessant armies to defeat 
Thy folly, 

which produces the impression of a trumpet blast. When the Devil in 
Paradise, at the sight of man's bliss, complains of his own sad fate 
(P.i., IV, 505-20) or when, on being detected by the angelic watchers, 
he returns a scornful reply to their queries (P.L., iv, 828-33), every 
single stress in the verse is clearly heard and seems to be of importance. 
The position of the accents is also pretty frequently shifted under such 
circumstances, and a careful scrutiny of some impassioned passages 
(such as P.Z/., IX, 867-908; P,R, i, 407-64; iv, 171-94), will show 
how often and in what different feet of the line the trochee now occurs, 
and what a thrilling effect this alteration has on the ear. 

If stronger or slighter stresses help to depict agitation, mental 
excitement is also rendered to some extent by the breaks in the 
sentence. When the poet describes a calm scene, all such breaks 
occur in fairly regular succession and mostly after a whole foot. Then, 
too, the overflow or enjambement continues as far as the middle of the 
next line and does not stop at the first foot. These different features 
appear in Milton's speeches according to the nature of the speakers, 
whether angels or devils. Thus Satan, intending to impersonate a 
youthful denizen of Heaven, carefully adapts his words to his assumed 
character in P.i., iii, 662-67 : 

Unspeakable desire to see and know 
All these his wondrous works, but chiefly Man, 
His chief delight and favour, him for whom 
All these his works so wondrous he ordained. 
Hath brought me from the quires of Cherubim 
Alone thus wandering, 

where all the pauses are slight and fall with ease. We can even, after 
a fashion, tell the persons brought before us by the degree of emotion 
betrayed in their language and by the versification they use. If we 
examine those passages in which the Creator declares His judgments 
and promulgates His decrees, as in PX., V, 600-9 : 

Hear all ye Angels, Progeny of Light, 

Thrones, Dominations, J^ncedoms, Virtues, Powers, 

Hear my decree, which unrevoked shall stand ! 

This day I have begot whom I declare 

My only Son, and on this holy hill 



WALTER THOMAS 253 

Him have anointed, whom ye now behold 
At my right hand. Your head I him appoint, 
And by myself have sworn to him shall bow 
All knees in Heaven, and shall confess him Lord 

(and cf. P.i., m, 79-134, 168-216, 274-343; v, 224-45, 719-32; vi, 
29-55, 680-718; vn, 139-73; x, 34-62; xi, 46-71, 84-125; P.B, 
1, 130-67), we find hardly any caesuras after the first or after the ninth 
syllable (discarding of course lines where such unavoidable mono- 
syllables as Son and go are met with), and but few after the third or 
the seventh syllable. Run-on lines too, though not wholly suppressed, 
are not brought into prominence. The declarations of the unchangeable 
Deity, whom not the least shadow of perturbation can reach, must 
perforce show in their very nature a reflection of His sovereign majesty 
and perfect calm. Hence any striking caesura would be out of place in 
a divine mandate. 

The grammatical breaks in the sentence become, however, both 
more fi-equent and more marked, when we descend fi-om Heaven to 
earth and fi'om earth to hell. The change is even manifest in the 
language of the Son of God as soon as He has assumed our human 
nature. His colloquies before the Incarnation with His Father breathe 
celestial repose, as in P.L,, x, 68-71 : 

Father Eternal, / thine is to decree ; // 
Mine both in Heaven and Earth / to do thy will / 
Supreme, / that thou in me, / thy Son beloved, / 
May'st ever rest well pleased. / 

(and cf. P.Z., III, 227-65; vi, 723-45; x, 68-84), while in Paradise 
Regained there is more vehemence in some of His replies to the 
Tempter (e.^r., P.R, I, 407-64 ; il, 379-91 ; iv, 171-94, 286-364). Here 
we notice several caesuras in one line, as in P.E., IV, 300-5 : 

The Stoic last in philosophic pride, 

By him called virtue, and his virtuous man. 

Wise, // perfect in himself, // and all possessing. 

Equal to Gkxi, / oft shames not to prefer, 

As fearing Qod nor man, / contenming all 

Wealth, // pleasure, // pain or torment, // death and life 

(and c£ P.R, ii, 460; iii, 75, 107, 128), and several important overflows, 
aa in P.ft., Ill, 124-26: 

But to show forth His goodness, and impart 
His good communicable to every soul 
Freely 

(and cf. P.R, i, 418-19, 444-45, 450-51 ; lu, 1^0-31 ; IV, 188-89, 
319-20). All this is more conspicuous still, owing to the presence 



254 Milton's Heroic Line 

of sin which has tainted and troubled the 9oul, in Adam's speech before 
and after the fall. From the ninth to the twelfth book of Paradise 
Lost we detect in his words, as a novel superadded feature, the charac- 
teristics referred to above. Thus we are struck with the place and the 
prominence of the caesuras in his address to his guilty wife : 

Eve, in evil hour thou didst give ear 

To that false Worm, of whomsoever taught 

To counterfeit Man's voice — true in our fall, 

False in our promised rising (^-^-i ix, 1067-70) 

(and cf. P.Z., x, 867-908), and with the run-on lines that end after the 
first foot of the following decasyllabic, as in P.Z., IX, 1086-86 : 

In solitude live savage, in some glade 
Obacui'ed, 

or in P.Z.. x, 134-35 : 

However insupportable, be all 
Devolved 

(and cf P.i., IX, 1091-92; x, 723-24, 734-35, 894-95, 904-5, 958-59, 
etc). And should these instances not appear quite convincing, it will 
be enough to examine the discourses of the rebel angels and especially 
those of Satan, when he soliloquizes and can have no thought of de- 
ceiving, as in P.i., IV, 366-72: 

Ah! gentle pair, // ye little think how nigh / 

Your change approaches, // when all these delights / 

Will vanish, // and deliver ye to woe — // 

More woe, // the more your taste is now of joy : // 

Happy, // but for so happy ill secured / 

Long to continue, / and this high seat^ / your Heaven 

111 fenced // for Heaven to keep out such a foe 

(and cf. PX,, iv, 32-113, 358-92; ix, 99-178, 473-93), to see how 
Milton's caesuras are made subservient to the passions and the mental 
agitation of the beings he describes. 

We may therefore justly say that every element of the poet's heroic 
verse is pressed into service to illustrate his subject-matter. Carefully 
chosen words and sounds, alliteration and assonance contribute to bring 
out his meaning while adding to the variety and harmony of the 
measure. Slight pauses and secondary stresses prevail where he depicts 
peaceful scenes, emphatic accents and marked caesuras where he deals 
with strong passions. From the skill with which all these are combined 
we rightly infer that Milton regarded his blank verse, not as a mere 
empty ornament, but rather, if we may say so, as the living frame 
which was to body forth his lofty conceptions to the world. Form and 



WALTER THOMAS 255 

thought are so closely linked together in his grand epics that what he 
conjures up before our minds is in some degree actually tjrpified and. 
interpreted by the subtle variations of his metre. 

Our study of Milton's heroic line has brought out at least one fixed 
element of his versification. The blank metre that makes up Paradise 
Lost and Paradise Regained always contains ten counted syllables, and 
ten only. Five of these, and never fewer (but now and again more 
than five), bear a slight or a strong accent, and the tenth counted 
syllable is in every caae stressed. If we except a small number of lines 
that betray some negligence, each decasyllabic is separated from the 
other by a pause or a caesura. Milton's heroic measure is therefore 
regular both on account of its strictly syllabic character and of its law 
of a minimum quantity of accents. 

Other component parts of his verse are liable to change, and help 

to keep it firee firom monotony. Not to mention the occasional presence 

of six or more stresses, we note that the poet allows two trochees, 

sometimes side by side, in his epic measure and in rare cases three, 

but not consecutively. He also admits an unaccented syllable at the 

close of the metre and very seldom, in imitation of the earlier dramatists, 

I an extra unstressed syllable before the caesura. The variety he aims at 

' is often obtained by letting the grammatical break of the sense occur 

I in different places, and by deftly intermingling slight pauses and 

I caesuras. Run-on lines are also very fi-equent, and Milton uses them 

to emphasize some important word or to add grandeur and dignity to 

whole passages. 

Thus our poet's heroic metre coincides both in structure and in its 
essential rules with the older dramatic decasyllabic which the Eliza- 
bethan playwrights had shorn of its rhymes, and can be conclusively 
identified with the early French epic measure and the Italian hendeca- 
syllable. From the latter Milton borrowed the practice of sparing 
neither trochees nor elisions, and these so-called licences, though they 
stop short of the introduction of any trisyllabic foot, also make for 
variety. 

But whereas the same metrical laws and similar metrical licences 
are to be met with in other writers, the author of Paradise Lost remains 
conspicuous for the perfect harmony of his verse. This is chiefly due 
to a skilful combination of the most diverse elements : choice words, 
artfully distributed stresses, and a judicious blending of pauses and 
caesuras. The very position of the prominent terms and the careful 



256 Milton's Heroic Line 

selection of appropriate sounds help to convey and shadow forth the 
poet's meaning. Alliterations, varied caesuras and run-on lines all 
contribute to evoke the underlying sense before our mind and ear, 
and the bard's genius never shows itself more admirable than in this 
complete mastery over both language and versification. 

The natural result was that later poets, and foremost among them 
Otway, Thomson, Young and Cowper, looked up to Milton as to their 
guide and teacher in these matters. Shakespeare's dramatic line, 
wonderfully suited as it was to the changing conditions of the stage, 
appeared too unsettled for imitation. Here, however, was heroic verse 
which, after rejecting the excessive fi-eedom of former times, was subject 
to definite rules and yet retained such rhythmical pliancy as fitted it 
for the loftiest flights of creative fancy. Henceforth the instrument 
needed for fiiture developments was ready to hand, a model for the 
coming generations had been set up, and those latter-day critics who, 
in their eagerness for novelty, have accepted the intrusion of trisyllabic 
feet in a measure which has never allowed them, might do worse than 
revert to the early tradition of the line and follow faithfiilly in Milton's 
steps. 

Walter Thomas. 



SPENSER AND LADY CAREY. 

Nothing in any published account of Spenser's life would lead one 
to suspect that his acquaintance with Lady Carey differed markedly 
from his friendship, and avowed kinship, with the other daughters of 
Sir John Spencer. Indeed, his editors and biographers one after another 
content themselves with stating, at the most, that he dedicated to her 
Muiopotmos and the appended series of Visions, addressed to her a 
sonnet prefixed to the Faerie Queene, and alluded to her under a 
pastoral name in Colin Clout Attentive reading of these passages, 
however, discloses a yet unwritten chapter of Spenser's life. Though 
obscured to the world of letters by his * rurall musicke ' in praise of the 
pastoral Rosalind, the poet's service of his courtly mistress was no less 
conspicuously avowed than Sidney's devotion to Stella. 

Of the seventeen sonnets prefixed to the Faerie Qu-eene only two are 
addressed to a lady. Of these, the first may be set aside, since it 
honours Lady Mary {nie Sidney), Countess of Pembroke, chiefly for her 
brother's sake, as Spenser makes unmistakeable by saying : 

Remembrance of that most fieroicke spirit... 

Bids me, most noble Lady, to adore 

His goodly image, living evermore 

In the divine resemblance of yoiu* face. 

Accordingly, he presents the sonnet as not his gift, but Sidney's, 
concluding: 'Vouchsafe from him this token in good worth to take.' 
No lady could misinterpret the guardedness of a compliment so im- 
personal. 

In the sonnet to Lady Carey, on the other hand, Spenser's tone is 
intimately personal and gallant. Declaring : 

Ne may I, without blot of endless blame, 
You, fairest Lady, leave out of this place, 

he proclaims it his duty to 'adome these verses base' with 'remembrance,' 
not of her brothers or sisters or husband, but : 

Remembrance of your gracious name 
Wherewith that courtly garlond most ye grace 
And deck the world. 

M. L. R. III. 18 



258 Spenser and Lady Carey 

To say that she most graced Elizabeth's court, let alone the world, 
would seem sufficient praise ; but Spenser pronounces his sonnet inade- 
quate to express her captivating charms : 

Not that these few lines can in them comprize 
Those glorious ornaments of hevenlj grace 
Wherewith ye triumph over feeble eyes 
And in subdued hearts do tyranyse. 

The publicity of this exceptional homage rendered it doubly signifi- 
cant: for the Faerie Qaeene appeared under the Queen's patronage as 
the master epic of her greatest poet. Lady Carey's name was thus 
associated uniquely with the names of the Queen's greatest officers and 
nobility. That Spenser chose from the court one lady of comparatively 
inferior rank to distinguish with so marked a compliment, designated 
him, in that centre of love-gallantry, as her enamoured servant. 

The etiquette of the court demanded that he should so serve a lady': 

for, as he makes Colin Clout, recounting his stay at court, say: 

Love most aboundeth there. 
For all the walls and windows there are writ, 
All full of love, and love, and love my deare, 
And all their talke and studie is of it. 
Ne any there doth brave or valiant seeme, 
Unlesse that some gaye Mistresse badge he beares: 
Ne any one himselfe doth ought esteeme, 
Unlesse he swim in love up to the eares. ((7.C, 775 — 82.) 

Amid this universal enamourment, which he does not overstate, it 
was to be expected that Spenser should profess himself a devotee of the 
lady whom he had selected as the 'fairest.' He does make this pro- 
fession publicly and explicitly. In the letter of dedication prefixed to 
Muiopotmos, he declares to Lady Carey: 'I have determined to give 
myself wholy to you, as quite abandoned from my selfe, and absolutely 
vowed to your services.' In 1590, therefore, Spenser was known to the 
court as Lady Carey's professed servant. 

Courtly usage demanded that the servant should address to his 
mistress verses portraying his devotion. In a dedicatory letter to 
Lady Carey, Thomas Nash {Christ's Tears over Jerusalem, 1593) 
expressed his disgust at the annoying importunity of this demand, 
saying: 'I hate these female braggarts that contend to have all the 
muses beg at their doors.' Lady Carey, by implication, was one who 
did not need so to 'contend.' At all events, Spenser promised in 
concluding his sonnet in her honour, that his ' good will ' : 

Whenas timely meanes it purchase may, 
In ampler wise it selfe will forth display. 

^ This topic is discussed in my dissertation on Elizabethan Courtly Love, Gore Hall, 
Cambridge, Mass. 



I 
I 

i 



PERCY W. LONG 259 

This looked-for opportunity to celebrate at greater length the * glorious 
ornaments' of Lady Carey, had presented itself before the time of 
dedicating to her Muiopotmos (1590): for there he states that his 'poore 
service ... taketh glory to advance your excellent partes and noble 
vertues, and to spend it selfe in honouring you.' His promise was, 
therefore, already in course of fulfilment. 

The work in which Spenser so honoured Lady Carey cannot have 
been Muiopotnws. Exquisite as the poem is, its obscure allegory of a 
male spider ensnaring and destroying a male butterfly cannot be con- 
strued to ' advance ' her ' excellent partes and noble vertues.' Neither 
can the series of visions appended to it and addressed to her be made 
to serve that purpose; while, in them, moreover, Spenser renews his 
promise of some further work, saying : 

Such as they were (fwre ladie!) take in worth, 

That when time serves may bring things better forth. 

{Vis, W. Fan., I.) 

So, too, his allusion to her in Colin Clout (548 — 64), though sufiiciently 
laudatory, cannot be magnified as a work in her praise. The sixteen 
lines here are little 'ampler' than the fourteen of his sonnets 

The existence of some adequate expression of Spenser's service of 

^ The passage in Colin Clout (536—71) in which Spenser praises nnder the names of 
Phyllis, Gharillis and Amaryllis : 

The sisters three, 
The honor of the noble familie [Althorp Spenoer] 
Of which I meanest boast myself to be, 
And most that unto them I am so nie; 

has been misunderstood because he designates Phyllis as ' eldest of the three.' This led 
to her identification with Lady Carey, who was older than the two ^of five other) sisters to 
whom Spenser dedicated poems. Amaryllis, since he styled her tne ' youngest ' and the 
* highest in degree/ is certainly Alice, the sixth daughter, whose husband was regarded as 
a possible heir to the throne. Between PhyUis and Gharillis there can be no doubt that 
Charillis represents Lady Carey. Her unique name, unlike the commonplace PhyUis and 
Amaiyllis, challenges attention, and proves to be, like Rosalind, an anagram of the ' very 
name' of his mistress. 'ChariUis* = 'Elis. Carey.' Even if Spenser did not originate 
this anagram, he must have observed it, and could not have been so inept as to apply it 
to her sister. Apart from this, the characterization *bountifull ChariUis' agrees with 
Spenser's letter to 'The La. Carey. Most brave and bountifuU La.' and his allusion to 
her 'bounteous brest' {Via. Petr.^ vn) — this term not occurring in connection with either 
of her sisters. Again, the disproportion in assigning to Phyllis four lines as against 
sixteen to Charillis accords with Spenser's praise of Lady Carey alone in the sonnet 
prefixed to the Faerie Queene. The disproportion of tone is greater, especially since he 
styles Charillis the * paragon' (a term reserved by courtiers for the highest praise. 
Cf. Puttenham, ed. Arber, p. 241), and the 'primrose ' (which £. E. in the October eclogue 
glosses * the chiefe and worthiest.' Cf. also Dapknaida, 233 — 4). Finally, Spenser's praise 
of Charillis as 'the fairest under skie' accords with his sonnet: 'To the most vertuous 
and beautifull Lady,' and his envoi to the Visions of Petrarch: * Though ye be the fairest 
of Gk>d8 creatures.' Tact, as well as ignorance, might account for Spenser's appraisal of 
his mistress's age. Again, by Phyllis, he may have meant her elder sister Margaret, who 
lived in Cambridgeshire, while Spenser studied at Cambridge. 

18—2 



260 Spenser and Lady Carey 

Lady Carey is not open to doubt : fo)* the statement of another author 
confirms Spenser's indications that he composed writings in her honour. 
Thomas Nash, in his letter of dedication prefixed to Chruft's Tears over 
Jerusalem (1593), reminds Lady Carey that: 'Divers well-deserving 
poets have consecrated their endeavours to your praise. Fame's eldest 
favorite Master Spenser, in all his writings he prizeth you.' Even if 
Nash had seen Colin Clout, which remained unpublished till 1595, 
Spenser's thirty lines and brief letter are too slight to be termed * all 
his writings.' Compared with Sidney's offerings to Stella, these seem 
mere byplay. Where, then, did Spenser ' in ampler wise ' celebrate his 
courtly mistress ? 

The literary form just coming into vogue for this purpose was the 
sonnet sequence, and in view of the impetus given to the £Etshion in 
these years, especially by the publication of Astrophel and Stella, it 
would be remarkable if Spenser, the leading court poet, had not engaged 
in the production of such a series of love sonnets as he actually com- 
posed. Thd Amoretti record his courtship of ' my love, my life's last 
ornament' (Am., 74). Here, if anywhere, his service endeavours to 
' spend it selfe in honouring ' a lady whose ' glorious ornaments ' do : 

Triumph over feeble eyes, 
And in subdued hearts do tjranyse. 

In fact, Spenser almost echoes these words : 

See how the tyrannesse doth joy to see 

The huge mass&cres which her eyes do make ; 

And humbled harts brings captive. {Am., 10.) 

The Amoretti, to all appearances, constitute an appropriate fulfilment 
of his pledge and record of his courtly service. That they were written 
for this purpose it would be natural, in the absence of contrary evidence, 
to surmise: for Spenser therein designates his mistress's name as Elizabeth 
{Am., 74). Elizabeth was the given name of Lady Carey. The court 
circle in general, and Thomas Nash in particular, must have regarded 
the sequence as a tribute to her. If her name had been printed in full 
above the sonnet or the letter addressed to her, probably this identifica- 
tion would have been long since proposed and never controverted. 

With admirable unanimity, the editors and biographers of Spenser 
have agreed in assuming that Spenser's mistress in the Am4)retti must 
have been the lady whom he married; that, since the Amoretti were 
published in one volume with the Epiikalamium, therefore both must 
have been composed in honour of the same person, and must consti- 



PERCY W. LONG 261 

tute the record of an unsophisticated courtship which terminated in 
marriage^. 

The insufficiency of this reasoning is shown by the absence of 
artistic unity in the compilation. Considered apart, poems could hardly 
be more artistic. But between them are strewn several trifling and 
unrelated epigrams. The Amoretti, instead of leading up to a marriage, 
terminate with the lover absent &om his mistress after a dismissal in 
anger (Am., 85 — 8). The Epithalamium contains an apology for the 
absence of other poems in honour of the bride : 

Song ! made in lieu of many ornaments, 

With which my love should duly have been dect. (Envoi.) 

If the volume were a compilation of poems in her praise, this apology 
would be pointless. Moreover, Spenser adjured his song: 

Be unto her a goodly ornament, 

And for short time an endless moniment. (Envoi,) 

' Short time * cannot apply to the courtship represented in the Amoretti, 
in which the lover's suit is long denied (cf. Am.y 67). The chronology 
of the sequence, marked by two successive New Year's days (Am., 
4, 62), requires at least a year and a half If associated with the 
Epithalamium, which dates the marriage on St Bamaby's day (Epi,, 
264 — 6), the courtship would have to include in this 'short time' 
still another year: for the lovers' misunderstanding (Am., 85), long after 
Easter (Am,, 68), does not allow before June eleventh the extended 
period of absence concluding the Am^yretH: 

Since I did leave the presence of my love, 

Many long weary dayes I have outwome. (Am., 86.) 

More conclusive yet is the formal opening sonnet of the Amoretti. 
This must have been written with the sequence in mind : for the writer 
addresses ' Ye leaves ' in which she may read ' the sorrows of my dying 
spright.' If the Amoretti and Epithalamium formed a whole, this 
sonnet should not speak only of ' sorrows ' without reference to ' lasting 
happiness' (Epi., 419). Actually, its phrase *My soules long-lacked 



1 This traditional assumption is found as early as 1751 {Spen$er*i Works, with life by 
Thomas Biroh, i, zviii^, and has been maintained without arguments excepting those of 
Todd (ed. 1806, i, cxi), who challenges any doubter to say why Spenser published the 
poems together. Question for question, why did he publish together the unrelated 
Colin CUiut and elegies on Astrophel? Todd's only other argument, a comparison of 
Am., 64 and Epi., 172—8, in which Spenser describes his mistress and his bride, has no 
force, since the eyes of the one are like 'pinks,' of the other like 'sapphires.' The points 
of resemblance amount to a white breast and red cheeks and lips. 



262 Spenser and Lady Carey 

foode ' forecasts the final parting, and accords with the conclusion of the 

sequence : 

Dark is my day, whyles her fayre li^ht I mis, 
And dead my life tnat wants such hvely blis. 

Had Spenser composed and published this volume of poetry as a 
record of his antenuptial courtship, it is highly improbable that he 
would have feiiled to bridge the chasm between the lovers* separation 
and their marriage. If in anything, his work excels in delicate transi- 
tions. There is, consequently, no internal evidence to show that the 
bride of the Epiihaiamium must have been identical with the mistress 
of the Amoretti. 

The autobiographical character of the Epiihaiamium should not be 
pressed too closely. The poem is written throughout in the present 
tense, in the manner of a vision rather than a record of actual events. 
But if it be autobiographical, Spenser need not have written, or need 
not have finished, this celebration of his marriage at the precise period 
of his wedding. The slender evidence of date, St Bamaby's day (in a 
year anterior to 1595), is vitiated by its school-day associations as the 
great election day at the Merchants' Taylors', and by the obvious 
literary purpose which it serves in suggesting the transition from day 
to night {Epi., 270—5). 

Spenser's marriage, in feet, is likely to have preceded by some years 
the registration of his Epiihaiamium (Nov. 19, 1594) : for in 1598, at 
the time of his final return to London, he had four, possibly five, 
children. Sylvanus, the eldest, appears in several legal documents in 
1605 — 6 and one in 1603 — with no evidence that he is not acting for 
himself — which suggests that he was bom several years before 1594. 
It is probable, therefore, that Spenser, when paying court to Lady Carey, 
was already married, paralleling in this as in other respects the example 
of Sidney and Stella. In this case the Amoretti could not have been 
addressed to the lady who became his wife : for the publisher stated 
that they were ' written not long since.' 

Nevertheless, Grosart, accepting without criticism his predecessors' 
assumption that the name of Spenser's wife must have been Elizabeth, 
because that is the name of his mistress in the Amoretti, has pub- 
lished evidence which identifies this inferred Elizabeth with an obscure 
Elizabeth Boyle\ Therefore Spenser had in his life not three, but 
four, Elizabeths. 

1 A. B. Grosart: Work$ of Speiuer, 1882-4, i, 197—201, 666—8. See further The 
Lumore Papen, Ser. i, Vol. i, Introd., pp. xiv— xTiii. I hope to diaouss this topic later. 
At present I can only say that the evidence, as printed by Grosart, warrants his hypothesis 
that Spenser married Elizabeth Boyle. 



PERCY W. LONG 263 

Most happy letters! fram'd by skilfull trade, 

With which that happy name was first desyned, 
. The which three times thrise happy hath me made. 

With guifts of body, fortune, ana of mind. 

The firet my being to me gave by kind. 

From mother's womb deriv^ by dew descent: 

The second is my sovereigne Queene most kind, 

That honor and lai^ge richesse to me lent. 

The third, my love, my lifes last ornament^ 

By whom my spirit out of dust was raysed : 

To speake her prayse and glory excellent, 

Of all alive most worthy to be praysed. 
Ye three Elizabeths! for ever five, 
That three such graces did unto me give. (Am,, 74.) 

If by this third Elizabeth Spenser meant Grosart's Elizabeth Boyle, 
surely he had become strangely neglectful of his courtly mistress. Had 
he forgotten : 

Those glorious ornaments of hevenly grace 
Wherewith ye triumph over feeble eyes, 
And in subdued harts do tyranyse. 

For one who had 'determined to give my selfe wholy to you, as 
quite abandoned from my selfe, and absolutely vowed to your services,' 
he had shown himself a most undutiful servant. In return for the 
* excellent favours ' received from this * bountiful! ' kinswoman, he had 
proved shamelessly ungenerous in excluding her from his tribute of 
praise*. From the point of view of mere expediency, he had committed 
an unnecessary blunder in antagonizing one of the great court patronesses 
(related by marriage to the Queen) : for inevitably the literary circles 
of London must have taken this Elizabeth to mean Lady Carey, and 
the ensuing discovery that she had -been deserted for another upstart 
Elizabeth must have proved humiliating. Spenser had then repaid 
Lady Carey, not with his promised work in her praise, but with an 
ironical subterfuge. 

The only present escape from this dilemma lies in concluding that 
Spenser had already married Elizabeth Boyle at the time of his court- 
ship of Lady Carey. Silence concerning his wife would have been 
necessary: for he could not name his wife and his love in the same 
sonnet as diflferent persons. Spenser's marriage by this time, at an age 
past thirty-five, has already been shown to be probable, and nothing in 
Qrosart's identification contradicts this view. If Spenser was already 
married, the Amoretti must have been addressed to his courtly mistress. 

1 If the disdainftil Bosalind were named Elizabeth (of. Anglia, Jan., 1908, pp. 72--104), 
there would be some point in excluding her from those who *8uch graces did unto 
me give.' 



264 Spenser and Lady Carey 

Grosart, however, supposes, from the publisher's description of the 
sonnets as ' written not long since/ that the marriage must have taken 
place on June 11, 1594, and that the Amoretti were written after 
Spenser's return to Ireland. Apart from the probability that Spenser's 
eldest son was bom before this time, Grosart's theory involves a serious 
difiiculty from a merely literary point of view. It is almost incredible 
that Spenser, while waiting for more than a year about the court in 
London, should not have engaged in the composition of love sonnets. 
He was then experimenting with the sonnet form in The Ruins of Rome 
and his three series of Visions appended to Muiopotmos (1590). He 
was stimulated by the contemporary publication of Astraphel and Stella 
and by the similar sonnets of Watson and of Daniel, whose work he 
said: 'Doth all afore him far surpasse' (C.C, 417). He was given 
occasion by his courtly service of Lady Carey, and his promise to 
display her ' glorious ornaments.' In all probability he did so, as both 
Nash and himself testify. In this event the utmost that can be claimed 
for Elizabeth Boyle in the Amoretti is the appending or interspersing ^ 
of later sonnets. Grosart himself suggests that the Amoretti contain 
material addressed to his former mistress {i.e. Rosalind). Such reserving 
of bake-meats was probably not uncommon. Gascoigne in The Adven- 
tures of F. J. portrays an instance : * Marry peradventure if there were 
any acquaintance between him and that Helen afterwards he might 
adapt it to her name and so make it serve both their turns, as elder 
lovers have done before and still do and will do world without end.'* 

The internal evidence, as regards the character of Spenser's love, is 
hardly available for argument. Those critics who consider the sequence 
a Platonizing expression of sophisticated passion will accept Lady Carey ^ 
without hesitation; those who regard it as an outpouring of natural 
pre-marital affection must be disconcerted. J. B. Fletcher, who in 
conversation with me adopted the word domestic^ to express the indi- 
vidual character of this sequence, strikes, I think, a happy mean: for 
his word accords with the freedom of a kinswoman's household and with 
Spenser's occasional playfulness {Am., 10, 37). But here tot homines 
quot sentential ! 

Again, in matters of detail, the conventionality of the language of 
love and the inevitable repetition of similar expressions, though the 
ladies be dissimilar, invalidate many resemblances, such as the use of 
the word paragon {Am., 15; C.C7., 548), Spenser's vow of service couched 
in like terms {Am., 81, letter pref. to Muiopotmos), his descriptions of 
^ Hazlitt, ed. Gascoigne, i, 448. ' I should prefer companionable. 



PEBCY W. LONG 267 

his love's temperance (-4m., 13; CO., 551), and his allusions \lap of 
maker' {Am., 8, 9, 24; CO., 541). Perhaps the most striking of u 
is an echo of his sonnet to Lady Carey. Spenser had excused hi. 
insufficiency to describe her 'glorious ornaments* by saying: *For 
thereunto doth need a golden quill/ The 'bountifuU' Lady Carey 
must have supplied him: for in the Amoretti: 

Her worth is written with a golden quill 

That me with heavenly fury aoth inspire. {Am,^ 84.) 

In one matter, however, the internal evidence appears incontestable. 
The Elizabeth of the Amoretti has been long since correctly identified* 
with the fourth Grace whom Spenser introduced in The Faerie Qtieene 
(6. 10. 10 — 28) as the love of Colin Clout, of whom he says : 

She made me often pipe, and now to pipe apace. 

(F,Q,, 6. 10. 27.) 

Two further circumstances make the identity clear. In each case 
the beloved is described as of the ' meane ' or middle class {Am,, 80 ; 
F.Q,, 6. 10. 27) and as being the .' handmayd * of the Faerie Queene 
(Am., 80 ; F.Q., 6. 10. 28). The idea of portraying his beloved as a 
fourth Grace appears first in The Shepheards Calendar, where Colin so 
portrays the Queen. He never uses the word grace (except in the sense 
of favour) in connection with Rosalind. He never applies it to the bride 
of the Epithalamium, though the Graces dance at her wedding. On 
the other hand he uses it repeatedly in the Amoretti: 

So goodly giftes of beauties grace! {Am.^ 31.) 

When on each eyelid sweetly doe appeare 

An hundred Qraces as in shade to sit. (Am,, 40.) 

The word appears almost invariably in connection with Lady Carey 
(never with either of her sisters). Her * gracious name ' and ' hevenly 
grace ' that ' grace * the court is the theme of Spenser's sonnet to her. 
Her * wonted graciousness ' is appealed to in his letter, and he presumes 
to * grace' his verses, dedicating them to her 'name.* Her 'hevenly 
grace ' once more appears in the envoi to his Visions of Petrarch, It 
does not appear in Oolin GlotU in connection with Charillis. But the 
A" in the name Ghainllis, as an anagram on Carey, becomes intelligible 
when associated with x^P*^> grace. 'E. K.' in glossing the April eclogue 
states that the fourth grace was ' called Charites,' and the resemblance 
is strengthened by his description of the Graces as * goddesses of all 

1 By Upton : Works of Spenser, 1758, i, xix. 

* Gf. also Helice {Am,, 34) as a play on Elizabeth. 




y 



Spenser and Lady Carey 

^ilr and ' bountifull * — a trait which Spenser repeatedly stresses in 
Carey (see foot-note, p. 269). The fourth Grace thus intervenes to 
Stablish the identity of Lady Carey and the Elizabeth of the Amoretti : 
for Lady Carey as one of the * courtly garlond ' of Queen Elizabeth was 
a ' handmayd ' of the Faerie Queene \ and as the wife of a knight, not 
yet a lord, belonged to the *meane' rather than the noble classes. 
Moreover, the term 'countrey lasse' applied (more or less conventionally) 
to the fourth Grace {F.Q,, 6. 10. 26), applies to Lady Carey, who held 
the estate of Herstwood in Great Sapham near Bury St Edmunds. Still 
more confirmation is furnished by the following parallel : 

Of all the shepheards daughters which there be, 

And yet there [at the court] be the fairest under skie, 

Or that elsewhere 1 ever jet did see, 

A fairer Nymph yet never saw mine eye. (CC, 656 — 9.) 

So farre as doth the daughter of the day 

All other lesser lights in light excell, 

So farre doth she in beautifuU array 

Above all other lasses beare the belL (F.Q., 6. 10. 26.) 

This accords with his description of Lady Carey as *the fairest of 
Gods creatures' {Vis, ofFetr., Vii). He describes his bride (-Kpi., 168 — 9) 
without such hyperbole. 

Finally, the name Amoretti in itself suggests that the sequence was 
addressed to Lady Carey : for if she, as others addressed in prefatory 
sonnets, appears as a character in the Faerie Queeney she appears most 
probably as Amoret or Amoretta^ the representative of chaste love 
{F,Q,y 3. 6. 4, 10). She stands in close association with Queen Elizabeth, 
not as her * handmayd,' but as the twin of Belphoebe, who symbolizes 
the Queen's virgin chastity. The womanly chastity of Lady Carey, as 
that of Elizabeth, is everywhere emphasized {Am,, 8, 83). Amoret is 
represented as the foster child of Venus, who * lessoned * her : 

In all the lore of love, and goodly womanhead. (F.Q,, 3. 6. 51.) 

In which when she to perfect ripeness grew, 

Of grace and beautie noble Paragone, 

She brought her forth into the worldes vew, 

To be th* ensample of true love alone, 

And lodestarre of all chaste affection. {FQ,, 3. 6. 62.) 

So Spenser styles Elizabeth : * the lodestar of my lyfe ' {Am., 34). His 
play on the word grace is not confined to the passage last quoted. Of 
the Queen and Amoret he says : 

These two were twinned, and twixt them both did share 
The heritage of all celestial grace. {FQ., 3. 6. 4.) 

^ Otherwise Amoret must be the Marquess of Northampton (of. CC, 509 — 16). 



PERCY W. LONG 267 

Again he describes Amoret in the temple of love reposing in the lap of 
Womanhood : 

That same was fayrest Amoret in place, 

Shyning with beauties light and heavenly vertues grace. 

{F,Q.y 4. 10. 62.) 

This reinstatement of Lady Carey disposes of all doubt that Spenser's 
love was 'chaste affection/ and in its serious as well as its playful aspects 
a pleasant and probably sincere compliment. Being a professed moralist, 
especially as regards love, Spenser could hardly have published verses of 
any other character addressed to a married kinswoman. Queen Elizabeth, 
who was strict in this matter (witness her castigation of Raleigh), seems 
to have approved of their relations : for the. best authenticated portrait 
of Spenser is a miniature which once belonged to Lady Carey, having 
come to her as a legacy from the Queen ^ 

Percy W. Long. 

^ Seyeral deductions concerning the dates of Spenser's birth (Am., 60), the writing of 
the Amoretti, the rough completion of the Faerie Queened Bks. iv — ^vi [Am,, 80), as well as 
the identify of Scudamour (? Carey), Calidore (Essex), Pastorella (Frances Walsingham), 
Meliboe (Walsingham), Coridon (Watson), lack of space prevents me from discussing. 

The relation of Spenser's addresses to Rosalind and Lady Carey is complicated by 
a hitherto unnoticed sonnet in Colin Clout (466 — 79), in which Colin declares himseU 
* Vassall to one whom all my dayes I serve.' His language throughout closely resembles 
that addressed to Lady Carey. He is * aU vowed hers to bee.' Yet he names ChariUis 
among others, and he testifies concerning Rosalind that 'hers I die.' Colin Clout was 
published under Spenser's supervision after the publication of the Amoretti, Rosalind and 
Elizabeth would therefore seem to have been the same : 

And I hers ever onely ever one; 
One ever I all vowed hers to bee, 
One ever I, and others never none. (C.C., 477 — ^9.) 
Several circumstances lend plausibility to this view, chiefly Lady Carey's residence near 
Bury St Edmunds, while Spenser studied at Cambridge, her ancestral home at Althorp in 
the north of England, and her uncle's bestowal of a living upon Edward Eirke (probably 
'E.E.'). Nevertheless, ' E.K ' states that the name Rosalinde is an anagram, and I see no way 
of making this answer the 'very name' of Elizabeth Carey. Apart from any identification, 
there is no sign that Rosalind ever was gracious to Colin 's love suit ^CC, 903-4), whereas 
Elizabeth admitted him to her grace (Am., 67). Whoever Elizaoeth may have been, 
Colin Clout is, therefore, inconsistent, unless in view of his phrase: 'Sith her [Rosalind] 
I may not love' (C.C., 939), he ostensibly had resigned himself to the service of Elizabeth. 
Jn this case, the sonnet must refer to her. 



THE ELIZABETHAN SONNETEERS AND THE 
FRENCH POETS. 

In the present article I should like to draw attention to a few more 
cases of plagiarism fllustrating the indebtedness of the Elizabethan 
sonneteers to their French contemporaries of the second half of the 
sixteenth century. Thomas Lodge has already been shown to have 
drawn largely on Ronsard and Desportes, and Samuel Daniel to a 
certain extent on the latter. This time the case concerns Daniel and 
Du Bellay more particularly. At least three of the sonnets from 
Du Bellay 's L Olive are reproduced almost verbatim in Daniel's sonnet- 
sequence Delia, published at the beginning of 1591 — 2, in self-defence 
probably against the action of the publisher Newman, who had issued 
surreptitiously twenty-eight sonnets and seven songs by Samuel Daniel 
and * sundry other noblemen and gentlemen' at the end of his un- 
authorised edition of Sidney's Astrophel and Stella, Two years later 
Daniel reissued the collection in revised and enlarged form under the 
title Delia and Rosamond augmented. 

Sonnet xiv oi Delia, which first appeared with some verbal diflferences 
in Sonnets after Sidney's Astrophel, except for the last two lines, is a 
literal reproduction of Sonnet X of Du Bellay s L'Olive, which I quote 
according to the edition of Marty-Laveaux : 

Those snary locks are those same nets, Ces cheueux d'or sont les liens, Madame, 

my Dear! 

Wherewith my liberty, thou didst sur- Dont fut premier ma liberty surprise, 

prise! 

Love was the flame that fired me so Amour, la flamme autour du coeur 

near : dprise, 

The dart transpiercing were those Ces yeux, le traict qui me transperse 

crystal eyes. Tame. 

Strong is the net, and fervent is the Fors sont les neuds, apre et viue la 

flame ; flamme, 

Deep is the wound, my sighs do well Le coup, de main a tirer bien apprise, 

report. 

Yet 1 do love, adore, and praise the Et toutesfois i'ayme, i'adore, et prise, 

same 

That holds, that burns, that wounds Ce qui m'^traint, qui me brusle, et 

in this sort; entame. 



L. K KASTNER 



269 



And list not seek to break, to quench, 
to heal 
The bond, the flame, the wound that 

feetereth so, 
By knife, by liquor, or by salve to 

deal: 
So much I please to perish in my 
woe. 
Yet lest long travails be above my 

strength ; 
Qood Delia ! Loose, quench, heal me, 
now at length! 



Pour briser donq', pour ^indre et 
gu^rir 
Ce dur lien, ceste ardeur, ceste playe, 

le ne quier fer, liqueiur, ny m^ecine : 

L'heur et plaisir que ce m'est de p^rir 

De teUe main, ne permect qui i'essaye 

Glayve trenchant, ny froideur, ny 
racine. 



Sonnet xix of Delia is almost as closely modelled on Sonnet xci 
of Du Bellay's sonnet-cycle. It may be noted that it was also first 
printed in Sonnets after Astrophel, with a few variants, such as * treasures' 
for 'tresses' in the first line, etc.: 



Restore thy tresses to the golden ore! 
Yield Cytherea's son those arks of 

love! 
Bequeath the heavens, the stars that 
I adore! 
And to the Orient do thy pearls remove? 

Yield thy hands' pride imto the ivory 
white! 
To Arabian odour give thy breathing 

sweet! 
Restore thy blush unto Aurora bright! 

To Thetis give the honomr of thy feet! 
Let Venus have the graces she re- 
signed ! 

And thy sweet voice yield to Hermonius' 
spheres ! 

But yet restore thy fierce and cruel mind 

To Hyrcan tigers and to ruthless bears ! 
Yield to the marble thy hard heart 

again! 
So shalt thou cease to plague, and I 

to pain. 

The above sonnet of Daniel is particularly interesting. Ben Jonson, 
who was at daggers drawn with the author of Delia, represented him on 
the stage as Hedon in Cynthia's Revels, and in a certain passage (y, 2) 
makes Crites say to Hedon : ' You that tell your mistress her beauty is 
all composed of theft; her hair stole from Apollo's goldy locks; her 
white and red, lilies stolen out of Paradise ; her eyes, two stars plucked 
from the sky,* etc. This is evidently a pointed and mocking reference 
to the sonnet just quoted. How Ben would have rejoiced if he had been 
able to point to Daniel's source and openly accuse the man he called a 



Rendez k I'or cete couleur qui dore 
Ces blonds cheueuz, rendez mi? autres 

choses: 
A Torient tant de perles encloses, 

£t au Soleil ces beaux yeulx que 
i'adore. 
Rendez oes mains au blanc yuoire encore, 

Ce seing au marbre, et ces leiures aux 
roses, 

Ces doulx soupirs aux fleurettes de- 
closes, 

£t ce beau teint a la vermeille Aurore. 
Rendez aussi k Pamour tous ses traictz, 

Et k Venus ses graces et attraictz : 

Rendez aux cieulx leur celeste har- 
monic. 
Rendez encor' ce doulx nom k son arbre, 

Ou aux rochers rendez ce coeur de 
marbre, 

Et aux lions cet' humble felonnie. 



270 The Elizabethan Sonneteers and the French Poets 

' verser ' of plagiarism ! Fortunately for Daniel, Jonson was ignorant 
of French and of French literature, as Drummond has stated quite 
bluntly in his Conversations. Mr Fleay who, I believe, was the first to 
show the identification of Hedon with Daniel, was also unaware that 
Daniel had plagiarised Du Bellay or any other French poet. Daniel's 
dependence on foreign models did not however escape the attention of 
all his contemporaries, and now that facts are coming to light, the lines 
in the Return from Parnassus (1601) have much more point than was 
hitherto believed : 

Sweete bony dropping Daniel! doth wage 
Warre with the proudest big Italian, 
Tbat melte bis heart in su^«d sonneting; 
Onely let him more sparingly make use 
Of others wit, and use his own the more, 
That well may scome base imitation. 

Again Sonnet xxiii of Delia faithfully reproduces Sonnet xcii of 
L'Olive : 



False hope prolongs my ever certain 
grief, 
Traitor to me, and faithful to my 

Love. 
A thousand times it promised me 

relief. 
Yet never any true eflfect I prove. 
Oft, when I find in her no truth at all, 

I banish her, and blame her treachery : 
Yet, soon again, I must her back re- 

caU, 
As one that dies without her com- 
pany. 
Thus often, as I chase my Hope from 

me. 
Straightway, she hastes her unto 

DeUa's eyes; 
Fed with some pleasing look, there 

shall she be; 
And so sent back. And thus my 

fortune liea 
Looks feed my Hope, Hope fosters me 

in vain; 
Hopes are unsiu^, when certain is my 

Pain. 



Ce bref espoir qui ma tristesse alonge, 

Traitre a moy seul et fidele il Madame, 

Bien mile fois a promis k mon ame 

L'heureuse fin du soucy qui la ronge, 
Mais quand ie voy' sa promesse estre 
vn songe, 
Ie le maudy', ie le hay', ie le bl&me, 
Puis tout soudain ie Tinuoque et re- 
clame. 
Me repaissant de sa doulce mensonge. 

Plus d'vne fois de moy ie Tay chass^ : 

Mais ce cruel, qui n'est iamais lass^ 

De mon malheur, a vos yeulx se va 
rendre. 
La faict sa plainte: et vous qui iours 
et nuitz 
Avecques luy riez de mes ennuiz, 

D'vn seul regard le me faictos re- 
prendre. 



A fourth sonnet, which is found in the Sonnets after Astrophel, but 
which was not reprinted in Daniel's authorised collection, also turns out 
to be a copy from the same French poet. It corresponds closely to 
Sonnet xxxvi of Du Bellay's L'Olive : 



L. E. KASTNER 



271 



i 



The only bird alone that Nature frames, LVnic oiseau (miracle ^merueillable) 

When weary of the tedious life she Par feu se tue, ennuy^ de sa vie: 

lives 

By fire dies, yet finds new life in Puis quand son ame est par flammes 

flames ; rauie, 

Her ashes to her shape new essence Des cendres naist vu autre k luy 

give. semblable. 

When only I, the only wretched £t moy qui suis IVnique miserable, 
wight, 

Weary of life that breathes but sorrow's Fach^ de vivre, vne flamme ay suyuie, 

blasts; 

Pursue the flame of such a beauty bright, Dont conuiendra bien tost que ie 

d^uie, 

That bums my heart; and yet my life Si- par piti^ ne m'etes secourable. 
still lasts. 

O sovereign light ! that with thy O grand' doulceur ! 6 bont^ souueraine ! 
sacred flame 

Consumes my life, revive me after this ! Si tu ne veulx dure et inhumaine 

estre 

And make me (with the happy bird) the Soubz ceste face ang^lique et seraine, 

same 

That dies to live, by favour of thy Puis qu'ay pour toy du Ph^nix le sem- 

bliss ! blant. 

This deed of thine will show a goddess' Fay qu'en tons poinctz ie luy soy' 

power ; resemblant, 

In so long death to grant one living Tu me feras de moy mesme renaistre. 
hour. 



On discovering that Daniel has so boldly plagiarised Du Bellay, 
I felt that the author of LOlive must have other creditors among the 
Elizabethan sonneteers ; and remembering that Spenser had, while yet 
a schoolboy, practised his hand on Du Bellay and subsequently rendered 
his Antiquites de Rome in the native tongue, I naturally turned my 
attention to the Amoretti, However, a careful examination of Spenser's 
collection and of the other Elizabethan sonnet-cycles failed to realise my 
expectations. Apart from Daniel, the only other English sonneteer of the 
time who drew on Du Bellay is B. Grifl&n in his insipid Fidessa (1596), 
Sonnet xu being an exact imitation of Sonnet x of LOlive : 



The prison I am in is thy fair face! 
Wherein my liberty enchainM lies; 
My thoughts, the bolts that hold me 
in the place; 
My food, the pleasing looks of thy 
fair eyes! 
Deep is the prison where I lie enclosed, 

Strong are the bolts that in this cell 
contain me. 
Sharp is the food necessity imposed. 
When hunger makes me feed on that 
which pains me. 



Ces cheueux d'or sont les liens, Madame, 
Dont fut premier ma liberty surprise. 
Amour, fa flamme autour du cceur 

Uprise, 
Ces yeux, le traict qui me transperse 
Tame. 
Fors sont les neuds, apre et vine la 
flamme, 
Le coup, de main a tirer bien apprise, 

Et toutesfois i'ayme, i'adore, et prise, 
Ce qui m'^traint, qui me brusle et 
entame. 



272 The Elizabethan Sorvn^rs and the French Poets 

Yet do I love, embrace, and foUowfest, ^Ptei^riser donq', pour dteindre et 

That holds, that keeps, that discon- C^d^TSiS^^^ *«*«"'' '^^ P^^** 
tents me most : "' ' ir nv m^decine ; 

And list not break, unlock, or seek to le ne quier fer, liquetf^ ' ^ 

The place, the bolts, the food (though L'heur et plaisir que oe m'est de p^rir 
I be lost;) 

Better in prison ever to remain De telle main, ne permect que Tessaje 

Than, being out, to suffer greater pain. Glayve trenchant, ny froideur, ny racine. 

Ronsard and Desportes were the French poets for whom the Eliza- 
bethans showed a marked predilection, more especially the latter, whose 
hyperboles and strained conceits appear to have had a strange fascination 
for his contemporaries. Mr Sidney Lee has shown in the IviroducUon 
(p. Ivi) to Elizabethan Sonnets that Daniel borrowed from Desportes, 
though I am inclined to think, after a careful camparison, that at least 
two of the sonnets he instances were suggested directly by Italian 
models. The model for Delia xv (*If a true heart and feith unfeigned') , 

appears to me to have been Petrarch's ' S'una fede amorosa, un cor non J 

finto,' rather than Desportes' translation of that piece, and the sonnet 
beginning with the words * Why doth my mistress credit so her glass ' 
{Delia xxxii), which Desportes filched from Tebaldeo's 'A che presti, . 

superba, a un vetro fede?,' bears more resemblance to the Italian original I 

than to the French refiishioning of it. In the case of free renderings ' 

the question of determining the exact source is not always easy, as a 
good number of the Italian sonnets transplanted into the sonnet- { 

sequences of the Elizabethan poets found their way into England by 
way of Desportes' imitations, the French poet's sonnet collections being 
little more than an anthology in French of the Italian Petrarchists 
from the great master himself to contemporaries such as Tansillo and 
Angelo di Costanzo. The only safe criterion, whenever an Italian 
prototype is found both in French and English dress, is a close com- 
parison of the turns and phraseology of the three compositions. Thus * 
if Daniel had any special model for his beautiful sonnet addressed to > 
* Care-charmer Sleep! Son of the sable night!' the closing lines point \ 
to Cariteo rather than to Desportes : 

Amor, tu 1 fai ; ch6 chi sotto '1 govemo O frere de la mort, que tu m'es 

ennemy I 
Vive del regno tuo, non pud dormire, Je t'invoque au secours, mais tu es 

endormy, 
N^ riposar, se non col somno etemo. £t i'ards, toujours veiUant, en tes I 

norreurs glac^es. 
Still let me sleep! embracing clouds in vain; 
And never wake to feel the day's disdain. 



I L. E. KASTNER 273 

j The opening lines certainly bear more resemblance to Desportes' 

version than to the original of Cariteo: 

Somno, d'ogni peDsier placido obblio, Sommeil, plaisible fils de la nuict 

solitaire, 
£ de gli affanni uman tranquiUa pace ; Pere-alme, nourricier de tous les ani- 
f I maux, 

Percb^ fuggir di me tanto ti piace? Enchanteur gracieux, doiix oubly de nos 

maux, 
Yien da ragione, o vien dal furor mio? Et des esprits blessez I'appareil salu- 
« taire. 

i Care-charmer Sleep! Son of the sable night! 

[ Brother to Death ! In silent darkness, born ! 

r Relieve my anguish, and restore the light! 

With dark forgetting of my cares, return ! 

But even then it may very well be that Daniel had in mind the 

opening quartet of Giovanni della Casa's remodelling of Cariteo's 

sonnet : 
, Sonne; o de la queta umida ombrosa 

Notte placido figlio; o de' mortali 
Egri conforto, obblio dolce de' mali 
Si gravi, ond' h la vita aspra e nojosa. 

To give another example, Barnes' sonnet in which he apostrophises 
jealousy as * Thou poisoned canker of much beauteous love ' may just 
as well have been suggested by Sannazaro's * Gelosia, d* amanti orribil 
freno' as by the sonnet of de Magny in which the French poet was 
merely reproducing his Italian predecessor. The fact is that in many 
cases where the adaptation is very free or where the English poet is 
merely recalling reminiscences of his varied reading in French and 
Italian, it is impossible to determine the exact source. However, the 
original source should always be taken into account. The danger of 
not considering the original source, where it exists, is well illustrated 
by the following: since Emil Koeppel's note in Anglia xiii, 77 — 78, 
it has been taken for granted that the sonnet of Sir Thomas Wyatt 
beginning with the words *Like unto these unmeasurable mountains' is 
derived from the sonnet of Mellin de Saint-Gelais, of which the opening 
line is 'Voyant ces monts de veue ainsi lointaine,' whereas Wyatt's 
sonnet is a literal translation of a well-known sonnet of Sannazaro which 
had served as a model for that of Saint-Gelais. Koeppel was led astray 
because he was not aware of the existence of the original source. I had ^ 
intended at the time to publish this interesting fact, when I found out 
at the last moment that Mr Arthur Tilley had summarily alluded to it 
in a note in one of the early numbers of the Modern Language Quarterly. 
Thus the priority clearly belongs to Mr Tilley, but as his short note 

M. L. R. III. 19 



274 The Elizabethan Sonneteers and the French Poets 

seems to have escaped the attention of all the English scholars I con- 
sulted, and as Koeppels view appears still to be the only one current, 
I may be excused for going more fully into the matter^ and for printing 
the three sonnets in question, the more so as it illustrates my point so 
admirably : 

Yojant ces moots de veue ainsi loin- Simile a questi smisurati monti 
taine, 
Je leu compare a mon long desplaisir : E P aspra yita mia colma di doglie. 

Haut est leiir chef, et haut est mon d^ir, Alti son questi, ed alte le mie voglie : 

Leur pied est ferme, et ma foy est cer- Di lagrime abbond' io, questi di fonti. 

taine. 
D'eux maint ruisseau coule, et mainte Lor ban di scogli le superbe fronti, 
fontaine : 
De mes deux Yeux sortent pleura h, In me duri pensier 1' anima accoglie : 

loisir ; 
De forts souspirs ne me puis dessaisir, Lor son di pochi frutti e molte foglie, 

Et de grands vents leur cime est toute I' ho poehi effetti a gran speranza 

Slaine, aggionti. 

le troupeaux s'y promenent et Soffian sempre fra lor rabbiosi venti, 
paissent, 
Autant d' Amours se convent et re- . In me gravi sospiri esito fanno: 

naissent 
Dedans mon coeur, qui seul est leur In me si (>asce Amore, .in lor armenti. 

pasture, 
Ik sont sans fruict, mon bien n'est Immobile son io, lor fermi stanno: 
qu'aparence, 
Et d*eux k moy n'a qu'une diflfi^rence, Lor han di vaghi augelli dolci accenti, 

Qu'en eux la neige, en moy la flamme Ed io lamenti di sovercbio affanno. 

dure. 

Like unto these unmeasurable mountains 
Is my painfiil life, the burden of ire; 
For of great height they be, and high is my desire ; 
And I of tears, and they be full of fountains ; 
Under cragey rocks they have barren plains: 
Hard thou^ts in me my woful mind doth tire; 
Small fruit and many leaves their tops attire: 
With small eflPect great trust in me remains; 
The boisterous winds oft their high boughs do blast: 
Hot sighs in me continually be shed; 
Wild beasts in them, fierce love in me is fed: 
Inmovable am I, and they steadfast; 
Of restless birds they have the tune and note : 
And I always plaints passing thorough my throat 

A perusal of these three compositions will at once disclose the fact 
that Wyatt's sonnet is not modelled on that of Saint-Gelais, but that it 
is an almost verbatim translation of Sannazaro's. 

1 In a short paper on Tht Migrations of a Sonnet in Modem Language Notes for 
February, 1908, Mr J. M. Berdan of Yale attempts to show that Saint-Gelais' version of 
the sonnet in question is based on that of Wyatt and not on that of Sannazaro. This is 
a priori highly improbable and Mr Berdan 's arguments do not convince me. It may be 
added that Professor Padelford in his Early Sixteenth Century Lyrics (1907) repeats 
Eoeppers error. 



^ L, E. KASTNER 275 

In the case of the numerous copies of Lodge from Desportes to which 
I drew attention in the AthencBum (No. 4017) there can be no doubt, as 
even when an Italian original exists, his servile reproduction of the 
French turns and phraseology make it obvious that he worked alone on 
Desportes' renderings of the Italian. The same is true of the large 
number of borrowings of Lodge from Ronsard which Mr Sidney Lee 
instances in his Introduction to Elizahethoun Sonnets (p. Ixviii). None 
of them reproduces the Italian protot)rpe, but Bonsard's re&shioning of it. 

Whilst on the chapter of Desportes, I should like to emphasise the 
fact, which I have already briefly noticed in No. 4018 of the Athenceum, 
that Lodge and Daniel were not the only Elizabethan sonneteers who 
levied loans on the French poet. The dependence of Constable is 
hardly less remarkable, and apart from the general title of his sonnet- 
sequence which naturally suggests Desportes* Diane, there is consider- 
able internal evidence that he, too, drew to a large extent on his French 
contemporary. I pointed out that Sonnet viii of the * Sixth Decade ' 
of Diana ('Unhappy day! unhappy month and season!') is a literal 
translation^ of Desportes* * Malheureux fut le jour, le mois et la saison ' 
( (Euvres, ed. Michiels, p. 32). Sonnet X of the same ' Decade ' is like- 
wise copied from another sonnet in Diane, though in this case the 
reproduction is not quite so close: 

My God, my Gkxl, how much I love my Mod Dieu 1 mon Dieu I que j'aime ma 

goddess ! 



Whose virtues rare, unto the heavens Et de son chef les tr^sors pr^cieuz ! 

arise. 

My God, my God, how much I love Mon Dieu! mon Dieu! que j'aime ses 

her eyes! beaux yeux, 

One shining bright, the other full of Dont Tun m'est doux, Pautre plain de 

hardneSJ3. rudesse ! 

My God, my God, how much I love her Mon Dieu ! mon Dieu ! que j'aime la 

wisdom ! 



Whose works may ravish heaven's De ses discours, qui raviroient les Dieux, 

richest ^ maker.' 
Of whose eyes* joys, if I might be Et la douceur de son ris gracieux, 

partaker ; 
Then to my soul, a holy rest would Et de son port la loyale hautesse! 

come. 
My God, how much I love to hear her Mon Dieu! que j'aime il me ressou- 

speak ! venir 

Whose hands I kiss, and ravished oft Du tans qu' Amour me fist serf devenir ! 

rekisseth ; 
When she stands wotless, whom so Toujours depuis j'adore mon servage. 

much she blesseth. 
Say then. What mind this honest love Mon mal me plaist plus 11 est violant ; 

would break; 

^ This sonnet of Constable is not an imitation of Petrarch's * Benedetto sia '1 giomo 
e '1 mese e 1' anno/ as might be expected at first sight. 

19—2 



276 The Elizabethan Sonneteers and the French Poets 



Since her perfections pure, withouten Un feu si beau m'^ye en me brildant, 

blot, 

Makes her beloved of tliem, she knoweth Et 1a rigueur est douce en son visage. 

not? 

Again Sonnet ii of the 'Fifth Decade' was certainly composed in 

imitation of yet another sonnet of Desportes' Diane. The phraseology 

is somewhat modified, but the general idea and conclusion are 
identical: 

I do not now complain of my disgrace, Je ne me plains de vostre cruaut^ 

cruel Fair One! Fair with cruel A mes d^irs injustement contraire; 

crost: 

Nor of the hour, season, time, nor Je ne me plains que tout me desesp^re, 

place; 

Nor of my foil, for any freedom lost ; Ny que le tans cede k ma loyaut^. 

Nor of mv courage, by misfortune Je ne me plains du vol que j'ay 

daunted; tente, 

Nor of my wit, by overweening struck ; Jeune D^dale, aux perils tdm^raire ; 

Nor of my sense, by any sound erj- Quoy qu'il en soit, j'auray de quoi me 

chanted ; plaire. 

Nor of the force of fiery pointed hook ; Fondant aux rais d'une telle beauts. 

Nor of the steel that sticks within my Je ne me plains que I'effort des jalouz 
wound; 

Nor of my thoughts,by worser thoughts De moy me prive en me privant de vous. 

defaced; 

Nor of the life, I labour to confound ; Je ne me plains que tout me fasse 

craindre ; 

But I complain, that being thus dis- Mais, en souffrant tant de punitions, 
graced, 

Firec^ feared, frantic, fettered, shot De desespoirs, de morts, d'afflictions, 

through, slain; 

My death is such, as I may not com- Las! je me plains que je ne m'ose 

plain. plaindre ! 

In conclusion, I may add that the last sonnet of Giles Fletcher's 
Lida (1593) is a fairly close rendering of one in Ronsard's Amours: 

sugared talk ! wherewith my thoughts O doux parler dont les mots doucereux 
do live. 



brows! Love's trophy, and my 

senses' shrine. 
charming smiles ! that death or life 

can give. 
heavenly kisses! from a mouth 
divine. 
wreaths! too strong, and trammels 

made of hair! 
O pearls! enclosM in an ebon pale. 
O rose and lilies! in a field most fair. 
Where modest white doth make the red 
seem pale. 
voice! whose accents live within 
my heart 

heavenly hand ! that more than Atlas O diamants ! 6 lis poiurpr^s de roses ! 
holds. 



Sont engrav^ au fond de ma m^moire ! 
O front, d'Amour le trofte et la gloire, 
O doux sourcis, 6 baisers savoureux! 

O cheveux d'or, 6 coustaux plantureux 

De lis, d'ajillets, de porphyre et d'yvoire ! 
feux jumeaux, d'oti le ciel me fit boire 
A si longs traits le venin amoureux! 

vermeillons! 6 perlettes encloses! 



L. £. KA8TNEB 



277 



O sighs perfumed! that can release 
my smart. 
happy they! whom in her arms she 

Now if you ask, Where dwelleth all 

this bliss? 
Seek: out my Love ! and she will tell 

you this. 



chant qui peux les plus durs ^mou- 

voir, 
Et dont Taccent dans les ftmes de- 

meure. 
Eh! dea! beauty reviendra jamais 

llieure 
Qu* entre mes bras je vous puisse 

ravoir? 



In writing another of his sonnets (No. xvii of Licia) Fletcher, 

who rarely descends to wholesale plundering, had probably in mind 

Sonnet xxxii of Du Bellay's LVlive: 

As are the sands, fair Licia, on the Tout ce qu'icy la Nature enuironne, 
shore ; 
Or coloured flowers, garlands of the 

Spring; 
Or as the frosts not seen nor felt 

before; 
Or as the fruits that Autumn forth 
doth bring; 
As twinkling stars, the tinsel of the 

night ; 
Or as the fish that gallop in the seas; 

As airs, each part that still escapes our 

sight : 
So are my Sighs, controllers of my ease. 

Yet these are such as needs must 
have an end. 
For things finite, none else hath Nature 

done: 
Only the sighs which from my heart I 

send 
Will never cease, but where they first 
began: 
Accept them. Sweet, as incense due 

to thee! 
For you immortal made them so to be. 



Plus tost il naist, moins longuement 
il dure: 

Le gay printemps s'enrichist de ver- 
dure, 

Mais peu fleurist Phonneur de sa 
couronne. 
L'ire du ciel facilement ^tonne 

Les fruicts d'est^, qui craignent la 

froidure : 
Centre I'hiuer ont T^oorce plus dure 

Les fruicts tardifis, omement de Tau- 
tonne. 
De ton printemps les fleurettes seiche 

Seront vn lour de leur tige arrach^, 

Non la vertu, Pesprit et la raison, 

A ces doulx fruicts en toy meurs deuant 
Taage, 
Ne faict Test^, ny Tautonne dommage. 



Ny la rigueur de la froide saison. 

However, in this last instance it must be admitted that plagiarism 
jfrom the French poet is not absolutely proven; Fletcher may be 
reproducing or paraphrasing an Italian original, unknown to me, which 
may have served as a model both for the French and English versions. 

In reference to Daniel it may be recalled in conclusion that the 
sources of his sonnets have already been studied by Josef Guggenheim 
{Quellenstvdien zu Samuel Daniels Sonettencydvs Delia, Berlin, 1898), 
and eji passant by H. Isaac (Shakespeare-JaJirbttch, xvii, 165 — 200). 
Both Guggenheim and Isaac show that Daniel's debt to the Italian 
poets, particularly Petrarch and Tasso, was not inconsiderable, but 
neither of them as much as suspects any French influence. 

L. E. Kastner. 



WEST GERMANIC 'I' IN OLD ENGLISH SAXON 

DIALECTS. 

I\ 

In E WS. the vowel i may be regarded as fairly constant, if we except 
the cases in which it develops into io, eo, and with i mutation into ie, 
these developments being caused (1) by fracture before certain con- 
sonants, (2) by u and a/o mutation before liquids and labials, and (3) 
after w without reference to the following consonants. However, as 
Sievers suggested (Angelsdchsische OrammatUc, § 105, A 5 and § 107, 
A. 6) and Btilbring definitely asserted {Altengliachea Elementarbuchy 
§ 235, A), a cause of further variation is found in the influence of various 
Saxon patois in cases where u and o/a mutation occurred before con- 
sonants other than liquids and labials {e,g,y nioSor', siodo, tSiosum, etc.). 
But it is probable that we have the influence of such a patois also in the 
frequent cases in EWS. where ie, appears instead of ii. The following 
is an attempt to discover whether the occurrence of these ica forms is 
due to the influence of a patois in which the ici forms were a normal 
development, and, this being so, whether the influence of this patois 
extended to LWS. 

In EWS. we find ii subject to a double variation ; it appears (1) as 
io, due to the patois mentioned by Biilbring, and (2) as icj. In LWS. 
we again find ij subject to a double variation; we have (1) eo, io, arising 
under the same conditions as the EWS. io forms, and therefore probably 
due to the same patois, and (2) ys forms. But, as will subsequently be 
shown, there are no icg forms". If the ica forms in EWS. are due to the 

1 For convenience the following notation has been adopted : 1^, constant i in Early and 
Late West Saxon (EWS. and LWS.) ; y,, EWS. y < West Germanic (WG.) n + i, j ; ie^, 
EWS. ie < ea + i, j, etc.; ie^, EWS. ie which sometimes ocoors instead of EWS. i, and is 
the subject of the present myestigation ; y^, LWS. y < EWS. ie, ; ys, LWS. y which 
sometimes occnrs instead of i^. 

^ In the examples quoted no distinction is made between ^ and |> which are uniformly 
represented by IS. 

' There are a few exceptions : (1) in the Codex Wintoniensis, where we find hiera, but 
this LWS. monument preserves various archaic forms; (2) in the Blickling Homilies^ 
where we find hiene three times ; and (3) the Dialogues of Gregory , where we find ie in 
wriexle, gesien, scyppendra, stiehtiendum, hiere (twice), but ie in the first and third of 
these stands for y,. 



MARIE A. LEWENZ 279 

influence of a patois, it naturally suggests itself that these js forms in 
LWS. are due to the same cause. This is all the more probable as the 
LWS. ya forms are the normal development of the EWS. iei forms, 
whether these arose fix)m i mutation of eo, ea from e preceded by a 
palatal consonant, or instead of io, eo, owing to the so-called palatal 
mutation due to a following hs, ht (Sievers, /.c, §108, 1, Biilbring, Lc, 
§ 311). If then we should find LWS. y, forms occurring under the same 
conditions as EWS. iej forms, it would be pretty safe to infer that the 
y, forms are a development of the iej forms. R. A. Williams has 
suggested (Die Vokale der Tonsilhen im Codex Wintordensis, Anglia, 
N.F., XIII, §4) that there was some connection between the y, forms 
and the io forms, and Sievers (i.e., §105, A. 4, A. 7) seems to imply the 
same ; it will subsequently be shown that this is probably the case. 

We must first consider under what circumstances ica forms arose 
in EWS. 

XL 

1. The following words occur in EWS. both with ii and ie, forms. 
The examples are all taken irom Cosijn's AlUvestsdchsische Orammcvtik, 
§§27-41. 

Gura Pastoraiis : bilwite and derivatives, 30 times with i ; bielwit- 
lice, 1; biman, 3, biernan, 3, bir5, biretJ, 10, biei^, 6; biteran, 1, bietre, 1, 
bietemes, 1 ; bringan, etc. Hatton MS. 17, gebrienge, Hatton MS. 1 
(in the Cotton MS. only brengan); adiligien, etc. 4 with i, to dielgianne, 
1 ; firenlust, 7, fierenlust, 4 ; geflites, etc., 5, geflietu, 1 ; gefriSode, 3, 
gefrieSode, 1 ; hider, 7, hieder, 1 ; hilpeC, 1, hielpeS, 1 ; hine and hiene 
occur innumerable times ; i(l)lca, 9, ielce, 1 ; iman, etc., 3, ieman, etc. 
10 ; li(g)eC, 2, liegetJ, 1 ; ungerisenlic(e), 7, ungerisun, 2, ungeriesenlice, 
1 ; sint, 344, sient, siendun, 11 ; gesihS, forsihC, 23, gesiehS, forsiehC, 9 
gesihst, 2, gesiehstJ, Hatton MS. 1 ; asliten, tosliten, 3, toslieten, 1 
tidemes, 3, tiedemes, tiederlic, 2 ; tieglan, 2 ; Cider, 12, 5ieder, 1 
geCigene, 3, geCiegene, 1 ; Cienga, 1, otherwise only vriith i ; wille and 
its derivatives, 19 times with i and 16 with ie; winS, 5, wienC 2; awint, 
gewint, 5, wient, 2 ; wieste, 1, otherwise wisse, wisCe, wiste ; compounds 
of witJer, 19 times with i, once with ie ; ge write, etc., 20, awriten, Hatton 
MS. 48, Cotton, 30, gewrietum, 1, awrieten, Hatton MS. 3. Oromis-, 
bimende, 1, biemende, 2 ; hine, 15, hiene, 237 ; iman, etc., 8, ieman, 
etc., 4. Saxon Chronicle : hine, 18, hiene, 12. 

On analysing these forms we find that in the Cura Pastoraiis the 
icj forms occur in most cases before or after labials and sonorous dentals 



280 West Germanic */' in Old English Saxon Dialects 

(1, r, n). The ie^ forms are most numerous in the unaccented word hine. 
There are seven words which do not show the influence of labials or 
sonorous dentals, namely, hider, gesihtS, forsihS, gesihst, tidemes, etc., 
tiglan, Cider and geCigene. These, however, furnish us with only 
seventeen ie^ forms ; and perhaps those fix)m seon hardly belong here 
(cf. Blilbring, i.e., § 306 C). Orostua only shows ica forms in three 
words, all of which show the influence of the above-mentioned con- 
sonants, and of the 243 ie, forms, 237 occur in the unaccented hine. 
In the Chronicle the only ie^ forms occur in hine. 

2. Turning next to such forms as occur in EWS. with i,, io (eo), 
and ica, we find the following : Cura Pastoralis : clipianne, clipaS, etc., 
17 with i, cliepia5, 1, cleopian, etc., 10 with eo, cliopa, etc., 7 with io; 
hira, hire, heora, hiora, hiera, hiere, all occur frequently; behionan; 
lifaS, etc., 4 with i, liofatJ, 2 with io, ondliefene, 1 with ie ; ni5or and its 
derivatives, 5 with i, 2 with io, 4 with ie ; tilian, Hatton MS. 22 with i. 
Cotton MS. 9 with i, Hatton, 4 with io. Cotton, 2 with io, Hatton, 2 
with ie, getilian, tilaS, etc., 26 with i, 8 with io, 7 with ie ; witena 
(doctorum virorum), 1 with i, 1 with io, 1 with ie ; witan, Hatton MS. 
8 with i, Cotton, 3 with i, 1 with eo, 3 with io, Hatton MS. 5 with ie. 
Cotton MS. 6 with ie; derivatives of witan, 37 with i, 11 with io, 24 
with ie, twi- in compounds, 5 with i, 2 with eo, 14 with ie. Orosius : 
hira, 7 with i, 276 with eo, 107 with io, 76 with ie ; &liefene, 1, leofaS, 
1, endle&n, 3 ; nitJer, etc., 4 with i, 1 with eo ; witan, etc., 32 with i, 
2 with eo, 1 with ie; twi-, 1 with ie. Chronicle: hira, 1 with i, 

I 23 with ie ; behinon, 1 with i, 1 with ie ; tilgende, 1 with i ; gewiton, 

j 1 with i, wiotan, 3 with io. 

' Here again we find the influence of labials and sonorous dentals, and 

, it is again obvious that io, eo and ie, forms are most frequent in the 

unaccented hira. 

I 3. Finally we have to consider under what conditions y, is found 

I for ii in EWS. Cura Pastoralis: byrC, 1 (see p. 279); abryc5, 1; 

I clypian, clypien, 2 (see p. 280) ; cwyde, 1 ; fryccea, 2 ; hlynigen, 1 ; 

nytJemest, 2 (see p. 280); mycele, 1, and micel; aryson, 1, arison, 1; 
gesyhC, (videt), 1 (see p. 279) ; sylofr, 1, silofr, 1, derivatives, 1 with eo, 

i 7 with io ; symle, 7 ; syn-, in compounds 3 with y, i often ; sy58an, 1, 1 

with ie, i often ; spryctJ, 1 ; aespryng, welspryng, 3 ; swyngean, 1, 8 with 
i; swyra (coUum), 3 with i, 1 with io, se tydra, 1 ; to Sycganne, 1 ; Cysum, 
etc., 14 with y, tJys often, i often, Ceos, tJeosun, Ceosum, about 8 times, 
5ios, tJiosum, Ciosan, about 15 times. Orosius : byman, byrnende, 2 (see 



MARIE A. LEWENZ 281 

p. 279) ; drync, 1 ; sylfren, etc., 3, 4 with eo, 2 with io ; symble, 2 ; 
aespryngtJ, 1 ; 5is, etc., i often, 5 with eo, 5 with io. Chronicle: Bryttisc, 
1 ; ylcan, 1 ; mycla, 1 ; to tymbranne, 1. 

The majority of cases in Cura Pastoralis once more shows the 
influence of labials and sonorous dentals. Those which do not are 
gesihty, sitJCan, tidra, Cicganne, 8is, etc. Excepting 6is, these give us in 
all only 4 y, forms and one ie^ form. 6is which occurs frequently, with 
y, eo, and io, is an unaccented word. Orosivs also shows the influence 
of the above-named consonants, and the unaccented word t5is, though it 
does not occur with y,, yet occurs with io, eo. In the Chronicle we find 
y, in every case in the vicinity of labials or sonorous consonants. 

From the above analysis it appears that in EWS. ie^ and y, forms 
are most fi:^quent before or after labials and sonorous dentals, and the 
feet that a word is not accented seems to encourage the appearance of 
these forms. It is reasonable to assume that the phenomenon is due to 
the influence of some patois, in which, under the given conditions, ii 
regularly developed into a sound denoted by ie or y. As far as ie, forms 
are concerned, it is noticeable that there is not much agreement between 
the Cura Pastoralis, Orosius and the Chronicle, In the two latter ica is 
only common in the two unaccented words hine and hira, and we may 
consequently conclude that in Orosius and the Chronicle the influence of 
the patois is for the most part restricted to unaccented words ; whereas 
in the Cura PaMoralis the influence is to be seen not only in such cases, 
but also in the vicinity of labials and sonorous dentals. As far as the 
unaccented forms are concerned, it must be noted that these fall into 
two classes, words which are practically never accented, such as particles 
and prepositions, and words which occasionally have an accent, as pro- 
nouns and sometimes adverbs. Words such as hieder, 5ieder, sy55an, 
may have been unaccented, or the two first forms may have been 
influenced by nieCor. Other sporadic forms, such as geCiegene, etc., may 
be due to scribal errors ^ It has been already remarked that where the 
consonantal influence and the absence of accent coincide {e.g., hine, hira), 
the ie, forms are most frequent, and it may therefore be concluded that 
under these circumstances the influence of the patois was greatest. 
Geographically the influence does not seem to have been equally distri- 
buted, that of the consonants being more restricted and having little 
influence on the dialects of Orosius and the Chronicle. 

1 According to Bulbring, 2.e., §306, A. 2, a certain amount of confusion between i and y 
seems to hare existed among the EWS. scribes ; we find i in words where we should expect 
ie or (later) y, e.g., wirsa, wirS, etc. 



282 West Germanic * I' in Old English Saxon Dialects 

III. 

The following phonetic explanation of the phenomena discussed 
above has been suggested by R. A. Williams: i, was originally close i*; 
now EWS. iei becomes LWS. y^, which probably indicates that ie was 
first monophthongised and then became y, that is, iei>i«>y8'. This 
intermediate i, was not equivalent to i^ otherwise it could not have 
developed into y,. Since ii was close, we can only assume that i^ was 
open, and consequently it follows that in Alfred's time ie^ stood for 
open i. 

Further, in the patois in question the influence of labials and 
sonorous dentals changed the original close ii in certain cases. This 
can only point to the fact that in such cases, either i| was diph- 
thongised, or ii became open. When, however, we consider that the 
same change took place owing to absence of accent, the former alter- 
native does not seem probable. Lack of accent at all times fevours the 
formation of simple vowels rather than of diphthongs, and is more 
likely to have made a close sound open than to have converted it into a 
diphthong. Hence it follows that in the patois original close ii became 
open i under the influence of labials and sonorous dentals and absence 
of accent. But since original ie^ had become open i, although the 
diphthong sign was preserved, it is easily understood that the open i 
forms of the patois were usually written ie,. 

The open i of which we have been speaking develops into y. It 
must therefore have been nearly related to y in sound, which probably 
explains the presence of these y, forms in EWS., since they occur 
mostly for icj or for ie, (that is, for open i). They represent the 
tendency to write y for open i, which is consistently carried out when, 
at a later period, the approximation between the two becomes complete. 
The fact that ie, and later y, forms occur side by side with ip, eo forms 
in many words, suggests that the icg, ys and io, eo forms have the same 
historical basis. If that be so, then most of the Saxon patois probably 
changed at an early date close i to open i under the conditions indicated 
above. After that they seem to have diverged into two groups, the one 
developing open i into y, the other changing open i into io (eo) by a/o 
and u mutation. Both these groups would appear to have had about 
equal influence on the WS. common speech. 

^ See Pogatsoher in Quellen und Forsckungeny Ixiv, pp. 62 ff. 

' Sweet is also of opinion that in Alfred^s time ie was reduced to a monophthong. See 
his History of English Sotinds, §§421 and 474, and his Anglosaxon Reader, §59. 



MARIE A. LEWENZ 283 

IV. 

We must now turn our attention to LWS. The following is a 
list of the LWS. texts of which I have made use. I have in no case 
examined the MSS. themselves, but I have incorporated in my notes 
the results of the grammatical investigations of others. As will be seen, 
several of these texts belong to the transition stage between Anglo- 
Saxon and Middle English, but the LWS. literary language is well 
preserved and shows little trace of Middle English forms. It is. note- 
worthy that in all the grammatical investigations to which I shall refer, 
the i forms with which we are concerned are treated as normal, whereas 
the y forms are given as exceptions. 

1. Blooms, This is found in a single MS. of the tweljRbh century. 
According to W. H. Hulme, Die Sprache der altenglischen Bearbeitung 
der Soliloqiden Augiistins (Darmstadt, 1894), the dialect is WS., but 
there is an admixture of other dialectical forms. He remarks that there 
is much uncertainty as to the use of i and y for ij, but an analysis of the 
forms brings out very clearly that ys appears most often in unaccented 
forms, and in all other cases we find it in the neighbourhood of labials 
or sonorous dentals. Moreover, the y, forms are more numerous than 
the ii forms in the unaccented words, especially in those in which the 
consonantal influence and the absence of e^xsent coincide ; i^ seems quite 
constant where the patois could not assert its influence. 

2. Codex Wintoniensis, The Charters date fix)m 668 to 1046, but 
the Codex was probably compiled between 1130 and 1150. R. A. 
Williams, Die Vokale der Tonsithen im Codex Wintoniensis (Anglia, N.F., 
xiii), suggests tentatively the influence of w, r and labials, especially of 
r, and also refers to the io, eo forms due to a non- WS. u, a/o mutation of 
ii as in some way conditioning the development of ij into y, (se^ above, 
p. 279). An examination of the forms he quotes leads to the conclusion 
that where y forms are not due to the influence of labials and sonorous 
dentals, there is a lack of accent except in one case : we find y once in 
tychelleache. With regard to this form, however, it may be noted that 
tiglan appears twice in the Cura PaMoralis with ica- 

3. The LWS. Gospels based on four MSS. dating from 1000 to 1050. 
G. Trilsbach, Die Lautlehre der spdttuestsdchsischen Evangelien (Bonn, 
1905), observes that y forms are not confined to the neighbourhood of 
labials. An investigation of the forms shows that ys also occurs in the 
neighbourhood of 1, r, and n, that it is frequent in unaccented words and 



284 West Germanic * I' in Old English Saxon Dialects 

that the form hym, for instance, where we have lack of accent and the 
neighbourhood of m, appears 290 times with y and once with i In a few 
cases we find y under other conditions, e,g.^ dyhte, dyhton, dysce, dyxsas, 
stycaJB, syt and its derivatives, tygelwyrhtena (see above), yt (' eats '). 

4. The Blickling Homilies. The MS. belongs to the end of the 
tenth century. According to A. K. Hardy, Die Sprache dei* Blickling- 
Homilien (Leipzig, 1899), the original dialect was a northern one, hence 
we find in addition to the usual WS. forms, a number of Anglian ones, 
but there are also traces of Kentish influence. Hardy notes that y is 
most frequent in the neighbourhood of labials, but it is clear that it also 
occurs near sonorous dentals and in unaccented words. 

6. Aethelred's Laws, The investigation of A. Karaus, Die Sprache 
der Oesetze des Konigs Aethelfred (Berlin, 1901), is based on a number 
of extant MSS.; the originals go back to about the year 1000, but the 
copies date from between 1060 and 1125. The dialect is Saxon in the 
main. Earaus shows that the y forms occur in the neighbourhood of 
labials and of liquids and nasals (r and m), and are pretty frequent in 
unaccented words. The only exceptions are forsytte and tyhttan and 
its derivatives. 

6. Knut's Laws, L. Wroblewski, Uber die altenglischen Gesetze des 
Konigs Knut (Berlin, 1901), says that the text of these is based on four 
MSS. ranging from 1060 to 1125, and on several prints. He characterises 
the dialect as WS., but there are traces of Anglian, Kentish and southern 
dialects. He further points out that the y forms occur under the 
influence of labials and liquids ; twice we find y, before n and we also 
have forms of tyhtlan which both he and Karaus hold to have been 
influenced by tyhtan. In unaccented words y is also frequent. 

7. jLelfric's Latin Grammar. Here we have fifteen MSS. which 
mostly belong to the eleventh century ; the earliest date^ from about 
the year 1000, while one MS. appears to belong to the twelfth century. 
H. BrtiU, Die altenglische Latein-Grammatik des Aelfric (Berlin, 1900), 
gives many instances of y in cases where there is lack of accent. He 
also shows that y is fi'equent in the neighbourhood of labials and r, but 
it is clear from an inspection of his list that it also frequently occurs 
under the influence of n and 1. There are only two woitis in which y 
appears under other conditions, namely ytt and ytst. 

8. A elf red' 8 Laws (Textus Roffensis). B. Munch, Die Hs. H 
(Textiis Roffensis) der Gesetzsamndung Konig Aelfreds des Grossen 



MARIE A. LEWENZ 285 

(Halle, 1902), says that the earliest original law dates from 604, but the 
copies range in date from 1130 to 1150. The dialect is on the whole 
uniform. He points out that y occurs in the neighbourhood of labials 
and in unaccented words ; but an examination of the forms given shows 
that sonorous dentals have a similar effect. The only exception is stal- 
tyhtlan (see above p. 284). 

9. Abingdon Cartulary, There is some doubt with regard to the 
date of the two MSS. F. Langer, Zur Sprache des Abingdon-Charttdars 
(Berlin, 1904), places them at the end of the twelfth and the middle of 
the thirteenth centuries. The dialect shows tnices of Anglian and 
Kentish influences. Langer does not seem to have realised that the 
forms were due to special influences, but on investigating his list we 
find that y^ occurs in unaccented forms, and in the neighbourhood of 
sonorous dentals. The only two exceptions are Gyddandene and hyd (?). 

10. The Dialogues of Gregory. According to H. Hecht, Die Sprache 
der altenglischen Dialoge Gregors des Orossen (Berlin, 1900), the text 
is based on three MSS. of the middle of the eleventh century. The 
dialect of two of these is LWS. with a few Anglian forms ; that of the 
third shows a good deal of Kentish influence. He draws attention to 
the fact that y appears very often for i, and states that this change is 
due to the influence of consonants and the lack of accent. He makes 
no suggestion as to what consonants exert this influence, but an exami- 
nation of the forms he gives, shows that yj appears in the neighbourhood 
of labials and liquid dentals. The only exceptions are gestyhtad, tyhta5, 
tytJian, and ge5ygde. 

11. Aelfrics Heptateuch, J. Wilkes, Lautlehre zu Aelfrics Hepta- 
teuch und Bv/ch Hiob (Bonn, 1905), remarks that the text is chiefly based 
on one MS. which is supposed to have been written shortly after 1066. 
He does not suggest that y forms are due to any especial influence, but 
analysis shows that they occur in the neighbourhood of labials and 
sonorous dentals and in unaccented words. There are a few exceptions, 
namely, hystoria, tyccen, tygelan, ytst, ytt and ysopan. 

12. The Benedictine Rule. W. Hermanns, Lautlehre und dialek- 
tische Untersuchung der altenglischen Interlinearversion der Benedik- 
tinerregel (Bonn, 1906), says the MS. of this dates from the first half of 
the eleventh century. He also fails to point out that the appearance of 
y is due to any particular cause, but on examining his forms, we find 
that in every case ys occurs in the neighbourhood of labials or sonorous 
dentals, or in unaccented words. 



286 West Germanic */' in Old English Saxon Dialects 

Although the i forms are the normal ones, y, occurs fairly often, and 
in all these LWS. monuments y, forms are found most frequently in the 
vicinity of labials and sonorous dentals and in unaccented words. There 
are certainly some exceptions, but they are few when compared with 
the cases in which the above-mentioned conditions hold^ I think we 
may thus fairly maintain that in liWS. y, appears normally only under 
the influence of labials and sonorous dentals on the one hand, and of 
the absence of accent on the other. 

We have seen that in EWS. ie, (and y,) forms tend to arise under 
certain conditions, and it seems justifiable to ascribe this phenomenon 
to the influence of some patois. A further investigation has shown that 
in LWS. ya forms occur under the same conditions as the EWS. ie, 
forms; this makes it appear highly probable that the LWS. y, forms 
are a development of the EWS. ie, forms. The patois in which this 
development took place exerted a comparatively small influence on 
classical EWS. ; its influence on the language of the LWS. monuments 
was much more considerable, though naturally the effect was not in all 
cases equal. 

Marie A. Lewenz. 

^ It is possible that they are dae to some special cause ; they all seem to s^ow the 
influence of d, t, s, or tS. 



REVIEWS. 

The Cambridge History of English Literature. Edited by A. W. Ward 
and A. R. Waller. Volume I. From the Beginnings to the 
Cycles of Romance. Cambridge: University Press, 1907. 8vo. 
xvi + 504 pp. 

The want of a scholarly history of English literature, which should 
be sufficiently inclusive and sufficiently detailed to make it a standard 
book of reference for students and teachers of English literature, has 
long been acutely felt. If proof of this fact were needed, it was supplied 
by the welcome which, we understand, has already been accorded the 
first volume of the Cambridge History of English Literature, prepara- 
tions for a second issue of which had to be made within three months 
of publication. 

The chief objection likely to be raised against this first volume, and 
possibly against the work as a whole, is perhaps the want of continuity 
and uniformity of treatment, due to the collaboration of writers of 
diflferent styles and different points of view. After reading the first 
volume, the impression left is that of chapters on literature rather than 
a history of literary development. In treating of the ' beginnings * it 
is no doubt more difficult to avoid such disjointedness than in tracing 
subseouent lines of progress. But in any case a certain want of con- 
nected and uniform treatment is the inevitable outcome of syndicate 
work. On the other hand, the advantages to be derived from the 
collaboration of a large body of writers are obvious. Readers are 

S resented with the results, garnered after special study in particular 
epartments, by English, American and continental scholars; at the 
same time the editors can claim from contributors a consideration of 
other men's views and an impartial and all round handling of the 
problems under discussion such as would not necessarily be expected in 
a work bearing a single name. Again, the comparatively short space 
of time within which we may hope to see the History complete is no 
small asset. The present day is undoubtedly characterized by a widen- 
ing and deepening interest in English literature. This is indicated on 
the one hand by the successful inauguration of the English Association 
and its extremely rapid growth during the first year of its existence, 
and, on the other hand, by the increased attention that the teaching of 
English is receiving firom the educational authorities, so that English 
literature bids fair to take its place as one of the leading subjects in 
secondary schools. Hence the appearance of a History of English 



288 Reviews 

Literature on a wider and more scholarly basis than has hitherto been 
attempted will be particularly welcome at this juncture to a very large 
circle of readers, and the usefiilness of a work which aims at embod3ang 
the most recent results of research will be greatly enhanced by the 
prospect of not having to wait half a life-time before seeing its com- 
pletion. 

The book, to judge by the first volume, is not intended exclusively 
for scholars, but will certainly appeal to a wide circle of general readers. 
The chapters on the Arthurian Legend and the Metrical Romances and 
the West Midland Poems will be read most eagerly and appreciatively 
by scholars, but also with keen interest by many who have read few or 
none of the works discussed. One feature of the History which will be 
warmly welcomed by all scholars and would-be scholars is the addition 
of bibliographies to the several chapters. Though not intended to be 
exhaustive, they provide a most useful summary of the most important 
literature of the subject ; for instance, the bibliography of the Metrical 
Romances, with its clear arrangement and useful notes and references, 
supplies a great deal more information than one would expect from a 
mere list of books and articles. 

Among the chapters which, on account of their scholarly character, 
will be appreciated more particularly by the student, is that on * Elarly 
National roetry ' by Mr H. M. Chad wick. In his discussion of the historical 
and ethnological problems connected with Beowulf, Widsith and other 
early poems, he shows the same learned and competent treatment as is 
found in his work on the Origin of the English Nation, The poem which 
receives fullest treatment is, of course, Beowulf In pointme out the 
occurrence of many of the same persons and events in the Old English 
epic and in Scandinavian literature, Mr Chadwick accepts the identifi- 
cation of Beowulf with BotJvarr Biarki, the chief of Hrdlfr Kraki's 
followers. He does not believe that the much later Grettis Saga, with 
its curiously similar story of the hero's slaying two monsters, is taken 
firom the Beowulf but that both have a common source in a folk-tale. 
In discussing the original composition of the epic, Mr Chadwick accepts 
the view that independent lays may have had a separate existence 
(perhaps in strophic form ?) before their incorporation in the epic, but 
in view . of the Grettis Saga, would not assign Beowulf's fight with 
Grendel and the fight with Grendel's mother to two separate lays as 
has been done by most scholars following Miillenhoff In any attempt 
to diflferentiate between earlier and later strata the only safe criterion 
is to be sought in the references to religious belief and observances. 
Mr Chadwick points out how largely the sentiments of the characters 
are coloured by Christian feeling, although the religious observances, 
for instance the burial of Beowulf, are almost entirely pagan. At the 
same time the references to Christianity are so closely interwoven 
with the tissue of the poem, both in the speeches and the narrative 
portions, that their insertion must be ascribed to the period of oral 
tradition, but to a time when large portions of the poem already 
existed in epic form. The presence of pagan ritual and Christian 



Reviews 289 

sentiment implies a heathen work which has undergone revision by a 
Christian. His omission to delete the description of heathen customs 
from the poem might be due to the fact that such customs were 
no longer practised and would not therefore excite such repugnance 
in the minds of Christian hearers as if they were still m vogfue. 
The vagueness of the Christian sentiments and absence of definite 
doctrinal belief, in marked contrast to later Old English poetry, point 
to the conclusion that the Christian revision took place at an early 
date. In discussing the Finnsburh fragment Mr Chadwick makes the 
interesting suggestion (communicated in greater detail to a meeting of 
the Cambridge Philological Society) that the Hengist of the poem may 
be the Hengist who founded the kingdom of Kent. 

The distinctive literary features of our oldest English poetry, and its 
underlying sentiment — its reflectiveness, its love of nature, particularly 
of the sea, its fatalism, its courage in the face of death — are briefly 
touched upon by Mr Waller in the first chapter of the volume ; and 
Miss M. Bentinck Smith, who contributes the chapter on Old English 
religious poetry, writes with evident appreciation of the literary aspect 
of the subject. But her view that ' the depth of personal feeling in a 
poem like The Dream of the Mood' and ' the melancholy sense of kinship 
between the sorrow of the human heart and the moaning of the grey 
cold waves that make The Seafarer a human wail,' are elements con- 
tributed to English poetry by the Celts, does not seem to be shared by 
Mr Waller (p. 2) nor Professor Jones (p. 275), both of whom cite the 
Seafarer as typically English in sentiment. 

Miss Bentinck Smith writes interestingly of Cynewulf *s poems, and 
the question of the authorship of doubtful poems attributed to him is 
treated fairly and without bias. She gives a glowing eulogy of the 
Dream of the Rood which she calls *the choicest blossom of Old English 
poetry,' and inclines to the view that Cynewulf was the author — in 
fact, in her general estimate of the poet numbers it among his works — 
on account of the similarity of feeling in it and the Elene. 

The Latin literature to the time of Alfred is treated by Dr M. R. James 
with much animation and distinction of style. He traces the rise of 
the two great schools of Latin scholars, at Canterbury and at York. 
One of the pupils of the former was Aldhelm, whose Celtic love of 
grandiloquence is amusingly illustrated by a literal translation of a 
paragraph from his prose. The greatest representative of the northern 
school, m fact of the whole period, was Bede, whose simple-minded 
devotion to truth and whose services to letters are brought out lovingly 
and reverently. Professor Thomas in concluding his chapter on Alfred 
says that in literature personality is of the utmost importance and that 
Alfred was one of the most personal of writers ; but we hardly feel the 
contagion of the writer's own glowing admiration as we do in reading 
Dr James's tribute to Bede. 

Perhaps one of the most erudite chapters in the History is the 
chapter on the English Scholars of Paris and the Franciscans of Oxford, 
by Dr J. E. Sandys. By dealing with the individual scholars and giving 

M. L. R. HI. 20 



290 Reviews 

summaries of their works, from the point of view of scholarship, and 
by neglecting to trace the development of philosophic thought and the 
general intellectual movement of the time, an opportunity is missed of 
enabling less learned readers to realize in some measure the deep interest 
which belongs to a period marked by such rapid growth of thought. 
Very little is said of Abelard. Diderot's description of Roger Bacon as 
* one of the most surprising geniuses that nature had ever produced, and 
one of the most unfortunate of men ' is quoted, but we are left in the 
dark as to whether the writer endorses this opinion. There is, however, 
one Oxford scholar who seems to strike a responsive chord in Dr Sandys s 
heart, and that is the bibliophile Richard of Bury, who ' prefers manu- 
scripts to money, and even slender pamphlets to pampered palfreys'; and 
who writes of his books: * They are masters who instruct us without rod 
or ferule ... if you approach them, they are not asleep ; if you enquire 
of them, they do not withdraw themselves ; they never chide, when you 
make mistakes ; they never laugh, if you are ignorant.' 

The chapter on * Early Transition English ' by Prof. J. W. H. Atkins deals 
with an interesting period of varied literary experiment. The arrange- 
ment of the material is good, and the writer shows his appreciation of 
the new forms and tendencies which emerge after the silence which had 
fallen on vernacular literature after the Norman Conquest. Unfor- 
tunately his style is not unimpeachable, as witness sentences such as the 
following: *His use of the motive is, however, so far untraditional in 
that the nightingale, unlike the owl, did not appear in the ancient 
Physiologus.' ' Freshness and originality is, however, carried at times 
to excess in the vituperations in which the disputants indulge, when 
crudity and naked strength seem virtues overdone.* 

Chapter xii on the Arthurian Legend, by Prof. W. Lewis Jones, and 
chapter xiii on Metrical Romances, by Prof. W. P. Ker, are among the most 
attractive in the volume and both convey a great deal of information on 
Middle English romance literature without allowing the reader's interest 
to flag. There is a certain amount of overlapping in chapters xiii and 
XIV and the literary judgments of the two writers do not always agree, 
e,g,, in the estimate of the romance of Sir Tristram. 

Chapter xix by Dr H. Bradley, on Changes in the Language to the 
Days of Chaucer, succeeds admirably in the difficult task of giving a 
thoroughly readable and interesting account of a number of facts which 
students of English are generally supposed to learn from dreary statements 
of sound laws and lists of inflections in English historical grammars, but 
which rarely leave as clear an impression, even after long hours of 
studious application, as a single intelligent perusal of this chapter should 
produce. 

The editors expressly warn their critics that subjects which seem to 
have been omitted, may prove to have been deliberately reserved for later 
treatment, so it woula be rash to dogmatize about what, at the first 
glance, seems a rather step-motherly treatment of Anglo-Norman litera- 
ture. It is true the * matter of France ' is discussed in the chapters on 
the romances, and Mr Waller in chapter viii says something of the more 



Reviews 291 

considerable debts of England to Normandy. On the other hand the 
Chansons de Roland receive onlj^ brief mention; Bishop Grosseteste's 
Chdteau d' Amour is dismissed in three and a half lines; Horn et 
Rimenhild is not given in the index. The fact that Anglo-Norman 
architecture is the only entry in the index under Anglo-Norman — 
Anglo-French, France, French do not occur — tends to strengthen what 
may be an unfounded impression. Might not a few references to the 
most important passages bearing on Norman influence be inserted in 
the index ? 

Among what seem to the reviewer to be minor inaccuracies or dis- 
crepancies are the following : 

p. 55. The subject of the Elene is said to be contained in the Acta 
Sanctorum of May 3; on p. 134 in the Acta Sanctorum of May 4. The 
latter statement is the right one. 

p. 43. The reference to Walhalla is misleading, as the word does not 
occur in Beowulf, 

p. 47. The statement that ' the old English Genesis B is based on 
the work of the author of the Heliandl conflicts with the more guarded 
views expressed in the preceding paragraph as well as with Sievers*s 
opinion that the Old Testament fragments discovered in the Vatican are 
not by the author of the Heliand ; unless ' is based upon ' means merely 
* is a product of the same school of poetry.' 

p. 66. The paragraph in smaller type is not an actual translation of 
the passage from the Elene, as its form might lead readers to suppose. 

p. 108. The statement of the first paragraph that *it was during 
the tenth and eleventh centuries that our language in its Old English 
stage attained to its highest development as a prose medium,' is dimcult 
to reconcile with the next paragraph which describes the constant war- 
fare during these centuries and the statement that ' in these times of 
struggle, letters and learning found, for a time, their grave, and long 
years of patient struggle were needed to revive them.' 

p. 137. We are definitely told that Judith deals with the struggle 
agamst the Danes. The account given of the date and purpose of the 
poem on p. 143 is more ambiguous. 

p. 177. Giraldus and Map are treated here and in chapter X. In 
both places cross-references would be useful; as also in the case of 
Nennius, who is treated in chapter V and chapter xii, and Layamon 
(cp. 265f and234f.). 

p. 219. The translation of the lines from the Proverbs of Alfred in 
footnote 2 in taking arewe = arrow and not caitiff or foe diflers from 
Morris and Skeat and the New English Dictionary. The meaning /oe is 
supported by the similar lines in the Proverbs of Hendyng, quoted at 
p. 363. 

D. 227. Mention is made of the Old English Be Domes Daege, The 
Address of the Soul to the Body and the Vision of St Paul, On looking 
up the latter work in the index, the only reference given, besides to this 
page, is to a Latin vision of St Paul. 

p. 322. In the translation of the stanza from Pearly the word which 

20—2 



292 Reviews 

is rendered 'glades* is cflodez which in the N.E,D, is translated 'a flash 
of light, a bngbt place in the sky/ This gives a better sense. 

p. 338. The chronicle of Thomas Bek of Castleford, mentioned in 
the text, does not appear in the Bibliography. The MS. is described in 
the text as * inedited.' 

p. 362. Why is bountyng (bunting or yellowhammer) translated 
' black bird * in footnote 7 ? 

p. 439. Studies on ^Anglo-Saxon Institutions by H. M. Chadwick 
should be quoted under The Laws, 

Whatever the superficial faults of the work, it is, as we have already 
stated, with warm gratitude to editors and contributors for their valuable 
enterprise and painstaking labour that we welcome this first volume and 
look forward with eager expectation to the appearance of its successor. 
When the whole work is completed it is much to be hoped that the 
editors will see the advisability of adding a small supplementary volume 
containing an epitome in connected form of the previous volumes. Such 
an epitome would add greatly to the usefulness of the work. 

Minna Steele Smith. 



The Qiieen or the Excellency of her Sex. Nach der Quarto 1653 in 
Neudnick herausgegeben von W. Bang. (Materialien zur Kunde 
des alteren Englischen Dramas, Band xiii.) Louvain : A. Uyst- 
pruyst, 1906. 8vo. ix + 60 pp. 

It was not till 1653 that appeared this ' Excellent old Play. Found 
out by a Person of Honour, and given to the Publisher, Alexander 
Goughe,' but it is clear that it must belong to an earlier though not 
very early date. Professor Bang's publication is of interest, for the play 
has never before been reprinted, and though the original is not of very 
great rarity, it is safe to suppose that few living persons have read it. 
And in spite of great defects it is worth reading. Controversy is likely to 
centre round the editor's tentative, but personally confident, ascription 
of the play to John Ford. A general characterization of the similarities 
of style in the introduction is supplemented by a not very striking 
collection of parallels in the notes, full discussion of the question being 
left over for another occasion, and, the editor intimates, to another pen. 
After a careful and repeated reading of the present play along with the 
whole of Ford's acknowledged worts of a dramatic character, I have 
formed a fairly confident opinion on the subject, which is entirely at one 
with Professor Bang's. The style, the conduct of the plot, the peculiar 
treatment of jealousy owing a distinct debt to Othello, the preposterous 
denouement, the extravagant romanticism, the miserable humour, are all 
Ford's. It is not Ford at his best, for the poetry nowhere reaches the 
highest level, but still his touch can be felt in a dozen passages. It 
cannot be a case of imitation, for some of it is Ford at his worst, and 
that no sane man would imitate. In the copy of the original belonging 
to the editor there is an inscription in a contemporary hand ' Compare 



Reviews 293 

this play with y® dumb K*:\ I so far disagree with Professor Bang that 
I do not think that the resemblance to which this entry points can be 
accidental, but a comparison of the Queen with Markham and Machines 
play will bring out almost more than anything else its similarity with 
the minor works of John Ford. 

W. W. Greg. 



The Hector of Germanie or the Palsgrave Prime Elector, By Went- 
woRTH Smith. Edited by L. W. Payne, jr. (Publications of the 
University of Pennsylvania: Philology and Literature, vol. XI.) 
Philadelphia : J. C. Winston Co., 1906. 8vo. 146 pp. 

The Hector of Oemiany was printed in quarto in 1616, with the 
name ' W. Smith ' on the title-page and * W. Smyth * at the end. It 
appears that, though there is only one edition, there are two distinct 
title-pages. The copy in the Library of the University of Pennsylvania 
has both, one of which agrees with the Boston Public Library and the 
other with the British Museum copy. Why Mr Payne has only repro- 
duced one is not explained: happily he has chosen the American 
variety, so that English bibliographers can place the two side by side. 
The text has stood a partial but careful testing fairly well: 1. 279, /or 
to be a Gentleman Porter read to be Gentleman Porter; 1. 1117, for 
Frence read French ; 1. 1566, for hair read haire ; 1. 1562, for seldome 
read seeldome. Such spellings as Uandome and palsoraue are, of 
course, absurd. The notes are rather meagre. The printing, like so 
much American University printing is bad : dirty press-work and care- 
less composition ; for instance, why, in the list of characters, should the 
name Brandenburgh be favoured with a special type all to itself? 

The chief point of interest in connection with the play is the identity 
of the author. We learn from the epistle dedicatory that an earlier 
play by the same writer, entitled the Freeman's Honour, had been 
acted by the King's men 'to dignifie the worthy Companie of the 
Marchantaylors,' while the present piece, written in honour of the 
Princess Elizabeth s suitor, was performed, not by any regular company, 
but * by a Company of Young-men of this Citie.' The earlier biblio- 
graphers, from Edward Phillips to Stephen Jones, gave the author the 
Christian name of William. Two William Smiths are known to 
literature about this time (one familiar as the author of Chloris, the 
other an obscure heraldic writer), but neither is likely to have had 
anything to do with our play. Later bibliographers of the drama, 
including the compiler of the List of English Plays issued by the 
Bibliographical Society, ascribe the play to Wentworth Smith, and it 
is with these that Mr Payne finds himself in agreement. It is, however, 
doubtful whether this ascription has much more to recommend it than 
the others. Wentworth Smith is known as an industrious stage hack 
in the pay of the companies connected with Philip Henslowe, and his 
name appears as part author of fifteen plays between 1601 and 1603. 



294 Reviews 

There is no reason to suppose that a single line of this work survives. 
The only other plays that come into consideration are Saint George for 
England mentioned in Warburton's very questionable list and there 
ascribed to William Smith, an attribution which may reasonably be 
regarded with suspicion in view of the consensus of early bibliographers ; 
and the FoiU Fair One licensed by Herbert, Nov. 28, 1623, as ' written 
by Smith/ Now the authority of the early bibliographers on the 
question of a Christian name, in such a case as the present, in which 
we are quite unable to discover the ground of the attribution, must be 
regarded as negligible, and Mr Payne is quite right in rejecting it. 
But his acceptance of the ascription to Wentworth Smith is less 
satisfactory. We have on the one hand a W. Smith who is a hack 
collaborator in plays written for the regfular companies from 1601-3, 
and again a W. Smith, obviouslv closely connected with the Citjr guilds, 
who produces two plays more tnan ten years later. . I hardly thmk that, 
considering the frequency of the name, we can with any reasonable 
certainty assume their identity. Several other plays were published in 
the seventeenth century with the initials * W. S.', but Mr Payne very 
rightly concludes that they have no connection with Smith whatever : 
the initials were certainly intended to suggest another. 

The Introduction is open to a good deal of criticism in detail, for the 
editor's judgments are more fluent than his acquaintance with his 
subject quite justifies. A little more familiarity with bibliography 
would have saved him (p. 48) from manufacturing a printer out of the 
initials of the Stationers* Register; while a more careful study of 
Henslowe's Diary and the allied documents would have warned him 
against assuming (pp. 12 and 42) that recorded payments to collaborators 
are proportional to their shares in the work, and a less exclusive reliance 
on (Jollier's edition would have prevented his perpetuating (p. 14) the 
forgery of the ' Northern Man.' The remark (p. 17) that the property- 
entries show that the title of the Black Dog of Newgate is not meta- 
phorical, suggests that Mr Pa}me is unacquainted with the extant 
chapbook upon which the play was doubtless founded. It may also be 
remsurked that it has been habitual to suppose that the silk flag of 
Sept. 4, 1602 (p. 49) was for the playhouse-mast, not for the per- 
formance; also that Alphonsus of Germany was printed in 1654 not 
1645 (p. 37). Lastly Mr Payne will do well to be more careful with 
classical names : he has Casino for Casina, Clerumenee for Clerume^ioe 
and Diphius for Diphilus in three consecutive lines (p. 40). 

W. W. Greg. 



Early Sixteenth Century Lyrics. Edited by F. M. Padelford. (The 
Belles-Lettres Series: Section II.) Boston: D. C. Heath and Co.; 
London: G. G. Harrap, 1907. 12mo. Iviii-h 174pp. 

The texts in this dainty little volume consist of selections from 
Wyatt, Surrey, and the 'miscellaneous poets' of the court of Henry VIII. 



Reviews 295 

Mr Padelford says that originally the design was to include the popular 
songs as well as the poems of the Courtly Makers in this volume, but space 
forbad. But it appears to be difficult to draw a hard-and-fast line of 
demarcation between the two, since many lyrics of this date are 'courtly' 
re-writings of * popular ' songs. In Wyatt s ' A Robyn, joly Robyn/ and 
in the anonymous ' Colle to me the rysshys grene/ the refrains are no 
doubt of popular origin, and the songs were tacked on to them (and 
presumably to their tunes), just as many of the secular lyrics were 
adapted for religious use, e,g,, The NuUhrown Maid, * Come over the 
bourne, Bessy,' and man^ of the Onde and Oodlie Ballates. Mr Padelford, 
however, has selected with taste, and a pleasant book is the result. 

The main problem that faces an editor of earljr poetry, especially 
that of this particular era, is the question of spelling. Personally we 
fail to see what is gained by printing a verse of one of Surrey's best- 
known poems thus: — 

& en grene wawes when the ssalte ffloode 

dootht sBwalle by rayges off wynde, 

a thwssande ffansys en that moode 

assales my reeteles mynde : 

alias ! now drenches my sswete foo, 

that witA sspoyle off my harte ded goo, 

& lyfte me ; but alias ! whye ded he sso ? 

Such fidelity to a MS. in which 'the hand is very slovenly; words, and 
even lines, are scratched out, to be replaced by slightly diflferent spellings,* 
may be all veiy well in a scientific contribution to Anglia or Engliscke 
Studien; but it seems to us to be the wrong policy in a charmingly 
printed and bound pocket-volume. Nor do we believe in the need for 
retaining the ' thorn * in printing lyrics subsequent to the fifteenth 
century. 

However, Mr Padelford has been extremely careful ; his departures 
from the original are minute, and the variants m other MSS. elaborately 
recorded. His notes, too, are excellent, and the parallels from Italian 
poetry striking. The Introduction is a useful essay on the history of 
the sixteenth -century lyric and the ' new company of courtly makers,' 
and contains much sound criticism of the poems themselves. He is 
only unfortunate in his period ; it was not a brilliant epoch of English 
poetry, coming as it did after the unapproachable fifteenth century and 
before the^orgeous Elizabethan era. 

F. SiDGWICK. 



The Popular Ballad. By Francis B. Gummere. (The Types of English 
Literature. Edited by Prof W. A. Neilson. Vol. t) Boston and 
New York: Houghton, MiflSin and Co.; London: Constable and 
Co. 1907. Square 16mo. xvi + 360 pp. 

This is the initial volume of another American series, which, horn 
the list of announcements, promises to be fully as valuable as the various 
series of texts and literary studies that have recently appeared in 



296 Reviews 

America. Types of literary form — Essay, Tragedy, Lyric, Novel, Saints' 
Legends, Pastoral, Allegory, Masque, Short Story — each is to be treated 
in a volume, as the product of the ages or of a particular age ; and we 
anticipate, not only from the excellence of Professor Qummere's study 
of the Ballad, but from the names attached to the subjects — such as 
Professor Schelling's to the Lyric, and Professor Thomdike s to the 
Tragedy — that the series will be fiilly representative of the best American 
scholarship. In certain of these subjects, it might be claimed that 
English scholars would be heard with equal or even greater attention; 
but in Balladry, when a pupil of Professor Child speaks, we can only 
listen and admire. 

Professor Qummere, after advising gentle readers to begin their 
reading with the second chapter, devotes his first, extending to more 
than a third of the whole book, to a recapitulation of the definitions and 
theories of origin of ballads given by previous scholars, accompanied by 
well-balanced criticisms of each. His final test of popular origin is 
* incremental repetition,* a feature which he considers to be the original 
pattern of Balladry. 

The second chapter, amounting nearly to half the book, groups the 
Ballads according to subject-matter. Incidentally Professor Gummere's 
wide reading in ballad-lore and ballad-literature assists him to make an 
interesting and illuminating critical study of each ballad, as it comes up 
for discussion. Child acknowledged 305 ballads, some mere fragments ; 
Professor Gummere deals singly with more than nine-tenths of these, as 
well as with a ' fresh candidate for ballad honours ' which has been 
discovered since the completion of Child's work. Two short chapters 
complete the book ; the former deals with the sources of the Ballads, 
and the problems of their distribution and the probability of a common 
origin; the latter, on the worth of the Ballads, is an admirable summary 
of the values of popular poetry contrasted with those of artistic poetry. 

Throughout, Professor Gummere's manner demands, no less than his 
matter, respectful appreciation ; time after time he hits upon the happy 
word, the illuminating phrase, the apt citation. The reader's pleasure 
is such that he almost overlooks the assumption that Balladry is a closed 
chapter in English literature — that the gallant three hundred have 
ceased virum volitare per ora. But the present writer, inasmuch as he 
has collected in the past three months half-a-dozen variants of the abovcr 
mentioned * candidate for ballad honours * — a carol entitled The Bitter 
Withy — warm from the lips of English folk, cannot entirely acquiesce in 
that assumption. Yet whether the Ballads are a forgotten manufacture 
or not, there is but little to be added to Child's collection ; and it is none 
too soon that his laboura, cut short by death, have been gallantly and 
piously continued by such erudite pupils of his as are Professor Gummere 
and Professor Kittredge. 

F. SiDGWICK. 



Reviews 297 

Modem Studies. By Oliver Elton. London : E. Arnold, 1907. 8vo. 
vii H- 342 pp. 

Under the above title Professor Elton has issued, in a revised form, 
a number of essays, originally contributed to the Qiuirterly Review, the 
Fortnightly, and other periodicals. The subjects range from Giordano 
Bruno and Spenser to living writers like Mr George Meredith and Mr 
Henry James, and suggest catholicity of taste on the part of the critic. 
Rare though it is to find an occupant of a University chair concerning 
himself with contemporary literature, Prof Elton does not hesitate to 
make incursions into this territory, and his estimates of modem writers 
are among the most original in the volume. Side by side with these 
contemporary studies stand the essays on Bruno and Spenser. The 
latter is, indeed, only a fragment, limiting itself to the colour and 
imagery of the poems, but it serves to remind us how little has yet been 
done in the direction of a systematic analysis of Spenser's literary 
method. The parallel essay on Bruno supplies a valuable sketch of a 
great personality, in whom the spirit of the Renaissance was incarnate. 
Though Bruno had to wait till the nineteenth century for complete 
recognition, he is shown to have exerted some influence on the more 
thorough-going of English Renaissance scholars, and the essay is 
illumined by (quotations from La Cena de le Ceneri, which present us 
with a vivid picture of Elizabethan England — ' the artisans and shop- 
folk, who know you to be in some fashion a foreigner, snicker and laugh 
and grin and mouth at you, and call you in their own tongue, dog.* 
Further side-light on the Renaissance is aflforded by the essay on 
Literary Fame, 

The chief word of praise must, however, be reserved for those 
essays in which the writer endeavours, by a comparative study of a 
number of literary text-books, to arrive at an estimate of modem 
critical doctrine. The attempt was a bold one, and calculated to arouse 
hostility, but Prof Elton's task must perforce be undertaken, at some 
time or other, by every reader who is brought face to face with con- 
flicting critical methods. Happily it is not often a question of direct 
opposition, so that the critic's task resolves itself into an endeavour to 
assess the merits of the various contributions recently made to literary 
history. The more general of the essays. The Meaning of Literary 
Essays, is largely occupied with Dr Courthope's History of English 
Poetry, the merits and defects of which are admirably brought out. 
The companion essay on Recent Shakespere Criticism is a particularly 
fine example of the application of broad critical principles to a more 
limited field of research. Despite the somewhat gratuitous attack on 
so-called antiquarian research, the characterizations of the work of living 
writers are everywhere admirable. Dr Brandes' psychological sureness, 
combined with weakness in matter of fact. Prof Bradley's insight into 
character and strong hortatory instinct, Prof Raleigh's broad tolerance 
and eminent style — these characteristics are all duly emphasised and 
illustrated. Differ as we may fi^om Prof Elton on minute issues, we 



298 Reviews 

cannot withhold our appreciation of a series of essays, characterized 
throughout hy maturity of judgment and by a style at once dignified 
and imaginative. 

P. G. Thomas. 



An Introduction to Vulgar Latin, By C. H. Grandgent. (Heath's 
Modem Language Series.) Boston : D. C. Heath ; London : G. G. 
Harrap, 1907. 8vo. xvii + 219 pp. 

The same excellent qualities which distinguished Professor Grand- 
gent's Outline of the Phonology and Morphology of old Provengal (1905), 
are to be found in the present Introduction to Vulgar Latin : the facts 
are well grouped and arranged, and the principles are expounded in a 
clear and concise style. In the bibliography we have only noted as of 
importance the absence of the Traits de la formation de la langue 
fran^aise, which forms the complement to the Dictionnaire gdnSral de 
la langue f angaise. Nothing that is essential has been omitted from the 
section dealing with Phonology and Morphology. The parts concerning 
the Vocabulary and Syntax call forth a few observations. The discussion 
of these matters is, on the whole, too short ; the first chapter is somewhat 
dry and might be more fully worked out. A brief account of the direct 
and indirect sources of Vulgar Latin was indispensable, and the sixteen 
lines (p. 15) which Professor Grandgent devotes to the subject, are quite 
inadequate. No mention is made of coins (cf. Catalogue dee monnaies 
fran^aises de la Biblioth^que nationale, Lee Monnmes merovingiennes 
by Maurice Prou, Paris, 1892), the evidence of which is all the more 
valuable because it is easy to date. The charters and the laws of the 
barbarians ought also to be mentioned as important aids towards the 
reconstruction of Vulgar Latin. A few examples ought to have been 
quoted in support of the very judicious remarks on the critical use of 
the different texts which have come down to us ; it might also have been 
shown how the reconstruction of some lost forms of the spoken language 
is rendered possible by a comparison between the subsequent develop- 
ments of the Romance tongues. To these general remarks the following 
particulars might be added. Page 8: add that in O. F. a, oty were 
used without y, as the Latin habuit in the sentence: 'In area Noe... 
habuit serperites * ; for example : ' Plus fel de lui n'ot en sa cumpagnie ' 
(Ch. de RoL, 1632). Page 9 : mention cohors besides core ; mane was 
only partly, not entirely, superseded by mxitutinum, as is proved by the 
survival of main, both as substantive and adverb. Page 15 : Quominus 
is the best example to give as proof of the negative meaning of 
minus. Page 17 : mention the suffix ^-idre, which must have existed 
together with -escere ; distinguish -ulare from -culare. Page 90 : the 
vulgar form of ocddere was *ah-cid€re, which perhaps arose under 
the influence of absddere. The explanation that it was a result of 
' umgekehrte Schreibung,' would account neither for the French form 
odre, nor for the Provencal aucir. Page 91: besides *coldbra, accented 



Reviews 299 

on the penultimate, there mu8t have existed in Vulgar Latin a form 
^coUSmiy accented on the antepenultimate. Cf. conbre in Raschi's 
Glosses {Remie des Etudes Juives, T. Lill, p. 167), which allows us to 
reconstruct *colbre. Page 170: why not admit *vare beside voder e, 
just as *fare is admitted beside facere ? It seems to me that it would 
give a satisfactory etymology for the French word rever; resver and 
rever in O.F. might then be explained as arising from *re + ea? + vare 
and re + vare. Page 187 : -irunt passed regularly into -^Srunt under the 
influence of -lirant, -hint and -Hrent 

L. Brandin. 



Historical German Orammar, Volume I. Phonology, Word-Formation 
and Accidence. By Joseph Wright. Oxford : Clarendon Press. 
8vo. xiv + 314 pp. 

An Old High German Primer, With Grammar, Notes and Glossary, 
By Joseph Wright. Second Edition. Oxford : Clarendon Press. 
8vo. xii + 176 pp. 

A promising beginning has been made to the series of Historical and 
Comparative Grammars, published by the Clarendon Press and edited 
by Professor Joseph Wright, with a Historical German Grammar by the 
editor himself. The volume opens with an introductory chapter which 
briefly outlines some of the general principles of language; this is followed 
by a classification of the Indogermanic languages with special reference 
to the Germanic group, and a summary of the chief differences between 
O.H.G., M.H.G. and N.H.G. The sound-value of the various alphabetic 
signs during the three periods of the German language is next discussed, 
stress or accent is dealt with, and then follows in the usual order a 
detailed histoiy of vowels, consonants and inflexions. 

A compendium presenting in brief form the present state of investi- 
gation into the linguistic problems connected with German has long 
been wanted, and rrofessor Wright's book ought therefore to prove 
most useful to students, especially to those who have to do without 
academic teaching and find themselves handicapped when they attempt 
to use the larger German works. But the teacher will be grateful too 
for the constant references to English which will greatly assist him in 
illustrating the more obscure features of German grammar to the 
English student. 

While the book may thus be recommended as a whole, it challenges 
serious criticism in matters of detail. First of all, it is entirely dog- 
matic. There is not a single reference to the authorities upon which the 
author relies, or to the reasons why he differs from them. Again, absolute 
accuracy and the greatest caution in the statement of results are indis- 
pensable virtues in a book of this kind, and there is here much room for 
revision in a second edition. The necessity for condensation has not 
unfirequently led to vagueness, to the slurring over of difficult points 
and to incautious generalisations. Is there any reason why, contrary to 



300 Reviews 

ffeneral usage, vocalic I, wi, n, r, consonantal i and t/, and the velars with 
abialisation are not distinguished in print ? Forms like wlqos (p. 26) 
and treies (p. 28) not only look peculiar, but are misleading. The 
present ^nem-o-a (p. 233) also seems to imply that these portions of the 
book need overhauling. From the eariier chapters I add some further 
instances. N.H.G. du corresponds to M.H.Q. du, the u of which, like 
that of wu, did not become a diphthong in N.H.G. ; the M.H.G. forms on 
p. 213 ought to be given as du, du. In what respect are wann — tuenn, 
dann — denn (p. 4) illustrative of a difiference of accentuation? The 
classification of the dialects in § 9 is unsatisfactory; Swabian is not 
specially recognised, and Ripuarian and Moselle Franconian ought to 
appear under Middle Franconian. The claim of Blast Franconian to be 
included in the Upper German dialects should be mentioned. The 
chapter on stress (§ 23 ff ) is also unsatisfactory, particularly § 24, which 
deals with the secondary stress (Nebenton). Considering the importance 
of this stress for O.H.G. and M.H.G. prosody, it is strange to find it dis- 
missed with the curt observation that it ' fluctuated.' § 26, too, is vague 
and indefinite. On page 28, 2, line 1 'the same or' ought to be omitted. 
The rule given in § 56 is, of course, doubtful, but if it is retained, the 
retention of i in the past participle of the strong verbs of the first class 
should be mentioned. A note on p. 41 incorrectly ascribes the pre- 
vention of the umlaut by a following It, Id, only to upper German ; the 
fluctuation between u and il in the preterite subjunctive is quite common 
before other consonants as well as nasal + consonant. It is too much to 
say (p. 42, note) that Middle German did not distinguish in writing 
o, il, on, ue from o, u, ou, uo. It is done often enough. These few 
examples — and it would be easy to add to them — will show the 
necessity of a careful revision when a new edition is called for of this 
very useful handbook. 

A book like Professor Wright's Old High German Primer may fairly 
claim to have proved its usefulness when it has reached the dignitv of a 
second edition ; and indeed, this little book has been, and will probably 
remain for a long time, the sole refuge of those who are desirous of 
acquiring an elementary knowledge of O.H.G. of the ninth century, but 
dread Braune's larger books. Many a student will no doubt be tempted 
by the simplicity and lucidity of Professor Wright's book to take up a 
subject which usually repels by its formidable initial difficulties. The 
only part of the little work to which serious exception must be taken, is 
the chapter on syntax. It is thoroughly unsatisfactory, and had much 
better be omitted altogether. The rew useful notes which it contains 
might easily find room in the accidence or in the vocabulary. The notes 
to the extracts might, with advantage be recast. The student working 
under a teacher does not need them, whereas the private student needs 
more elaborate help than is here offered him. A few words on metre 
would also have formed a valuable addition. 

J. Steppat. 



Reviews 301 



Oeschiedenis van het Drama en van het Tooneel in Nederland, Door 
J. A. WoRP. 2 Volumes. Groningen: J. B. Wolters, 1904—8. 
viii + 466 pp. and viii + 577 pp. 8vo. 

Dr J. A. Worp's History of the Drama and Theatre in the Netherlands, 
which has just been completed by the publication of the second volume, 
has an importance which is by no means limited to the subject and the 
literature of which it treats. It is a valuable contribution to the com- 
parative history of the European drama, and will be appreciated by all 
who seek to understand the general movements of modern literature. 
As a matter of fact, the key of such movements is often to be found in 
the little literatures of the continent rather than in France, or Germany, 
or England ; this is particularly true of Holland, which is, as it were, 
hedged in by the three great literary powers. There is much to be 
learned from the reflection of French and EInglish ideas in the Dutch 
mind, and Professor Grierson's recent attempt, in his contribution to 
the Periods of European Literature, to bring the Dutch Renaissance 
movement into line with the classicism of the rest of Europe, was 
a noteworthy recognition of the comparative value of Dutch literature. 
A careful study of Dr Worp's two admirable volumes will help us, 
better than any other existing history of the subject, to realise how 
much light the study of the Dutch drama is able to throw on the 
dramatic literature of other lands. This comparative value of the book, 
and the fact that our English journals rarely take cognisance of the 
excellent work which is being done at present in Holland in the field of 
modem literary research and criticism, are my chief reasons for bringing 
Dr Worp's history before the notice of the readers of this Review, 

The most conspicuous merit of Dr Worp's book is, as I have just in- 
dicated, that it constantly keeps in view what may be called the European 
standpoint. Unfortunately, the early record of the Dutch drama, where 
every fragment of evidence is precious, is defective; we have a mere 
handful of dramas from which to draw our inferences and conclusions. 
This broken and incomplete tradition has perhaps been the reason which 
led to a somewhat adventurous criticism on the part of older writers on 
the subject — German as well as Dutch — an attempt to set up hTOotheses 
of Dutch origins, which were at variance with the parallel evidence of 
French and German literary history. Dr Worp has not forgotten that, 
before we are justified in inventing new theories, the evidence against 
a development analogous to that in neighbouring lands, must be very 
strong; and he has succeeded in proving that the early Dutch traditions 
involve no factors which are absent in other literatures. Indeed, one 
wonders now that any other explanation could ever have been accepted. 

It is, however, to later times that the reader will turn with most 
interest, to the century of Hoofl and Vondel, when Holland succeeded 
in creating a national renaissance drama, which combined Senecan form 
with the spacious imaginative atmosphere of the medieval liturgic 
drama. The comparative results of Dr Worp's investigation of tne 
drama of the seventeenth century are not as enlightening as one might 



302 Reviews 

have hoped to find them ; he has made abundantly clear the various 
waves of foreign influence that swept over Holland from abroad, but he 
has not added to our knowledge of the influence that went out from 
Holland to other lands, and especially to Germany. If we are ever to 
find a solution to the many fascinating problems of Qerman dramatic 
literature in the seventeenth century, from the Sidea and Phoenicia 
of Ayrer to the Peter Squefitz of Schwenter-Gryphius, and the school 
comedies of Christian Weise, it must, as is generally admitted, come by 
way of Dutch literature. But if Dr Worp has no new facts to oflfer, 
his history at least helps us to realise what is too often forgotten, the 
essentially Dutch character of the German drama of that age. The 
advantages of the author's comparative method are to be seen in his 
treatment of the eighteenth century, a period barren enough in the 
historj^ of Dutch dramatic literature ; as especially suggestive I would 
note his c^scussion of the influence exerted by the French classic drama, 
on the national tradition that had come down from the drama of the 
preceding century. 

Dr Worp's book is characterised by German thoroughness and German 
method. The more important plays are taken up one by one and 
discussed in detail; in fact, there is occasionally almost an excess of 
method in this respect, and the broader aspects of the dramatic move- 
ment do not always receive their due. His stylcf is lucid and straight- 
forward, and need not discourage anyone whose knowledge of Dutch 
requires constant recourse to the dictionary. The book is provided 
with valuable lists of foreign dramas in Dutch translation, and three 
exemplary indices. 

J. G. Robertson. 



MINOR NOTICES. 

M. Gustavo Cohen's Histoire de la raise en seine dans le thMtre 
religievx frangais du moyen dge (Paris, Champion, 1906, and now out of 
print), has been translated into German under the title Oeschichte der 
Inszenierung im geistlichen Schauspiele des Mittelalters in Frankreich, 
by Dr Constantin Bauer (Leipzig, Klinkhardt, 1907). This, however, 
is more than a simple translation, and the formula 'verbesserte und 
vermehrte Ausgabe* is fully justified both as regards illustrations and 
text. The German edition has two plates which are not in the French 
original: Die drei Marien am Orabe, from a Reichenau MS. of the 
twelfth century, and Der Weinmarkt in Luzem als Schauplate des 
Osterspieles vom Jahre 1583. With regard to the text, numerous 
rectifications and valuable additions have been made. These have 
been suggested by the reviews of Roy (Revue Bourguignonne, 1906), 
S^pet (Momania, October, 1906), Rigal {Revue des Langues Romanes, 
December, 1906), Ch&telain {Revue d'Histoire Litt^aire, September, 



Minor Notices 303 

1906). Schneegans (Zeitschrift fur romanische PhUologie, 1906), Van 
Hamel (Museum, October, 1906). Some notes have also been utilised, 
which were sent to the author by H. Logeman, or taken from Chambers s 
Mediaeval Stage and Gall^e's Bijdragen tot de geschiedenis der dramatische 
vertooningen in de Nederlanden gedurende de Middeleewwen (1873). Of 
the additions we note as particularly interesting the comparison between 
the instructions given to the actors in the Jeu d'Adam and in Hamlet, 
and the valuable evidence with regard to the scenery intended for the 
representation of a mystery at Alen9on in 1520 (p. 82). On the 
evidence mainly of a passage in the Miracle de Thdodore, the author 
originally was of opinion that pjersons had appeared entirely naked on 
the stage ; he now expresses himself convinced by the arguments of 
Sepet and Langlois that this was not the case (cf. especially Langlois 
in the BibL Ec. des Chartes, 1906, p. 524). We understand that an 
English edition of this valuable work is in preparation. 

L. B. 



Dr Paget Toynbee, the compiler of the very representative anthology 
of verse and prose from the works of Dante, which has been published 
under the title In the Footprints of Dante (London : Methuen and Co., 
1907), has refrained from any ambitious classification of his brief selec- 
tions ; he has followed, for the most part, the order in which the works 
appear in the standard Oxford edition, to which, with the aid of a 
subject and a reference index the book forms an excellent guide for 
the beginner who wishes to *dip into* Dante's writings generally, instead 
of plodding through the first half of the Inferno and then leaving oflF 
discouraged. Many who are already familiar with the Divina Comm^dia 
and the Vita Nuova, will realise with surprise how much there is of 
human and historical interest in the prose works both vernacular and 
Latin. To each passage is appended an English rendering. Dr Toynbee 
has culled freely from his predecessors in the art of translation, but 
among the most charming of all, are his own renderings, of which he 
has made a modest use. Of the rest, Mr Shadwell's Marvellian stanzas 
are particularly striking in this form of short selections. 

L. R 



We have received three excellent little volumes of the ' Riverside 
Literature Series': (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co.; London: G. G. 
Harrap) : Malory's The Book of Merlin and The Book of Sir Balin, 
edited by C. G. Child (1904); Beowulf sluA The Finnesburh Fragment, 
translated and edited by C. G. Child (1904); and Chaucer's Prologue, 
Knight's Tale and Nun*8 Priest's Tale, edited by F. J. Mather (1899). 
These are all provided with good introductions and are intended 
primarily for students whose tastes incline rather to literature than 
to language. Li the first the spelling and the forms of words are 
unfortunately modernized. The second is a good prose translation 



304 Minor Notices 

which steers an even course between pseudo-archaisms and modem 
colloquialisms. The introduction to the translation is slightly didactic 
in tone; seeing that the poem gives next to no information about 
Beowulf s lon^ reign, we cannot agree that 'the unity aimed at was 
the presentation of the life of the hero/ The volume of Chaucer 
selections is, we think, the best edition extant for the beginner. The 
Introduction of 79 pages would be difficult to surpass, and the text, 
except for the partial adoption of Skeat's normalized spellings, has been 
edited on sound principles. 

J. H. G. G. 

George Eliot, von Helene Richter (Wissenschaftliche Frauenar- 
beiten, herausgegeben von H. Jantzen und G. Thurau. IV. — V. Heft. 
Berlin: A. Duncker, 1907) consists of five essays of which only the 
first, 'George Eliot, ein Charakterbild,' has not previously appeared in 
print. This short biography is the least important part of the volume, 
as it simply offers in a condensed form what has already been said. 
The second essay deals with *Der Humor bei George Eliot,' and insists 
on her claims to be regarded as a humorist; the third, 'Die Frauen- 
frage,' discusses George Eliot's views as to the proper sphere of woman's 
activity. The last two essays deal more strictly with George Eliot as 
a novelist. We note that, in her discussion of Romola, Fraulein Richter 
expresses a point of view which is at complete variance with that of the 
late Sir Leslie Stephen or Mr Oscar Browning; 'die Erzahlung,' she 
says, *ist nur insofem historisch, als sie durchaus im Geist und Character 
der Epoche gehalten ist, in der sie spielt.' 

A. B. Y. 



The publications of the Malone Society for the first year of its 
existence have been completed by the issue of two more volumes. One 
of these is a reprint of the old play of King Leir from the quarto of 
1605, the other the first part of the Society's Collections. This mcludes, 
besides notes on the other publications and reprints of certain recently 
discovered dramatic fragments, an article by Mr E. K. Chambers on 
the 'Elizabethan Lords Chamberlain' and annotated reprints of the 
dramatic records from the City Remembrancia, This important series 
of documents has, indeed, been indexed, but the records in question 
have never before been printed in full, though many of them are of the 
first importance for the history of the drama. 

The first year's work of the Society is therefore represented by six 
volumes distributed to members in return for their guinea subscription. 
It is proposed to issue the same number in 1908, and the list approved 
by the Council is as follows: Sir Thomas More, from MS. Harley 7368; 
Calisto and Melihoea, F**, n.d.; SelimuSy 4**, 1594; Locrine, 4°, 1595; 
Sir John Oldcastle, 4°, 1600 ('V.S.' quarto); and Collections, pt. ii. 
Further information may be obtained from the Hon. Sec, Mr Arundell 
Esdaile, 166 Holland Road, London, W. 



Minor Notices 305 

Messrs Hachettc and Co. will publish shortly a phototype repro- 
duction of the remarkable copy of the Essais of Montaigne (1588), 
belonging to the municipality of Bordeaux, which contains the author's 
marginal notes and corrections. These bear witness to the extraordinary 
care with which Montaigne revised and polished his work in the last 
years of his life. The reproduction, which will contain some 700 plates, 
IS being edited by Professor Strowski of Bordeaux. The subscription 
price of the complete work is 150 francs. 



From a recent report of the German Commission of the Berlin 
Academy, we learn that the new edition of Wieland is so far advanced 
that arrangements have been made to begin printing. The first volumes 
to appear will be the * Jugendschriften' edited by Dr Homeyer, Berlin, 
and the Translation of Shakespeare edited by Dr Stadler, Strassburg. 
Of the Deutsche Texte des Mittelcdters, volumes viii, ix and xiii have 
just been completed and the Archive is now in possession of over 
3000 descriptions of manuscripts, of which about two-thirds have been 
catalogued. 

Of editions of Gennan classical writers in course of publication 
or announced we note as being of particular interest, the following: 
The six- volume * Volks-Goethe,' which has been edited by Professor 
Erich Schmidt for the Goethe Gesellschafb (Weimar, Bohlau), is almost 
ready for publication, and the new edition of Hirzels Der junge Goethe 
will be published by the Insel- Verlag in Leipzig in May. A new edition 
of Brentano's Sdmtliche Werke, edited by C. Scniiddekopf, is announced 
by G. Muller in Munich, and the same firm has just issued the 
first volume of a *historisch-kritischc* edition of E. T. A. Hoflfmann's 
Sdmtliche Werke, edited by C. G. von Maassen. It is to be hoped that 
the edition of Brentano will be followed by what is even a still greater 
desideratum to the student of German Romantic literature, a complete 
edition of Amim's works. The firm of Hesse in Leipzig has just issued 
the first three volumes of Laube's Sdmtliche Werke, to be completed in 
fifty volumes. 



Correction. On page 124 (January number) delete the last two 
sentences of the note on Fucas. 



M. L. R. III. 21 



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2e cd. Paris, Hachette. 10 fr. 
Vaughan, C. E., Types of Tragic Drama. London, Macmillan. 6s. net. 
YoLKELT, J., Zwischen Dichtung uiid Philosophic. Gesammelte Aufsatze. 

Munich, Beck. 8 M. 

ROMANCE LANGUAGES. 

Bibliotheca romanica. 41 — 44, Cervantes Saavedra, Cinco novelas ejemplares ; 

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Each number, 40 pf. 
Melanges Chabancau. ii. Teil. (Romanische Forschungen, xxiii. Baud.) 

Erlangeu, F. Junge, 25 M. 
RiCHTEK, E., Die Bedeutungsgeschichte der romanischeu Wortsippe bur(d). 

Vienna, Holder. 4 Kr. 

Italian. 

Canilli, a., L' opera poetica di Emilio Praga. Saggio di letteratiuu con- 

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Carducci, G., Da un carteggio incdito di. Con prefazione di A. Messi. Rocca 

S. Casciano, Cappelli. 3 L. 
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Turin, Casanova. 2 L. 
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Volume III JULY, 1908 Number 4 



DANTE'S LYRICAL METRES: HIS THEORY 
AND PRACTICE. 

The object of this paper is in the first place to give a sketch of 
Dante's theory of lyrical metres as outlined in the De Vulgari Eloquential 
with some reference to the sources fi:om which it is derived and its 
connection with other metrical treatises of contemporary, or nearly 
contemporary, date ; and secondly to analyse the structure of his lyrical 
poems, considering how far they exemplify his metrical theory, or add 
to our knowledge of it. 

The De Vulgari Eloquerdia has the special interest of being the 
earliest extant treatise on Italian poetry, as Dante himself states at the 
opening of Book i: — *cum neminem ante nos de vulgaris eloquentiae 
doctrina quicquam inveniamus tractfisse ' : words which it is impossible to 
reconcile with the ill-authenticated tradition that his special friend, Quido 
Cavalcanti, who died before Dante's treatise can have been composed, had 
written on the vernacular grammar and rhetoric. It is clear, however, 
that Dante's metrical doctrines and practice were largely derived, 
directly or indirectly, from Proven9al literature, to which allusion is 
probably made in words that follow those quoted above : — * non solum 
aquam nostri ingenii ad tantum poculum haurientes, sed, accipiendo vel 
compilando ab aliis, potiora miscentes' (i, 1, 11. 13 — 15)*. This fact 
gives special interest to the Proven9al treatise, the Leys d'amors, which, 
although it was not written before the second quarter of the fourteenth 
century, and was not completed till about 1350, is valuable as preserving 
the traditions, and summing up the practice, of a much earlier time. 
The date of the De Vulgari Eloquentia is supposed on internal evidence 
to be about 1305-9 : some interval between books 1 and 2 is suggested 
by the opening of the latter * ad calamum frugi operis redeuntes* Both 
books are clearly subsequent to Dante s eiile in 1302, to which reference 

* The references are to the Oxford Dante, 
M. L. R. III. 22 



314 Dante's Lyrical Metres: his Theory and Practice 

is made twice in book 1 (chaps. 6 and 17) and once in book 2 (chap. 6). 
The work is therefore contemporary with the commentary composed by 
Francesco da Barberino for his Documenti damore, for the Documenti 
were apparently written before 1296, and the commentary which 
includes notes *de variis inveniendi et rimandi modis'^ is stated by 
Francesco da Barberino himself to have occupied him for sixteen years 
(? 1296-1312). 

There are only three other metrical treatises to which it will be I 

necessary to refer occasionally. The first is that of Antonio da Tempo: — ^ 

the Summa artis rithimid (sc. dictaminis) or Ars rithimorum vulgarium j 

composed in 1332, and dedicated to Alberto della Scala, Signore of ] 

Verona. The second is Gidino da Sommacampagna's Trattaio de li | 

rhythimi volgari in the Veronese dialect, composed not long after 1350, 
and dedicated also to a Scaliger, viz. Antonio della Scala, who was 
*podestii' of Verona 1375-1387. The. third and last is the Poetica of 
Trissino, who, it may be noted, mentions Dante and Antonio da Tempo 
as his only predecessors. Of this treatise the first book, which alone 
concerns us, was published in 1529, in which year Trissino also produced 
his Italian translation of the De Vulgari Eloquentia, I 

Anyone who reads Dante's treatise for the first time must be sur- ' 

prised and puzzled by the peculiarity of its metrical terminology. This \ 

applies not only to unusual words, but also to common words such as 1 

*pes,' 'versus,' * carmen,' 'metrum,' 'dimeter,' which are used by Dante in 
senses entirely diflferent from those which they usually bear, and perhaps 
due to him alone. This will appear in the following sketch, in which it is 
proposed to shew how Dante builds up the metrical structure fi-om the 
syllable to the line, from the line to the combination of lines in what we 
may call a ' period,' though Dante does not use the term : and lastly 
fi'om the period to the combination of periods in a stanza, or rather in 
the three lyrical forms which he used, viz. those of the canzone, the 
ballata and the sonetto. 

The primary element is the ' syllable,' as might be expected in any 
theory of Romance metres, in which no account is taken of the ' foot,' the 
diflferent forms of line being distinguished by the number of syllables, 
not of feet, which the line contains^ This marks at once the distinction 
between Romance and Germanic metres, in which latter the number of 
syllables is comparatively indiflferent, the primary unit being the foot 
which may be represented by one, two, three or even four syllables. 

* Cf. De VuJg, Eloq. ii, 1, 11. 6 f. * inventoribus, inventum.' 
^ ii, 0. 5 and c. 12. 



a B, HEBERDEN 315 

The different fonns of line which Dante recognises as legitimate are 
only four, viz. those of eleven, seven, five and three syllables : but the 
last of these is not to be used in the ' tragic ' style, except as forming a 
part of a line, when an internal rhyme fells upon the second and third 
syllables. The nine-syllable line is rejected as it is also in the Leys 
d'amors, the reasons given by Dante for its rejection being that it is the 
triple of the trisyllable, and was never held in esteem, or had fallen out 
of use ' propter festidium/ lines containing an even number of syllables 
are all rejected, as being rarely used, ostensibly for the curious reason 
that they 'retain the nature of their numbers'^ and even numbers are 
* subject to ' (' subsistunt ') odd numbers, as matter is to form^. But the 
real reason for their rejection seems to be that, as in the majority of 
Italian words the accent falls upon the penultimate syllable, the normal 
rhymes are dissyllabic, not monosyllabic ; and as, moreover, the metres 
used by Dante are exclusively * rising ' not * falling ' rhythms, ' iambic ' 
not ' trochaic,' in accordance with the general practice of Italian poetry, 
it follows that the lines must consist of an odd, not an even, number of 
syllables. Of the three normal lines the hendecasyllable is by far the 
most frequent and the most important. All the 'cantiones illustres' 
according to Dante begin with a hendecasyllable, for it is to be noted 
that, wrongly, as it seems, he regards all those Provencal lines which 
appear to contain only ten syllables as being in reality hendecasyllabic, 
the word * cantars,' for example^ at the end of a line being according to 
him trisyllabic, the 'r' and 's' forming a distinct syllable. And not 
only must the dtanza begin with a hendecasyllable, but the hendeca- 
syllable must be predominant throughout. Next in order of importance 
is the heptasyllable, the pentasyllable coming last. 

In this classification it is to be observed that, just as Dante does not 
recognise the * foot * as a higher unit between the syllable and the line, 
so neither does he recognise any section, xdST^x^v, combination of feet, 
short of the line. Yet that the Italian hendecasyllable is composed of 
two sections is obvious from the fe^t that there is always a stress, i.e., an 
accentuated syllable, falling in the middle of the line as well as at the 
end : i.e., either the fourth or the sixth syllable as well as the tenth is 
accentuated. This is in agreement with the doctrine of the Leys d'amors 
where it is said that in the ten-syllable line (corresponding to the Italian 
hendecasyllable) there is a pause after the fourth, though not indeed 
after the sixth, syllable. 

1 ii, c. 5, n. 65-8. » Cp. i, 16, 11. 5a-5. » ii, o. 5. 

22—2 



316 Dante s Lyrical Metres : his Theory and Practice 

The term which Dante uses for the line is ' carmen/ — a use which, 
though not classical, is found in post-classical writers. Another term 
which he occasionally uses is 'metrum/ e.g., in Book ii, c. 11; hence 
'dimeter/ 'trimeter/ and the like, which in ordinary metrical language 
mean certain combinations of simple or double feet, as the case may be, 
not being required by Dante in such meanings, denote in the De Vvlgari 
Eloquentia the number of lines or * carmina,' the ' dimeter ' being two 
lines, the 'trimeter' three lines and so on. For this use I have found 
no parallel. The familiar term for the line, namely ' versus,' is, as will 
be seen, employed by Dante in a special and peculiar sense. 

We have now to see how the stanza or strophe is built up. Dante 
recognises only three forms of lyrical stanza in contrast to 'alios 
illegitimos et irregulares modes/ viz., (1) the 'cantio per superexcel- 
lentiam/ i.e., the canzone, (2) the 'ballata,* and (3) the 'sonitus' 
(sonnet)^. Of these the canzone is the most 'noble,' the sonnet the 
least, the ballata intermediate in the scale of dignity. The reasons 
assigned for the superiority of the canzoni to the ballate are not only 
that they bring their authors more honour and are regarded as more 
precious and that they alone comprise the whole of the poet's art, but 
also that they produce their eflfect without any adventitious aid while the 
ballate 'indigent plausoribus' (ii, 3, 1. 30), require performers. The 
meaning of this latter expression is generally supposed to be that they 
require ' musicians ' to accompany the words, and this is the interpreta- 
tion of Trissino who in his Italian translation renders * plausores ' by 
' sonatori.' But it seems probable that it should be translated 'dancers,' 
in support of which may be quoted ' Pars pedibus plaudunt choreas,' 
Virg. Aen., 6, 644, and Culex, 19 'plaudente chorea,' though the reading 
there is doubtful. This interpretation is in harmony with the. meaning 
of 'ballata,' which is a song accompanied with dancing. That the 
'ballata' is superior in dignity to the sonnet is, according to Dante, 
universally admitted. Of these three forms Dante describes the first 
only : the other two were to have been discussed in Book iv (ii, 4, 1. 12). 
For the analysis of their structure it will be necessary to examine the 
extant specimens and to refer to the accounts of them given by the 
metricians. Of the canzone there are two species, which differ according 
as the stanzas of which they are composed are divisible or indivisible. 
Those which are indivisible are sung to a melody which extends over 
the whole stanza without any repetition, * quaedam sunt sub una oda 
continua usque ad ultimum progressive, hoc est sine iteratione modu- 

1 ii, 8, 1. 10; ii, 8, 1. 69. 



C. B. HEBERDEN 317 

lationis cuiusquam et sine diesi' (ii, 10, II. 18-21). These are the rarer 
forms and in Dante's Canzoniere are represented only by the three 
normal sestine and possibly by the 'double' sestina referred to in 
ii, 13, 1. 90 as ' novum aliquid atque intentatum artis,' which according 
to Trissino is indivisible, though there is some doubt whether he is 
right. It would be out of place here to give a complete account of this 
highly artificial form which was invented by the Proven9al troubadour 
Amaut Daniel, of whom Dante makes Guido Guinizelli speak with 
admiration in Purg, xxvi, 117, as a 'miglior fabbro del parlar matemo.' 
It seems to have found little favour, for there are said to be only four 
Proven9al specimens extant, and Dante was the first to introduce it 
into Italian literature ; using it however only in the poems belonging 
to the curious * pietra ' group. As to its structure, it will be sufficient 
for the present purpose to say that each of the three single ' sestine ' 
attributed to Dante consists of six stanzas containing six lines of eleven 
syllables, each ending with one of six diflferent words which recur in 
each stanza in varying order. Each sestina is closed by a * tomata ' (of 
which more will be said presently) consisting of three lines, containing 
three or six of the recurrent final words which have just been referred to. 
All the other stanzas in Dante's canzoni belong to the class of 
divisible stanzas. The characteristics of this class are not only that the 
stanza is divisible but also that it always involves at least one repetition 
of the same metrical structure, and therefore of the melody to which the 
canzone was originally intended to be sung. The repetition may be 
either before or after the point of division, or there may be a repetition 
both before and after it. What the technical term for the dividing 
point is, whether ' diesis ' or * dieresis,' is not absolutely certain. It is 
mentioned seven times in Book ii, c. 10, in all which instances the MSS. 
have the form 'diesis': once in c. 12 and once in c. 13, in both which 
instances the MSS. have * dieresis.' The definition which Dante gives of 
the term is as follows (ii, 10, 11. 21-3) : ' diesim dicimus deductionem 
vergentem de una oda in aliam,' which apparently means ' a transition 
fi-om one melody to another,' the metrical structure and therefore the 
melody being changed at this point. Now the regular meaning of 
diesis, which is a well known term in Greek music, is certain : it is an 
interval which is a division of a tone, being usually a quarter-tone, 
though sometimes a semitone. This bears little or no analogy to the 
sense required here: viz., that of a division (Trissino's translation is 
divisione) between the two parts of a strophe. This however may be 
said also of the term * dieresis,' the usual sense of which is a division of a 



318 Dante's Lyrical Metres: his Theory and Practice 

diphthong into two separate vowels, thus forming two syllables And 

that ' diesis ' is probably the right reading is indicated by a passage in 

the Origines of Isidore of Seville, iii, 20 * diesis est spatia quaedam et 

dedvctiones modulandi atque vergendi de uno in alterum sonura,' — words 

which certainly seem to be the origin of Dante's definition, though -j 

probably misunderstood by him. That the word in any case, whether | 

' diesis ' or ' dieresis,' was unfamiliar and would not have been * under- 

standed of the people' is shewn by Dante's remark, 'banc voltam 

vocamus cum vulgus alloquimur * (ii, 10, 11. 23-4). It has been assumed 

in what has been said that the required sense is that of the dividing 

point between the two divisions into which the stanza falls, but this, 

though most probable, is not indisputable. It might be thought that 

the definition implies not a point, but a passage, of transition, and in 

this connection it may be noticed that in all but one^ of the twenty-one 

canzoni printed in the Oxford DantSy as well as in Ballata 7, which is 

in reality not a ballata but a canzone, the first line of the second 

division is linked by rhyme with the last line of the first division: a 

device which Dante calls ' quaedam ipsius stantiae concatenatio pulcra ' 

(ii, 13, 1. 46). It is therefore possible, and has been maintained, that the 

line which thus forms a link between the two parts, and not the point 

of division, may be the * diesis.' 

It has been seen above that in the * divisible ' stanza there must be 
at least one repetition of metrical structure whether before or after the 
' diesis,' and that there may be a repetition both before and after it. 
If the repetition occurs only before the dividing point, the stanza is 
said to have * pedes ' : if it occurs only after the dividing point, the 
stanza is said to have ' versus.' If there is no repetition before the 
• diesis,' the first part of the stanza is called ' frons ' : if the second part 
contains no repetition, it is called * cauda ' or * sirma ' (or as the MSS. 
have in c. 10 ' sirima '). There are thus three forms of the divisible 
stanza : (1) pedes + versus, (2) pedes + cauda, (3) frons + versus. These 
uses of the words 'pedes' and 'versus' — words so common in other 
metrical senses — are very peculiar, but whether they were first so 
applied by Dante is uncertain. Dante calls special attention to the 
distinction between his use of ' pes ' and that of the ' regulati poetae,' 
i.e., the Latin poets, ' quia illi carmen ex pedibus, nos vero ex carmini- 
bus pedem constare dicimus' (ii, 11, 11. 57-9), i.e., according to him the 
' pedes ' are composed of lines, according to them the lines are composed 
of * pedes.' There will be occasion to return to the history of the term 
^ The exception is the fragment iu Vita Nuora, c. 28. 



C. B. HEBERDEN 319 

* pedes ' when dealing with the sonnet. Scarcely less peculiar is Dante's 
use of ' versus ' which diflfer from the ' pedes * only in their position in 
the st€uiza : i.e., in coming afber, instead of before, the diesis. Possibly 
'versus' may be a translation of the vernacular 'volta* used by Francesco 
da Barberino to denote the same thing. If so, *volta' and 'versus* 
would both mean a turn : i.e., the turning point together with all that 
follows it. But the inconvenience of using words so liable to be mis- 
understood as 'pedes* and 'versus* in this connection was felt by 
Trissino who accordingly employs 'base' to represent Dante's 'pedes' 
and, like Barberino, ' volte ' to represent Dante's ' versus.' It may be 
noted in passing that in the Convivio ' verso ' is used frequently in yet 
another sense, viz., that of stanza. 

The word ' frons ' denoting the first part of the stanza, when that 
part is indivisible, presents no special interest or difficulty : it is some- 
what different with the word 'sirma' or 'sirima' denoting the latter 
part of the stanza, when that part is indivisible. As to the form of the 
word there is considerable doubt. The MSS. give ' sirima * in c. 10 and 
'sirma' in c. 11. Trissino, both in his translation of the De Vulgari 
Eloquentia and in his PoeHca, has ' sirima.* * Sirma ' (or * sjrrma ') is the 
Greek cupfia, a 'train' of a dress; and is defined in Du Cange as 'genus 
vestis tragicorum vel cauda seu tractus vestis feminarum.' It appears 
also to have been used in the terminology both of rhetoric and of music, 
meaning, in the former, rhetorical amplification, in the latter, a pro- 
longed note, or musical phrases or melodies appended to the close of a 
psalm or antiphon. Dr Toynbee has however pointed out to me that 
the form used by Dante was probably 'syrina,' this being the word 
given in the Catholicon of Giovanni da Genova, whose authority was 
Uguccione da Pisa, the author of Dante's Latin Dictionary. Giovanni 
explains the word as meaning 'cauda vestis feminarum': and in the 
last edition of Du Cange the form 'sirina' is given, with the explanation 
' Cauda vestis : fimbria.' This form, connected with ' syren,' seems to be 
due to a mistake on the part of these early glossarists, and to a confusion 
with the proper form ' sirma.' In any case it will be noticed that both 
'sirma' (or 'sirima') and 'sirina' are glossed by 'cauda,' Dante's 
alternative term for the part of the stanza which is in question. 

For Dante's account of one special feature in the canzone not men- 
tioned in the De Vulgari Eloquentia, reference must be made to the 
Convivio. This is the ' tomata ' (Provencal ' tomada ') which is found in 
17 out of the 21 canzoni printed in the Oxford Dante, ' It is generally,* 
says Dante {Conv. ii, 12, 1. 7), 'called "tomata" because the poets who first 



320 Dante's Lyrical Metres : his Theory and Practice 

made a practice of composing it, did so in order that, when the canzone 
had been sung through, a return, might be made to the canzone itself 
with a certain part of the song ' (i.e., the poet turned to address his 
canzone, and in doing so repeated a portion of the metrical structure 
and melody of the preceding stanzas). ' I, however,* he continues, 'have 
seldom composed it with this intention, and in order that this might be 
perceived by others I have seldom set it in accord with the structure of 
the canzone as far as concerns the metre which is essential to the music ' 
(i.e., the metre and accompanying melody are seldom the same as in the 
preceding part). ' But I composed it when anything was required by 
way of ornament to the canzone over and above its general purport.' 
In the three canzoni commented on in the Convitfio, as almost without 
exception in Dante, the * tomata ' takes the form of an address to the 
canzone itself, and this is in harmony with what he says as to the 
practice of those who originally used it. But his remarks as to 
his own practice in respect of metre cannot be reconciled with the 
structure of the * tomata^ in the extant canzoni. In five instances the 
'tomata' is identical in form with the preceding stanzas as in Convivio, iii. 
In five instances the metrical structure is that of the *sirma,' and in five 
others it is equivalent to a portion of the * sirma ' ; only in two cases 
does it diflfer altogether from the ' sirma,' and in one of these {Canz. ix) it 
is probable that the ' tomata ' now appended to the canzone did not 
originally belong to it. It cannot therefore be said that, so &r as the 
existing canzoni are concerned, Dante seldom composed the * tomata ' 
in a metre that would fit a part of the preceding melody. It appears 
however that the ' tomata ' is on the whole in Italian poetry less often 
identical in structure with what has preceded than in Provencal, and 
this may probably be accounted for by the supposition that the Italian 
canzoni were not so regularly composed with a view to being sung, 
though it will be remembered that Dante's ' Amor che nella mente mi 
ragiona,' the theme of Convivio, iii, is sung by Casella in Parg, ii, 112, 
and in De Vulg, Eloq. ii, 10, 1. 15, it is said that 'omnis stantia ad 
quandam odam recipiendam armonizata est.' 

Having now outlined the structure of the canzone as given in the 
De Vtdgari Eloqventia we must turn to the existing canzoni in order to 
see whether, or to what extent, they conform to the rules there laid 
down. And first as to the length of the lines. The hendecasyllable 
invariably begins the stanza, and it is also emphatically predominant in 
all the canzoni. The stanza is entirely composed of hendecasyllables in 
Canz. i and vi. The heptasyllable occurs only once in the stanza in 



C. B. HEBERDBN 321 

Cam, iii, iv, vii, xv, xvi ; only twice in Canz. ii, xiv, xxi ; three times 
in Canz, v, xi, xii ; four times in Canz, ix, xiii, xviii ; i.e., the hendeea- 
syllable is found exclusively in two, the heptasyllable occurs once in 
five, and between two and four times in nine : while the number of 
lines in the whole stanza varies between the minimum of thirteen and 
the maximum of twenty-one. The largest number of lines shorter than 
the hendecasyllable is found in Canz. viii, x, xix, xx (all of them, be it 
observed, belonging to the ethical and didactic group), and lastly in 
BaU. vii, which, as has already been mentioned, is not a ballata but a 
canzone. All these contain more than five heptasyllables, which Dante 
apparently regards as the largest permissible number {De Vvlg, Eloq. ii, 
12, 1. 36). Thus Ball, vii contains six heptasyllables in a total of eighteen 
lines, Canz, viii contains seven in twenty lines, Canz. x nine in twenty- 
one lines, Canz. xx seven in eighteen lines. Canz. xvii and xix must be 
taken together as being the only canzoni of Dante which shew an 
internal rhyme. Cam. xvii consists indeed entirely of hendecasyllables, 
but in two of these lines has an internal rhyme on the fourth and fifth 
syllables. Canz. xix is still more elaborate: it contains ten hendeca- 
syllables, in two of which there is an internal rhyme on the second and 
third syllables, seven heptasyllables, and two pentasyllables, one in each 
'pes' (compare ii, 12, 1. 52, where it is said that there should not be 
more than one pentasyllable in the whole stanza, or at most two in the 

* pedes *). Even in this, the most complicated, in metrical stnicture, of 
all Dante's Canzoni, the hendecasyllable is still just predominant. With 
regard to the division of the stanza into ' pedes,' * versus,' ' irons ' and 
' sirma,' the facts are as follows. The division into * pedes ' is invariable, 
and each of the 'pedes' is usually of three or four lines, the only 
exceptions being Canz. x which has five lines in the * pes,' and Canz. xix 
which has six. There are, strictly speaking, only two instances of 

* versus ' pure and simple. One is Canz, i, which falls into two ' pedes ' 
of four lines each, and two * versus ' of three lines each, being identical 
in form with the sonnet, and differing fix)m it only in the number of 
the stanzas, and in the arrangement of the rhymes, for the first line of 
the tercets rhymes with the last of the quatrains, and does not, as usually 
in the sonnet, introduce a new rhyme. The second instance is the so- 
called Ballata vii, which has two 'pedes' of four lines each, and two 

* versus ' of five lines each. In addition however to these two canzoni, 
nos. xiv, xvii, and xviii may perhaps be regarded as affording instances 
of * versus ' with a ' cauda ' added : viz., of two lines in Canz. xiv, of one 
line in Canz. xvii, and of three lines in Canz. xviii. But there is 



322 Dante's Lyncal Metres: his Theory and Practice 

no reference to such an addition in any passage of the De Vulgari 
Eloquentia. 

With regard to the arrangement of the rhymes it has already been 
observed that the next line after the ' diesis ' generally rhymes with the 
preceding line, as in Cam. i referred to just above; and the last two 
lines of the stanza generally rhyme together, in accordance with De 
Vulg, Eloq, ii, 13, 11. 50-2, * pulcerrime tamen se habent ultimorum car- 
minum desinentiae si cum rithimo in silentium cadant/ Here it may 
in passing be noticed that Dante, following the example of some other 
medieval treatises on metre, always uses for rhyme the word * rithimus,' 
which he never employs in any other sense, except once in the Epistle 
to Can Grande, 11. 179 flF., where he says, speaking of the Divine Coniedy, 
that the whole work is divided into three * Canticae,' each *Cantica ' into 
* Cantus,' and each ' Cantus ' into ' Rithimi ' (apparently = tercets). On 
the other hand in the Convivio (i, 10, 1. 88) ' ritmo * means rhythm, and 
' rima ' (iv, 2, 1. 102) is said to have a narrower and a wider sense : the 
narrower equivalent to rhyme, the wider to rhythmical and rhymed 
composition. 

It appears, on the whole survey, that the structure of all the 
canzoni printed in the Oxford Dante, with the exception of five, in- 
cluding Ball, vii, harmonises with the principles formulated in the De 
Vulgari Eloquentia. Of these five exceptions one (no. viii) is the 
canzone at the beginning of Conv. iv, two (nos. x and xix) are quoted as 
his own by Dante in V. E. ii, 2, 1. 93 (where he speaks of the author as 
a friend of Cino) and in ii, 12, 1. 64. These canzoni, therefore, though 
not altogether conforming to Dante's rules, are indisputably his com- 
position, and either he held different opinions at different times as to 
what was permissible, or he deliberately adopted in these five instances 
a slightly less dignified style, an ' elegiac umbraculum ' (ii, 12, 1. 49), as 
he tells us had been done by Quido Qhisilieri and Fabruzzo de' Lam- 
bertazzi, who had composed canzoni in which the stanza began with a 
heptasyllable. In any case the discrepancy between Dante's theory 
and practice in these instances is a warning that it is unsafe to infer 
on metrical grounds alone the spuriousness of any of the poems the 
authenticity of which may be on other grounds doubtful. The com- 
position of the De Vvlgari Eloquentia, as we have seen, probably falls 
within the last fifteen years of Dante's life : and it need not be supposed 
that he must have always followed the rules which he lays down in this 
later work. 

That the structure of the Italian canzone was derived from Provencal 



C. B. HEBERDEN 323 

poetry, though it is not described in the Leys (Tamors, is shewn by the 
Proven9al poetry that has come down to us, and here, as in Dante, the 
tripartite division of the stanza into two ' pedes ' and a * sirma ' appears 
to be the commonest. The same structure is found in the work of the 
Minnesinger and Meistersinger, and can be traced back as far as the 
last quarter of the twelfth century when the Minnesinger began to be 
influenced by French and Proven9al models; and there is a metrical 
terminology for it which was coined by the Meistersinger. The German 
'StoUen' correspond to Dante's 'pedes,' and the * Abgesang* to the 'sirma.' 
'Stollen,' etyraologically connected with the verb *stellen,' means a 
* prop,* * post,' * foot ' (of a piece of furniture), and bears therefore some 
analogy to the term 'pedes,' as does also 'Gebaude' to 'stantia,' 'stanza.' 
The principles governing the structure of the ballata and the sonnet 
it was Dante's intention to elucidate in Book iv of the De Vulgari 
Eloquentia (ii, 4, 1. 12), where he proposed to treat of the ' mediocre ' 
vernacular as distinguished from the ' illustre ' or ' aulicum ' or ' nobilis- 
simum ' and ' tragic ' style with which Book ii is exclusively occupied. 
In order therefore to arrive at their structure we can use only the 
extant specimens and the oldest treatises on Italian metre. Both 
Antonio da Tempo and Gidino give fairly long accounts of the ballata 
and its various forms. The name, as Gidino says, tvnd as we have already 
seen, is given to it because it was, originally at least, accompanied by 
the dance ^, and corresponding, though slightly different, forms are in the 
Leys d! amors denominated ' dansa ' and * bals.' What characterises the 
ballata is the ' responsorium,' ' ripresa,' ' refrain,' with which the poem 
begins. Dante is therefore distinguishing the canzone from the ballata 
when he says that the former is ' sine responsorio ' (ii, 8, 1. 70). This 
refrain was repeated at the close of each stanza, or, at least, at the end 
of the entire poem, for authorities appear to differ on this point. 
Antonio da Tempo says ' vocatur autem prima pars ideo repilogatio quia 
de consuetudine approbata a tanto tempore citra cuius non exstat 
memoria est quod statim finite cantu alterius [?alicuius] voltae vel 
omnium verborum alicuius ballatae cantores reassumunt et repilogant ac 
repetunt primam partem in cantu et ipsam iterate cantant.' Gidino : 
'item nota che la ditta prima parte de la ballata o sia canzone ee 
appellada represa o sia resposa, per caxone che cossi tosto come ee 
compiuto de cantare la volta de una stancia de la ditta ballata o sia 
canzone, incontenente lo cantatore reassume, e canta ancora la ditta 
prima parte de la ballata o sia canzone.' Some light is thrown upon the 
^ *A lo canto de loro ballano,' Gidino. 



324 Dante's Lyrical Metres : his Theory and Practice 

method of performance by what is said in connection with the poems 
inserted in the Decameron at the end of each day, which are called by 
Boccaccio ' canzone ' or * ballatella/ but are all of the same type as the 
ordinary ballata such as we find in Dante. Each of them is sung by a 
solo singer, accompanied apparently by the dance, which is distinctly 

mentioned at the close of the first day : 'Lauretta prese una danza 

e quella men6, cantando Emilia la seguente canzone/ and on the second 
day both the dance and the repetition of the refiuin in chorus are 
indicated: ' menando Emilia la carola, la seguente canzone da Pampinea, 
rispondendo Y altre, fu cantata/ The same phrase 'rispondendo Y altre' 
recurs on the third day, and on the eighth day * la canzone de Pamphila 
haveva fine, alia quale quantunque per tutti fosse compiutamente 
risposto' etc. 

The complete structure of the ballata is as follows : the refrain with 
which it begins is followed by two * pedes ' or ' mutazioni ' ; and these 
are in turn followed by a * volta ' which is of the same metrical form as 
the refrain, and partly, if not wholly, rhymes with it. Francesco da 
Barberino lays down the rule that the first line of the * volta ' must 
rhyme with the line immediately preceding it, and to this rule there is 
only one exception in the ballate printed in the Oxford Dante, viz. no. iv, 
which is now ascertained to be the composition not of Dante but of 
Guido Cavalcanti. 

The difierent kinds of ballate enumerated by Antonio da Tempo and 
Gidino are distinguished by the varying number of lines contained in 
the refi:Bin. Of Dante's ballate three have refiuins of three lines, and 
five have refrains of four lines ; while another (no. viii) is abnormal in 
not having any division into ' pedes.' As in the canzone, the hendeca- 
syllable is predominant in all but one instance (no. viii). The form of 
Cavalcanti's ballata is distinguished fi-om that of all the others attributed 
to Dante as being entirely composed of heptasyllables with the exception 
of a single hendecasyllable in the ' responsorium ' and * volta * : and even 
this hendecasyllable has an internal rhyme on the sixth and the seventh 
syllables. No. viii, however, is somewhat similar in form as it has only 
three hendecasyllables, and the responsorium and volta are composed of 
heptasyllables exclusively. 

In passing from the ballata to the sonnet we are on more familiar 
ground. The division of the sonnet into two parts, of eight lines and 
six lines respectively, is obvious : but questions have been raised as to 
the origin of the form and the elements of which it is composed. These 
seem to have been now finally decided by Biadene in his exhaustive 



C. B. HEBERDEN 325 

essay on the Morfologia del Sonetto in the Studj di filologia ronianza, 
vol. iv. He has there shewn both by internal evidence, i.e., the position 
of the pauses in the sense, and also by the arrangement of the lines in 
the oldest MSS. containing sonnets, that they were originally regarded as 
consisting of eight lines divided into four couplets, and six lines divided 
into two tercets, though later the first eight lines were regarded as 
being divided not into four couplets but into two quatrains. Biadene's 
conclusion is borne out by the statement of our earliest metrician, 
Francesco da Barberino, who divides the ' sonitium ' into four ' pedes ' of 
two lines each (one line in each couplet being however a heptasyllable) 
and two ' mutae ' of three lines each. This original division is further 
indicated by the fact that the arrangement of rhjrmes abababab 
is older than that of abba abba. And even the sestet was probably 
in origin a combination of three couplets, not of two tercets, the earliest 
arrangement of rhymes being c d c d c d. In other words, according to 
Biadene, the sonnet was a combination of a ' strambotto ' of eight lines 
with one of six, * strambotto * being a Sicilian term for a stanza usually 
of eight, sometimes of six, lines, containing two rhymes, rhyming in 
alternate lines, the first with the third, the second with the fourth, and 
so on. In illustration of Francesco da Barberino's use of the term 
* pedes,' and as indicating perhaps a popular origin for that terminology, 
Biadene points out that the modern Sicilians call both the single lines 
and the couplets of the strambotto ' piedi.' It is curious that our three 
earliest metricians use the word ' pes ' or ' piede ' in connection with the 
sonnet in diflferent senses. With Francesco da Barberino, as has been 
seen, it is applied to each of the first four couplets ; with Antonio da 
Tempo each of the first eight lines is a * pes ' ; with Gidino, departing 
for once from the footsteps of Antonio da Tempo, whom he usually 
follows, it is the name given to each of the quatrains : a use which was 
natural when the first part of the sonnet had come to be regarded as 
falling into two quatrains, and which is also in harmony with the use of 
the term as applied to the canzone. 

The metrical characteristics of Dante's sonnets can be stated 
shortly. Putting aside the two 'sonetti doppi' which are the second 
and fourth in the Vita Nuova, but including the three addressed to 
Forese, there are 52 in the Oxford Dante. In all of these the arrange- 
ment of rhymes in the quatrains is either abab or abba; the latter 
being far the most frequent (43, aa against 9). There is much greater 
variety in the arrangement of the sestet, which contains sometimes two, 
sometimes three, rhymes, the proportion of each being almost exactly 



i 



326 Dante's Lyrical Metres : his Theory and Practice 

equal, viz., 26 with two rhymes, 25 with three ; while one sonnet (liii) 
is peculiar in introducing into the sestet one of the rhymes in the 
quatrains, the arrangement of the whole being abab abab cde bde. 
The various types, arranged in order of frequency are as follows : — c d c 
dcd (12 instances); cde dee (11); cdd dec (9); cde edc (8); 
cde cde (6); cde cde (5). 

The facts as to the number of rhymes may be summarised thus : — 1 

(1) There are never more than five nor less than four. 

(2) The octave always contains two and only two. i 

(3) When in the sestet there are only two rhymes, either each I 
occurs three times, or one occurs four times and the other twice. The ] 
latter is the rarer case (9 instances as against 17 of the former). I 

There remain the two instances of *sonetti doppi* or 'sonetti rinter- 
zati,' which are two names for the same thing, * doppi ' being the older, 
* rinterzati ' the later term (not found apparently before the fifteenth 
century). In this form the sonpet is expanded (1) by the insertion of 
a heptasyllabic line between the first and second line of each couplet, 
so that the quatrains are extended to six lines each ; (2) by the inser- I 

tion of one or two heptasyllables in each tercet, which is therefore 
extended to four or five lines. In Dante's two * sonetti doppi ' only one \ 

heptasy liable is inserted in each of the tercets, although this form, in 
which the entire sonnet consists of 22 lines, seems to have come into 
existence later than the sonnet of 24 lines containing two heptasyllables 
in each of the tercets. The two sonnets in question (nos. ii and iv) are 
precisely similar in the arrangement of the long and short lines and 
differ only in the order of the rhymes. 

A further expansion of the 'sonetto doppio' is found in another 
sonnet attributed to Dante, viz., that on the 'council of the birds' 
Cquando il consiglio degli augei si tenne'), but the critics are much 
divided on the question of its authenticity. From a metrical point of 
view it is in any case abnormal, for the tercets are expanded to six lines 
each, the first being exactly similar to the six lines of the expanded 
quatrains, and the second being further irregular in introducing a fresh 
rhyme, as well as a different arrangement of the long and short Ijnes, 
so that it differs in form from the preceding six lines. 

In conclusion something may be said on a question of more general 
scope than the technical matters which have been the subject of this 
paper. It has been seen that the canzoni which are undoubtedly 
authentic are on the whole in harmony with the doctrine of the second 
book of the De Vidgari Eloquentia. It has however been asserted that 



C. B. HEBERDEN 327 

in another respect Dante's greatest work is in flagrant contradiction 
with this book, is, in fact, a repudiation of it : on the ground that in 
the treatise it is maintained that the greatest themes, viz., 'arms,' 
* love,' and ' virtue,* are to be treated in the most excellent style, that 
of the 'cantiones' or 'canzoni,' whereas in the Divine Comedy the 
greatest themes are treated in a totally diflFerent form of poetry, such as 
might be classed with the ' alios illegitimos et irregulares modos ' which 
are contrasted with the canzone, the ballata, and the sonnet in De 
Vulg. Eloq,, ii, 3, 1. 10. It would be strange if there were this complete 
divorce between the theory of the De Vulgari Eloquentia and the 
practice of the Divine Comedy, which must, at least, have been begun soon 
after the second book of the treatise was written. But is this a neces- 
sary or a natural conclusion? In the first place it must be remembered 
that the second book of the De Vulgari Eloquentia deals only with 
lyrical poetry, and that the subject-matter and general design of the 
Comedy preclude lyrical treatment. If it be maintained that accord- 
ing to Dante the highest subjects can only be treated worthily in the 
form of the canzone, we are reduced to the absurdity of supposing that 
Dante must have regarded the treatment of such subjects in an epic 
form as inadmissible. In the second place it must be borne in mind 
that the canzone is, according to the treatise, the form appropriate to 
the * tragic ' style alone : and the very fact that Dante himself styles 
his poem a * comedy ' is sufficient to shew that it must diflfer in style 
from the 'tragic' canzone. The style of the canzone is elevated 
throughout; may it not be said that the style of the Comedy, *to 
which both heaven and earth have set their hand,* rises and falls in 
accordance with the poet's intention ? This point may even be illustrated 
by the curious remarks which Dante makes in De Vulg. Eloq., ii, 7, on 
certain words which are to be excluded from the ' tragic ' style, i.e., the 
style of the canzone. One of these is *femina* which, including 
*feminetta,* occurs ten times in the Comedy and never in the can- 
zoni. A second is 'greggia* which occurs six times in the Comedy 
and never in the canzonL It may be admitted that, considering the 
shortness of the whole Canzoniere in comparison with the length of the 
Comedy the absence of these words from the o^nzoni may be due to 
accident, especially as it must also be admitted that a third word 'corpo* 
which is proscribed in the De Vulgari Eloquehtiay and is frequent in the 
Comedy, does occur once in the canzoni (viz., in 1. 123 of that which is 
the theme of Conv. iv). But perhaps the most striking instances are 
the two words which Dante stigmatises as ' puerilia,' viz., * mamma * and 



328 DarUes Lyrical Metres: his Theory and Practice 

' babbo.* Of the former there are five instances in the Comedy ; the 
latter occurs once, viz., in Inf. xxxii, 9 ; where however it is to be noted 
that it is employed in connection with * mamma ' for a special purpose, 
in order to indicate childish prattle. It might of course be contended 
that all these are instances of the discrepancy which is asserted to exist 
between the two works. But it is a far simpler explanation to suppose 
that Dante in the Comedy deliberately adopted something different 
from the ' tragic ' style ; and that this is the true explanation seems to 
be indicated by the emphasis which is laid on the * comic ' character of 
the poem in the Epistle to Can Grande y § 10 ; where after a statement 
as to the difference between tragedy and comedy, both in subject- 
matter and in style, the conclusion is drawn that the poem is rightly 
called * Comoedia ' : — * et per hoc patet, quod Coraoedia dicitur praesens 
opus. Nam si ad materiam respiciamus, a principio horribilis et foetida 
est, quia Infemus ; in fine prospera, desiderabilis et grata, quia Para- 
disus. Si ad modum loquen4i, remissus est modus et humilis, quia 
loquutio vulgaris, in qua et mulierculae communicant.' With this may 
be compared De Vulg. Eloq, ii, 4, 11. 44-6 : * Si vero comice, tunc quan- 
doque mediocre, quandoque humile vulgare sumatur.' It would seem 
then that the Comedy , so far from contradicting, confirms the theory of 
the De Vulgari Eloquentia. 

C. B. Heberden. 



THE CONNECTION BETWEEN WORDS AND MUSIC 
IN THE SONGS OF THE TROBADORS. 

In the Rivista Musicale Italiana, Volumes ii and ill, Restori has 
devoted an article to the melodies which accompany many of the poems 
in the MSS. of Provencal songs, and has dealt with the popular songs 
from which the Trobadors derived their poetry and music, the influence 
of Church music, etc. He transcribes into modem notation melodies 
by various Trobadors and devotes a special chapter to the songs of 
Peirol. He remarks that the question of the relation between metre 
and melody is a very complicated one and that a study of the music 
can help but little towards solving it. Given that the lyrico-melodic 
art of the Trobadors originated in popular poetry, he says, we cannot 
understand the nature of this art without going back to the origins, and 
this, beyond a certain point, we are unable to do. The oldest popular 
music we have (twelfth century) shows various melodic schemes inde- 
pendent of metrical schemes. It is probable that originally one tj^e 
of melody had a corresponding type of stanza, but we do not lyiow this. 
Certainly the melodies and the stanzas of the existing Trobador songs 
are often quite independent of each other as to form, but it may be 
supposed that the poets intended a connection of some sort between 
music and words. 

In the following notes on this connection I do not attempt to treat 
the subject in an exhaustive manner. I have based my study on some 
of the melodies given in three MSS. in the Bibliothbque Nationale, 
Paris, Nos. 22543, 844 and 20050 of the fonda franfais, R, W and X in 
Bartsch's list. 

On comparing the musical and metrical structure of the songs, no 
one can fail to be struck by the fact that the melody does not always 
correspond exactly | with the metrical division of the stanza. In about 
half the cases studied, the melodies flow on without repetition of any 
phrase throughout the whole stanza. The metrical form of these stanzas 

M. L. U. III. 23 



330 Words and Music in the Songs of the Trohadors 

written * sub una oda continua * very often admits of no sub-division 
and it is therefore to be expected that the melody also should form an 
undivided whole, e,g, Peire VidaFs ' S'ieu fos en cort que hom tengues 
drechura ' (melody in MS. R) in which the lines of a stanza rime not 
with one another but with those of the next stanza, and Bemart de 
Ventadom's ' Eras no vei luzir solelh * (melody in MSS. R and W) with 
its * rims derivatius/ naturally have a continuous melody. But it is less 
natural to find that the latter s *Cant vei la lauzeta mover* (melody 
in MSS. R, W and X^) is written ' sub una oda continua.' The stanzas of 
this song are divided into two equal parts, the first four lines are sub- 
divided into two 'pedes' and the last four into two 'versus.' The 
lines are all octosyllabic and the rime system is ababcdcd. 
Yet no single line of the melody is repeated, except 1. 4, which is 
echoed in 1. 7. 

As a matter of fact, the double sub-division 2 pedes + 2 versus in 
the melody seems very rare ; when any part of the melody is divided it 
is almost always before the 'diesis' only. In many cases the stanza 
also is divided into 2 pedes -t- cauda, e.g. laufre Rudel's * Lanquand li 
jorn son lone en may' (melody in MSS. R, W and X'). But often the 
second half of the stanza is sub-divided, though not the second half of 
the melody, e.g. Peirol's ' Manta gens me mal razona ' (melody in MS. R). 
In one case, on the other hand, namely laufre Rudel's 'Can lo rieu 
de la fontayna ' (melody in MS. R), the form of the stanza would lead 
us to expect a continuous melody, but )iere the melody of 11. 1 and 2 is 
repeated in 11. 3 and 4. 

It soon becomes clear that the connection between the music and 
the words of a poem is not merely a connection of form. Repetition of 
melodic phrases is a feature of the popular songs from which the 
Trobadors are generally supposed to have derived their art, and the 
' oda continua ' is, as Restori points out, a more learned form, borrowed 
from Church music. We do not find, however, that this repetition 
of melodic phrases was used only by the early Trobadors, and that as 
the art developed it was entirely discarded for the more advanced form. 
The 'oda continua' is found accompanying • the songs of such early 
writers as Marcabru and Peire d'Alvemhe, while in those of such late 
Trobadors as Peire Cardenal and Guiraut Riquier a repetition of some 
part of the melody takes place. 

J Also in MS. G. Bestori gives a transcription into modern notation of aU four 
readings. 

• Restori gives a transcription into modern notation of the version of MS. X. 



BARBARA SMYTHE 331 

What reason then had the Trobadors for repeating a melodic phrase 
in some songs but not in others ? A comparison of some of the 
melodies with the stanzas to which they are sung has suggested to me 
that some Trobadors at least wrote their music to correspond not with 
the form so much as with the sense of their poetry. 

As examples of music written according to the general subject of 
the poem we may take two melodies by Marcabru, the earliest Trobador 
whose music has come down to us. This Trobador employs a popular 
form a b a b c c d, for the music to his pastorela (a popular genre) but 
writes his crusading song * sub una oda continual' As Restori has 
remarked, this song owes much to Church music because of its subject. 

We find also that some melodies are written to correspond with 
the special meaning of the stanza, e.g. the first stanza of the song by 
Bemart de Ventadorn alluded to above runs a^ follows : 

Can vei la lauzeta mover 
de ioy sas alas contra-1 ray 
que s'oblida, laissa's chazer 
per la doseor c*a"l cor li vay, 
ailas tal enveya me*n ve 
de qui qu'en veya iauzion 
meravilhas ai car desde 
lo cor de dezirier nom fon*. 

Although the first four lines can be sub-divided into two equal parts, 
the meaning is not so divisible, i,e. the four lines describe the flight of 
the lark without any repetition of ideas : * When I see the lark moving 
its wings towards the sun for joy, so that it forgets itself and lets itself 
sink for the sweetness that fills its heart.' The last four lines are 
entirely taken up with the poet's description of the emotions aroused in 
him by the sight of the lark : * Alas, such envy comes to me of whom- 
soever I see rejoicing, I marvel that my heart does not break at once 
with longing.' 

Here a repetition of any part of the melody would be inartistic, as 
serving to give prominence to the form, at the expense of the meaning, 
of this stanza — and indeed of any stanza in the poem. I found several 



^ The foar existing melodies by Marcabru, * Birai vos senes doptansa/ * Bel m'es quan 
son li fruit madur,' 'Pax in nomine Domini' and 'L'autrier jost'una sebissa' have been 
published in Quatre poesies de Marcabru by MM. Jeanroy, Dejeanne and Aubry. A tran- 
scription of the two I mention is given by Bestori. 

^ Ab the melodies I mention are all taken from MS. B, I have given the texts also as 
they stand in MS. B, only correcting a few obvious mistakes. 

23—2 



332 Words and Music in the Songs of the Trohadors 

other poems written, like this one, ' sub una oda continua/ the stanzas 
of which were metrically sub-divided. 

The first stanza of another song by Bemart de Ventadom runs as 
follows (melody in MSS. R and W^: 

Can par la flor iosta'l vert fuelh 
e vei lo terns clar e sere 
et aug lo chaii[8] d'aiizels i>el bruelh 
que m'adossa'l cor cm reve, 

mais Tauzel chanton a lauzor 

ieu plus ai de ioi en mon cor. 
del ben chantar car tug li miei iomal 
son ioi e chan que no pens de ren al[8]. 

Here the first four lines can be sub-divided, not only because of their 
form but because of their meaning as well. In them the poet describes 
the beauties of spring : * When the flower appears by the green leaf, 
and I see the weather clear and bright, and hear the song of the birds 
in the wood, which sweetens and gladdens my heart.* The four lines, 
though all given up to the description of the springtime, can be easily 
broken up into sub-divisions of sense, and so the melody accompanying 
the two lines which describe the flowers and the bright weather is 
repeated in the third and fourth lines which describe the birds' song. 

This sub-division of the first half of the stanza into two identical 
melodic phrases is used by Bemart de Ventadom in several songs, and 
in no case does the repetition of the phrase accord badly with the 
meaning of the words. 

It is usually the first stanza with the meaning of which the music 
seems to correspond best in cases where certain phrases are repeated, but 
this is only natural, as the poets probably had the first stanza specially 
in their minds when composing the melodies. 

Among other songs whose music is divided into 2 pedes + cauda is 
the 'Alba' of Guiraut de Bomelh (melody in MS. R'), another example 
of a popular form of poetry set to a popular form of music. In this 
song the melody of 1. 1 is repeated in 1. 2, the remainder of the stanza 
being sung to a different melody. The effect of this repetition is 
especially artistic in the first stanza, but it is quite suitable in all 
except, perhaps, the fifth and sixth. 

It is not always -easy to understand why the second as well as the 



1 Also in MS. G. 

* A transcription is given by Restori. See also E. Bohm in the Archiv fiir dcut Studium 
der neueren Spraehetiy vol. ex, p. 113 flf. Bohm has written a piano accompaniment to 
this beautiful melody, and to Peirol's * Manta gens me mal razona,* mentioned below. 



BAKBARA 8MYTHE 333 

first half of a stanza should not be musically sub-divided, when the 
meaning would permit of it. Take for example a song by Peirol 
(melody in MS. RS where the song is attributed to Peire Vidal); its 
first stanza runs : 

Manta ien[8] me mal razona 
car ieu non chant pus soven, 
mais aisel que m'ochayzona 
no sap cosi longamen 
ni'a tengut eu greu pessamen 
sil que mon cor[s] m'enprezona, 
tot ay perdut iauzimen 
tal desconort me dona. 

The first four lines of the melody are divided into two pedes, but 
the last four are undivided. 

The repetition of a melodic phrase in the second as well as the first 
half of a stanza is not at all usual. The only examples I have come 
across are the 'Canson redonda' of Guiraut Riquier, Bemart de 
Vent-adom's * Pus mi preiatz, senhor ' and Peire VidaFs * Baros de mon 
dan covit' (these melodies are all in MS. R'). The melody of the 
* Canson redonda ' corresponds exactly vnth the form of the stanza, i.e. 
the melody of 11. 1 and 2 is repeated for 11. 3 and 4, 1. 5 having a 
different phrase, and the melody of 11. G and 7 is repeated for 11. 8 and 
9, 1. 10 having another new phrase. The first stanza of the song by 
Bemart de Ventadom runs as follows: 

Pus mi preiatz, senhor 
qu'ieu chant, ieu chantarai, 
e cant cug chantar, plor 
mantas veu que essai. 
ereu veiretz chantador 
iren chan can mal Testai, 
a mi del mal d'amor 
va mielhs que no fes may, 
e doncx perque*m n'esmai ? 

This song may almost be said to have the division 2 pedes + 2 versus, 
for the melody of 11. 1 and 2 is repeated in 11. 3 and 4, and that of 11. 5 
and 6 in 11. 7 and 8. There is, however, a ninth line which has a 
difierent melodic phrase. This division of the melody suits the meaning 
of the stanza fairly well, but the same can hardly be said of ' Baros de 
mon dan covit' : 

Baros de mon dan covit, 
fals lauzengiers deslials, 
car en tal don' ai chauzit 
on es bcutatz natiu^ls, 

^ Transcribed by Restori. See Note 2 on p. 332. 
^ ' pQ8 mi preiatz, senhor' is also in MS. G. 



334 Words and Mime in the Songs of the Trohadors 

e tot aquo que tanh a cortesia, 
be 8oi astrucx sol que mos cors lai aia^ 
car sa valors e son fin pretz pareis^ 
denan totas c'anc d*amor no 8(e) feis, 
per que soi ricx s'ela*m denha dir d'oc. 

The melody of 1. 1 is repeated in 11. 2, 3 and 4, except that the last 
note of 11. 2 and 4 is a tone lower than in the other lines. The melody 
of 1. 5 is repeated in 1. 6 only — and not quite exactly, and that of 1. 7 in 

I. 8 — also not quite exactly, while 1. 9 has yet another phrase. 

Guiraut de Bornelh's * Leu chansonet' e vil,' which has a nine-line 
stanza, is differently divided. The melody of 11. 1 and 2 is repeated in 

II. 5 and 6, but 11. 3 and 4 differ from 11. 7 and 8. This arrangement, 
however, clearly marks the division of the eight short lines into two 
equal parts. 

Other unusual forms are found (1) in *Conortz aras say yeu be' of 
Bemart de Ventadom (melody in MS. R*), where the melody of the 
first four lines is repeated in the remaining four, though the rime system 
of the second half of the stanza diff*ers from that of the first half. The 
sense, however, is similar in both halves : 

Conortz aras say yeu be 
que vos de me non pensatz, 
que salutz ni amistatz 
ni messatges no me'n ve. 
be sai trop fas lone aten, 
et er be semblanz huey may 
que so qu'ieu cas autre pren 
pus no men ven aventura. 

(2) In 'No m'agrad' iverns ni pascors' of Raimbaut de Vaqueiras. 
Here the melody of 11. 1 — 4 is repeated in 11. 9 — 12, 11. 5 — 8 having 
a different melody. The long stanza falls naturally into these sub- 
divisions, but it must be admitted that there is no greater similarity in 
sense between the first and third parts than there is between the first 
and second, or the second and third. 

In a few cases, certain phrases of the melody are repeated, but not 
in such a way as to make the whole melody regularly divisible. In two 
such cases it almost looks as if the similarity between two lines of 
music is due to an error of the copyist. In the version given in MS. R 
of Bemart de Ventadom's ' La dossa votz ai auzida,' the melody of 1. 1 
corresponds exactly with that of 1. 3. In the same MS., the third line 
of Peire VidaPs * Anc non mori per amor ni per al ' has the same melody 
as the sixth line. In the versions of MS. X, however, there is no such 

1 MS. B hdA plazeru. ^ Also in MS. G. 



BARBARA SMYTHE 335 

correspondence in 'Anc nou mori/ while in *La dossa votz* it is the 
fourth line, not the third, that corresponds (not quite exactly in this MS.) 
with the first. 

The other cases are more interesting. One is ' Can Terba fresqu'e'l 
fuelha par' of Bemart de Ventadom (melody in MS. R). Here the 
first line has the melody of the fourth and the fifth that of the sixth. 
It might be expected that the melody of the first half of this stanza 
would be divided into two pedes, as the sense of the first stanza would 
well permit of it, though the other stanzas divide less easily. The 
conclusion of the first half of the stanza is instead marked by the 
repetition of the first phrase in the fourth line. As line 6 of stanai I 
gives a sort of echo of line 5 : 

ioi ai de luy e ioi ai de la fior, 
ioi ai de mi e de midous maior — 

SO the music is echoed, with good artistic effect. 

The other song is by Guiraut de Bomelh. Only four melodies by 
this Trobador have come down to us, and all are given in MS. R only. 
Two, the 'Alba' and *S'ieus quier cosselh, belFami' Alamanda,' are 
written in the regular 2 pedes + cauda form, while the division of ' Leu 
chansonet'e vil ' has already been mentioned. If the remaining example 
is a fair specimen of this poet's melodies, he must have spent as much 
care over the music as he did over the words of his songs. It is the 
song 'Non puesc sofrir c'a la dolor' (on which the famous war-song 
'Be'm platz lo gais tempg de piiacor' is modelled): 

Non puesc sofrir c'a la dolor 
de ma den la lengua no vir, 
e'l cor* a la no vela flor 
lancant vey lo8 ramels fiorir 
e'ls chans foi*s pel boscatie 
de'ls auzeletz enamoratz, 
e sitot m'estau ape.ssatz, 
ni pres de mal usatie, 
cant \ey cams ni vergiers ni pratz 
ie'm reiiovel e m'asolatz. 

Here the melody of the first line is repeated in the fourth, and that 
of the third line in the seventh. The first half of the first line is also 
repeated in the first half of the eighth — one of the two hexasyllabic 
lines in the stanza. The first four syllables of the other hexasyllabic 
line (1. 5) have the melody of the first half of the second line. 

It cannot be said that this song is a good illustration of the theory 

^ MS. B has chant. 



336 Wo7*ds and Music in the Songs of the Trohadors 

that the music is written to correspond with the meaning of the poetry. 
The repeated melodic phrases do not help the sense of the words in any 
stanza. Perhaps Guiraut de Bomelh, being decidedly a formalist, thought 
more of the form than of the meaning of his stanza when he set it to 
music, for the form of the melody can be shown to correspond with that 
of the poem. The diesis, according to the metrical arrangement of the 
stanza, falls after the fourth line, and the melody of 1. 1 is repeated in 
1. 4 to mark the close of the first half of the stanza — as in the song by 
Bemart de Ventadorn quoted above. The melody of 1. 3 of the second 
half (1. 7 of the whole stanza) equals that of 1. 3 of the first half, and the 
two shorter lines, 5 and 8, echo the first half of the second and first lines 
respectively. 

The repetition of half a line of music is not unusual, e.g, the melody 
of the first part of 1. 3 of Guiraut de Bomelh s ' Alba ' is repeated in the 
second part of 1. 4. 

The reading in MS. W of * Can vei la lauzeta mover ' has the first 
half of the melody of 1. 2 more or less exactly echoed in 11. 4, 5 and 7. 
In the reading of MS. R, however, this is not the case (though in both 
MSS. 1. 4 and 1. 7 are identical), but the melodies given in these two 
MSS. for this song are obviously only variants of the same melody. 

Barbara Smythe. 



SHAKSPERFS PLAYS: AN EXAMINATION. 



After more than a century of wrangling and bickering the critics 
have arrived at substantial agreement, not indeed as to the actual dates, 
nor even except in a general way as to the chronological order of the 
plays of Shakspere, but as to the periods to which the several plays 
belong. It does not follow that they are right or that the matter is to 
be regarded as definitely settled. Majorities have been wrong before 
to-day, and some of the universally held beliefe of the mid-nineteenth 
century are universally scouted in the twentieth. One may then be 
pardoned for approaching the question of the chronology of the Shak- 
spere plays with an open mind, neither willing to accept views because 
they are generally held nor desirous of contradicting them in a mere 
spirit of perversity. 

It is evident that much depends upon the way in which the accepted 
opinions have been arrived at. It is asserted that the question has 
been approached from two sides — firstly, that of external and internal 
evidence of the date of production; and secondly, that of internal 
evidence of the date of composition. If, as we are assured, these two 
means of determination yield the same result, the case for the con- 
clusions arrived at is indeed strong ; but it is necessary to exercise care 
to see that facts have not been wrested from their true meaning to 
make them fit the exigencies of the case and bring about an agreement 
that has no basis of reality. 

The external evidence of production may sometimes fix a downward 
date (that is to say, the latest possible), but rarely an upward date. 
As regards the plays that first appeared in the folio, the scope is almost 
altogether that of Shakspere's life in London — perhaps even more 
extensive than that — while the plays" published in quarto are limited 
in downward date only by the date of publication. The internal 
evidence as to the date of production is of partial use only; for, 
though most of the plays contain allusions to current events, a difficulty 



338 Shaksperes Plays: An Examination 

arises from the fact that revisions of old plays were constantly being 
made, and that revivals were usually marked by topical interpolations. 

The date of composition may be determined in either of two ways — 
by the character and tone of the play, or by the style of the writing. 
The former is largely relied upon by the critics, but is of very doubtful 
value. Shakspere's bitter plays need not have been all of one period, 
nor need his joytime have been confined to one small patch of three or 
four years: nor yet do resemblances in plot between any two plays 
necessarily imply nearness of composition. This means of determination 
is not without its merits: it is possible to distinguish between the 
young man's outlook in life and the old man's, between the passion and 
ardour of youth and the mature thought of the man who is past middle 
age ; but it affords no very solid working ground. The other means of 
determination — style — is tolerably safe, if the criterion be sound and 
the authorship be sure. If these two conditions (which, indeed, are 
but one condition) be fulfilled, there is no safer test by which to 
determine the chronology of Shakspere's plays; but if any blunder 
be made as to authorship, there is no test which can be so utterly 
misleading. It follows then that the first thing to be decided in an 
attempted determination of dates is the authorship of the various plays 
that pass under the name of Shakspere, and the various acts and scenes 
and portions of scenes that make up those plays. 

It is to be noted that inclusion in the first folio affords no proof 
whatever of Shakspere's sole authorship, any more than omission fi:t)m 
the folio is decisive proof against his authorship. (The circumstance 
that a copy of the folio is in existence in which the Winter^s Tale 
does not find a place is evidence enough of the latter fact.) All the 
folio may reasonably be held to claim is that with the writing of every 
play it contains Shakspere had something to do — perhaps much, perhaps 
little : at least, something. The publication of a play in quarto with an 
attribution to Shakspere is quite another matter. In such a case there 
is good ground for believing that the play is entirely his, unless the 
text be very corrupt, in which case it is possible that the attribution is 
no more reliable in toto than is the text. 

For deciding the authorship of the thirty-six plays included in the 
folio (and at first it is well to take no note of any other play), one is 
then thrown back on other means than those afforded by the title-pages 
of the quartos or the first folio. Various minds will turn to various 
means: some to the indefinable literary quality we know as * style'; 
some to the mechanism of the verse; some to the characterisation; 



E. H. C. OLIPHANT 339 

some to the vocabulary, the grammatical construction, the formation of 
the sentences ; some to the tone, the habit of thought, the imaginative 
quality, the throb of life in the $lialogue ; some to the conduct of the 
plot, the knowledge of the requirements of the public stage. All are 
useful in their way, but nothing like a secure basis is afforded by any 
except that mentioned first. Tests based on the mechanism of the 
verse would be of very considerable value were not results liable to 
vitiation by printers* errors and actors* interpolations ; but in any case 
their use would be only to confirm oi* modify views otherwise arrived at. 
Such tests have been largely used in establishing the chronological 
order of the plays, but obviously the authorship of every scene has to 
be ascertained before their employment can be of any real value. It 
is in style — and in style alone — that any sound basis for a determination 
of authorship can be found, the verse mechanism, the characterisation, 
the tone, and the other means suggested being used only for con- 
firmation or otherwise. 

If then it be necessary to settle the question of the authorship of 
the different divisions of the various plays by a consideration of style, 
the question arises, is the style of Shakspere sufficiently distinct to 
enable his work to be distinguished from that of his contemporaries ? 
The matter is complicated by the supposed changes of manner which 
are asserted to mark his work at diffisrent periods, these periods being 
held to number four ; but, however the really individual early work of 
any Elizabethan dramatist (after he was out of the apprentice and 
imitative stage) may differ from his late work, the difference will be 
found to be one of degree only, the general characteristics remaining 
much the same throughout. Unless Shakspere diff(ered from his fellows, 
it will probably be found that his manner while striving for an in- 
dividual style was not so vastly different from his manner when it had 
been attained, or even from his manner when it had become a second 
nature to him. That is to be seen ; if it be so, Shakspere's work should 
be separable from the non-Shaksperian ; if not, the task of investigation 
will be rendered very difficult indeed. 

A division of Shaksperes dramatic effort into four periods is 
reasonable enough; but it is not to be expected that the last play 
of one period will differ very appreciably from the first play of the 
succeeding period; nor is it advisable for other reasons t<> effect 
the division on a basis of style. It would be more natural to divide 
the poet's play-production into four periods by important events in 
his career than according to the characteristics of his dramatic work. 



340 Shakspere's Plays: An Examination 

On this principle the event which marks off his first period from his 
second may be taken to be Greene's splenetic reference to him in 1692, 
a proof that he had won his spurs, and was beginning to be reckoned 
with. That the recognition was not general is evident from the nature 
of Greene's remarks, and the attack probably had the unexpected effect j 

of helping Shakspere along the road to success. The second mark of a i 

change in his fortunes is afforded by his purchase of New Place in -^ 

1597. By that time he had won fame as well as a competency; and, I 

had he retired from the theatre even then, he would have been con- j 

sidered a highly successful adventurer in the dubious region of stage 
enterprise. Henceforward all he did was of the greatest interest in the 
theatrical world : he was a name as well as a personality, a writer to 
be imitated, a dmmatist who was the vogue. His name was one 
to conjure with and to trade on. It was his retirement from the 
stage which ended this third portion of his dramatic career. The 
date of that event is by no means certain, but it may be set down 
as belonging to the year 1604. When he ceased to act, Shakspere 
must have deemed himself in affluent circumstances, and thenceforward 
he was not tied to London as he had hitherto been, but was able to 
live the life of a country gentleman, with frequent visits to the metro- 
polis to look after his theatrical interests and perhaps supervise the 
production of his later dramatic works. 

For the student of Shaksperian drama this partition has an ad- 
vantage in that, while any great change of style between the last play 
of one period as ordinarily reckoned and the first of the next is out 
of the question, there is reason to regard the position of the dramatist 
as undergoing such changes at the division dates here set down that 
the circumstances of composition after any one of them may be con- 
sidered as entirely difflering from those previously existing. In his first 
period Shakspere doubtless acted mainly as assistant or pupil to some 
dramatist of established reputation, though it is highly probable that 
he also tried his hand alone at work imitative of that of his betters. 
If he collaborated on equal terms with any one, it can have been only 
with another novice, and if he altered the old plays of others he did so 
only in a subordinate capacity, under instructions or under supervision. 
When he had shown himself a man to be reckoned with, a dramatist 
not incapable of good independent work (that is to say when his second 
period had been entered upon), his work would be done alone or in 
collaboration on equal terms with other professional dramatists. As 
his first period was that of apprenticeship, so his third was that of 



E. H. C. OLIPHANT 341 

mastership. If in this period he took part in the writing of plays not 
entirely his own he did so not as equal, but as tutor, supervisor or 
fitter of the work of younger men, or as farmer-out of work for which 
he had no time or in which he was not sufficiently interested. During 
both this period and the preceding one the bulk of his work was 
however no doubt done independently of others, most of the time not 
given to original work or to revision of his own early plays being 
devoted to the overhauling and touching up of the works of other 
dramatists dead or no longer connected with his company, a species 
of hack work which he may have been glad in the earlier period to 
share with a collaborator and in the later to farm out to some other 
dramatist. In the last period everjrthing is changed by reason of his 
long sojoumings at Stratford. It is more than probable that he offcen 
came to London or left London with a play incomplete, in which case 
some other playwright would be called in to finish off the fragment. 
His own work would almost certainly be done alone, and he would 
probably devote a portion of his spare time to the re-writing of some 
of his early work with which he was dissatisfied. During his long 
absences from the metropolis, however, it would often be deemed 
advisable to revive in amended form some of his early plays, and 
accordingly for the first time it would be the lot of his dramas to 
fall into other than his own hands for revision, a fate to which they 
would be subject thenceforward right up to the publication of the folio. 
These are nothing more than probabilities, and may be found on an 
examination of the plays to differ from facts in several particulars; 
but, without assuming their correctness, they may be held to fonn 
a good working ground of supposition, likely to be of value when the 
investigator is endeavouring to determine the probabilities in favour of 
conclusions he has arrived at on a basis of style. 

Whether Shakspere's manner differed materially in his fourth period 
from what it was in his third, or even what it was in the second (his 
period of experiment) is perhaps best determined by a consideration in 
their entirety of those plays that, judging by style, are not the result 
of collaboration or the patching of one man s work by another, and by a 
comparison of those of them that were actually published during the 
early part of his third period (and that therefore very probably belong 
to the second) with those that there is good reason to regard as be- 
longing to the fourth. Let not this be misunderstood. To look for a 
play in which every word is William Shakspere's is, in all probability, 
a vain task. It may well be that we have no Elizabethan drama just 



342 Shaksperes Plays: An Examination 

as it was written, unless it was given to 'the printer by its author or 
authors, and not always then. Interpolations by the actors occur, it 
may be presumed, in almost every acted play; and, when these are 
confined to oaths and exclamations and a few odd witticisms, they 
are not detachable except when they have the effect of spoiling the 
run of the verse. When it is said that a play is wholly Shakspere's 
or wholly Marlowe's or wholly Middleton's, there must always be this 
reservation ; and, that being made, an examination will show that, of 
the thirty-six plays in the folio, comparatively few are certainly of single 
authorship. Other plays are possibly or even probably entirely the 
work of one author, but there are only fourteen of which a single 
authorship can (on style) be predicated with anything like certainty. 
These are AlVa Well, Antony, As You Like It, Hamlet, 2 Henry IV, 
John, Julius Caesar, Measure for Measure, Midsummer Night's Dream, 
Much Ado, Othello, Richard II, Troilus, and Twelfth Night ; and, unless 
the inclusion of some one or more of them in the folio be without 
justification, the author must in every case be Shakspere. It is plain, 
moreover, that it is the one writer at work in every one of them. 
Taking Richard II as amongst the earliest of these plays, and Antony 
as the latest, it is tolerably plain that the writer of the latter is the 
writer of the former, with his style more fully developed and his intellect 
matured. These are two good plays to take for purposes of comparison, 
not only because, of the fourteen named, the one is probably the 
earliest (in its entirety) and the other the latest, but also because 
they are two of the only three (the other being the second part of 
Henry IV) that there is no reason to look upon as of more than one 
date of composition. John, AlVs Well, Much Ado, Twelfth Night, Jtdius 
Caesar, Othello, and Troilus have apparently one and all been subjected 
to more or less re- writing; but, though the earlier work has to be 
separated from the later, it is evidently the work of the one hand. 
Here then there is sufficient to give a safe basis for an estimate of 
Shakspere's dramatic manner and style of versification during the three 
really vital periods of his career as author, for Richard II, first given to 
the reading public in 1597, must belong to the second period, and 
Antony, entered for publication in May 1608, almost certainly belongs 
to the fourth. 

To take these plays as aflfording a basis for knowledge of Shakspere's 
style may not seem a very novel or revolutionary proposal, but it is in 
reality calculated to yield results very different from those obtained by 
the ordinary method, which has been to assume that all in the folio not 



E. H. C. OLIPHANT 343 

lifted from other plays, not too bad to be Shakspere's, or not markedly 
the work of another must be his. The assumption is unwarranted, 
and the outcome can hardly foil to be unsatisfactory. Not only is it 
liable to cause errors in the attribution of individual plays, but it is 
also calculated to afford an entirely wrong conception of Shakspere's 
style. 

Having determined for himself which of the plays show absolute 
unity of style (for no one should accept the opinion of any one else 
on such a matter), and having carefully studied these until he has 
arrived at a clear knowledge of the manner of the great dramatist 
as displayed in these particular works, the investigator should then 
examine closely the other plays and bring every portion of every one 
of them under some one or other of four different headings, grouping 
together (1) those that, by reason of their general resemblance to the 
matter on which his knowledge of Shakspere*s style is based, he would 
know to be Shakspere's wherever they occurred ; (2) those that, though 
not distinctively Shaksperian, have no qualities opposing themselves to 
the idea of Shakspere's authorship, and that may be judged by their 
environment to be his; (3) those that are possibly Shaksperian, but 
exhibit none of his distinguishing characteristics, and appear in cir- 
cumstances that invite suspicion; and (4) those that are clearly not 
Shakspere's. When he has done this he will treat the first two as 
genuine, the others as spurious, and on the former and on the plays 
he has previously selected as certainly of single authorship will form 
his final and comprehensive view of the Shaksperian manner ; and he 
will then and not till then be ready to proceed to a determination 
of the chronology of the genuine work of Shakspere. 

In this way, and in this way alone, may a satisfactory knowledge of 
Shakspere's manner at the close of his career be obtained. His last 
play was, if the external evidence may be trusted, Henry VIII, 
Spedding proved over half a century ago that part of the play was 
from the pen of Fletcher, and later critics (Fleay, Boyle, and Oliphant) 
have discovered the presence of Massinger also. Massinger s work was 
evidently done for a late revival, consisting of the prologue, the epilogue, 
the opening scene as far as the Cardinal's entry, a revision of Shakspere's 
work in I. 2 and II. 3 (very slight in the former), and a revision of 
Fletcher's in i. 3, iv. 1 (to the procession), V. 3 (to the guard's entry), 
and that part of ii. 2 lying between the discovery of the King and 
Gardiner's entry. The rest of the play is Fletcher's, with the exception 
of the latter part of I. 1, ii. 4, that portion of III. 2 during which the 



344 Shakspere's Plays: An Examination 

King is on the stage (the preceding portion showing the presence of 
both Shakspere and Fletcher), and v. 1. From these four scenes and 
portions of scenes a clear idea of Shakspere's latest style (if the external 
evidence as to date be not misleading) is to be obtained. They show 
that, as has been said, the change in style from the second period is 
not great. Compare, for example, the Duke of Norfolk's second speech 
in Richard II with any passage in the latter part (that is to say the 
part succeeding the Cardinal's entry) of the first scene of this play, 
in which appears a later Duke of Norfolk. 

The advance is great doubtless, but the hand is the same. A better 
distribution of pauses, the dropping of even final rhyme, the adoption 
of the weak-ending habit : this is practically the sum total of the de- 
velopment. This is said in no depreciatory spirit ; on the contrary it is 
said in the belief that, were there no play of Shakspere's extant later 
than Richard II, he would still be known as the pre-eminent master 
of the poetry enshrined in the drama of the Elizabethan period. What 
it is desired to impress upon those who urge so strongly the difference 
between the Shaksperian verse of the fourth period and that of the 
second (that of the first may be excluded from present consideration as 
belonging to the imitative stage) is that at the end of Shakspere's 
career, his verse was in all essentials nearer to that of his experimental 
period than to the verse of his great contemporaries — Jonson and 
Webster and Fletcher. In his later years he moved nearer to Fletcher, 
nearer to Beaumont, nearer to Massinger, but his work remained distinct 
from theirs; and he never lost his weighty utterance. 



II. 

It need not perhaps be wondered at that it is in the final plays of 
Shakspere that a radical examination of his dramatic output pelds 
the most curious results. As has been pointed out, while the poet 
was living at Stratford-on-Avon and making periodical visits to the 
metropolis, it is likely that sometimes when he left London he left 
behind him work in an imperfect state. If so, his later plays should 
show traces of other hands than his. The honest investigator will not 
assume that such was the case any more than he would take it for 
granted that no hand but Shakspere's was to be found in them. 
Probabilities he must consider only after he has made his examin- 
ation; and he must also decline to be bound by the general body 
of critical opinion, which however it may be as well to state here. 



£• H. C. OUPHANT 345 

Of the four plays almost unanimously regarded as Shakspere's last 
contributions to the literature of the stage, his authorship of Winter's 
Tale has never been questioned (save by Baconians), only a portion 
of one scene of Cymbeline is regarded as doubtful, but few critics have 
dared to rob him of the credit of the introduced masque in The 
Tempest, and as regards Henry VIII there is substantial agreement 
that it is only partly his. The last-named has been dealt with already 
incidentally : of the others, a beginning may be made with The Tempest. 
Opinion is divided as to whether this play, Winter's Tale, or 
Henry VIII closed Shakspere*s career as a dramatist. Those who 
favour The Tempest maintain that the play is allegorical, and that 
the poet, as Prospero, breaks his wand, frees his spirit, and declares 
his intention of giving no more play to his imagination. On behalf of 
Henry VIII there is the explicit contemporary declaration that it was 
performed for the first time (under the name o{ All is True) in 1613; 
while the case for Winter's Tale rests on the ingenious argument that 
when Shakspere varied from the story on which the play was based by 
not setting Perdita afloat in a rudderless boat, it was because he had 
already used such an incident in The Tempest Whatever may be the 
date of the latter (and that is a matter of some doubt, for, while 
the general opinion favours the year 1610 or 1611, some few critics, 
not of the modem school, have declared for much earlier dates, and 
one or two whose opinions are worthy of respect hold to 1613), it must 
be later than 1609, in which year was published a Spanish novelette 
containing the plot of the story. The lateness of its date is of interest 
for many reasons, amongst others because its tone is in marked contrast 
to that of every other one of the plays that the critics are agreed in 
regarding as the latest efforts of the great poet. Coriolanus belongs 
to the tragedies, Timon is loathsomely morbid and bitter, Henry VIII, 
the last of the ten chronicle plays that figure in the folio, is sad-toned, 
unrelieved by any of the gaiety of Henry IV or Henry V (its immediate 
predecessors in its own class), and Winter's Tale and Cymbeline are 
plays that are tragic in tone, though happy in ending. The Tempest 
is neither tragi-comedy, like these, nor pure comedy, like Love's Labor's 
Lost, The Comedy of Errors, The Taming of the Shrew, A Midsummer 
Night's Dream, or The Merry Wives. Serious in plot yet never 
threatening tragedy, it lies midway between the two, among the 
serio-comedies, with Two Gentlemen, All's Well, Much Ado, Twelfth 
Night, and As You Like It For anything resembling the merry 
fooling of its Trinculo scenes, it is necessary to go back to All's Well, 

M. L. B. Ill* 24 



346 Shakspere^s Plays: An Eocamination 

to Twdfth Nightf to As You Like It, to Mtioh Ado. The sombreness 
of Measure for Measure, the savagery of Timon, the cynicism of I^oilus 
are gone, and in their place are the mirthfulness and spontaneous 
gaiety of youth. If The Tempest indeed date after 1609, Shakspere 
was showing that he, who had not laughed for a decade, was as capable 
of fun-making as he had been in his prime. It is rare indeed for 
a man verging on fifty to be able to thus recapture the joyousness 
of youth. 

Two of the most esteemed of modem critics, Dr Gamett and 
Mr Nicholson, have expressed opinions concerning this play that are 
worthy of note. The former explains its brevity by supposing that 
it was written for a private performance : the latter considers that it 
underwent an entire re-casting, and that Shakspere, who had at first 
had Lampedusa in his mind, was, when revising, chiefly concerned with 
the occurrences in the Bermudas related in Jourdan's tract. It is 
indeed obvious that there has been a revision: the allusion to the 
Duke of Milan's son (in i. 2) affords sufficient proof of it, and in 
the same scene Prosperous 'Soft, Sir! One word more,' when the 
previous words are not given is a token of curtailment. But that 
the reviser was Shakspere himself is not so easy to credit, for there 
are two quite distinct styles observable in the play. Here are two 
consecutive speeches from iii. 1 : 

Fer. Admir'd Miranda : 

Indeed the top of admiration ; worth 
What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady 
I have eyed with best regard; and many a time 
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage 
Brought my too diligent ear; for several virtues 
Have I lik'd several women; never anv 
With so full soul, but some defect in ner 
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd, 
And put it to the foil; But you, you, 
So perfect, and so peerless, are created 
Of every creature's best. 

Mira, I do not know 

One of my sex ; no woman's face remember. 
Save, from my glass, mine own ; nor have I seen 
More that I may call men, than you, good friend, 
And mv dear father: how features are abroad, 
I am skill-less of ; but, by my modesty 
(The jewel in my dower), I would not wish 
Any companion in the world but you; 
Nor can imagination form a shape. 
Beside yourself, to like of: But I prattle 
Somethmg too widely, and my father's precepts 
I therein do forget 



E. H. C. OLIPHANT 347 

The former of these is unquestionably Shakspere's ; the authenticity 
of the latter also has never been questioned, and yet how different is it 
from the preceding speech, how unlike the stately measure of the verse 
of the master ! The manner is distinct ; it is that of Massinger : and 
it is found here and there throughout the play. It is to be noticed 
first in I. 3 mixed with Shakspere's, and in the next scene it is to be 
discerned similarly in that portion extending from the falling asleep 
to the waking (and perhaps also in the earlier part). What follows, 
except perhaps the concluding couplet, is quite unlike Shakspere and 
is entirely in the manner of Massinger — indeed, in my opinion, is 
Massinger's. The next scene is Shakspere's. The first scene of the 
third act contains the two speeches quoted above. The half-dozen 
speeches immediately preceding them may contain a little of Massinger, 
but are at least mainly the work of Shakspere, while what follows to 
the departure of the lovers, is wholly or mainly Massinger's. As far 
as Ariel's entry, the next scene bears all the marks of Shakspere: 
beyond that point the authorship is mixed. The following scene also 
contains the work of both authors. The first two speeches are by 
Shakspere, and the succeeding portion to Ariel's exit is by Massinger. 
The masque in iv. 1 is not like any acknowledged work of Massinger's : 
and, if not Shakspere's, may be the production of another writer. The 
final act shows the presence of both Shakspere and Massinger. The 
epilogue is Massinger's. Looking back on the scenes where Massinger's 
work is to be detected alone, either entirely superseding Shakspere's or 
adding something new, it may be noted that in ill. 1, which is begun and 
ended by Shakspere, the interpolated or substituted work of the reviser 
is certainly helpful but not absolutely necessary. The voice is the voice 
of Massinger and the hand is not the hand of Shakspere. What could 
be more like the dramatist of the still great decadence than the tone 
and manner of this ? 

Fer. Wherefore weep you? 

Mira. At mine imworthiness, that dare not offer 
What I desire to give: and much less take 
What I shall die to want: But this is trifling; 
And all the more it seeks to hide itself, 
The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! 
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ! 
I am your wife, if you will marry me ; 
If not Pll die your maid. 

In III. 3 the Massinger portion might be lifted out entire. It takes 

the place of a dumb show. In iv. 1 Massinger has clearly written all 

round the masque — the speeches preceding it, the conversation of the 

24—2 



348 Shahspere's Plays: An Examination 

ODlookers, and the three speeches immediately sacoeeding it. It is 
possible that the masqoe is his, taking the place of a dumb show; 
or it may be that the masqoe already existed in its present form and 
that he has, as suggested, merely introduced and written round it. 
His work ends abruptly, and Shakspere's, clear and untouched, begins 
with Prospero's best and longest speech. It is to be noted that the 
whole of the Massinger portion may be lifted out of the scene without 
any harm being done. 

Those who are loth to believe that any of this fsunons play can 
be from the pen of any other than Shakspere may be asked how they 
account for the differences between the verse of the portions here 
indicated as Massinger's and those classed as Shakspere'& The idea 
of Shakspere writing one moment in his own style and the next in 
the style of Massinger is too silly for ^consideration ; and that part 
of the play is Massinger s should be obvious to anyone acquainted with 
the manner and the mannerisms of that dramatist. Before quitting 
consideration of this play mention may be made of the circumstance 
that in it the name Stephano is pronounced with the accent on the 
first syllable, whereas in The Merchant of Venice it is accentuated 
correctly, whence it was inferred by one old-time critic that The 
Tempest was the earlier of the two plays. The inference was both 
ingenious and reasonable; and, though later critics have brushed it 
aside, because the evidence of a late date for The Tempest was too 
strong to be rejected, it has always remained a difficulty in the way 
of the inquirer who is not ready to make &cts fit theories. The 
difficulty is however overcome when it is seen that in v. 1 (the 
only scene in which the pronunciation is distinct) it is Massinger, 
not Shakspere, who is responsible for this divergence firom the pro- 
nunciation of The Merchant of Venice. 

Of the twelve plays that are classed as tragedies in the first folio, 
only nine are rightly classified. Timon is presumably so placed because 
the hero dies, even though the death, which is surrounded with mystery, 
occurs off the stage. Troilus and Cressida has even less claim to rank 
with those legitimately entitled to be in the list, for it is a tragedy 
only by reason of the death of a subordinate, though a very noble, 
character. Smallest of all is the claim of Cymbeline, in which the only 
deaths (both off the stage) are those of the two villains (male and 
female), and in which, like the tragi-comedy it is, the tragic tone of 
the play throughout does not prevent its ending happily. Why should 
Winter's Tale, Measure for Measure, and The Merchant of Venice all 



E. H. C. OLIPHANT 349 

find a place with the comedies, and Cymbeline, which is of similar 
character, with the tragedies? It may have been obtained too late 
to find a place among the comedies; and the only other reasonable 
explanation of the circumstance is that it was originally written as 
a tragedy, and afterwards given a happy ending, though such a view 
is scarcely supported by an examination of the play. 

That it is, with the exception of the vision, wholly Shakspere's 
has never been doubted, yet what would anyone who, though well 
acquainted with the great dramas of Shakspere, had never read 
Cymheline say of the following ? 

Cor» But I beseech your grace (without offence — 
My conscience bids me ask) wherefore you have 
Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds, 
Wbich are the movers of a languishing death ; 
But, though slow, deadly? 

(i^een, I wonder, doctor, 

Thou ask'st me such a question: Have I not been 
Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how 
To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so, 
That our great king himself doth woo me oft 
For my confections? Having thus far proceeded, 
(Unless thou think'st me devilish) is 't not meet 
That I did amplify my judgment in 
Other conclusions? I will try the forces 
Of these thy compounds on such creatures as 
We count not worth the hanging (but none human). 
To try the vigomr of them, and apply 
Allayments to their act; and by them gather 
Their several virtues, and effects. 

Cor, Your highness 

Shall from this practice but make hard yoiur heart: 
Besides, the seeing these effects will be 
Both noisome and infectious. 

Qy^eTu 0, content thee. 

If possessed of a knowledge of the other great Jacobean dramatists 
equal to his knowledge of Shakspere, the reader would without much 
hesitation declare this passage to be due to Massinger. He would be 
right. Nowhere else in the scene is the touch of this playwright 
manifest, and it is noticeable that the passage quoted may be lifted 
out without any injuiy to either the sense or the action. Consider the 
scene without it — 

Queen, Whiles yet the dew 's on groimd, gather those flowers : 
Make haste : who has the note of them ? 

\9t Lady, I, madam. 

Q^een. Despatch. 
Now, master doctor, have you brought those drugs? 

Cor, Pleaseth your highness, ay : here they are, madam : 



I 



350 Shaksperes Plays: An Examination 

Enter Pisanio. 
Queen, Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him {Ande,) 
Will I first work: he's for his master, 
And enemy to my son. — How now, Pisanio? 
Doctor, your service for this time is ended; 
Take your own way. 

Cor. I do suspect you, madam; : 

But you shall do no harm. {Atide.) I 

Queen, Hark thee, a word — 

Cor. I do not like her. She doth think she has 
Strange lingering poisons; I do know her spirit, 
And will not trust one of her malice with 
A drug of such damn'd nature. These she has 
Will stupify and dull the sense awhile; 
Which first, perchance, shell prove on cats and dogs; 
Then afterwards up higher; but there is 
No danger in what show of death it makes, 
More than the locking up the spirits a time, 
To be more fresh, reviving. She is fooPd 
With a most false effect; and I the truer 
So to be false with her. 

Queen, No further service, doctor. 

Until I send for thee. 

Cor. I humbly take my leave. 

There is nothing lacking here ; and, if our hypothetical student, free 
from prejudice and free from a knowledge of Gymheline, attributed the 
omitted portion to Massinger, it would tell in favour of his view that 
the passage is so easily detachable. It is indeed an insertion in a 
scene otherwise Shaksperian. ^ 

If Massinger touched up one scene he is likely to have touched 
up others; and so it proves. His work superimposed on Shakspere's 
is found in ii. 4, in in. 1, and in part of v. 5, while passages entirely 
attributable to him, in which he has either replaced the work of another 
or has inserted something he deemed necessary are four speeches (be- 
ginning *Imo, Oh for such means') in in. 4, all ill. 6 except the opening 
speech, in. 7, the last five speeches of v. 3, the first two speeches of v. 4, 
the whole of v. 5 to the entry of Lucius, the short conversation (six 
speeches) of Belarius, Arviragus and Guiderius, in the same scene, while 
Cymbeline and Imogen talk apart, the passage beginning 'Gym, He 
was a Prince' and ending 'Mighty Sir' (32 verses, 51 lines), three 
speeches beginning * Bel. Be pleased awhile,' and the piece from * That 
I was he' to 'Post, Your servant, princes' (14^ verses). If these 
passages be not easily separable from the context, that fact affords no 
sound argument against their having been written by a late reviser 
of the play ; but if on the contrary they be capable of being lifted out 



E. H. C. OLIPHANT 351 

without any harm being done, if they be found to develop an idea only 
hinted at or not even hinted at in what precedes and not developed 
in what follows, a striking proof is afforded of the correctness of the 
attribution of these portions to a play-patcher of later date. Fulfilling 
this condition is the passage in ill. 4, an insertion in a scene otherwise 
Shakspere's, the object of the reviser being to make clear the fact that 
Imogen was to don boy's clothes. In ill. 6, Shakspere's part (the first 
speech) stands quite distinct from what follows, which probably however 
takes the place of Shaksperian work. In v. 4 we find Massinger putting 
a couple of verses of preface to a scene which he did not otherwise 
touch. The scene with which he meddled most was the closing one. 
Of the five portions for which he is responsible, the first is presumably 
a re- writing of what existed in another form; the second is an in- 
sertion, written because it was deemed necessary, though in point of 
figujt Shakspere introduces later the recognition of Imogen which 
Massinger was anxious to emphasise, and by means of the latter's 
inserted passage Guiderius' subsequent remark, ' This is, sure, Fidele,' 
becomes somewhat ridiculous; the third is another insertion, easily 
detachable fi-om the rest of the scene, and written evidently with the 
object of making the situation more credible and at the same time 
prolonging the excitement ; the fourth, if we add the opening words of 
the succeeding speech, 

0, what? am I 
A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother 
Rejoiced deliverance more, 

as perhaps we should do, is also easily separable from the work of 
Shakspere preceding and succeeding it, and is written to fulfil Mas- 
singer's ideas of the fitness of things — a point on which he was more 
particular than the majority of the dramatists of his time (including 
Shakspere); and the fifth is also an insertion designed to deal with 
lachimo, whom Shakspere had forgotten to forgive. 

An examination of the position and meaning of these passages 
affords striking confirmation of the separation of them fi'om the 
remainder of the play as the work of a reviser. To find first of all 
that portions are detachable and then discern in them the work of 
an interpolator might reasonably arouse doubt as to the correctness 
of the judgment that would distinguish between the style of these 
portions of the play and the style of those fix>m which they are 
detached; but in this case the determination of the authorship of 
the various parts of the play has been effected first (the basis being 



352 Shakspere's Plays: An Examination 

a consideration of style alone) and confirmation sought afterwards. 
That being so, it is not too much to claim that a case has been 
made out for a belief in a late non-Shaksperian revision of this 
play; for, if the view enunciated be wrong, it is certainly singular 
that it should be so completely borne out by the matter as well as 
the manner of the passages here pronounced to be insertions. 

But the late revision by Massinger was not the only change to 
which the play was subjected. The vision in v. 4 has long been 
recognised as non-Shaksperian, and there are other portions of the 
play that might well be placed in the same category. Shaksperian 
are the opening scene, i. 3, i. 4, the bulk of i. 5, i. 6 (though this 
scene is perhaps not unadulterated), ii. 2, ii. 5, ill. 2, all but the 
wofuUy weak close of ill. 3, the bulk of III. 4, III. 6 (to Cloten's first 
exit), the opening speech of lii. 6, I v. 3, IV. 4, v. 1, and parts of li. 3, 
IV. 2, V. 4, and v. 5. Is the rest (that is to say those portions included 
neither in this list nor among the passages credited to Massinger) 
Shakspere's or not? What of I. 2 and ii. 1 with their very naked 
humour and their numerous asides ? It may be suggested, not without 
hesitation, that these scenes, which are not like Shakspere's work, are 
not unlike Beaumont's. To the same source may be attributed that 
portion of III. 5 succeeding Cloten's first exit, IV. 1, V. 2, the whole 
of V. 3 with the exception of the closing lines by Massinger, and that 
part of V. 5 following Lucius' entry. The work of all three authors is 
to be found in il. 3 and iv. 2, though the apportionment of those two 
scenes among them need hardly be attempted here. 

There remains the vision in v. 4. The speech prefacing it is 
Shakspere's, and so is 

Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen 
Tongue, and brain not: either both, or nothing: 
Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such 
As sense cannot untie. 

The vision itself and all that follows, with the exception of this short 
passage may be set down to the credit or discredit of Beaumont, though 
the first part of it (to Jupiter's descent *in thunder and lightning*) 
may perhaps be attributable to some weaker man. If Beaumont, it 
is certainly showing us that author at his very worst ; but it may be 
hasty, scrambled work such as he would have been ashamed to put 
his name to, but was not ashamed to do to the order of his company 
for a work passing under the name of .another. (If the vision be his, 
the portion of V. 5 following Massinger's final insertion and preceding 



E. H. C. OLIPHANT 353 

the three speeches with which Shakspere closes the play must be his 
also: on style it might belong to either, preferably to Shakspere.) 
What seems probable is that the vision in its present form was an 
attempt by some other writer, perhaps Beaumont, to give spectacular 
effect to what may have been originally a very plain device, and to 
add for the benefit of the groundlings a mysterious intervention of 
Providence and one of those silly riddles in which the gods were 
supposed to delight. It is not wonderful that this nonsense should 
have been declared to be non-Shaksperian ; but why has the fearfully 
bald passage closing III. 3 (beginning 'This Polydore') escaped re- 
cognition as the work of some other dramatist than Shakspere ? It 
may perhaps be Beaumont's, though it is far below his usual level. 

And what reason, other than reasons of style, is there to suppose 
that there are more than two hands observable in this play ? Many 
arguments have been adduced for the belief that it has been revised at 
least once, and no one more than superficially acquainted with the 
work of Massinger can doubt that many passages which are at least 
possibly insertions, are fix)m his pen. Whoever grants so much must 
grant also the presence of at least one other writer unless he be pre- 
pared to attribute to Massinger the greater part of the vision, which 
is assuredly not the work of Shakspere. Leaving out of question this 
very doubtful vision, what support is afforded to the belief that many 
of such parts of the play as show none of the characteristics of Massinger 
are also not the work of Shakspere ? The difference in style between 
those portions of the play that are beyond all question Shakspere's and 
those parts that are here tentatively assigned to Beaumont may or may 
not appeal to others as it appeals to the writer of this article ; and to 
decide the question it is well to consider the probabilities. First let 
it be noted that Massinger's work is not of the first importance and 
is purely of a revisory character. His aim has been to add a measure 
of probability to situations that were in their original form out of all 
reason, to fill in explanation and needful details where the work was 
too bare and too much was lefl to the imagination. For whatever 
faults there may be in the conduct of the story, Massinger is not to be 
blamed; and of all the Shaksperian plays, except perhaps the first 
tentative efforts of the great dramatist, this is the worst constructed 
It has the appearance of being from first to last a piece of bad patch- 
work, the conduct of the story being thus on a par with the style. 
That being so, Shakspere's entire responsibility for the play prior to its 
being touched up by Massinger is unlikely. 

The merits of Cymbeline lie in the beauty of isolated passages and 



354 Shakspere's Plays: An Examination 

the greatness of separate scenes. The play as a whole is loose and 
digointed, badly put together, and lacking altogether the masterfuhiess 
with which Shakspere was wont to work out his dramatic ideas. The 
characterisation is equally erratic, showing Shakspere (if we accept | 

the ordinary idea and throw all the blame on him) absolutely at his 
worst. Consider the representation of Cloten. In i. 1 he is ' a thing | 

too bad for bad report/ and his showing in III. 5 and IV, 1 bears out i 

this description, yet in III. 4 he is ' that harsh, noble, simple nothing.* 
Imogen's words cannot possibly apply to the Cloten of the play, any 
more than the description of him in iv. 2 as ' so fell ' or in IV. 3 as 
'so needful for this present' can apply to the vain-glorious buffoon 
of I. 2 and li. 1. Were one inclined to subordinate truth to a desire 
to prove the correctness of this theory of accounting for the incon- 
sistency in the drawing of Cloten, one might so vary the conclusion 
come to on considerations of style as to make one author responsible 
for representing him as a buffoon and another for showing him as 
a formidable person; but in point of fact it is, if the apportionment 
of the play ventured on here be correct, Shakspere who speaks of 
him both as ' too bad for bad report ' and as a * harsh, noble, simple 
nothing.' Beaumont however is consistent, exhibiting him only as a 
gross fool and heartless brute, while Massinger, who describes him as 
' so fell,' tries to account for the courage he shows by* making him too 
brainless to have 'apprehension of roaring terrors.' In iii. 1, with 
which Beaumont seems to have had nothing to do, he is represented 
as manly and worthy of respect, generous and not boastful, a very 
different person from the braggartly ass of I. 2 and li. 1. 

How it came about that Shakspere's work was twice patched it 
is diflScult to say. The 1600 quarto of Much Ado affords reason to 
believe that Cymheline was in existence at that early date, and it may 
be that Beaumont's work was done for a revision in or about 1610, 
when Dr Forman saw the play performed. (The Massinger revision 
would of course be much later.) As against this, it is to be noted 
that the verse in the Shaksperian portions is obviously of later date 
than that occurring in plays dating 1600 or thereabouts, and therefore 
there is more reasonableness in supposing that the revision of 1610 
was done partly by Shakspere himself and partly by Beaumont, not in 
conjunction, but separately, Shakspere perhaps beginning.it, and ere 
the work was finished retiring to Stratford and leaving the completion 
of it to Beaumont. This theory may help to account for Shakspere's 
inconsistent characterisation of Cloten. 

The result of an examination of Cymheline is, so far as concerns 



B. H. C. OLIPHANT 355 

Massinger's connection, put forward confidently, but, so &r as concerns 
Beaumont, it is propounded with diffidence. It is essentially a play for 
careful study, but study of the radical type, the only type which should, 
and the only type which does not, obtain in Shaksperian criticism. 

There remains Winter*8 Tale, the only one of the supposed four 
latest plays of Shakspere of which it can be said that the authorship 
of no part of it has ever been questioned by any sane or reputable critic. 
But the risk of being shut out from the ranks of the sane or reputable 
must not prevent the investigator from giving it the closest of attention. 
As a result, it is found that most of the scenes are entirely Shakspere's, 
and that there is none that does not show his touch, though in the 
second scene of Act i., in Act ii., and in that part of iii. 2 between 
Paulina's re-entry and the closing speech (and perhaps also in ill. 1) 
there is in places' an approximation to the style of Fletcher that serves 
to show the correctness of Professor Thomdike's view as to the influence 
of that writer on the older and greater man. 

That the other three plays, Cymbeline, The Tempest, and Henry VIII, 
are amongst Shakspere's latest is shown by a study of the parts of them 
that are clearly his ; but these portions are very different to the non- 
Shaksperian passages, and seem to show that Shakspere's verse did not 
degenerate to the extent supposed by some critics. If the choice be 
between a belief in the degeneracy of the master and the sacrifice of 
certain portions of his later plays, it is a pleasure to find that careful 
examination leads to the adoption of the view that portions of them 
are non-Shaksperian rather than that Shakspere's powers fell away 
or that he deliberately adopted a manner of versification unnatural 
to him. That he retained his powers in full is clearly enough shown 
in Winter's Tale and in his portion of The Tempest, and that he wrote 
pturt of his later plays in his own style and part in imitation of younger 
men is not to be thought of. The influence of Fletcher, as shown in 
parts of Winter*8 Tale, is natural ; but to suppose that Shakspere was 
the author of the portions of Cymbeline here ascribed to Massinger 
implies either a weakening of his powers or a deliberate descent to 
a prosaic manner unnatural to him. 

E. H. C. Oliphant. 
{To be continued.) 



THE SATIRE IN HEINRICH WITTENWEILER'S 

RING. 

It has been pointed out by Bleisch (Zum Ring Heinrich Witten- 
weilersy Halle, 1891, p, 21) that the author of the poem Der Ring was 
a man of some literary culture. Ample proof of this is afforded by the 
numerous allusions throughout the poem, also by the manner in which 
he successfully parodies several forms of poetry which were popular in 
his time. The Tanzlied and the Tdgelied, the HeldenLied and the 
religious allegory are each parodied in their turn. But there is an 
element of satire in Der Ring which has hitherto been overlooked, in 
spite of the large amount of space allotted to it in the poem. No less 
than 633 lines are devoted to a description of the wedding feast of 
Bertschi and Matzli, and this description is a skilful, if somewhat coarse 
satire on one of the most popular forms of didactic literature of that 
day, namely, the sets of rules for conduct familiar to us under the name 
of hofzucht and tischzucht, 

Fol. 30*= L 10» we read : 

Ze stett da sprach fro Richteinsch&nd : 
* Ich merch, ir seicz zu hof bekant, 
Barumb ich euwer wirdi pitt, 
Lert in hofzucht auch damit.' 

To which Lastersak replies : 

1. 26. 'Also mag ich Bertschin sagin, 
Wil er sich nach zuchten haben, 
Daz mug er lemen, sam man spricht, 
Bey seyner hochzeit, ob sey geschicht.' 

Shortly after this follows the description of the wedding feast at 
which Bertschi was to learn good manners. Every possible rule of 
conduct is broken by the wedding guests and each breach of etiquette 
is described with great minuteness by the author. 

There can be no doubt as to which of the many codes of rules in 
Latin and in German still extant Heinrich Wittenweiler had before 

1 Ed. BihL des LiUrar. Vereiru zu Stuttgart^ zxni, 1850. 



JESSIE CROSLAND 357 

him when he wrote Der Ring. Adolph Hauffen, in his work Caspar 
Scheldt, der Lehrer Fischarts^, speaking of the Latin poems Foetus 
and Phagifacettts, says : * Diese lateinischen Sittenbtichlein gehen den 
friiher dargestellten deutschen Anstandsregeln zeitlich und dem Grade 
der Entwickelung nach weit voraus, aber sie haben keinerlei Elinfluss auf 
diesen Zweig der deutschen Lehrdichtung, bevor sie am Ausgang des 
XV. Jahrhunderts von einem Manne (Brant) in die deutsche Literatur 
eingefuhrt wuiden' etc. When treating of the tischznchten in various 
languages and their relations to each other at some future date, I hope 
to disprove more fully the truth of this statement; for the present, 
suffice it to say that Wittenweiler's Ring, which, under certain aspects, 
belongs to this branch of literature, bears indisputable traces of having 
been influenced by both of them. Every breach of good manners 
adduced by the author of the Ring is the transgression of a rule con- 
tained in one or other of these Latin poems. The guests omit to wash 
their hands and clean their nails; they all put their hands together 
into the dish, they gnaw the bones, they place their elbows on the 
table — in fact they do everything which the * Grobianus ' of a century 
later was instructed to do. But in addition to the breach of the more 
ordinary rules which may be found in other iischzuchten also, several 
points are taken up to which special attention is paid in Facettis and 
Pha^gifacetns, but little or none in the other treatises on the subject. 
In Facetus, for example, the rules for drinking are characteristic and 
diflfer considerably from those given by the other poems, both Latin, 
German and French. But these rules are all familiar to the author of 
the Ring. 

Facetus^: Si te major! peluis famuletur aquosa 

Ad manicis eius tua sit maniis officiosa... 
Qua terges non veste manus siccato madentes 
Nee mappa tergas dentes: oculos que fluentea, etc.; 

cf. Der Ring, 34* 8 f : 

Daa (wasaer) goss der diener ^m vil eben 
Von h5hend auf die ermel sein 
Nicht ins bek enmit hineyn... 
Farindkuo der hiet kain tuoch 
Ze triiknen, danimb er die pruoch 
Zuo seiner zwahel do gewan u.s.w. 

Again, Facetus : 

Quando ciphum capies : averso non bibe dorso ; 

^ Quellen und Fortckungen, Heft 66, 1SS9. 
^ Ed. Octo Auetores, etc. Lagdani, 1519, etc. 



358 The Satire in Heinrich Wittenweiler's Ring 

cf. Der Ring, 37* 39 f. : 

RliBi zu derselben stund 

Sac3t den eymer an den mund 

Und chert sich gen der wand von in 

Facetus : 

Pocula si sumas : intingas labra modeste ; | 

Qui prope fert uasum non potum stimit honeste; \ 

cf. Der Ring, 35*» 3 f. : 1 

Sey wolt den wirt nit schenden \ 

Und fasst den chruog peynn henden, 
Mund und nass stiess sey dar in 
Also wol smakt ir der wein. 

The comparison with Phagifacetus also ofiFers striking points of 
similarity. Under the headings De lapsu dborum and De ovis come- 
dendis, the author, Reinerus^, had described the course of conduct to be 
pursued should any piece of food be allowed to fall, and the proper 
manner of eating a lightly-boiled egg, which should on no account be 
swallowed whole. These points are developed at great length and with 
evident pleasure by Wittenweiler. 

Phagifacetus : ' De lapsu ciborum ' : 

Est quando danda proficiscitur esca palato 
Et cadit intrandos illudens oris hiatus... 
Nee si collapsum, quamvis dilexeris escam, 
Restituas disco nee avari dentibus oris 
Procedens tribuas ne culpa priore paretur 
Posterior, fiatque pudor de simplice duplex. 

Cf Der Ring, 36, 13 f. : 

Wan dem esser ichcz empfiel 
Auf die erden ab dem tisch 
Es war gekauwen oder frisch 
Das scholt man wider aufheben 
Und es hin fiir seu alleu legen, 
£s war dann, daz es gtroffen war 
Auf dafi gwand ym an gevar. 
Daz mocht er behalten, ane zol 
Gevielin ym die spangli wol. 

Phagifacetus : ' De ovis comedendis * : 

Sorbile si dabitur, galline filius, ovum 
Non vesceris eo, naves quo more Caribdis 
Imbibit, ut, quando sumas, respondeat echo 
Detque gula strepitum querulo roboante tumidta; 

^ There is some uncertainty as to the identity of Beinerus, whose name is given by the 
initial letters of the opening lines of the poem {Reinerm me fecit). Cf. Hist. Lit, de 
France, torn, vm, p. 88, and Reineri Phagifacetum, etc., recensuit Hugo Lemcke, 1880, 
preface. 



JESSIE CROSLAND 359 



cf. Ring, 37*> 15 f. : 



Damit die ayger warent brayt 
Und fur die gesellen all gelajt.... 
Des nam de Chriembolt eben war 
Und fasst da3 ay ro ganc} und gar 
Er warff ee jeso in den mund 
Und schlickt es ejn in einer stund. 
Des war er gstorben an der 3eit 
Do was ym der schlund so weit 
Da3 das ay ym durch den kragen 
Ganczlich fuor bis in den magen. 

In addition to these corresponding passages, both Pliagifacetus and 
Der Ring have a long and enthusiastic encomium on wine and its pro- 
perties, in the former under the heading De potu et vino, in the latter 
beginning with the line ' Wie schol aver sein das gtranch ? ' and finally, 
in connection with drinking, in both poems the guests are instructed to 
make supplication for ' Sant Johans segen.' Such a passage in praise 
of wine as we get in Phagi/acetus presents a striking contrast to the 
cautions and limitations imposed on the drinker by the ordinary 
tischzucht. Indeed, in this passage, as in others in the poem, a decided 
tendency to parody some of the customary rules may be detected, and 
it was only a step fi'om the mild form of parody in the Latin poem to 
the sharper satire of Heinrich Wittenweiler's Ring. 

Jessie Crosland. 



BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES ON 
CHARLES SEALSFIELD. 

During a recent investigation of certain aspects of Sealsfield's life I 
have been forced to the conclusion that, if a wholly reliable biography 
of that author is to be written, nearly all the accepted data will have to 
be subjected to a thorough re-examination. The following notes are a 
contribution to the bibliography of certain of Sealsfield's writings. 

The United States. 

It is generally agreed that the first published work of Sealsfield, 
Die Vereinigten Staaten von Nordamerika, etc., Stuttgart, Cotta, 1827, 
was worked over by the author into two English books, the one en- 
titled The Americans as they are, etc., London, Hurst, Chance and Co., 
1828; the other. The United States of North America, as they are in their 
political, religious and social bearings, London, John Murray, 1828. 
The first-named, according to A. B. Faust, Charles Sealsfield, der 
Dichter beider Hemisphdren, Weimar, 1896, p. 59, consists of those 
portions of Vol. ii of the German original which were rejected by John 
Murray ; so that by far the greatest part of Vol. ii must have been cut 
out by Murray, since The Americans runs to 218 pages. The Americans 
is one of the least accessible of Sealsfield's works. As for The United 
States, no copy of it is known to exist in any library, not even in the 
British Museum or the Bodleian. Its entire disappearance is in a way 
explained by the report of Mr C. G. Lawrence, who, upon my request to 
Mr Murray of Albemarle Street, was kindly commissioned by him to 
look up the records. I learn from that gentleman that no more than 
750 copies of The United States were printed (in July, 1827), and of 
these, 502 were 'wasted' (in September, 1835). Mr Lawrence writes 
further: * the work was sold and published by Simpkin, Marshall and Co. 
In fact, John Murray seems to have had little to do with it.* (From 
Sealsfield's letters one would gain a different impression.) 



OTTO HELLER 361 

Through the kind offices of Mr A. Raviz^, I have at last obtained a 
well-preserved copy of the missing book which turns out to be of singular 
importance in respect of a number of critical questions. My immediate 
object, however, is to establish the tnie title of the work and fix its 
relation to Die Vereinigten Staaten on the one hand and to The 
Americans on the other. The title reads: The | United States | of j 
North America | As they are^ , London: | Published by W. Simpkin 
and R. Marshall | Stationers' Hall Court | MDCCCXXVIII. The 
volume is octavo and has 242 pages. The pre&ce (vi pages) corresponds 
almost word for word to that of The Americans. It is dated London, 
June, 1827, while the preface to The Americans dates, or is, at least, 
alleged to date from March, 1828. The latter preface is evidently a 
doctored edition of the former. Sealsfield may have had nothing what- 
ever to do with it. One might note the discrepancy of several years in 
dating the promulgation of the * Monroe doctrine,' and the omission (in 
The Americans) of the author's apology for the ' many inaccuracies of 
his style.' To consider now the relation of The United States to the 
German original : it is, in fact, a mere free translation, or at most, in 
some parts, a rifadmento of the first volume of Die Vereinigten StaMen, 
Contrary to the generally accepted view, not one line of the second 
volume went to make up Murray's publication. The principal diflfer- 
ences, apart iix>m matters of phrasing, are these : 1. Many of the long 
footnotes of the German edition are omitted, a few being taken up into 
the text. 2. The last chapter of The United States contains for the most 
part new matter, viz, a capital characterisation of America and its people. 
3. A few errors in facts and names are corrected, e.g., ' Kongress von 
Panama ' {Die Vereinigten Staaten, chap. 4), ' Congress of Mexico ' (The 
United States, chap. 5). 4. Out of deference to English opinion, or 
from a sense of loyalty to the Germans, certain passages dealing with 
German and English character and manners are omitted, so from 
chapters 2 and 9. 5. The end of chapter 15 in Die Vereinigten Staaten 
is omitted, and for that of chapter 11 a diflferent one is substituted. 
6. The introductory chapter of The United States, which contains a 
review of the political, physical, and moral state of the Union of North 
America, concludes with a political observation added palpably ad cap- 
tandam benevolentiam, for the special gratification of the British reader. 
Finally, the fifteen chapters of Die Vereinigten Staaten make eighteen 

1 The contract between Charles Sealsfield and John Murray (see Faust, Lc, p. 184) 
contemplated a fuller title, and by this bibliographers have hitherto described the book in 
question. It is, however, only the half-title that runs: The United States of North 
America as they are in their political, religious and social bearings. 

M. L. B. III. 25 



362 Bibliographical Notes on Charles Seahfield 

in the English version, owing to the addition of a final chapter as already 
mentioned, and the division of chapter 2 of the German work into 2 
and 3 of the English, and of chapter 13 into 14 and 15. 

In spite of the date 1828 on the title-page, the book was issued late 
in 1827, as appears both from the records of the publisher and the 
postscript to Sealsfield's letter to Cotta dated June 4, 1827 (Faust, Z.c, 
p. 203). It would seem that John Murray * sublet* the contract for 
The United States to Simpkin and Marshall. 

ToKEAH, OR The White Rose. 

The diflSculty of finding Sealsfield's books through the usual channels 
was already realised in 1877 by that indefatigable compiler, Konstantin 
Wurzbach. To-day there is not a library anywhere, which is in posses- 
sion of a complete set of Sealsfield's writings. One of the very rarest 
of his works is Tokeah. Joseph Sabin's Bibliotheca Americana, Vol. xv, 
mentions it as having been published at Philadelphia in 1829. The 
same year is given in the copyright notice on the reverse title-page of 
the second American edition. Yet Sealsfield scholars and bibliographers 
have invariably named 1828 as the year of publication. Failing, 
evidently, of access to a copy either of the first or of the second edition, 
they derived warrant for their date from the author's statement in the 
Introduction to Der Legitime und die Repuhlikanery Vol. I, p. xiii (cf, the 
12mo edition): *Einzig der Legitime und der Republikaner wurde 
zuerst in den Vereinigten Staaten zu Philadelphia bei Carey und Lea 
im Jahr 1828 in zwei Banden unter dem Titel " Tokeah or The White 
Rose" herausgegeben, aber bloss der erste Teil in der deutschen bei 
Orell und Fussli in Zurich 1833 erschieneneu Auflage unverandert 
gelassen, der zweite Teil hingegen ganzlich umgearbeitet.* Cf also 
Sealsfield's letter to Brockhaus (Hamburger, Sealsfield- Postl, Vienna, 
1879, p. 59). Tokeah is not to be found in the lists and reviews for 
1828; also with the biographical data, albeit these are largely con- 
jectural, 1829 would comport much better. I was therefore not 
surprised to find the first novel of Sealsfield mentioned among the * new 
publications' of 1829 in the North American Review, Vol. xxviii (1829), 
p. 545 : * Novels and Tales. Tokeah or The White Rose, an American 
novel, Philadelphia, Carey, Lea and Carey, 2 vols., 12mo.* A good copy 
of this extremely rare book was recently acquired for the private library 
of Professor August Sauer. It is, for aught I know, the sole copy that 
can be located. Its title reads: Tokeah; | or, j The White Rose. | (Follows 



OTTO HELLBR 363 

a motto from Goethe.) | In two volumes | Philadelphia: | Carey, Lea 
and Carey,— Chestnut Street. | Sold in New York By G. & C. Carvill, 
— in Boston By | Munroe & Francis, 1829. Volume I contains 212 pages, 
Volume II 208. The copjn-ight was effected on January 14, 1829. The 
designation of Tokealt as an * Indian * ov, ' American * novel is a bit of 
bibliographical supererogation, so far as the editio princeps is concerned. 
The second edition which is merely a popular reprint in cheap pamphlet 
form, but now equally rare, is entitled: Tokeah | or | The White Rose | 
An Indian Tale. | (The Motto from Goethe.) | By | C. Sealsfield. | Second 
Edition. | Philadelphia | Lea and Blanchard | 1845. I have likewise 
found a hitherto unregistered English edition in three well printed 
volumes: The | Indian Chief; | or, | Tokeah and The White Rose | ...A 
Tale of the Indians and the Whites. | (The Motto from Goethe.) | 
Philadelphia: Carey, Lea and Carey | London: | A. K. Newman and Co, 
(The date has been erased. I have not yet been able to fix it.) 

It would be well if these full descriptions should lead to the recovery 
of further copies of Tokeah : for the novel is indispensable to the com- 
parative study of the American and European * Indian story.' That it 
is still playing an influential part, especially in juvenile fiction, is proved 
by a number of quite recent reprints and * Bearbeitungen,' even though 
most of them are based on the German version, Der Legitime und die 
Republikaner, For example, in English: Tokeah, or The White Rose, hy 
Charles Sealsfield. London, G. Newnes, 1897. 2 vols. 8vo. : being 
Nos. 69 — 70 of The Penny Library of Famous Books, This edition is 
unfortunately out of print, and extremely difficult to obtain ; there is a 
copy in the Bodleian, but none in the British Museum. The following 
titles, from my own collection, speak for the undiminished vitality of 
the book in Germany : 1. Tokeah, Flir die reifere Jugend bearbeitet 
von H. Ludwig. Stuttgart, Thienemann. 4 vols. (No date.) 2. Tokeah 
odei^ die weisse Rose, FUr die Jugend bearbeitet von P. Moritz. Stutt- 
gart, Thienemann. 4 vols. (No date.) 3. Tokeah, etc., in JXe besten 
Romane der Weltliteratur (Vols, x — xii). Wien, Leipzig, K. Prochaska, 
Teschen in Schlesien. (No date: 1896.) 4. Tokeah, etc., Frei fur 
die Jugend bearbeitet von Gustav Hocker, Stuttgart, Berlin, Leipzig, 
Union Deutsche Verlagsanstalt. (No date.) 5. Tokeah, etc., Neu 
herausgegeben von Paul Heichen, in Charles Sealsfield's Wild- West- 
Romane. Gross-Lichterfelde, v. Pipersche Verlagsbuchhandlung. (No 
date: 1900.) 6. Tokeah, etc., in Klassische Romane der Weltliteratur. 
Ausgewahlte Sammlung Prochaska. 2 vols. Wien, Leipzig, Teschen, 
K. Prochaska. (No date: 1904.) 

25—2 



364 Bibliographical Notes on Charles Sealsfield 

Morton, oder die grosse Tour. 

Another extremely difficult book to find is the first edition of 
Morton. Faust, in his Johns Hopkins dissertation, gives the following 
title : ' 1835. Morton, oder die grosse Tour, vom Verfasser des Legiti- 
men. Zurich, Orell, etc' In Faust's Der Dichter heider Hemisphdrm, 
p. 105, the book is again called Morton, oder die grosse Tour. But in 
the subject-catalogues one searches in vain for * Morton,' since, as a 
matter of tact, the name of the principal character did not form part 
of the title. Not many copies of the 1835 edition seem to be extant. 
One of these w«ts located for me by the Berlin * Auskunfbsbureau ' in 
the Royal Public Library at Dresden, whence Professor A. R. Hohlfeld 
(of Wisconsin) kindly sends me a transcription of the title : Lebens- 
bilder | aus | beiden Hemispharen. | Vora Verfasser | des Legitimen^ 
der Transatlantischen Reiseskizzen, | des Virey, etc. | Erster Theil | 
Zurich I bei Orell, FUssli und Comp. | 1835. (Vol. i, 183 pp.. Vol. ii, 
206 pp.) In both volumes the sub-title, printed on a special page, 
reads merely: 'Die grosse Tour\' 

By his rather captious experimenting in the naming of his books 
Sealsfield managed at first to break up the continuity between Trans- 
atlantische Reiseskizzen {i.e. Oeorge Howard's, Esq. Braut/ahH) and its 
sequel, Ralph Doughhys, Esq. Braut/ahH, when he conjoined the latter 
story with Die grosse Tour as Lebensbilder aus beiden Hemispharen, 
To be sure, he did not intend to deny entirely the organic connection 
between Howard and Doughby, for in the editio pnnceps, Doughhy is 
further described oder der Transatlantischen Reiseskizzen driUer Theil. 
But the serial title Lebensbilder aus beiden Hemispharen, erster Theil does 
not make a duly clear allowance for Howard as an integral part of the 
series. Apparently Sealsfield had conceived the ambitious design of a 
broad panorama of life on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean to be 
unrolled in a number of novels. Their collective name was to be 
Lebensbilder aus beiden Hemispharen, and so far as they dealt with 
American life solely, they were to be grouped together under the 
secondary collective title Transatlantische Reiseskizzen. But, as shown 
above, the diacritical value of the threefold title was lost in the con- 
fusion of the arrangement of 1835. The author abandoned the scheme 
in its more comprehensive form, and in the second edition, after 
separating out Morton, oder die grosse Tour as an independent novel, 

^ Since writing this note, I have obtained possession of a copy of the edition herd 
accurately described. 



OTTO HELLER 365 

dropped the general superscription Lebembilder aus beiden Hemisphdren, 
and combined, quite properly, Howard with the succeeding Reiseskizzen 
in a set of six volumes under the new generic title Leheiishildei' aus der 
westlichen Hemisphdre, 

Christophorus Barenhauter. 

From Faust's list of Charles Sealsfield's works one gathers the false 
impression that the almost unknown story Christophoi-us Barenhauter 
and the well known George Hotvard's, Esq, Brautfahrt passed through 
two editions within two years. I am in a position to correct the dates 
and titles directly from the books themselves which Professor Faust has 
generously contributed to my loan-collection of Sealsfieldiana. The 
emendation would presumably have been made by Professor Faust 
himself in his Der Dichter beider Hemisphdren, but for the regrettable 
omission of a bibliography from that monograph. 

The two last items on page 52 of Faust's dissertation read : 

*1833. Transatlantische Reiseskizzen und Christophorus Baren- 
hauter, vom Verfasser des Legitimen. Zurich, 1833-37. 6 vols. Orell, 
FUssli u. Cie. 

1834. George Howard's Brautfahrt und Christophorus Barenhauter. 
Bd. 1 und 2, Lebensbilder.' 

In accordance with the facts these items should be entered as follows: 

1834. Transatlantische Reiseskizzen und Christophorus Baren- 
hauter. Vom Verfasser des Legitimen und der Republikaner. Zurich, 
bei Orell, Fussli und Comp. 2 vols. (Transatlantische Reiseskizz&n is 
identical with the first edition of Gearge Howard, A second edition of 
George Howard did not come out till 1843; Christophorus Bd,renhduter 
was never republished in book form.) 

1835 f. Lebensbilder aus beiden Hemispharen. (The component 
parts of the series, which, as is to be seen from the preceding note on 
Morton, contains also the continuations of Transatlantische Reiseskizzen^ 
should be described volume for volume.) 

Otto Heller. 



MISCELLANEOUS NOTES. 

Notes on the 'Interlude of Wealth and Health ^' 

Line 11. *take ye care.' Read 'take ye keepe' to rime with 
' a sleepe.' This can scarcely be a misprint, but suggests a deliberate 
modernising of an expression already becoming obsolete. 



LI. 37—39. 



For in this realme welth should be 
Yeth no displeasure I pray you hartely 
But in the way of communicacion. 
And for pastyme 

Punctuate and read as follows : 

For in this realme welth should be — 
Beth not displeased, I pray you hartely ; 
But in the way of Communicacion 
And for pastyme. 

If this emendation is correct, the imperative * Beth ' indicates an early 
date of composition, i.e, about the fourteenth or fifteenth century. The 
N, E. D. assigns this form only to these centuries. 

L. 80. * Thai ' = though. If this is not a misprint it must go back 
to M. E. (mainly southern) * theih,' ' thai,' ' pe},' etc. < O. E. ' )?eah.' 
Are any late examples of this form forthcoming ? I can find none later 
than the fourteenth century. Davy, Chaucer and Gower have ' thogh,' 
* though' only; the London Records from 1430 — 1500, have 'thogh,' 
' though,' 'thow,' Hhof; also 'thaugh' (? < Angl. ')?8eh'). CC Lekebusch, 
Die Londoner Urkundensprache, pp. 71 — 72. 

The leading English dialects according to Dr Wright's Index show 
no form which presupposes M. E. ' theih,' etc. Accordingly if ' thai ' be 
the true reading, it argues an early and probably a southern origin for 
this interlude. 

1 Malone Society Reprints, 1907. 



Miscellaneous Notes 367 

LI 89 — 90. ' bene' riming with ' at ene/ The archaic ' bene' = 'be* 
is probably without much importance, but * at ene ' (= ' at once ') seems 
distinctly old. Cf. Stratmann-Bradley, 8,v. 'sene.' The phrase is not 
exampled in the N, E, D. 'Bene* riming with *ene/ is a rhyme in 
M. E. e : g, which may or may not be significant. M. E. f (close) had 
become i by the beginning of, or very early in, the sixteenth century. 

L. 107. *reche* (riming with 'wretch*): M. E. 'rechen,* 'rekken.' 
The former is normal. The N. E. D, gives 'rech,* 'retch,* for the fifteenth 
but not for the sixteenth century. * B«ch * appears to be the commoner 
fifteenth century form. 

LI. 115, 126. 'goodes,* 'wayes.* The plural inflexion is syllabic. 
In * wayes,* the -es is a sort of rime to ' peace * and ' richesse.' 

L. 137. ' Getteth,* a southern plural : so also 1. 650, ' Handes doth.' 

L. 245. ' both two * (O. E. ' ba twa,* etc.). The latest example of 
this use in the N. E. D. is 1523, Lord Bemers. 

LI. 341 — 343. ' were : nere : mar.' ' Nere * is comparative (M. E. 
' nerre *). For * mar * read ' mer.* Similarly in 939, ' marre * rimes with 

* were.* In 399 it rimes with ' war,' but * war ' is from M. E. ' werre.' 
The latest example of the verb ' mar ' (M. E. * merren,* ' marren *), with 
a, not e, given in the N. E. D. is dated 1510, but if we are to judge 
from the examples, a-forms become more common £h)m the fourteenth 
century onwards. The rhymes seem to show that 'mer* or 'merre' 
was the original form in Wealth and Health and that 'mar ' and 'marre* 
are modernised forms. Compare also the r}me 'farre* ('far*) with 
'were* (verb) in 942. The N. E. D. records no form of 'far* with e later 
than the fourteenth century. 

LI. 421, 622, 746. Similar conclusions are suggested by the form 

* inquire ' which is found in the rime three times, and on each occasion 
with an e word : (1) ' inquire * riming with ' degrot here,* i.e. ' the great 
Lord* (Hance's jargon); (2) 'inquire* riming with 'heare* (adv.); 
(3) ' inquire * riming with ' apeare.* Obviously the original reading was 

* inquere * or ' enquere.* The N. E. D. records forms with i from the 
fifteenth century onwards. The only comparatively late examples of e- 
forms in the N. E, D. are from Spenser where we may have to do with 
a conscious archaism, and Butler, where the form is wanted for the sake 
of a grotesque rime. 

L. 649. I note the word ' mell ' which seems to represent O. E. 

* median,* * to speak * rather than O. F. ' mesler,* etc. * to meddle.* The 
latest example of ' mell * < ' metJlan ' in the N. E. D. is dated c. 1460. 

The points noticed suggest, I think, if they fall far short of proving, 



368 Miscellaneous Notes 

that the Interlude of Wealth and Health was written considerably earlier 
than the date of the extant copy. The latter date is uncertain. The 
interlude was entered to John Waley in the Stationers' Register, as 
Mr W. W. Greg says, * early in the craft year which began on 19 July, 
1557.' But Mr Greg seriously doubts whether the extant copy belongs 
to the edition which Waley presumably printed. If it does, the printing 
was delayed until after the accession of Elizabeth, i,e. for over a year. 
See line 959 * Jesu preserue queue Elizabeth.' It seems probable, how- 
ever, that when Waley entered Wealth and Health in the Register it was 
not by any means a new piece. At the same time there was entered to 
the same printer the interlude of Youth which is assigned, on various 
grounds including linguistic, by the latest editors, Prof. Bang and 
Mr McKerrow, to the end of the fifteenth or beginning of the sixteenth 
century (Bangs Materiaiien, xii, xiv). Wealth and Healtfi probably 
belongs to the same time; but whereas the author of Youth was, as Prof. 
Bang thinks, a northern man, the writer of Wealth and Health seems to 
have been a native of the southern counties. 

There is, however, in the interludes a clue which, if followed up, 
might lead to more certain results. I allude to the episode of the 
drunken Fleming, Hance. In the Morality Remedy restores Health, 
Wealth and Liberty to the realm, not only by laying Ill-will and Shrewd 
Wit by the heels, but by packing the undesirable alien Hance out of 
the kingdom. Hance seems to stand for aliens generally, as also for 
foreign countries that had impoverished England in any way. He is a 
bombardier, a musketeer, a shoemaker and, I think, a brewer (778). 
He is also the agent in conveying English wealth to Flanders (424). 
If the reference in the last passage is to unfavourable commercial 
relations, the time of the interlude is perhaps earlier than 1506, in 
which year was concluded a commercial treaty so unfavourable to 
Flanders that the Flemings termed it hitercursm Mains. As for the 
employment of Flemish mercenaries as artillerymen and musketeers, 
the practice seems to have been instituted by the king-maker and 
Edward III. When this interlude was written, the employment of 
foreign artillerymen seems to have been a grievance (1. 415): 

wyl ye not see 
We haue English gunners ynow, there is no rome empty. 

In line 758 we have something which looks like a definite allusion. 
Hance says he has been thirteen years in England ('ic heb hore bin, this 
darten yeore *) — apparently as a mercenary — for he goes on: 'ic can 



Miscellaneous Notes 369 

skote de coluerin/ Unfortunately I am unable to follow up these 
various clues, and can merely suggest that the history of the Flemings 
in England in the jBfteenth and sixteenth centuries, if examined with 
reference to hints supplied in Wealth and Health, might jdeld results 
more or less conclusive for the dating of the interiude. 

Mark Hunter. 



* Irisdision,* in the Interlude of 'Johan the Euangelyst/ 

In the Modern Language Review for July, 1907 (p. 350), Dr Bradley 
ingeniously conjectures that ' Irisdision * is a misprint due to the com- 
positor's misreading the MS. abbreviation * Joh evan.' This is scarcely 
probable, inasmuch as ' S. Johan the Euangelyste * does not enter till 
1. 230, where he describes himself. ' Irisdision ' had left the stage at 
1. 190, with the words: 

Nowe farewell syr and haue good daye 
For I must goo another waye. 

Besides, * Irisdision * is evidently the character of a mystic, as may be 
seen by the first speech (which obviously belongs to * Irisdision,' though 
headed 'Saynt Johan the Euangelyst'). This may be illustrated from 
the works of Richard Rolle of Hampole (ed. C. Horstman). 

L. 8. God tendeth ryght more the prayer with the hert of vs 
Than the prayer of the mouth. 

Cf. R. R., II, p. xi : ' Where is love ? " in the heart and in the will of 
man, not in his hand or in his mouth."' 

L. 13. As it raiiy8ahet[h] the soule in to a blessed deserte. 

Cf. R. R., II, p. viii : * His place is the solitude, the desert... Christ isnot 
found in the multitude but in the desert : " In solitudine loquitur ad 
cor."' 

L. 14. It feleth no erthly thyng.... 

Cf R. R., II, p. viii : ' The mind must be abstracted from visible things.' 

L. 15. Thus fared Magdaleyne, etc. 
Cf R. R., II, p. ix : * Maria (the contemplative) optimam partem elegit.' 

L. 17. Nor the aungell at the sepulcre, loue so her constrayned. 
Cf. R. R., 1, p. 215 : ' All j?is reklessnes of all owtward thynges & also 



370 Miscellaneous Notes 

of J?e angell wordes was caused of J?e gret loue & desyre J?at scho had to 
hir mayster & hir lord Ihesu/ 

LI. 20—21. Who so wyll labour in this, must se his habytacyon 
Be solytary.... 

Cf. R. R., II, p. viii: 'The true contemplative must be solitary, not 
conjoint (non conjunctus, in congregatione et tumultu positus) or 
"communis"; — "solus suscipiet quod conjunctus carebit."' 

L. 21. ...in soule of great quyetnesse. 

Cf. R. R, II, p. viii : * haec tria [i,e. fervor, canor, dulcor] ego expertus 
sum in mente non posse diu persistere sine magna quiete.* 

L. 22. Therfore euer to the churche I do me dresse. 

Cf. R. R., II, p. viii : * Pax est in cella : nil exterius nisi bella.' lb., i, 
p. 441 : ' sedebam quippe in vna capella ' ; * dum enim in eadem capella 
sederem.* 

What then is the explanation of the word ' Irisdision * ? I can only 
offer two suggestions, with neither of which I am altogether satisfied. 
Each involves the change of only one letter, and both depend upon 
passages in the Vulgate version of the book of Revelation, It may be 
remarked that * Irisdision *s ' first speech begins and ends with a quota- 
tion from the Vulgate {Ps. xxxviii, 9, and Ps. Lxxxiv, 4), and that 
allusions to the book of Revelation are frequent in his language (but 
not in that of ' S. Johan the Euangelyste '). 

1. The first passage from which I suggest the name may have been 
derived is Rev, x, 1, which reads in the Vulgate, *Et vidi alium Angelum 
fortem descendentem de coelo amictum nube, et iris in capite ejus.' Is 
it possible that * Irisdision ' is a corruption of Iris de Sion, the angel 
being identified with the iris and de Sion being substituted for de codol 
It may be noticed that ' Syone ' occurs in 1. 82 as a synonym of heaven, 
and that the phrase de Sion is found in the Vulgate (e.g. Ps. xix, 2, ' et 
de Sion tueatur te'). In that case the angel would represent the mystic, 
as in R. R., ii, p. ix, where he is said to be * velut Seraphin succensus,' 
and again, 'haec est perfectissima vita, sanctissima, et angelis simillima.' 

2. The other passage from Revelation which suggests an alter- 
native explanation is the beginning of ch. iv, vv. 1 — 3, especially the 
words *ecce ostium apertum in coelo... et iris erat in circuitu sedis, 
similis visioni smaragdinse.* Is ' Irisdision ' a corruption of Iris uisio ? 
Cf. R. R., I, p. 441, 'usque ad apercioiiem ostii celestis vt reuelata facie 
oculus cordis superos contemplaretur* ; and 'manente siquidem aperto 



Miscellaneous Notes 371 

ostio' Again (p. 436), we have * O beata visio dei & gaudiorura celi ! ' 
We are told (i, p. 417) that * contemplacion is a sight, & j^ai see m til 
heuen with j^aire gasteli iee ' ; and (ii, p. 75), ' with his ghoostly eyen 
than may he se in to the blysse of heuen/ 

It is difficult also to accept Dr Bradley's suggestion that * Actio,' 
another character in the interlude, is the same as 'Idelnesse' and a 
corruption of ' Accid * an abbreviation of 'Accidia/ At 1. 541, 'Idelnesse* 
and ' Yuell Counsayle ' go out together and * Actio ' enters, having * ben 
longe awaye/ (In 1. 630, *Ambo' is a misprint for 'Actio.') I take 
'Actio' to be the representative of the active as opposed to the contem- 
plative life (y8/o9 irpaKTiKo^; and dcfoprjrcKo^), Cf. the description of 
the active life (R. R., I, p. 268), * actyf lyf alon longe)? to worldly men & 
wymmen whuch are lowed, fleschly, & boistous in knowyng of gostly 
occupacion, flfor j^ei fele no sauour ne deuocion be feruour of loue as 
oj^ur men don, j^ei can no skile of hit, and 3it neuer)?eles J?ei han drede 
of god & of )?e peynes of helle & )7erfore J?ei fle synne, and yei haue also 
desyre for to plese god & for to come to heuene.* How far the former 
part of this description applies to 'Actio' may readily be seen by reading 
the interlude. The latter part accounts for the rather sudden conversion 
of ' Eugenie ' and ' Actio ' under the preaching of John the Evangelist. 

W. H. Williams. 



Shakespeare, 'Troilus and Cressida,' hi, iii, 161 — 3. 

Or like a gallant horse falne in first ranke, 
Lie there for pavement to the abject, neere 
O'errim and trampled on. 

' Neere ' is the reading of the First and Second Folios. These lines 
are not in the Quarto. The correction *reare,' which is generally 
accepted, was introduced by Hanmer. In the first place, *the abject 
rear ' must be understood as ' the rabble in the rear,' for it is plain that 
the whole rear cannot be pronounced * abject,' and in the second place, 
it is not clear why the idea of a horse should have occurred to the 
speaker in the preceding line, rather than that of a soldier. Just as 
the abject soldiers who lay in the rear might have been opposed to the 
gallant warrior in the front rank, so the gallant steed ought to have 
been set over against the abject horse. Now * neere,' read phonetically 
— and those used to the spelling of the time will not raise an objection, 
unless it be founded on the condemnation by Holofemes in Love's 



372 Miscellaneous Notes 

Labours Losty v, i, 25, of those ' rackers of orthography * who abbreviate 

' neigh * into * ne * — would answer the purpose. The * gallant horse * is 

opposed to the * abject neigher/ the brute that can do no better than 

neigh. 

J. Derooquigny. 

Shakespeare, * Antony and Cleopatra,' hi, xiii, 168 — 167. 

Ant. Cold-hearted toward me? 

Cleo, Ah, dear, if I be «o, 

From my cold heart let heaven engender hail, 
And i)oiHon it in the source ; and the first stone 
Drop in my neck : as it determines^ so 
Dissolve my life ! The next Caesanon smite ! 
Till by degrees the memory of my womb, 
Together with my brave Egyptians all, 
By the discandying of this pelleted storm. 
Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats -of Nile 
Have buried them for prey. 

{Globe Edition,) 

The commentators and editors have altered the punctuation of the 
First Folio, which is nearly correct, and made nonsense of the passage, 
and have then written notes and explanations endeavouring to make 
sense of it. Fumess in his Variorum Edition of this play gives the 
following notes: 

* next] In deciding the question of CleopatraV-siilttysjty or in- 
sincerity in this scene, has full weight been given to the par 
tenderness of this word ? — Ed. 

the next Caesarian] Steevens : Caesarion was Cleopatra's son bjJ 
Julius Caesar. Irving Edition : Cleopatra appears to apply the name 
to Antony's oflfspring as an indirect compliment ; as if she had saidi 
this second Caesar's son. [Or, rather, is it not a wilful and artfu]| 
oblivion that she had ever had any children of whom Antony was noti 
the father ?— Ed.] ' 

The First Folio gives : 

Ant. Coldhearted toward me? 

Cleo, Ah (Deere) if I be so, 
From my cold heart let Heauen ineender haile, 
And poyson it in the sourse, and the first stone 
Drop in my neck : as it determines so 
Dissolue my life, the next Caesarian smile, 
Till by degrees the memory of my wombe, etc. 

* Caesarion smite ' for * Caesarian smile ' is Hanmer's obviously correc^ 
emendation. A comma after * determines,* a semicolon after ' life,* and 
comma after ' next * would make the meaning perfectly apparent : * LetT 



Miscellaneous Notes 373 

the first hailstone drop in my neck, and as it falls, so end my life ; let 
the next hailstone smite Caesarion, my eldest son; let the following 
hailstones slay my other children one by one ; then my brave Egyptians, 
till by the melting of this storm of hailstones all lie dead, unburied, prey 
to the flies and gnats of Nile/ 

A. Joanna Partridge. 



* Victoria,' * Exchange Ware' and *Worke for Cutlers.' 

See pages 141 and 177 of the present volume of this Review. 
Dr Sidney Lee points out that Larivey's comedy Le Fidelle is another 
version of Pasqualigo's II Fidele. 

The suggestion made on page 152, that these 'shews' were performed 
in connexion with some of the longer pieces played before King James 
on his first visit to Cambridge in 1 615 derives support from Chamberlain's 
letter to Sir D. Carleton of March 16, 161^, quoted in Hawkins' edition 
of Ignoramus (1787), p. xxviii, and elsewhere. Chamberlain writes: 
'the first night's entei*tainment [March 7] was a comedie made and 
acted by St John's men [Cecill's JFmiYia]... larded with pretty shewes 
at the beginning and end.' 

G. C. Moore Smith. 



*To Appoint.' 
Milton, Samson Agonistes, 373. 

In the Modem Language Review for October, 1907 (p. 74), Professor 
G. C. Moore Smith suggests that the meaning of ' appoint ' in this 
passage is * prescribe or determine the* course of,' * pin down to a fixed 
course ' ; I believe, however, that the N. E, D, explanation * arraign ' is 
perfectly correct, though the use of the word in this sense may be very 
rare in English. The French verb 'appointor,' O. F. 'apointier,' is a fairly 
common legal term of which the following examples are given in the 
Dictionnaire Genial : ' Appoint^ que les parties mettront leurs produc- 
tions au greflfe,' *Les parties ^tant appointees k mettre leurs pieces, 
devant le roi.' Its most common use appears to be in the sense, *to 
bring about a settlement in a suit,' e,g, ' appointor un proces.' Littr6 
defines * appointement ' as 'rfeglement en justice par lequel, avant de 
faire droit aux parties, le juge ordonne de produire par ^rit, ou de 
deposer les pieces sur le bureau, ou encore de prouver par t^moins les 
faits articul^s.' Among other meanings of * apointier,' Godefroi gives. 



374 Miscellaneous Notes 

under one heading, 'ordohner, commander, nommer pour faire une chose, 
assigner un rendez-vous d, provoqtier* the last two of which correspond 
to Milton's use of the word, viz., ' to arraign, challenge, call to account.' 

Ernest Weekley. 

Fragment of an Anglo-Norman Life of Edward the Confessor. 

A book recently came into my possession with fragments of the Life 
of St Edward the Confessor bound in as fly-leaves. The poem is 
identical with that in the collection of Anglo-Norman Lives of the 
Saints preserved in a MS. in the Duke of Portland's Library at Welbeck 
Abbey*. The fragments, which have unfortunately suffered consider- 
ably at the hands of the binder, give a part of a prologue which the 
Welbeck MS. does not contain. The MS. from which the sheets were 
cut was of small format, probably 8 in. by 5 in., and might well have 
belonged to a nunnery similar to that of Campesey, near Woodbridge, 
which owned the Welbeck MS. The writing is of the thirteenth 
century, and the initial letters are absent. Of the prologue, only one 
column, cut down the middle by the sixteenth century binder, and ten 
lines in extenso remain. While it is often fairly simple to imagine what 
the end of a line may be, it is almost impossible to conjecture the 
beginnings of a whole series of lines. Fortunately the last ten lines of 
the prologue are untouched, and offer very interesting data with regard 
to the French of England in the last third of the thirteenth century^ 
It is clear from lines 11, 12 and 43 that the writer is a woman. 

en faire ad voleir, Si joe I'ordre des cases ne gart, 

t a sun poeir ; • Ne ne juigne part a sa part; 

t le blamenint, Certes nen dei estre reprise, 

Iz fere e nel funt. Ke nel puis faire en nule guise. 

5 sufl&re estot, 45 Qu'en Iiatin est nominatif 

al mels qu'il pot: (Jo frai romanz acusatif 

tot le bien fait, Un faus franceis sai d'Angletere 

eiz que blasme en ait: Ke nel alai ailurs quere, 

t a sa puisance, Mais vus ki ailurs apris I'avez, 

10 a bone voilance. 50 La u mester iert, Tamendez. 

e vus requise 

me sui mise 



ne grace, 

us la parface. 

^ Cf. Paul Meyer in Vol. xxxiii of the Histoire litiiraire de la France. 
^ A point for the dating of these compositions may be found in the fact that Saint 
Richard whose life is contained in the Welbeck MS., was canonised in 1262. 



Miscellaneous Notes 375 

Then without any further indication, other than a capital letter, the 
space for which was left, the fragment continues for some 240 lines with 
only verbal differences from the Welbeck MS. 

I venture to think that the last ten lines of the prologue are a more 
interesting instance of the debased state of French in England in the 
thirteenth century than any of those quoted in Paul's Orundriss, Vol. I 
(2nd ed.), pp. 956 ff. I hope shortly to publish the complete life. 

A. T. Baker. 



Dante, 'De Vulgari Eloquentia,' i, vii. 

semper natura nostra prona peccatis ! o ab initio et nunquam desinens 
nequitatrix ! Num fuerat satis ad tui correptionem quod per primam prevarica- 
tionem eliminata, deliciarum exulabas a patria ? Num satis, num satis, quod per 
universalem familie tue luxuriem et trucitatem, unica reservata domo, quicquid tui 
juris erat cataclismo perierat ? et que commiseras tu, animalia celique terreque jam 
lueraut? Quippe satis extiterat? Sed, sicut proverbialiter dici solet, Non ante 
tertium equitabis, misera miserum maluisti venire ad equum. 

The four words in italics have puzzled all who have dealt with them 
from Giangiorgio Trissino to Signor Pio Rajna. The former renders 
*Non andrai a cavallo anzi la terza.' These words naturally mean 
' You shall not go on horseback before 9 a.m.* What meaning Gian- 
giorgio gives them does not appear. Fortunately, perhaps, for him, 
explanations formed no part of his undertaking. His example, however, 
has led one or two modern editors, notably Witte (though he seems to 
have recanted), to read tertiamy against the one really authoritative MS. 
Giuliani kept to tertium, and explained equitabis by a reference to the 
chastisement of schoolboys : * You will not get a horsing till your third 
fault.' What he took to be the 'subaudite* noun to tertium he does not 
say. Perhaps, like Signor Rajna, he thought that tertium was an 
adverb. Mr A. G. F. Howell, in his note to the passage in his trans- 
lation of the De Vulgari Eloquentia follows Giuliani, though from the 
concluding words of his note he seems to see that this interpretation 
makes nonsense : the human race having already been ' horsed ' pretty 
smartly in the Fall and the Deluge. To anyone who ever learnt to ride 
in his youth, the meaning is as clear as day. How often we were told 
by those interested in our progress, *You will not ride till you have had 
three falls ' ; and how true it came, certainly in my own case, probably 
in that of most ! No doubt a similar saying was current in Tuscany in 



376 Miscellaneous Notes 

Dante's day. The noun of course would be casum. With this the sense 
is plain. Mankind has had the two spills above-mentioned ; it needed 
the third, that of Babel, to teach it wisdom. 

I may remark that I sent this explanation to Signor Rajna some 
years ago, but it did not seem to commend itself to him. I should like 
to know how it strikes the readers of the Modem Language Review. 
It may be worth noting that Folengo {Chaos, a iii, recto) quotes a some- 
what similar proverb, but from the horse's point of view : * Al poledro fii 
sempre concesso fin a doi capestri rompere.' 

A. J. Butler. 



The Almanac of 'Jacob ben Machir ben Tibbon' 
(LATiNfe 'Profacius')* c. 1300. 

All Dante students are familiar with the controversy whether 
1300 or 1301 is the year indicated by internal evidence as that which 
was assumed by Dante for the date of the Vision of the Divina 
Commedia, Though there are now scarcely any advocates remaining 
for the latter date, yet there are some who still maintain that there is 
at least one of their astronomical arguments which holds the field. It 
is assumed on both sides that Dante's references to the positions of the 
planets must correspond with their true places in the supposed year 
of the Vision. Now it is undeniable that Venus was in point of fact a 
Morning Star at Easter 1301 and an Evening Star in 1300. And the 
presence of Venus as a Morning Star is a conspicuous feature in the 
splendid description of the Easter Dawn at the beginning of the 
Purgatorio, The advocates of 1300 have been obliged hitherto to 
maintain that this may fairly be considered to be a purely ideal picture, 
and therefore not necessarily subjected to such matter-of-fact conditions. 

But an entirely new light has now been thrown upon this point by the 
researches of Prof. Boffito. He has discovered the actual Almanac which 
was in general vogue in the early fourteenth century, and the one which 
there is little reason to doubt was that likely to have been employed 
by Dante. When we remember that the scene in Purg, i. is entirely 
imaginary, and that Dante was writing ten or twelve years after the 
date assumed for that scene, it is evident that, if he desired to conform 

^ J. Boffito et C. Melzi d'Erll : Almanack DantU Aligherii give Profhacii Judaei 
Montispeasulani Almanach perpetuum ad anmim 1300 inchoatum. Nunc primum editum 
ad fidem codici$ Laurentiani (PI. xviii, sin. N. i). Florentiae, apad L. S. Olsckhi^ 

MDCCCCVIII. 



Miscellaneous Notes 377 

to the astronomical conditions of the period, he would have to consult 
an almanac for that purpose. The remarkable point is that in this 
contemporary Almanac to which Prof. Boffito has called attention, 
Venus is in fact (though erroneously) recorded as a Morning Star in 
1300. 

The Almanac was written in Hebrew, but was immediately trans- 
lated into Latin, and became very widely known. Prof. BofRto says that 
it exists in ' innumeri codices,' many of them of the very beginning of 
the fourteenth century. (There are as many as six ^ in the Bodleian 
Library.) It was a 'perpetual Almanac'; i.e., the Tables of the position 
of all the planets were constructed from 1300 onwards until in each 
case the number of revolutions of the epicycle brought the Planet back 
again (approximately) to the position which it occupied in 1300, so 
that the Tables could (with slight corrections for which rules are given) 
be used again continuously. The positions of the * superior planets * 
are given at intervals of ten days ; those of the more swiftly-moving 
' inferior planets ' at intervals of five days. 

The periods of recurrence of the original position are of course 
very different for the different planets. Thus the Tables have had to 
be calculated in the case of Saturn for sixty years, in that of Jupiter 
for eighty-four years; in that of Mars for eighty; and in that of 
Mercury for forty-seven : while in the case of Venus eight years suffice. 

Now it is curious that in the original Hebrew Almanac the 
Planetary Tables all begin from 1301, while in the Latin Version they 
all begin from 1300 with the exception of Venus, which still starts from 
1301. It is singular, however, that in the 'Preface* both of the 
Hebrew and Latin Almanacs, it is stated that the Almanac has 1300 
for its initial year. The result then is — however the strange diflference 
may have come about — that in the case of Venus alone th^ position 
given in the first column is that for 1301 and it is correctly given for 
that year ; whereas in all other cases the first column represents 1800. 
(In some MSS. the year 1300 has been erroneously inserted in the first 
column for Venus.) What then could be more natural than that any 
one consulting the Almanac should fall into the error of suj^osing that 
the figures which he found in the first column of the Table of Venus 
represented (as in the case of all the other planets) her position in 1300 ? 
If Dante made this mistake, in a perhaps cursory inspection of the 

^ Of the six Bodleian MSS. referred to in the text, two contain Tables for the ' superior ' 
Planets only. In the remaining four, the Tables for Venus begin with 1301, and those for 
the other Planets with 1300. 

M. L. R. III. 26 



378 Miscellaneous Notes 

Almanac, he would find the position of Venus, say on April 10, to be 
about 20° within the sign of Pisces, and hence she was 

Velando i Pesci ch* erano in sua scorta. 

By consequence, as the Sun was in Aries, Venus would be a Morning 
Star, visible before Sunrise, as Dante has represented her. 

This interesting discovery not only destroys the supposed surviving 
argument for 1301, but entirely transfers it to the other side. It afibrds 
also an interesting illustration of the importance of interpreting astro- 
nomical passages in Dante by contemporary evidence and ideas, rather 
than by the Nautical Almanac. 

E. Moore. 



REVIEWS. 

Ooethes Faust, Erster TeiL Edited with introduction and commentary 
by Julius Goebel. New York : Henry Holt and Company, 1907. 
12mo. Ixi and 384 pp. 

The most striking and, I believe, most lasting impression of this new 
edition of Goethe's Faust is one of independence and originality of 
treatment. Here lie the elements of its strength ; but here also those 
of its weakness. Professor Goebel has given us a book of strong contrasts, 
in which high lights and deep shadows lie close together. 

The very learned apparatus of annotations is proof that this edition 
is intended for strictly technical study, primarily in the advanced and 
seminary work of universities. Under these circumstances, one must 
regret that the editor has not chosen to present the still unsolved 
problems of the poem with such impartial objectivity as would afiford a 
fair insight into tne pros and cons. Such a method would have enabled 
the student to judge for himself, without, of course, interfering with the 
right of the author to press his own point of view. The least that could 
be expected in this direction would be careful bibliographical references 
to the best authorities defending opposite views. These are but rarely 
given, although in other respects tne introduction and notes are bur- 
dened with often far-fetched references and quotations. A few excellent 
works are mentioned in the Preface (p. x). Of these, however, the 
commentaries of Friedrich Vischer, Kuno Fischer and Minor also give 
no bibliographical aid, whereas that given by Erich Schmidt is of almost 
enigmatic brevity. As a result, the student of GoebeFs edition is largely 
cut off from the great body of detailed Faiist criticism. A complete 
bibliography would, of course, have been out of the question ; but that 
valuable help can be given in even small compass is proved by the 
introductory bibliographies to the editions of Breul (London, Bell, 1905) 
and of Witkowski (Leipzig, Hesse, 1906). 

One of the most valuable features of the present edition is the 
numerous parallels not only firora Goethe's writings, but also from 
contemporary authors, primarily Herder and Schiller. Much of this 
material has been very well selected, as e.g., the notes on 11. 221 flf., 340 flf., 
386 ff., 464, etc. There are other instances where more appropriate 
quotations might have been given. In the note on 1. 766, e.g., I fail to 
see the appropriateness of the two passages quoted, whereas I miss the 

26—2 



380 Reviews 

excellent parallel from Herder on the interrelation of * Wunder ' and 
* Glaube ' quoted by Suphan {Ooethe-Jahrhuch, 6, 310). Similar cases 
are the notes on 1. 446 (cf. Herder, Sdmtl Werke, 6, 258), 1. 1112 (cf. the 
parallels quoted by Schmidt and Witkowski), 1. 2358 (letter to Schiller 
of April 28, 1798), etc. It is to be regretted that in his search for 
parallels Goebel has neglected Wieland. For in more instances than have 
been so far identified, phrases from Wieland, even though pitched in a 
very diflferent key, seem to have helped to influence Goethe's conceptions, 
I refer not only to the above-quoted notes of Schmidt and Witkowski 
on 1. 1112, but also to the passages quoted by Seuffert in his edition 
of the Fragment, p. iii ff. Quite unnecessary, on the other hand, are 
most, if not all, of the numerous quotations from Middle High German 
sources or other early writers^ many of which are not even particularly 
to the point (see the notes on 11. 1042 ff , 2101 f., 2765, etc.). So, for 
instance, Faust's dissatisfaction with human knowledge is commented 
on by quotations ranging from the thirteenth to the seventeenth century, 
whereas Rousseau and his general influence on his age are not even 
mentioned. As a*matter of fact, these medieval warnings against all 
but scripturally sanctioned knowledge have nothing in common with 
Faust's despair at the insufficiency of what it is given to man to know. 
If this characteristic storm and stress sentiment needs at all to be genea- 
logically traced, why not go back to 1 Cor, 13, 9 ? 

The most characteristic contribution of the edition to Faust criticism 
consists, however, in the systematic effort to trace Goethe's indebted- 
ness to the alchemistic and spiritistic literature with which he was 
likely to have become acquainted before 1772-3, when he came under 
Swedenborg's influence. Such an attempt is indeed welcome, for it has 
never been adequately undertaken before. Following Diintzer, Loeper 
and others quoted some disconnected parallels. Then Graffunder, in 
1891, in his article on * Der Erdgeist und Mephistopheles in Goethes 
Faust* made a more systematic investigation of those sources with which 
Goethe, according to his own testimony in Dichtung und WaJirheit, 
became familiar during his second stay at Frankfurt, 1768 — 1770, or 
shortly after. But the scope of Graffunder's investigation was limited, 
and he neglected whatever had no direct bearing on the 'Erdgeist.' 
In 1894, Erich Schmidt directed attention to Swedenborg and, as a 
result. Max Morris, in 1899, published his careful investigation of the 
interrelation between the thought-world of Faust and that of the 
Swedish ghost-seer. Unfortunately Morris, in his attempt to ascribe 
everything in question directly to Swedenborg, made too light of the 
evidence adduced by Graffunder. Even the highly suggestive passage 
from van Helmont's Paradoxal-Discourse, which Graffunder had quoted 
for the vision of the macrocosmos, found no favour with Morris. He 
declared that any attempt to establish an alchemistic basis for the 

1 Tliese parallels suggest the characteristic manner of B. Hildebrand, to whose * EEand- 
exemplar ' of Faust Goebel states his indebtedness for a number of valuable hints and 
references. It would have been interesting to know more in detail wherein we have to see 
Hildebrand*s ideas, as he himself has hardly published anything on the subject of Faust, 



Reviews 381 

opening monologue was doomed to failure, as such a basis did not exist. 
This statement, however, rests on an evident misconception of alchemy 
or at least of so-called alchemistic literature. It is true that the Faust 
of the opening monologue has ceased to be an alchemist in the narrower 
sense of the word (that he had formerly been one is shown by 11. 695 and 
1050); the aid which he expects from magic is of a spiritistic character. 
But alchemistic teachings are inextricably bound up with astrological 
speculation and a demonological cosmogony, this bein^ a natural result 
of the fundamental belief in the spiritual inter-relations between the 
stars, especially the seven planets (astrology), and the princip|al metals 
on the one hand (alchemy) and the sidenc or planetary spirits on the 
other (demonoloey). Innumerable passages from authors like Paracelsus, 
Welling, van HeTmont and others could be quoted in proof of the constant 
and subtle interdependence of these three spheres, and Goethe might 
have gathered almost all the elements of Faust's spiritism from these 
'alchemists.' At any rate, there can be no doubt that when, in 1772, 
he actually became acquainted with Swedenborg, his earlier alchemistic 
studies had rendered him peculiarly susceptible to this influence, as at a 
later date to that of Spinoza, and there is no special need of assuming 
with Morris that it was just the influence of Swedenborg that induced 
him to represent the magician Faust as primarily a conjurer of spirits. 

Now, Goebel assumes towards Morris and his theory the same nega- 
tive attitude which Morris had taken up towards GrafFunder. On p. 277 
Goebel says : * The parallel passages quoted by Morris are, with one or 
two exceptions, too general and fer-fetched to prove his point. More- 
over, it could easily be shown, if it were worth the while, that most of 
the ideas which Morris claims as ori^nal with Swedenborg occur in the 
alchemistic, cabalistic, and magic writings which Goethe studied.* But 
Goebel is not satisfied with this assertion, in support of which he is able 
to muster a good deal of interesting material ; he sets up a new idol in 
the place of Swedenborg, namely, lamblichus, the Neoplatonic philoso- 
pher of the foui-th century, the pupil of Porphyry and, hence, indirectly 
of PlotinuSi; or rather, the treatise on theurgy, be Mysteriis Aegyptiorum, 
which is generally ascribed to lamblichus, although his authorship is by 
no means certain. As Goebel makes no reference whatever to the other 
genuine writings of lamblichus, it is probably fair to assume that thev 
contain nothing that could be claimed to have influenced Goethe s 
Faust, In the Preface (p. viii) Goebel states: 'I attach a certain 
importance to my discovery that Goethe must have known and used 
lamblichus' book De Mysteriis! It seems natural, therefore, that in a 
detailed review of the edition the attempt should be made to test this 
new theory, especially as an earlier article by Goebel {Proceedings of the 
Amer. PhiloL Assoc, for 1905, pp. v — vi), as far as I know, has not led 
to any discussion of the subjects 

It is true, we know that Goethe, at an early age, was attracted to the 

^ Goebel (p. 289) refers to this article as * a detailed account of Goethe's indebtedness 
to lamblichus.' In reality it is a brief report of two pages, containing considerably less 
material than the introduction and notes of the present edition. 



382 Reviews 

study of Neoplatonism, not only in 1768 as Goebel assumes on p. xxix, 
but as early as 1764-5 (cf. Weimar-Ausgabe, 27, 382). This early 
study, however, concerned Plotinus and we find nowhere in Goethe's 
writings or conversations any mention of lamblichus. In fact, the 
evidence of the well-known passage of the eighth book of Dichtung und 
Wakrheit does not point in this direction at all. Of the authors there 
mentioned*, Goethe states his special interest in Welling's Opits Maffo- 
Cabbalisticuviy the Aurea Cateiia Hcytneri, Boerhave and Arnold ; to the 
same category belongs also Paracelsus who is frequently quoted by Goethe 
and whom, as we know from some of the entries of Uie Ephemerides, 
he specially studied. Lastly, it should not be overlooked that Goethe 
was exceedingly familiar with the Bible, the mystic suggestiveness of 
which for certain Faustian thoughts and conceptions has not yet been 
adequately recognized. 

These sources should obviously be thoroughly investigated, before 
explanations and * influences ' are looked for in other fields. This rule 
Goebel, who certainly has delved deeper into these dark regions than 
his predecessors, unfortunately does not observe; else he would not 
again and again refer to lamblichus or even more remote sources ideas 
which can be just as well or even better traced to Goethe's actual 
reading. 

In speaking of Welling, Goethe himself (Hempel-Ausgabe, 21, 118) 
notes the fact that this author traces his doctrine to the rf eoplatonists 
(Welling mentions Proclus, Porphyry, Plotinus, etc., but not lamblichus), 
and then continues: 'Gedachtes Werk erwahnt seiner Vorganger mit 
vielen Ehren, und wir wurden daher angeregt, jene Quellen selbst auf- 
zusuchen.' But then he goes on: * Wir wendeten uns nun an die Werke 
des Theophrastus Paracelsus und Basilius Valentinus, nicht weniger an 
Helmont, Starckey und Andere, deren mehr oder weniger auf Katur 
und Einbildung beruhende Lehren und Vorschriften wir einzusehen und 
zu befolgen suchten. Mir wollte besonders die "Aurea Catena Homeri" 
gefallen. Hence, at the very place where one might expect Goethe to 
refer to Neoplatonic studies, he does not do so ; and the account which 
Goebel on p. xxix gives of the passage in question is not an impartial 
statement of the facts. 

As soon as we try to establish 'direct' connections between spiritistic 
conceptions of the seventeenth or eighteenth century and Neoplatonic 
speculation, we tread on very uncertain ground ; not because the con- 
nections themselves are doubtful, but because the possibilities of how, 
in any given case, a connection may have been brought about are 
bewilaenngly numerous. Neoplatonic influences — partly introduced 
through Jewish or Mohammedan philosophy, partly through the 
Christian mysticism of the middle ages, partly through the Neoplatonic 
revival of the Renaissance — are being gradually recognized as of the 
utmost importance in shaping modern religious and philosophical 

' Welling, Paracelsus, Basilius Valeutinus, vau Helmont, Starckey, Aurea Catena 
Homeri, Boerhave and Arnold. To these should be added Agrippa, already referred to in 
the fourth book. Swedenborg and Spiuoza belong to a later period. 



Reviews 383 

thought. I need only refer to the overshadowing influence that scholars 
like Drews or Picavet have recently attributed to the djmamic pantheism 
of Plotinus. Goebel, of course, is not unaware of these intricate inter- 
relations (cf. e,g., pp. XX, 280, 288, etc.) ; he himself repeatedly traces 
certain teachings of Paracelsus and Agrippa to lamblichus and, on the 
other hand, emphasizes the influence of the men of the Renaissance 
upon later eclectic writers like Welling, van Helmont and others. He 
proves that many points ascribed by Morris exclusively to the influence 
of Swedenborg, who stands at the very end of the line in question, can 
be explained equally well from other sources. But he does not seem 
to be willing to admit that, similarly, many ideas in lamblichus may 
have found their way into Goethe's Faust through indirect channels. 
Goebel admits that Goethe is not likely to have read the fairlv diflScult 
Greek of De Mysteriia and says (p. xxix) that * he seems to have read 
[it] in Thomas Gale's translation (London, 1674)\' I do not see why 
just this inference should be drawn. Latin versions of lamblichus, 
generally together with analogous writings by Proclus, Porphyry, Mer- 
curius Trismegistus, etc., were repeatedly printed, e,g., Venice 1497, 
Basle 1532, l5)ndon 1552, Rome 1556. This point is not without 
importance, for it proves that the book was widely known and easily 
accessible during the Renaissance period, and that its teachings must 
easily have found entrance into later books on magic. 

The principal conceptions and expressions in Faust which to Goebel 
suggest the direct influence o( De Mysteriis^ are the following: (1) the 
character of the Earth-Spirit; (2) the character of Mephistopheles ; 
(3) Mephistopheles' relation to the Earth-Spirit; (4) the phenomena 
attending the appearance of the Earth-Spirit ; (5) the use of the moon- 
light (1. 386 ff.); (6) 'Seelenkrafb' (1. 424); (7) 'die heil'gen Zeichen' 
(1. 427); (8) 'dies geheimnisvolle Buch' (1. 419); (9) 'der Weise' (1. 442); 
(10) 'Dein Sinn ist zu' (1. 444); (11) 'Morgenrot' (1. 446); (12) 'Zwei 
Seelen...' (1. 1112); (13) 'die liebe Gottes^(l. 1185); (14) the attempt 
to translate John, 1, 1; (15) the praver to the Earth-Spirit in 'Wald 
und Hohle.' The great majority of these references belong to the 
opening monologue and are identical with those which Morris has 
attempted to trace to Swedenborg. This is especially true of the first 
four items. These are by far the most interesting and I shall be obliged 
to discuss them somewhat in detail. 

With regard to 1, 2 and 3, Goebel bases his argument chiefly on De 
Myst,, 9, 9: 'per Deum unum, Dominum Daemonum, agitur eorum 
[i.e., daemonum propriorum] invocatio, qui et a principio suum cuique 
Daemonem definivit... Semper enim in ritibus sacns inferior per 

1 Afl a matter of fact, Goebel does not seem to have quoted the text from this edition ; 
for on p. 279 eg,, where Par they (Berlin, 1S57) differs from Gale, Goebel follows the 
former. It is also to be regretted that the English translations occasionally given are 
taken from the poor and awkward rendering of Thomas Taylor (Ghiswiok, 1821). 

^ Goebel nses no uncertain langnage on this point. He not only claims * that Goethe 
was weU acquainted with the teachings of lamblichus ' (p. 279), but that he * carefully 
studied [De Mysteriii] for the conjuration of the Earth-Spirit* (p. zlv). Cf. also pp. 281, 
288, 291, 305. 



384 Reviews 

superiorera invocatur : (juare etiara de Daemonibus ut loquar, est unus 
quidem eorum dux qui generationis et mundi princeps est, isque ad 
unumcjuemque Daemonem suum dimittit/ This 'lord of demons/ 
according to Goebel (p. xlv), 'is, without doubt, identical with the 
Earth-Spirit,' by whom Mephistopheles is assigned to Faust as his 
'daemon proprius/ For Goebel, with the majority of Faust critics, 
assumes that, according to the plan of the Urfaust, Mephistopheles was 
to be a messenger of the Elarth-Spirit. If, however, Mephistopheles is 
to be considered as a ' daemon proprius,* evil spirits must be able to act 
in this capacity. This Goebel asserts. He says: 'The demon which 
this Spirit assigns to each individual may be either good or evil.' As a 
matter of fact, the teaching of lamblichus is very different. He believes, 
it is true, in the existence of evil demons, but he distinctly states that 
they cannot become 'daemones proprii.' Of. De Myst, 9, 7: 'Introducia 
autem et in ipsis pugnam, tamquam dominantium Daemonum alii boni, 
alii mali sint, cum tamen mali spiritus nusquam praefecturas habeant^' 
Going on to consider the relation in which Goethe intended the Elarth- 
Spirit to stand to Mephistopheles, Goebel continues: 'Following the 
directions of lamblichus, Goethe may have planned a scene in which the 
Spirit... informs Faust who his future companion is to be.' But this, 
too, is untenable. According to lamblichus, the ' daemon proprius ' is 
assigned to the soul even before it enters the world of bodies. Of De 
Mystj 9, 6 : * Hie igitur Daemon praeextiterat in paradigmate, prius- 
quam in genesin descenderet anima; hie. . statim animae adest,. . .quaeque 
cogitamus ab eo principium habent, et ea agimus quae nobis in mentem 
is induxerit, denique eatenus nos gubemat, quoad sacris perfecti pro 
Daemone Deum animae custodem et ducem adipiscamur.' In reading 
this passage one is tempted to think of Goethe's beautiful lines : 

Teilnehmend fuhren gute Geister, 
Gelinde leitend, h^chste Meister, 
Zu dem, der alles schafil und schuf, 

but certainly not of Mephistopheles who in the Urfaust appears even 
more fiendish than in the later stages of the poem. If we are to find 
in Mephistopheles a ' daemon proprius ' in the sense of De Mysteriis, he 
must be considered as a good spint and as the custodian of Faust's soul 
from the beginning. Such an assumption, however, is utterly impossible 
and would deprive the psychological problem, even of the Urfaust^ of all 
rational meaning. 

Assuming, however, for argument's sake, that Goebel's explanation 
of the relation of Mephistopheles to the Earth-Spirit be correct, then the 

1 ' Praefeotura,' with lamblichus, is the term for the assigned power which a * daemon 
proprius ' has over a human soul. The same view as to the ' daemones proprii * is also 
held by Agrippa, whom Goebel does not quote in this connection. Cf. De occulta philoso- 
phia, 3, 22 : ' Triplex unicuique homini daemon bonus est proprius custos.' This passage 
is especially interesting, for it shows that Goethe was not bound to get even the idea of a 
'dominus daemonum' from lamblichus, but could have taken it from Agrippa, who 
continues: * Daemon quidem saoer...a supema causa, ab ipso daemonum praeside dec 
descendenti animae rational! adsignatur.' 



Reviews 385 

latter is a * deus/ i,e., one of the first rank in the hierarchy of spirits, 
which larablichus generally enumerates in the following order: *dii, 
archangeli, angeli, daemones, heroes, archontes, aniraae/ The point is 
of some interest, for, according to lamblichus, this hierarchy is not only 
firmly established, but it must be carefully observed (see the passage 
quoted above: 'Semper enim in ritibus sacris inferior per superiorem 
invocatur,' 9, 9). In another connection, however (p. 355, as also p. 291), 
Goebel maintains that 'the Earth-Spirit belongs to the Archontes,' 
because, according to De Myst, 2, 5, it is they who ' either give us the 
government of mundane concerns or the inspection of material natures/ 
This definition Goebel requires in order to prove that 11. 3230-1 of the 
prayer to the Earth-Spirit (' Gabst mir die herrliche Natur zum Konig- 
reich...') are also based on lamblichus. That is, according to Be 
Myst, 9, 9, the Earth-Spirit must be a * deus * and according to 2, 5, he 
must be an ' archon,' notwithstanding the fact that the two orders are 
separated in the hierarchy of spirits by almost the entire length of the 
line. Besides, an * archon ' could not possibly be a power that controls 
and assies demons. For these are themselves of a higher order. As 
far as this point is concerned, it must therefore be maintained that the 
assumed relation of Mephistopheles and the E^rth-Spirit has no basis 
whatever in De MysteHia, 

4. The same confusion appears in Goebel's explanation of the 
phenomena attending the appearance of the Earth-Spirit. On p. 289 ff. 
Goebel enumerates thirteen different phenomena {e,g,y the darkening of 
the moon, the darting of red flashes of light, the vapour and so forth, as 
well as the various eflfects of the apparition upon Faust) and minutely 
traces each of them to some passage in De Myateriis, On examination 
we find that four of them are attributed by lamblichus to the ' dii,' five 
to the 'daemones,' two to the 'heroes,' one to the 'archontes.' One, 
finally, which is to explain the phrase: *Es weht ein Schauer vom 
Gew()lb' herab,' does not refer to spirit-apparitions at all, but to dream- 
visions {De Mvsty 3, 2). In itself, of course, it would not be strange if 
a poet should choose and connect elements that suit his purposes, 
regardless of their original significance. But we must remember that 
section 2 of De MysteHis, on which Goebel in this case bases his argu- 
ment, has no other purpose than to distinguish between the various 
phenomena and influences connected with the different orders of spirits^ 
Each chapter enumerates the different classes of spirits, explaining how 
they are to be distinguished with regard to size, splendour, effect upon 
the soul, etc. Such a mixing of the most heterogeneous of these 
elements, as we should have to assume for Goethe's Earth-Spirit, would, 
to say the least, be as foreign as possible to the teaching of De Mysteriis; 
whereas the account given by Goebel tends to produce the opposite 

^ Cf. De MysUf 2, 3 : ' Quaeria enim quo indicio cognoaeamus sat Beam apparere ant 
angelum ant archangelom ant daemonem aat aliquem principum aat animam. Uno igitur 
verbo Btatuo, eorum epiphanias respondere eoram essentiis, potestatibus et operationibos : 
quales enim snnt, tales invocantibus appaient...Sed nt singnlatim haeo determinem'... 
and then follows the description of the different apparitions and the phenomena associated 
with them. 



386 Reviews 

impression. His method may be judged from the following instance. 
On paffe 289 he says: *The eflfect of the apparition upon the conjurer is 
thus described by lamblichus, Sec. il, Cap. 3: "Daemones horribiles 
simt...obstupefaciunt...videntibus noxii occurrunt et dolores aflferunt" 
(" wie's in meinem Herzen reisst ") ; Cap. 6 : *' omnes nostras facultates 
in propria principia restaurant" ("Zu neuen Gefiihlen...").' As a 
matter of &ct, the last statement does not refer to ' daemones/ but to 
the *diiV of whom lamblichus repeatedly tells us: *Dii ordinem ef 
quietem in apparitionibus ostendunt...pulchritudine incomparabili ful- 
gent, admiratione spectantes defigunt, divinum quoddam instillant 
gaudium.' If, under such circumstances, Goethe's mdebtedness to De 
Myateriis is to be made plausible, it must be shown that the individual 
traits, taken by themselves, are of such a peculiar nature that Goethe 
could not have easily found them elsewhere. This, however, is not the 
case. In some instances, Morris has been able to quote as good or 
even far better parallels from Swedenborg*; others can be readily found 
in almost all books on magic ; others again are so natural to the situation 
that there is no need of tracing them to any literary source at all. 

Thus, also with regard to the phenomena attending the apparition of 
the Earth-Spirit, the scene to which Goebel attaches most importance 
in the attempt to prove his theoiy, I must insist that his deductions are 
not convincing. At the same time, several of the parallels which he 
quotes in this connection are very interesting and instructive, and I do 
not wish to deny all possibility of an interrelation between the descrip- 
tions in De Mysteriis and the scene in Faust Only, what similarity 
there is, need not be due to direct acquaintance on Goethe's part with 
lamblichus and can, under no circumstances, be claimed as the result 
of * careful study ' of De Mysteriis, 

I shall have to be very brief in the discussion of the remaining 
points. 5. The attempt to connect the moonlight scene (11. 368 ff.) 
with lamblichus is particularly unfortunate. De Myst, 3, 14, to which 
Goebel refers, reads: *Ideo congruenter illuminati tum tenebras in 
auxilium adsciscunt, tum etiam solem, lunam (et ut verbo dicam) uni- 
versum aetheris fulgorem ad illustrationem mutuantur.' Thus, no 
matter whether the scene in Favst took place in darkness, or sunlight, 
or moonlight, or dawn, Goebel could, with equally convincing force, 
trace it to lamblichus. The same is true of Welling, p. 418 (not 148), 
to which Goebel also refers. Here, too, no greater importance is attached 
to the moon than to the sun or any other planet. A real preference for 
the moon I have found only in Affrippa, De occ, philos., 2, 32, which 
seems to have escaped Goebel. The chapter treats * De sole et luna, 
eorumque magicis rationibus.' Of the moon Agrippa says: 'Motus ejus 
prae caeteris observandus est, quasi omnium conceptuum parentis.' 

^ Cf. e,g.t 1. 484 (*an meiner Sphare lang' gesogen'). It is again characteristio of 
Goebel'H method that he pasBes over this expression without comment. For only Sweden- 
horg has, so far, been shown to represent spiritual intercourse not only as *attractio,' but 
also as * suctio.' 



Reviews 387 

But I am far from attributing even to this source Goethe's poetic use of 
the rtioonlight motif, which, no doubt, had its origin in his own heart 
during many a real moonlight-night. 

6, 7. The belief in the supernatural powers of the * vis imagina- 
tionis,' its essential difference from all processes of reasoning, and its 
mysterious dependence upon the stars is at the basis of all theosophy 
and magic. Goebel's own quotations on p. 278 show it. Whether De 
My St., 3, 14 is actually the primary source of this theory or whether it 
did not exist long before the time of lamblichus, is quite immaterial to 
the point in question. Goethe could not help getting this fundamental 
idea from any one of his authorities, and the suggestive passage from 
Welling (ed. 1760), p. 122, quoted in full, would have been more helpfiil 
and more to the point than the one firom lamblichus. The same is true 
concerning the * heiFgen Zeichen ' of 1. 427. 

8, 9. With regard to ' das geheimnisvolle Buch von Nostradamus' 
eigner Hand ' (1. 419 f.) Goebel says : * The opinion of E. Schmidt and 
M. Morris, according to which Goethe really meant Swedenborg when 
he wrote Nostradamus, seems to me absolutely wrong.' But he un- 
hesitatingly adds : * It is far more probable that the " geheimnisvolle 
Buch " is lamblichus' De Mysteriis* Similarly he says of ' der W^eise ' 
of 1. 442 : ' [Goethe's] veneration for him does not appear to have been 
great enough^ to justify the creation of a monument to him in Faust ' ; 
but he asserts on the next page : * this philosopher (der Weise = philo- 
sophus) is, in my opinion, none other than lamblichus.' I must confess 
that I am rather at a loss how to account for such reasoning. One may 
readily admit that Schmidt and Morris have by no means proved that 
Swedenborg was meant, but they have certainly succeeded in supporting 
the assumption with a fair show of plausibility. I cannot see that 
better arguments, in fact, that any arguments at all, point to lamblichus. 

10, 11. The lines, ' Dein Sinn ist zu ' and * Auf, bade, Schuler,' etc., 
Goebel likewise claims should not be explained on the basis of Sweden- 
borgian terminology. He is inclined to consider them, too, as a * poetic 
translation ' of a certain passage in De Mysteriis, although this seems 
to me to be far less to tne point than those which Morris cites from 
Swedenborg. On the other hand, I again make the point, which 
Goebel's own further quotations support, that the two symbols of 
* unlocking ' and * illuminating ' belong to the regular stock-in-tiude of 
almost all hermetic writings, in the very titles of which they frequently 
play a prominent part. I refer to the excellent appendix (* Beitrag zur 
Bibliographie der Alchemic') to Herm. Kopp's Alchemie in dlterer und 
neuerer Zeit, Heidelberg, 1886, ii, 308—396. 

12. Of 1. 1112 (*Zwei Seelen wohnen, ach, in meiner Brust') Goebel 
says that it was * obviously suggested ' by De Myst, 8, 6 : * Homo duas 
habet animas, quod ipsa Hermetis sacra scripta ostendunt.' This 
passage is again without conclusive force, for it expresses a thought (the 

^ The passage from Goethe's review of Lavater's Auttichten in die Ewigkeit (W.-A., 
87, 261) which is generally referred to Swedenborg, Goebel, far less aooeptablj, desires to 
refer to Kiopstook. 



388 Reviews 

conflicting dualism of the soul of man) quite common to the mysticism 
of all ages and far older than lamblichus. I can here only briefly refer 
to the instructive note on this line in the edition of Witkowski and to 
the fact that even in De MysteHis the * Hermetic writings ' are referred 
to as a source. The quotation, as Goebel has it, is, moreover, marred 
by an omission which gives the passage a different turn and one unduly 
favourable to the construction Goebel puts on it. He says that, according 
to lamblichus, the one soul comes to us 'a primo intelligibili/ the other 
'ex circuitu mundorum.' The text, however, reads: *ex circuitu 
coelestium mundorum ' (eV rrj^ rwv ovpavioiv irepv^opas:), ue,, fix)m the 
stars. If, therefore, we are told of this second soul : * mundorum quoque 
obtemperat motibus,' this does not mean anything like 'sich an die 
Welt klammem ' in Goethe's sense. It simply means that this second 
soul is 'subject to the motion of the stars ^' As a matter of fact, the 
chapter, from which the passage is quoted, deals with the question 
whether, or not, there exists a fateful dependence of the human soul 
upon the heavenly bodies, and lamblichus answers the question by 
saying that the one soul (*a primo intelligibili*) is not dependent in this 
way, but that the second is. His statement has no direct reference to 
the Faustian idea, so beautifully expressed in the poem Legende : 

Mit dem Haupt im Himmel weilend, 
Fiihlen, Paria, dieser Erde 
Niederziehende Gewalt. 

Besides, passages concerning this two-soul-theory may be quoted from 
Paracelsus and Welling, to whom Goebel refers as little as to the quota- 
tions in the editions of Schmidt and Witkowski. 

13, 14. Goebel (p. 311) quotes passages from Agrippa and 
lamblichus which may have aided, he thinks, in determining Goethe to 
have Faust attempt the translation of the Gospel of John, Again the 
relation is far-fetched, and Goebel, who generally quotes Herder freely, 
does not even allude to the possible influence of Herder (cf. Suphan, 
Goethe-Jh., 6, 308). In 'die Liebe Gottes' of 1. 1185 Goebel is not 
willing to see an allusion to the ' amor intellectualis ' of Spinoza. He 
refers it to De Myst, 6, 26, where the religious effects of prayer are 
described. He says : * Instead of using theurgic prayers, Faust, the 
Christian " magus," turns, of course, to the New Testament.' If we 
really assume this passage to have influenced the scene in Famt, Goethe 
must be accused of having put the cart before the horse. For, with 
him, ' die Liebe Gottes ' is not the result of turning to the Bible, but 
rather the cause leading up to it. 

15. Faust's fervent thanks to the Earth-Spirit for having granted 
him insight into nature Goebel (p. 355) wishes also to trace to De 
Mysteriis, where (2, 5) we learn of the ' archontes ' : * vel praesidentiam 
rerum mundanarum exhibent, vel materialium studium.* Granting 
even that the Elarth-Spirit could be one of the * archontes ' (see above, 
page 385), I still fail to see any real resemblance. The Greek text 

^ The translation by Thomas Taylor, which Goebel quotes, is awkward and obscure. 



Reviews 389 

(apxovT€^ Bk ijTOi Ti)v irpoa-raa-iav rdv ireptKoafuayv rj Tr)v t£p ivvXcop 
emoTaa-iav hfX'^tpl^ovai) perhaps shows more plainly than the Latin 
translation that what is here meant is something quite different from 
the feeling of oneness with all nature expressed in the prayer. 

In summing up the evidence which I have tried to examine with 
all possible care and impartiality, I feel compelled to say that Goebel 
has not been able to show plausible grounds for assuming that Goethe 
knew De Myateriis, The most telling parallels which he is able to 
adduce are concerned with the phenomena attending the apparition of 
the Earth-Spirit, and even these cannot be considered reasonably 
convincing. The idea that Goethe 'carefully studied* the book and 
consciously used it as a source, must be dismissed altogether. 

There are a number of other instances, not involving lamblichus, 
where Goebel has fallen into the same error of trying to prove too 
much by unduly straining his evidence. The most objectionable case 
occurs in the attempt to explain the much discussed * goldnen Eimer ' 
of 1. 460. Unfortunately this point cannot be made clear in a word or 
two. The passage has puzzlea commentators for a long time and the 
work from which Goebel quotes is sufficiently rare to permit but few 
investigators to test the correctness of his statement for themselves. 
Goebel claims that, according to the terminology of alchemy, *the 
" Eimer " (uma) is not only the vessel in which the philosopher's stone 
is made, but also a celestial body.' This he tries to prove oy a quota- 
tion from J. P. Faber, Chymiache Schrifften, Hamburg, 1713^ As a 
matter of fact, fairly extensive reading in alchemistic literature and the 
examination of numerous * lexica alchemiae ' convince me that if the 
word is ever so used, such use must be exceedingly rare. I have never 
found * Eimer' in that sense. Besides, practically all writers on the 
subject emphasize the fact that the vessel (generally called *Ei' or 
*ovum') must be of glass*. The sentences, which Goebel wrenches from 
all context, in reality mean something entirely different from what they 
are made to represent. They are taken from an abstruse section: *Von 
alien und jeden Constellationen des Firmaments, aus welchen Theilen 
des Lichts selbige bestehen und was fiir Kraffte sie haben.' The chapter 
in question is entitled: 'Von dem Becher oder Eymer (Uma) dem 42sten 
Gestim [i.e., Stembild] des Firmaments.' Each such chapter starts off 
in a rather stereotyped manner, as e,g, 1, 175: * Pegasus oder das 
geflUgelte Pferd ist das 19de Gestim des Firmaments, ist nichts anders 
als das Licht der Natur, welches aus der ersten Massa der ersten Materie 
in die Hohe sublimiret, dem Firmament angehefftet und in 20. Sterne 
abgetheilet worden...* The same sort of statement (* Dieser Eymer ist 
auch das Licht der Natur...') is thus also made about the * Eymer,' 
%.e,, the constellation of that name, although Goebel, without a word of 
comment, quotes it (incorrectly in some details), as if it referred to the 
alchemist's vessel. Moreover, bent upon explaining the beneficial influ- 
ences of his * Eimer ' (' mit segenduftenden Schwingen '), Goebel stops 

^ I quote from the 2nd ed., 1725. 

« E,g,, Neue alehijm. Bibl. (1772-74). i, 2, 234. 



390 Reviews 

the quotation too soon. It runs on: 'Dieses Gestim machet auch eitele 
und liigenhaflfte Menschen, wie auch unbestandige, ungesunde und wei- 
bische, wie auch woUUstige/ 

These statements about the climatic and psychic influences of a 
given constellation are followed in each case by a mythological story 
trying to account for the existence of the constellation, and finally by 
an attempt to compare allegorically the constellation with something 
connected with alchemy. To account for the 'uma' in the heavens, the 
author tells the blood-curdling stoiy of king Demiphon to whom his 
exasperated vassals handed a goblet (Becher) from which he drank the 
blood of his own daughter. Then the account continues : * Jupiter aber 
hat dieses Gefass im Himmel haben wollen, dass es daselbst unter die 
Gestime gesetzet wUrde, damit die Konige hieraus lemen m5chten, dass 
ihnen nicht zugelassen sey, ihre Untertnanen dergestalt zu beleidigen. 
Der Eymer ist also im Himmel, welcher die Rache so vieler Bubenstticke 
in sich enthalt. Der Eymer aber oder der Becher, ist bei denen Chy- 
misten unser Gefass, worin unser Stein gekochet wird.' The author, 
that is to say, casting about for something in alchemy that might be 
said to represent the ' Eimer ' of the heavens and the * Becher ' of his 
story, chooses the ' ovum * of the alchemists because, as he explains, the 
various processes of the preparation of the philosophers' stone can be 
compared with the pestilence, murders, wedding-feasts and blood- 
drinking that play an unsavoury part in the story of Demiphon. 

As a matter of fact, not even Faber himself ever calls the alchemists' 
vessel 'Eimer' or *urna,' and I think the above explanation plainly shows 
that the * Eimer' actually referred to in Faber is anything but *segen- 
duftend.' It is difficult to take seriously the suggestion that Goethe 
could have based his vision on this source. 

Of real interest, however, among many others, is the passage which 
Goebel advances in explanation of 11. 1042 ff. (* Da ward ein roter Leu,' 
etc.). It is decidedly more to the point than the comments of earlier 
editors. But the Theatrum Ghemicum, from which Goebel quotes, is 
merely a compilation containing the works of various writers, and 
Goebel should state that the passage in question occurs in the Congeries 
Paracelsicae Chemiae by Gerardus Domeus. The original passage I 
found in Paracelsus' De Spiritibus Planetarum and it is thus additional 
proof that the whole extent of Paracelsian influence upon Goethe's 
Faust has not yet been recognised \ 

This is one of those instances where, as I have stated above, even 
Goebel has not made sufficient use of the alchemistic literature un- 
questionably known to Goethe. I hope to publish soon some gleanings 
from my reading in this literature and to show that it contains more 
material of interest for the student of Faust and young Goethe than ha? 

fenerally been believed. Goebel himself (p. xxx) points out that a 
reader significance attaches to these questions, inasmuch as many of 
the fundamental conceptions of alchemistic and spiritistic writers, like 

^ Ct Loeper's introduction, p. li, and E. Schmidt's note on 1. 1034. 



Reviews 391 

Paracelsus, Agrippa, Welling, van Helmont and others, show a decided 
affinity to characteristic principles of the ' Sturm und Drang ' and of its 
chief, apostle Herder, uoebers edition contains a great deal of new 
material that is decidedly valuable in this respect and it must be 
acknowledged that he has gone considerably further afield than any of 
his predecessors; his results will modify, though not supersede, the one- 
sided Swedenborgian theory too exclusively adhered to of late. 

In conclusion, I regret to be obliged to call attention to one aspect 
of the edition, where the editor has sorely failed to meet reasonable 
expectations. While the introduction and the text are entirely accept- 
able with regard to all minor matters of accuracy, the proofe of the 
notes must have been read with unpardonable haste. Of the 137 pages 
of notes I have marked over eighty which are disfigured by errors of all 
kinds, often three or four or more to a page. Of course, the majority of 
them are of a minor nature, readily corrected by the reader ; but there 
are many that seriously affect the sense. In the following list I mention 
but a few of the most annoying. I generally confine myself to giving 
the corrected form, occasionally adding Goebers reading in brackets: 
xxii, 2 f. b. : fein [sein]; xlv, 11: Welt- und Thatengenius (c£ xlix 
and 267); xlvii, 16: comma after 'vernehme*; 1, 7: Thaten-Genuss 
(also in other points Goebers reading of the first paralipomenon is not 
in accord with the MS., and the reading on p. 1 differs from that of 
p. 332); li, 15: geschaftig; Ixi, 9: konnen [diirfen]; 3,5: euch; 80, 
1768: geheilt; 178,3482: verzeih'; 229,5: dass; 253,16: erschien; 
263, 16: ging'; 264, 23: 343 [43]; 267, 15: 122 [20]; 267, 16 ff.: 
the passage is incorrectly quoted; 271, 4: schlendem [schleudern] ; 
272, 16 : ein FUrst (there are numerous other errors in this quotation, 
as in several of the following) ; 273, 13 f. b. : 461 [401] ; 274, 1 f. b. 
418 [148] ; 275, 3 : keusch ; 278, 18 : gethan gleich als (also this pas- 
sage is very imperfectly quoted and unintelligible at the close); 279, 12 
a se ipsa; 280, 13: 439 [459]; 280, 16: nach [in] (numerous other 
errors in this passage) ; 281 , 20 : no comma after * visiones * ; 283, 9 
aliquam [alignam] ; 285, 13 f b. : die H5he ; 285, 9 f. b. : wurtzliche 
Feuchtigkeit; 288, 6: Lxviii [lviii]; 289, 2: conspicitur [conscipitur]; 
289, 3 : solem [solum] ; 289, 8 : Cap. 2 [4] ; 289, 10 : sensu et ; 289, 
17: erwUhlen [erwahlen]; 290, 6: docent [docet] ; 290, 15: pronun- 
ciata«; 290, 14 f. b. Quomodo [Unomodo]; 300, 7 : 638 [633]; 305, 9: 
ex circuitu coelestium mundorum; 305, 10: anima quae; 307, 4, 3 f. b.: 
vermis [vermio], donee [dones]; 307, 2 f. b. : instar [istar]; 316, 18: in 
[is]; 328, 22: ii, 13, g [9]; 329, 16: den [der]; 330, 14: no comma 
after * Volk '; 330, 25 : period after ' verrannt ' ; 333, 5 f. b. : hier [wir] ; 
338, 11: eingezaunt; 341, 8, 7 f. b. : erfuhr, aufgeblahet, vom; 342, 
8 f. b. : Stolberg ; 342, 5 f. b. : alle ; 348, 1 : 2495 [2995] ; 353, 3 f b. : 
2939 [2936]; 354, 13: Ihr's; 355, 6f. b.: mundanarum [mundarum] ; 
356, 6: qui [quid]; 356, 7: ad unumquemque dimittit daemonem suum; 
362, 10: constitutes; 363, 4: ahnte; 365, 8 f. b.: auf ; 368, 4: diesen; 
368, 9: vom; 371,5: no comma; 371, 9f. b.: Henisch; 371, 7 f b.: 
direction; 375, 4: 4119; 378, 11: geblieben [gebUchen]; 378, 7 f. b. and 



392 Reviews 

379, 8: there is no note on 11. 3241 ff.; 379, 14: Lenore; 381, 15: 
freies ; 381, 8 f. b. : grasses ; 382, 8 flf. : Machandelbaum ; 382, 10 f. b. : 
Phantasieen ; 383, 21 : batten ; 384, 5 f. b. : comma before ' Goethe/ 

Such an array of sins against one of the cardinal points of sound 
scholarship cannot be overlooked or made light of. In all other respects, 
however, I am glad to be able to state that the errors I have pomted 
out are those of a scholar overshooting his aim rather than not rising 
to the demands of his task. The range of reading and of original 
investigation represented by the edition must receive unstinted recog- 
nition. The treatment, as I have shown, not infrequently lays itself 
open to the charge of exaggeration and is often deficient in impartiality, 
but it is never commonplace or trivial. The future student of Faust — 
not only in England and America, but in Germany as well — cannot 
aflFord to overlook Goebel's work, even though he be not in agreement 
with him on many points. 

A. R. HOHLFELD. 

The Syntax of the Temporal Clause in Old English Prose. By Arthur 
Adams. {Yale Studies in English,\o\.yiyiyin.) New York : H. Holt 
and Co., 1907. 8vo. x + 245 pp. 

* The aim of this study is to treat exhaustively all the important 
syntactical features of the temporal clause in all the prose monuments 
of Old English.* In this endeavour Dr Adams has succeeded admirably, 
giving us an almost perfect basis, within the limits assigned, for wider 
generalization. About forty prose texts have been sifted, yielding 
nearly nine thousand clauses which have the function of an adverbial 
determinant of time. These have been analyzed with remarkable 
clearness of vision, and their significant elements classified as follows. 

Chapter I presents the * Connectives of the Clause.* Over two 
hundred words or formulse are noted, a fact which emphasizes anew 
the inherent variety and flexibility of our mother tongue. These 
Dr Adams arranges under six categories : clauses denoting time when ; 
clauses denoting immediate sequence; clauses denoting duration; clauses 
determining the time of an action by reference to a preceding action; 
clauses determining the time of an action by reference to a subsequent 
action ; clauses indicating the time of the termination of the action of 
the main clause. Under each of these six groups are fiill citations 
illustrating each separate connective, with brief but pointed discussion 
of its origin, structure, syntactical, and stylistic value; also, where 
possible, note is made of its parallel in cognate languages and in the 
later stages of English itself 

In addition to this breadth of view, a commendable independence 
marks these sections. I cannot forbear noting one instance, under 
st6^any on page 100: *This conjunction is, according to Sweet, com- 
pounded of the preposition «ttS and its object in the dative. Others 
regard ^an as being the instrumental in a phrase of comparison. I 
incline to the latter view; for 5cpm does not become Can until the later 



Reviews 393 

period of OK, and we have sitSfSan in the earliest texts. Indeed I have 
found but one instance of sitStSam in all OE., and that in a text the 
language of which is late : SoL 45. 10. . . . The fact that we never, or 
very rarely, find the relative [tSe] with sitS-^an, whereas we regularly 
have it with cefter tSon or ofr Cow, lends support to the view that 
the conjunction arose from a phrase of comparison.' This chapter is 
naturally the most useful, and justly occupies seven-eighths of the 
whole volume. • 

Chapter II discusses *The Mode in the Temporal Clause* in each 
of the six types mentioned above. Here the author proves that the 
indicative is the prevailing mode in the temporal clause, save in the 
cer-type — those which determine the time of an action by reference to 
a subsequent action. Furthermore, he shows that the so-called modal 
auxiliaries, miigan, sculaUj motan, and wUlan, retain their full verbal 
cpntent, and are not used as a mere paraphrase for the optative. Sculan 
and willan alone show a tendency to become tense-auxiliaries. 

Chapter III, which closes the study, is entitled 'Position of the 
Clause and Word Order,' though under it are embraced 'Sequence of 
Tenses' and 'Negative/ The whole occupies hardly more than a page; 
its brevity and its dearth of results seem to argue its inadequacy — 
though it is perhaps unwarranted in another than the author, ipse 
expertus, to say so. However, one interesting, if not surprising, fact is 
proved: otJ (piet) clauses always follow their main clause. 

Appendix I gives in sixty-seven pages a valuable analytic index-list 
of all temporal clauses ; Appendix II enumerates all clauses containing 
modal auxiliaries; Appendix III is a brief bibliography; Appendix IV is 
an index of clauses quoted or referred to in the text — a helpful feature 
worthy of imitation in all books of this kind ; as is also Appendix V, an 
alphabetical 'Index of Connectives' — over two hundred of them — with 
page-references to the body of the work. Six carefully compiled and 
clearly printed statistical tables complete the volume. 

In all, the monograph is a clear, complete, and vigorous handling of 
a field worthy of study. Its conclusions are definite, yet always sane ; 
its data are of great practical value to the student of the lexical, 
syntactical, or synonymic phenomena of the period. 

For adverse criticism there is little warrant in the book. What I 
offer in the following paragraphs may seem open to the charge of 
cavilling. However, I find myself wishing that in the section-headings 
under the first chapter the author had indicated just what portions of 
the 'split connectives,' e,g.y sona . . . s^ifi'^an, swa . . . oftost, etc., occur within 
the temporal clause, and what portions, if any, occur within the main 
clause. A comma separating the subordinate connective proper from 
its balancing element in the main clause — as used in the index-lists on 
page 192, for example — would have easily served this end. Usually a 
glance will determme the function of each part of the connective, but 
occasionally a vexing inconsistency arises ; as may be seen by comparing, 
for example, st^San , . . j*afSe, on page 77 — both parts of which occur 
within the temporal claiise — with sif^^an . . . sifS6an, on page 104 — one 

M. L. R. III. 27 



394 Reviews 

part of which occurs within the subordinate clause, and the other part 
within the main clause. 

The following omissions of passages more or less in point I have 
observed, in comparing the booK with some casual notes of my own. 
On page 17, under 5a Cci, one perhaps has a right to expect, among 
the other peculiar forms of *balance,\6a, tSa 5a ..., 5a, of Lives of Saints, 
2.248.471: *and se haedena 5a 5a 5a he hine slean wolde 5a feoU he 
underbsBc/ Also noteworthy is 5a 5a . .., 5e of Lives of Saints, 2. 372. 276 : 
'5a 5a maximus saede swa sodlice das word weopendum eagum 5e 
gewendon da hsedenan manega to geleafan fram heora leasum godum.' 

On paffe 28, to the ten 5e-clauses cited as temporal I am inclined to 
add Wtilf, 164. 14 : ' and aefter dsere bysne, de god sylf on Adame 
astealde, 5« he hine for his halignesse and for his godnesse on fruman in 
paradyso gelogode, aefter daere bysene we ladjad and logjad cristene men 
into godes huse.' Tending to prove this clause temporal rather than 
appositional is line 25 : 'be daere bysene de god on Adame astealde, 
5a 5a he hine nydde ut of paradise, be daere bysne we eac nydad ut da 
forsyngodan of godes cyrican.* 

On page 33, in support of the 5a in the MS. T reading for Bede, 
168. 2, *da gelomp in seolfan tid, 5amon done cyning fulwade, daet daer 
waes ' — which Dr Adams is inclined to reject in favour of the 5e of MSS. 
B and C* — might well have been cited Mart, 2. 10 : ' on dam geare 5a 
he waes acenned da aeteawdon swylc tacn swylce mannum aer naeron ne 
naefre siddan.' * 

On page 61, to the unique example of nu temporal add Blick, Horn., 
39. 1 : 'donne is nu to gedencenne on das halgan tid, nu we ume lichoman 
claensiad mid faestenum and mid gebedum, daet we eac ure mod ge- 
claensian'; and perhaps Wulf 185.3: *and da ungesaeligan yrraingas 
nellad nu daet gedencan ne his willan be sumon daele wyrcan, nu hig 
eade magon.' 

On page 81, to the five cited examples of sona 5a add Mart. 2. 4 : 
' ond sona 5a he acenned waes, heofonlic leoht scean ofer eall daet land.' 
And to the three instances of the periphrastic * 7ues 5a ncenig hwil to 
5an sona swa* should be subjoined mick. Horn., 87. 16 : * noes 5a ncenig 
ylding to'6on 5a deos ben waes gehjnred, 5a sona seo unarimede menigo 
haligra saula mid Drihtnes haese waeron of daem cwicsusle ahafena (sic).' 

On page 128, under the discussion of various peculiarities of the o5 
^cet clause, Bede, 474. 17, o5 tScet ,.., o5 ^cet, should not have been 
overlooked: 'ond he blissade in don daet he o5 ticet in lichoman ge- 
healden waes, otS tScet he geseah da his geherend done Eastordaeg onfon.' 
In fact, the author would have added much to the completeness of his 
book by a careful consideration throughout of the 'balancing' adverbial 
element, which he mentions, by the way, on page 15. 

On page 221, the omission of Chron. 48.4 from the index-list of 
o5 fScet clauses is the only error that I have chanced upon in this 
laborious yet essential portion of the volume. The proof-reading is 
everywhere excellent : 1 find the list of errata commendably short, 
having noticed but the following : page ix, suggestion for suggestions ; 



Reviews 395 

page 20, fortsolenne for forstolenne; page 29, deobla for deoflu; page 45, 
occur sonly for occurs only; page 67, sono for sowa; page 77. 9b, 
the first si6iian italicized instead of the second ; page 107, tough for 
though ; page 122, gefcetnode for gefosstnode ; page 148, reson for reason] 
page 156, denothes for denotes, and 7/iere svbstitutes for a wer^ svbstitute. 
The book is a model of neatness and perspicuity — rare virtues both in 
works on syntax. I am acquainted with no other monograph so 
' comfortable * either for re<iding or for quick and accurate reference. 

Hubert G. Shearin. 

Early English Lyrics: Amorous, Divine, Moral and TriviaL Chosen 
by E. K. Chambers and F. Sidgwick. London: A. H. BuUen, 
1907. 8vo. X + 384 pp. 

The value of this book is incalculable; it includes the best of a 
number of separate collections, which were not easily accessible; poems 
of the great Harleian MS. 2253, songs and carols edited by Wright for 
the Percy Society and the Warton Club, and, freshest of all, the lyrics 
of the Balliol MS. printed by Flugel in Anglia, xxiv; with many other 
things, full of the most delightful and varied music. Many of the poems 
are well known, but they have never before been brought together in 
such numbers nor in so pleasant a form. 

It is useless to attempt a choice among them, but Lxxxi: 'The 
faucon hath borne my make away * is now in effect made known for the 
first time ; one of the incredibly beautiful things of the English ballad 
style. A ballad of another sort, The Jolly Juggler (cl), had already 
been brought out by Mr Sidgwick in his selection of Popular Ballads, 
also published by Mr BuUen, but it is still comparatively little known, 
and may be mentioned here for that reason ; a capital specimen of an 
old comic story, in excellent lyric rhyme. 

Mr E. K. Chambers' essay has the same qualities as his book on the 
Medieval Stage, and especially the right skill in selecting examples. 
His subject is one of the most difficult, but though he professes to deal 
only with ' some aspects of medieval lyric,' it will be found that he has 
surveyed most of the field. He has read Jeanroy and Gaston Paris on 
old French lyrical poetry; he hjvs also read the French poems themselves, 
and others, and has worked out a very clear description of the difference 
between ' folk-song' and the courtly lyric of the trouvferes with (what is 
most important) a description of the intermediate sort of poetry, half 
primitive, half courtly, to which the carols and ballads belong. The 
*" folk ' of * folk-song ' and ' folk-lore * is rather apt to become an abstract 
and fixed idea ; Mr Chambers guards against this, and shows that there 
is no absolute separation of ranks in medieval poetry, though there are 
the two extremes, the ' folk,' on the one hand, the sophisticated literary 
artist, on the other. The English lyrics of the middle ages are popular 
in the same sense as the Elizabethan drama ; ages of literary tradition 
and artifice contribute to the beauty of their popular verse. 

W. P. Keb. 

27—2 



396 Reviews 

English Miracle Plays and Moralities, By E. Hamilton Moore. 
London and Manchester: Sherratt and Hughes, 1907. 8vo. 
pp. 199. 

' The book is intended mainly for those who have neither time nor 
inclination for private research, and is thus rather popular than 
scholastic, in view of which fact, the majority of extracted passages have 
been moctemised in spelling and occasionally in phrase. At the same 
time, for the benefit of those who wish to further investigate the subject, 
a short list of the best authorities on English Mysteries and Moralities, 
will be found appended at the end of the volume/ 

These sentences from the ' foreword,' with their doubtful style and 
punctuation, perhaps suflBciently characterize the work. Something 
might certainly be said for normalizing the rather erratic language of 
the early drama, but we wish the author had kept his fingers oflf Chaucer. 
The essentially popular nature of the book is seen most clearly from the 
eccentric 'Students* List' appended, which recommends amonc; other 
things the inaccurate and modernized reprints of the so-called Early 
English Drama Society and the exceedingly bad translation of ten 
Brink's History of English Literature in Bohn's Library. The Early 
English Text Society, by the way, has only issued the first half of the 
Chester Plays, so that the Shakespeare Society edition is not yet 
superseded. We have noticed quite a number of curiosities in the 
text. There is the obsolete and illegitimate distinction drawn between 
Miracles and Mysteries (p. 13), and the equally obsolete treatment of 
the dehat called the Harrowing of Hell as * The first English Mystery 
Play ' (p. 23). The MS. of the Coventry Guild Plays is said to have 
perished in the fire at Birmingham*(p. 40), whereas it is extant and has 
recently been re-edited. The Vice is said to be a degenerate Devil 
(p. 58), which suggests that Mr Moore has not consulted the more 
recent of the 'Authorities' he enumerates, and is further made the 
father of the Harlequin, who certainly belongs to Italian tradition. 
Finally, we may point out that the last two lines of p. 95 properly belong 
to the middle of p. 121, and that a footnote has crept into the middle 
of p. 101. The author's intention to write a popular account of the 
religious drama is a laudable one, but we cannot help thinking that its 
popularity would not have suffered from its being carried out in a some- 
what nifvre scholarly (we will not say * scholastic ') manner, and printed 
with a little more ordinary care. 

W. W. Greg. 



All Fooles and the Gentleman Ushei\ By George Chapman. Edited 
by T. M. Parrott {Belks Lettres Series, Sect. iii). Boston : Heath 
and Co.; London: G. G. Harrap, 1907. 8vo. xlviii + 308 pp. 

While scholars have spent well-directed labour upon the text of 
Marlowe, Webster, Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger and Ford, the 



Reviews 397 

plays of the noblest soul and most original thinker among the dramatists 
of that age have suffered comparative neglect There is no edition of 
Chapman's works worthy of the name. With Professor Boas's Bxissy 
D'Ambois and The Revenge of Bossy D'Anibois, Dr Lehman's Chaboty and 
the book now to be noticed, there comes promise of better days. 

Professor Parrott is well-equipped for his task. Throughout this 
edition of Chapman's two finest comedies there is abundant evidence of 
deep study and true appreciation of the author. At the very beginning 
of the book, for instance, the * Biography ' achieves its professed purpose 
of giving a more connected view of Chapman's work than is usually 
afforded. In fact this brief chronicle is full of suggestive criticism, and 
wherever Professor Parrott expresses disagreement with his predecessors 
he does so only when he feels sure of his ground. There is an absence 
of haste, a convincing tone of deliberation, in all his judgments. He 
does not believe that Chapman withdrew from the stage about the end 
of the sixteenth centurv to devote himself to his translation of Homer, 
though he admits that ne severed his connection with Henslowe. * It is 
more likely,' he says, * that... Chapman simply transferred his services as 
playwright from Henslowe's company to the Chapel Boys, who were 
playing at the private theatre in Blackfriars from 1698 to 1603.' He 
shares the growing disbelief in Chapman's authorship of Alphonsus, but, 
on the other hand, he believes, on evidence which he has set forth at 
large in Modern Philology for July 1906, that Sir Giles Goosecappe is 
mainly, if not entirely, by that dramatist. He can see Shirley's revising 
hand in Chabot and can trace Chapman's manner in the last act of 
The Ball. Revenge for Honour is dismissed from the canon by a 
footnote. 

In his * Introduction ' the editor not only deals critically with the 
two reprinted plays, but skilfully traces the development of Chapman's 
art as a comic dramatist, and proceeds to evolve his theory of comedy 
as compared with that of contemporary writers. The result of the latter 
attempt is not entirely satisfactory. Professor Parrott rightly accuses 
Chapman of defective construction and a devotion to type m characteri- 
zation, though even here his judgment is modified by remarkable 
exceptions ; but when he tells us that Chapman's comic excellence lies 
in action, and yet comments upon a notable absence of action in one of 
his most admirable comedies. Monsieur D*Olive, as well as in the less 
important Sir Giles Goosecappe, one is left moralizing on the danger of 
generalizations. It is only fair to add that he finds reason for believing 
that Chapman himself was dissatisfied with Sir Giles Goosecappe and 
offers a likely conjecture to account for the emptiness of action in the 
comic scenes of Monsieur UOlive. The * Introauction ' concludes with 
a diffident but suggestive remark on the possible influence of Chapman 
upon Fletcher's romantic comedies. 

The ' Notes ' for the most part fulfil their functions satisfactorily by 
showing Chapman's occasional borrowings, explaining obscure allusions 
and elucidating difficult passages. Of course there is room for differ- 
ences of opinion, and a few of the explanations appear to me less than 



398 Reviews 

satisfactory. For example, when Valerio complains, A. F,, ii, i, 53, that 
he receives begging messages from 

such gallants 
As I protest I saw but through a grate, 

he does not mean merely that he has seen them from a door, or at a 
distance, but that he has caught sight of them peering into the street 
through the well-known grating of the Counter. Then, the explanation 
of -4. F., IV, i, 86 — 92 is as obscure as the text it professes to elucidate, 
and Collier was probably right when he proposed the substitution of 
'crater' for 'creator' — 

as mauy drops of blood 
Issuing from the crater of my hart,... 

J.i^., IV, i, 410: 

And yee shall see, if like two partes in me 
I leave not both these gullers wits imbrierd;... 

is certainly a crux, arid the editor is not incautious in suspecting cor- 
ruption. Am I too desperate in suggesting 'two faste in ice'? Turning 
now to The Gentleman Usher, one cannot but feel that the note on I, ii, 
95 is incomplete. Strozza compares the Duke to ' the English signe of 
^eat Saint George.' By ' signe ' of course he means symbol, but there 
IS also a reference to a common type of sign-board, or perhaps to some 
London sign-board of particular notoriety. The jest is emphasised by 
Strozza's subsequent words (146), 'I hope Saint Georges signe was 
grosse enough.' In G. U,, v, i Professor Parrott, apparently, has found 
evidence of Bas»siolo's recourse to liquor only in his pronunciation of 
'Gosh hat' (26) and 'shay' (32); but his language and conduct through- 
out the scene are eloquent of intoxication until he is suddenly sobered 
by the unexpected approach of the Duke. Most admirers of Chapman 
will be surprised to nnd the claims of Margaret and Strozza to the right 
of individual action regarded as results of Chapman's love of paradox 
(note on G. U., v, ii, 36) rather than as inevitable illustrations of his 
nobly independent attitude towards the outer world, his knowledge that 
the virtuous man can accept no lawgiver but his own soul. Bussy and 
Byron arrogate to themselves similar rights, but they are not * virtuous.* 
Love triumphs in the person of Margaret, whereas the failure of a 
loveless self-sufficiency is shewn in the crashing falls of the arrogant 
favourite and the domineering upstart. 

Professor Parrott 's 'Bibliography' is fuller than the case actually 
demands, since it records a number of works which do not deal directly 
with All Fooles or The Gentleman Usher, However, recognising the 
comprehensive principle of compilation, one may regret the exclusion 
of Lowell's Old English Dramatists, Mr Deighton's disappointing but 
not negligible The Old Dramatists: Conjectural Readings, Professor 
Williams' Specimens of the Elizabethan Drama, Dr Carpenter's Metaphoi" 
and Simile in the Minor Elizabethan Drama, Dr Lehman's edition of 
Chabot (which may have appeared after the bibliography was in type?), 
and perhaps a few other works. The annotation of the bibliography is 
invaluable. 



Reviews 399 

The * Glossary ' is fairly long, and yet a few forms have been omitted 
for which an editor of less scholarly attainments might justly have found 
place. ' Nodle ' (-4. F., iv, i, 274) is unfamiliar, and ' conduct-am ' (ii, i, 
140) is strange; 'coines' (0. CT., ii, i, 4) might not readily be recognised 
as *coyness,' and the exclamation *slood' or 'slud,' which occurs at least 
five times in The Gentleman Usher, is at least curious. When a word 
admitted to the glossary occurs more than once in the text, a reference 
should be given to each example. Thus Professor Parrott notes that 
' mankinde ' (= ' fierce *) occurs in A . F,, iv, i, 236, but does not tell us 
that it is also to be found in G, U., iv, i, 49. So, too, we should be told 
that * president * (= * precedent *) appears in G. 17., v, ii, 9. * Huddles,* 
a^ain, should have two references. Occasionally one hesitates at the 
editor's definitions (are ' smock- faces ' effeminate faces or simply hand- 
some faces ? And should we not be told that ' smock * is a variant of 
*smug'?) — and now and then one feels that an explanation is incomplete 
(is * marked' a sufficient synonym for 'basted'?); but on the whole 
it is impossible not to feel that a great deal has been put into a small 
compass. 

Professor Parrott has spared no pains to present an accurate text, 
and it is not likely that many errors will be found in it. He has been 
fortunate, too, in obtaining assistance from several scholars whose names 
are prominent in the annals of textual criticism. Many of the emenda- 
tions are extremely happy. Others, again, are hardly necessary. In 
A, F., II, i, 198 and 201 the verb is altered from present to past, though 
there is dramatic excuse for the original reading, and the editor notes 
that 'Chapman himself may have Been responsible for the loose con- 
struction.* In A, F., II, i, 406—407, a speech : 

Foote, will you heare 
The worst voyce in Italy? 

is transferred from Dariotto to Valerio, though it harmonizes with 
Dariotto's later expression of opinion, ii, i, 412 — 413. In each case 
Dariotto's premature frankness is checked by Comelio. In v, ii, 73 
Dariotto receives honourable amends by having assigned to him a line 
which has hitherto belonged to Claudio : 

Health to Qazetta, poyson to her husband ! 

Possibly Claudio is merely proposing the terms of the toast which 
Dariotto is to drink. In A. F., v, ii, 345 and 346 Professor Parrott 
adopts an extraordinary emendation suggested by the New English 
Dictionary, For the * irreuitable ' of the Qq he reads * irrenitable.' But 
the word 'irrenitable' occurs nowhere else, and 'ineuitable' would fit the 
sense quite as well. In G, U,, I, i, 261 — 264 there is an ironical passage 
of arms by which both Medice and Professor Parrott are deceived. 

Stro. I pray stand by, my Lord ; y'arc troublesome. 

Vin. To none but you; am I to you, my lord? 

Med. Not unto mee. 

Vin. Why, then, you wrong me, Strozza. 

Med. Nay, fall not out, my lords. 



400 Reviews 

To render this passage intelligible Professor Parrott assigns Medice's 
speeches to Vincentio and Vincentio s to Medice, and gives a long note 
to explain the situation he has thus created. It seems to me that 
Vincentio and Strozza jostle in pretended competition for the best view 
of Medice in his gorgeous raiment, and feign to quarrel. Medice is 
flattered, and patronizingly acts the peacemaker. A choice has to be 
made between two stage-directions in 0. U., ii, i. Surely Strozza is 
present from the beginning of the scene, though he is ' close ' or con- 
cealed. The direction Entei* Strozza after line 27 looks like an inter- 
polation by somebody who saw Strozza's speech just below and had not 
noticed the previous mention of his name. In G. U., ill, ii, 242 : 

a good legge still, Htill a good calfe, and not slabby now hanging, I warrant 
you;... 

the reading * flabby * is taken from Pearson's Reprint. But apparently 
in Yorkshire * slabby* means 'slight in construction; thin, unsuDstantiai 
(English Dialect Dictionari/, vol. y), and the term may have been current 
slang when the play was composed. Other emendations which, though 
not demonstrably wrong, may be discarded as unnecessary are those of 
A. F„ II, i, 420, III, i, 350, v, i, 71, and (?. U., i, i, 177, ii, i, 44, ill, ii, 
266—267 and iv, iii, 72. In A. R, i, i, 185 : 

But her unnurishing dowry must be tolde 
Out of her beauty, 

ic is perhaps as well to accept the reading of the majority of the 
quartos, but it should be pointed out that 'unusering' (i,€,, 'unusuring, 
accumulating no interest *) is not impossible. 
For 'shew/ in A, F., ii, i, 288 : 

I have a shew of courtyers haunt my house, 
In shew my friends, and for my profit too;... 

Professor Parrott suggests *crew.' But *shew' has probably been caught 
from the following line, and most likely we should read 'sort,' as in 
line 307, 'a sort pf corporals.* In A. F, v, ii, 2, *wasecotes* should 
almost certainly be 'wastcotes.' We have 'wastcote' in line 17, and 
the confusion of e and t is a common printer s blunder. 

Professor Parrott has one editorial failing, which is at once amiable 
and exasperating. He has an inordinate craving for minutely explicit 
stage directions. He expands the old directions, and is liberal in the 
invention of new. He states the obvious at great length, and leaves 
nothing to be surmised by common sense. Even when a scene, in which 
only two persons participate, closes with an Exeunt, he must needs add 
the names of the two who are to leave the stage. Similarly we are told 
that * Vincentio overkeares [theyny and an act ends with the superfluously 
complete direction * Exeunt [omnesy No doubt he can suggest a further 
emendation of * Exit [Sarpego, Nymph, Sylvan and the two Bugs] * in 
(?. U., II, i, 299. 

In accordance with the precedent set by previous editors in the 
series, an attempt has been made to define the location of each scene. 



Reviews 401 

Professor Parrott fully recognises the difficulty of settling points which 
his author sometimes neglected to settle for himself. As a rule, the 
scene before the mind's eye of the playwright was the bare platform of 
the theatre, and the attempt of editors to set limits which were seldom 
recognised by Elizabethan dramatists is inspired by the conventions of 
a theatre where canvas and paint and a receding stage confine the 
vagrant imagination. A certain scene in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece 
represents, by degrees, Rome and the Camp and all the country between. 
If, as Professor Parrott indicates, Act iv, scene i of ^ZZ Fooles is A Street 
m Florence before the House of GostanzOy one can only wonder at that 
passion for the simple life which leads a lawyer and his client to execute 
the business of a divorce in so public a place. 

Professor Parrott's addition to the admirable Belles Lettres Series is 
as good as any of its predecessors, and that is saying a great deal. To 
the publishers one may hint that a limited edition of the series on a 
page of twice the present size would be acceptable. 

J. Le Gay Brereton. 



Types of Tragic Drama, By C. E. Vaughan. London: Macmillan 
and Co., 1908. 8vo. viii + 275 pp. 

What Professor Vaughan is most to be envied for in this series 
of lectures on Tragedy, delivered before a popular audience in the 
University of Leeds, is the freshness and independence of his method 
of approach. He has succeeded in throwing off in great measure the 
burden of traditional opinion and in setting forth a standpoint which 
is, in the best sense, individual and original. To be able to face the 
old,-well-wom problems of the fiinction of tragedy, of * classic ' law and 
* romantic ' lawlessness, or the respective merits of the great dramatists 
of the past, and treat them as if the vast body of French, Italian, 
German and English critics had never sifted and reasoned and sat in 
judgment, is a faculty which deserves all respect in these days when 
historical tradition lies heavier than ever on our criticism. It is com- 
paratively easy to arrive at results which command attention, by 
accumulating the judgments of the past, summarising them and adding 
one's own small quota ; but it is diflScult to set purposely aside what 
others have thought, and to attempt to build up anew fi-oni the 
beginning. Professor Vaughan has chosen the haraer task. And he 
is to be congratulated on coming out of the ordeal he has imposed 
upon himself so well. That he invariably succeeds in carrying con- 
viction, or that his own judgment is always strong enough to stand 
alone a^inst the verdict of tradition, he would himself be the last to 
claim; but he has not seen the literature which he passes in review 
through other people's spectacles, and that is a very precious quality. 

In his treatment of the Greek drama, he appears to have made 
greater concessions to the traditional point of view, or rather to current 
opinion, than in the case of most of the 'modems'; but this was 



402 Reviews 

perhaps inevitable. Whether it is altogether wise to bring the Greek 
dramatists before a modem tribunal, to compare their works with Shake- 
speare and Ibsen, and judge them by modem notions and standards, is 
open to veiy serious question. The temptation to employ such com- 
parative criticism is, of course, greatest m discussing Euripides, and 
it has surely, in his case, been overdone to the detriment of right 
thinking. Words like * realism,' ' naturalism,' ' romanticism/ applied to 
Greek tragedy, only lead to misunderstandings — Professor vaughan s 
own conception of the character of Euripides* Medea (pp. 69 f ) seems 
to me a ca-se in point — and obscure the processes of literar}' evolution. 
But the lecturers justification in the present case is obviously the fact 
that he had a popular audience before him. 

Professor Vaughan's familiarity with the modem literatures from 
which he selects his types, or at least with the spirit of these literatures, 
is not always sufficient to allow him to run counter to established 
opinion with impunity; his remarks too often take on the semblance 
of paradox — an impression which is accentuated by a somewhat liberal 
use of superlatives. His unmeasured encomium of Alfieri, for instance, 
would hardly be endorsed by the best modem Italian criticism, and 
I can imagine the ordinary cultured German of to-day rubbing his 
eyes when he reads Professor Vaughan's opinions of Lessing's Emilia 
Galotti (p. 7) and Schiller (pp. 202 ff). But his standpoint is frankly 
that of the critic whose basis is English literature; assuredly his 
hearers would not have thanked him had he only served up to them 
the opinion of Italians about Alfieri, of Spaniards about Calder<5n, or of 
Germans about Schiller. Exception to this statement might be taken 
in the case of Racine, who is treated from a point of view which 
deviates less from French opinion than one might have expected from 
a critic representing the English outlook on poet^}^ At the same time, 
it is doubtful whether finality is to be hoped for from a criticism 
that sets aside the views of foreign critics about their own poets ; it is 
still more doubtful whether a critic is at liberty to ignore, as Professor 
Vaughan is inclined to do, the standards and criteria whereby the 
continental literatures are themselves measured. To take only one 
case, which has worked extraordinary havoc in English criticism of 
foreign poetry, the use of the catchwords 'classic' and 'romantic' This 
point is the more serious here, as it is made a kind of pivot round 
which the main thesis of Professor Vaughan's lectures turns. He 
accepts the English conception of these words, a conception which 
has been arrived at by the historical conditions of English literature, 
and which defines — a little vaguely, it is true — certain contrasting 
phenomena in English poetry ; but he proceeds to apply this English 
conception without modification or explanation to the French and 
German drama, forgetting that the word * romanticism ' connotes quite 
different things in continental literatures. 'Romantic Revolt,' a phrase 
which Professor Vaucfhan uses, I think, more than once, expresses an 
exclusively English idea ; if it conveys any meaning to a Gennan at all, 
it will be associated by him with the year 1798, while the Frenchman 



Reviews 403 

will think at once of 1827. The result is a confusion which would 
make it diflScult to render these lectures comprehensible to continental 
readers without at least preceding them by a careful explanation of the 
particular use of the word * romantic ' in England. 

These, however, are defects — if they are defects, and not merely 
differences of opinion between critic and criticised — which are in- 
separably bound up with Professor Vaughan's method and point of 
view ; they are of small account compared with the qualities which I 
emphasised at the outset, freshness and originality. His volume is 
suggestive and delightful reading; it retains the charm of actual 
lectures, and yet avoids the disadvantages that so often arise when 
a book is put together out of matter originally intended for oral 
delivery. 

J. G. Robertson. 



Franfois Rabelais, By Arthur Tilley (French Men of Letters. 
Edited by A. Jessup). New York and London ; J. B. Lippincott 
Co., 1907. 8vo. 388 pp. 

A la fin de I'^t^ 1902, un certain nombre d'auditeurs franyais et 
Strangers, qui commentaient I'ceuvre de Rabelais k I'Ecole pratique des 
Hautes Etudes de la Sorbonne sous la direction du professeur Lefranc, 
eurent Tid^e de se grouper pour continuer les recherches commencees et 
^tendre leur champ d'lnvestigation. La Soci^t6 des Etudes Rabelai- 
siennes se trouva fondte, et, comme le nom de Rabelais est un des cinq 
ou six g^nies dont Tuniversalit^ 6carte toute id^e de rivalitfe nationales, 
elle rencontra des sa naissance de pr^cieux appuis pres des ^rudits des 
deux mondes. Aujourd'hui, aprfes cmq ans d'efforts, le livre de M. Tilley 
lui permet pour la premiere fois de mesurer le chemin parcouru, et, 
tout en ^num^rant ses conquStes, de voir ce qui lui reste k d^couvrir 
dans la vie myst^rieuse et agit^ du grand Tourangeau. C'est un 
remarquable expos^ des connaissances acquises, con9u dans un louable 
esprit de m^thode, et r6dig6 dans une langue dont on ne saurait trop 
appr^cier la clart6. 

Mais ce n'est pas assez de fSliciter M. Tilley de nous avoir donn(5 une 
Elegante et tres complete mise au point de la question Rabelaisienne, 
telle (ju elle ^tait k la fin de 1907. II faut lui savoir gr^ d y avoir ajout6 
le fruit de ses recherches personnelles, et I'appui de conjectures, parfois 
os^es mais toujours ing^nieuses, qui sugg^reront certainement de 
nouveaux rapprochements et ameneront plus d'une d^couverte. 

Le fe.it vient ddji de se produire pour une des plus utiles hypotheses 
du livre, le s^jour de Rabelais k Paris de 1528 a 1530. Personne ne 
rignore, la jeunesse de maitre Fran9ois, jusqu'a Timmatriculation k 
Montpellier, est singulierement obscure. A part les renseignements sur 
son ' moniage ' k Fontenay le Comte, extraits des lettres et des prefaces 
de Bud^, Amy, Tiraqueau et Bouchard, autant dire que nous ne savons 



404 Reviews 

rien. Je crois avoir d^inontr^, — raais M. Tilley ne pouvait en 1907 avoir 
connaissance d un article paru en mars 1908, — que Ton ne pent plus 
faire 6tat de la pr^tendue si^ature de 1519 mise au jour par Benjamin 
Fillon sur un acte d'achat des Cordeliers. J'ajouterai que le depart de 
Rabelais du couvent de Fontenay, sous le coup des pers^utions relat^es 
dans la lettre de Bud6 du 27 Janvier, 1524, ne me parait pas trfes prouv6. 
L'illustre ^rudit CSlicite au contraire son jeune correspondant d'avoir 
retrouv^ ses livres et le calme de ses chores Etudes.. 11 a fort bien pu 
rester chez ses Cordeliers un an, deux ans encore — ne serait ce que pour 
attendre la d^livrance de I'indult papal Tautorisant k changer d'ordre — 
et cela aiderait naturellement k combler les six ann^s qui s^parent la 
lettre de Bud^ de Tinscription k Montpellier. 

Apres son entree dans la congregation de St Benoit, il est probable 
que Rabelais fut plus attach^ k la personne de T^veque Qeoffroy d*Estissac 
qn'k Tabbaye ou il avait pris Thabit, et qu'il sejourna plus volontiers k 
Fontaine le Comte, pres d* Antoine Ardillon, k THermenault ou k Ligug6, 
qu a Maillezais. C est de cette ^poque heureuse et exempte de soucis dans 
les Th^lemes poitevines que datent sans doute les premieres Etudes de 
m^ecine de Rabelais k I'Universit^ de Poitiers. Vers 1628 ou 1529, 
selon M. Tilley, il serait venu habiter Paris pour accomplir ses trois 
ann^es scolaires de lectures, 'k Tordinaire,' indispensables pour prendre le 
degr^ de bachelier. Si, des son arriv^e k Montpellier, il obtint le grade 
envi^, c'est qu'il avait satisfait au reglement dans la seule University de 
France dont la Faculty de Montpellier reconnut Tenseignement, c'est k 
dire k Paris. 

Or, ce s^jour dans la capitale, logique, probable, n^cessaire meme 
pour expliquer les innombrables allusions du Second livre, vient de 
recevoir une curieuse confirmation dans une remarque du professeur 
Lefranc, k son cours du College de France, sur Thdtel ou college Saint 
Denis, demeure de Pantagruel : 'De faict, arriv^ k Paris [Uanglois Thau- 
maste] se transporta vers Thostel dudict Pantagruel qui estoit log6 k 
rhostel Sainct Denis ' (liv. ii, ch. 18). C'^tait une maison qui servait 
depuis le XIII* siecle de residence aux abb^s de St Denis, au coin de 
la rue des Grands Augustins et de la rue Saint Andr6 des Arts. Elle 
recevait en meme temps des novices de Tordre de St Benoit qui venaient 
poursuivre leurs Etudes k Paris. Par une coincidence remarquable les 
abb^s de Saint Denis etaient avant 1505 Antoine de la Haye, ^veque 
de Maillezais, puis Pierre Gouffier, abb^ de Saint Maixent, et son frere 
Aimery Gouffier, mort en octobre 1528. Rabelais, b^nedictin et moine 
de Maillezais, devait done trouver au college de Saint Denis une 
hospitalite toute indiqu^e, et M. Lefranc en a conclu tres justement 
que s'il a choisi cette demeure pour y loger son h^ros, c'est qu'un 
souvenir personnel lui rappelait la maison et le iardin ou Pantagruel * se 
pourmenoit avec Panurge philosophant k la mode des Peripateticques.' 

Toutes les conjectures de M. Tilley n ont pas, comme de juste, autant 
de bonheur. Mais rien n'est plus ingenieux que ses deductions pour fixer 
r^poque precise de la redaction de Pantagruel et de Oargantiui, quoi- 
quil ait tire, k mon sens, un argument trop important pour fixer 



Reviews 405 

rachevement du premier livre avant f(Svrier 1534 de I'absence de toute 
mention du premier voyage a Rome. Des quatre s^jours en Italic, qui 
rayonnerent d'un si vif ^clat sur sa carriere, rien ou presque rien, ne se 
reflete dans Toeuvre de Rabelais. La Sdomachie, ennuyeuse comme un 
proces verbal, des lettres si sfeches oue M. Tiiley, bien gratuitement selon 
moi, les suppose remani^es, des breves mentions de la Colonne Trajane^ 
de TArc de Septime S^vfere ct des obelisques : voil^ le bilan de ce qu'a 
inspire au grand ^crivain la ville ^ternelle ! On avouera que s'il etlt 
vu Rome avant 1534, il aurait pu ne pas en parler da vantage dans 
Gargantua, 

Faut-il done en conclure, avec M. Tiiley, que Timagination de 
Rabelais n'^tait pas tres sensible aux impressions du monde ext^rieur, 
que r^crivain, comme nous le dirions aujourd'hui, n'^tait pas un ' visuel* ? 
A mon avis, e'est se montrer severe. Un style tout en images, en com- 
paraisons, en m^taphores, toujours justes, toujours pittoresques, toujour 
color^es, suppose au contraire une rare faculty d'^vocation, un veritable 
amour des *choses vues.'. Mais Rabelais, tout en poussant jusqu'^ la 
minutie le scrupule de la v^rit^ dans sa mise en scfene, y cherche avant 
tout la vie en mouvement, Tacbion sous toutes ses formes. II ne decrit 
pas pour le plaisir de d^crire, il ne peint pas pour le plaisir de peindre, et 
— le mot dflt-il paraitre un peu gros — ^il ne fait pas preuve de go^ts et de 
connaissances artistiques bien profondes. Consolons nous en pensant, 
avec M. Tiiley, qu'il possedait au plus haut point le sens musical, bien 
qu\in catalogue de musiciens, dans le prologue du livre iv ne soit pas 
une preuve tres concluante ! 

II a bien fallu que M. Tiiley abordat le probl^me de lauthenticit^ 
du cinquieme livre. II la feit avec toute la sagacite qu'il avait deja 
apport^e a la discussion dans deux articles parus dans cette revue. La 
Question ^tant loin d'etre r<Jsolue, il est inutile d entrer dans le detail 
du d^bat. Cependant, on pent se demander si M. Tiiley ne fait pas trop 
bon march6 des arguments tir& du style ? II me semble qu apres avoir 
fait tres justement ressortir k quel point Rabelais a pousse Tart de 
donner k chacun de ses h^ros le langage que leur convient, sans jamais 
se d^mentir, il aurait pu constater qu'il ne reste rien de cette admirable 
entente du dialogue au cinquieme livre. ^videmment, tant que la 
preuve decisive pour ou centre I'authenticit^ n'aura pas vu le jour, on 
pourra, comme M. Tiiley, ne voir \k que des raisons * subjectives.* Mais 
si Rabelais eiit r^dige Tceuvre posthume qu'on lui attribue, n'y re- 
trouverait on pas cette quality maitresse et bien d'autres que M. Tiiley 
a eu raison de mettre en lumiere: la prodirieuse richesse du vocabulaire, 
la fantaisie exub^rante, la griserie au son des mots et a I'harmonie de la 
p^riode ? 

J'aime beaucoup Thabilit^ avec laqueile M. Tiiley a rapproche des 
faits de Thistoire g^n^rale les principaux ^vfenements de la vie de 
Rabelais. Les biographes ont trop souvent perdu de vue cette correla- 
tion indispensable entre I'^crivain et son temps. Je crois cependant 
qu'il ne faudrait pas rattacher aux fluctuations de la politique reli- 
gieuse les moindres details de la carrifere de maitre Fran9ois. Certes, 



406 Reviews 

Kabelais a fait preuve toute sa vie d'une circonspection que I'exil de 
Marot, le bflcher de Dolet et bien d'autres raisons suffiraient k justifier. 
On con9oit qu'il dtit songer plus d'une fois k rnettre la frontiere entre 
lui et la Sorbonne. Mais eourut-il vraiment tant de dangers? Beaucoup 
connaissaient Thumaniste et le savant : bien peu Tauteur de Oargantua 
et de PantagrueL Ceux qui savaient que maitre Alcofribas Nasier et 
le medecin des du Bellay ne faisaient qu'un, voyaient dans son livre un 
amusement d'honnetes gens, un divertissement d'apres souper. Le bon 
Rabelais n'etait dangereux pour personne. A peine trouvait on parfois 
qu'il parlait, et surtout qu'il ecrivait trop. 

La biographic et I'^tude des cinq livres tiennent plus des deux tiers 
de r^tude de M. Tilley. Mais I'auteur n a pas voulu s'en tenir k 
lanalyse de Toeuvre. En deux chapitres: TArt et le Philosophie de 
Rabelais, il nous a donn^ un jugement qui prendra place k c6t6 
de ceux de Brunetiere, de Faguet, de Gebhart et de Stapfer. J'y 
relive une utile remarque centre la recherche abusive des sources et 
des emprunts k laquelle se livrent certains criti(jues trop minutieux. 
La moindre ressemblance, la plus petite analogic, devient sous leur 

Slume un plagiat. C'est exag^r^. L*oeuvre de Rabelais contient assez 
'emprunts ind^niables et non d^guis^s, pour qu'il soit inutile d'en 
allonger complaisamment la liste. 

I^uons egalement M. Tilley d'avoir renonc^ k Finterpretation abs- 
conse et symbolique telle que la comprenaient les commentateurs du 
XVIIP et du XIX* siecle. J'avoue que j'aurais voulu le voir aller plus 
loin dans cette voie. La jeune reine Niphleseth ne me fait nuUement 
songer k Marie Stuart, et en depit de I'autorit^ de du Pavilion, j*ai 
peine k identifier frfere Jean des Entommeures avec Buinard, prieur de 
Servaise. Toutes ces interpretations, I'exp^rience le prouve, tombent 
une k une pour faire place k des elements r^els. Jamet Brayer, par 
exemple, oil Ton croyait voir Jacques Cartier, devient un parent de 
Rabelais, paisible marinier de la Loire que maitre Frariv-ois trouve 
plaisant d'embarquer dans un p^riple autour du monde ! N'est pas une 
belle le9on de prudence, et ne vaut-il pas mieux s'abstenir que de 
risquer des rapprochements aussi sujets k caution ? 

Je suis heureux de ne pas retrouver dans la figure du grand ^crivain, 
que nous trace M. Tilley le Solon contrefaisant Tivresse pour en degouter 
ses concitoyens, le Brutus feignant la folic pour cnseigner des virit^s 
dangereuses, aussi faux, k mon point de vue, que Tivrogne et le bouffon 
de la Pl^iadc. Le rire de Rabelais n'est pas un masque. C'est sa 
nature meme. Son g^nie est fait de belle humeur. Mais j*aurais aim^ 
voir M. Tilley prendre plus cr&nement son parti des grasses plaisanteries 
sem^es k pleines mains dans les cin<j livres et ne pas chercher k Texcuser 
d avoir donn^ libre cours k sa joviality d^bordante. II ne s'agit \k ni d'un 
complaisant ^talage de connaissances medicales, ni d*un artifice litt^rairc, 
ni d'un sacrifice au gofit du jour pour aider k la vente du roman. Disons 
le sans rougir. Si Kabelais a etal^ en dix ou douze chapitres et sem6 un 
peu partout dans son oeuvre une telle avalanche de mots de gueule et 
d'obscinit^s bouffonnes, c'est que c'^tait \k, comme le rire, un des c6t^ 



Reviews 407 

de son caractfere. Uart n'atteint pas k un tel accent de sinc^rite. 
Comme les moines, avec qui il a vecii une moiti6 de sa vie, comme les 
medecins, avec qui il a pass^ Tautre moiti^, Rabelais aimait les equi- 
voques enormes sur les organes de la digestion et de la generation, 
source peut-etre impure mais k coup sflr in^puisable du rire depuis 
Oargantua jusqu'k M. de Pourceaiiffnac, 

Un livre, comme celui de M. Tilley ne va pas sans quelques lapsus et 
quelques fautes involontaires. L auteur ne m*en voudra pas de les lui 
signaler, ne serait ce qu'en vue d'une seconde Edition que je souhaite tres 
prochaine. Le portrait, qui sert k juste titre de frontispice, fait partie 
de la Chronologie colUe et non coliiee\ p. 17 et 142, lire Gu^ de Vede 
au lieu de Ved4\ p. 17, la Devinifere ^tait un bien patrimonial d'Antoine 
Rabelais, et non de sa femme ; p. 28, Jean Bouchet ne s'^tait pas retiri 
k Poitiers vers 1515 pour la bonne raison qu'il n'avait que fort peu quitt^ 
cette ville depuis sa naissance et qu'il y habita pour ainsi dire toute sa 
vie; p. 25 et 171, lire Briand Valine, au lieu de Briand de Valine ; p. 37, 
Bridoye ne devrait pas etre traduit, c'est un nom qui existe encore en 
Poitou et dont Tidentit^ se r^velera un jour ou Tautre ; p. 79, la mention 
du titre de docteur ne prouve rien pour la date de la seconde supplique 
au pape, car Rabelais, selon Tusage du temps s'intitulait ainsi alors 
qu'il n'^tait que bachelier (voir art. Plattard, R. E. R., v, 270); p. 361, la 
bibliographic de M. Plan est de 1904 et non de 1894. 

Ces v^tilles et quelques autres relev^es par M. Plattard dans son 
article de la Revue des Stndes Rdbelaisiennes (v, p. 430), n'enlfevent 
rien k la valeur de Tensemble. C'est k la fois un livre de bonne foi et 
de critique judicieuse. C'est surtout Toeuvre d'un lettr^ sincerement 
^pris de notre grand ecrivain fran9ais, et, comme Ton parle toujours 
bien des choses et des gens que Ton aime, il ne faut pas s'^tonner que 
M. Tilley ait ^rit le meilleur ouvrage que nous ayions encore sur 
Rabelais. 

Henri Clouzot. 



MINOK NOTICES. 

Mr A. G. Ferrers Howell, already known to readers of recent Fran- 
ciscan literature by his excellent little Introduction to Mr Heywood's 
translation of the Fioretti, gives us a very readable and tasteful 
rendering of the two Lives of St Francis of Assist hy Brother Thomas of 
Celano (London, Methuen and Co., 1907). The volume is adorned with 
a reproduction of A. della Robbia^s St Francis, and is furnished with an 
Introduction and an Index. In the Introduction the most important 
recent critical investigations are noticed. Mr Howell gives due weight 
to Tamassia*8 'careful investigations,' but decides in favour of more 
traditional views. The text used is that of D'Alen9on (1906). 

L. R. 



408 Minor Notices 

La Vita Nuova e II Canzoniiere di Dante Alighieri (Florence, Barbera, 
1908) is the latest volume added to Barbera's dainty miniature series, 
Edizione Vade Mecum, The type, though small, is wonderfully clear 
and readable, and the text adopted — following Dr Moore's example — is 
that of Fraticelli, which was justified for popular use by so recent a 
critic as Barbi. In the Canzoniere only the admittedly authentic 
poems have been printed, Canzone xvii, Ballate viii and ix, and 
Sonnetti xxii — xxvi being appended as of doubtfiil authenticity. 
There is an Index of first lines. 

L. R. 

Dr Erich Walter's Adolf Friedrich Oraf von Schack als Vbersetzer 
(Breslauer Beitrdge zur Literaturgeschichte, X, Leipzig, M. Hesse, 1907), 
is a useful study of one aspect of a writer who has been rather unduly 
depreciated as a literary dilettante. The treatise falls into two main 
parts, the first afibrdine a survey of Graf Schack's interest in various 
lands and literatures, the second dealing with his translations, which 
are grouped according to the ' kinds,' into * Drama,' ' Epos,' ' Lyrik ' and 
' Prosa.' Thus Schack's translations from the Spanish and Old English 
drama are discussed side by side. Considering that the intrinsic value 
of Schack's work as literature was inferior to its importance in drawing 
the attention of his countrymen to new poets and literatures, it 
would have seemed preferable to arrange the investigation according to 
the literatures. On the whole, Dr Walter's results, which virtually 
corroborate the general impression left by Schack's work as a translator, 
hardly justify so long and detailed a publication ; much of his book, as 
belonging to the philological workshop, might with advantage have 
been curtailed or omitted. 

J. G. R. 



The publication of The Journal of English and Germanic Philology y 
which was founded and edited by the late Professor Gustaf E. Karsten, 
has, we understand, been taken over by the University of Illinois. The 
editorial supervision has for the present been placed in the hands of 
Dr Chester N. Greenough, Professor of English, and Dr O. E. Lessing, 
Professor of German. The forthcoming issue of the Journal (Vol. vii, 
No. 2) will form a memorial to Professor Karsten, and, with the 
exception of a short biography, is to consist wholly of articles by him. 



We are glad to be able to announce that with the October number, 
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it at a special subscription price of Ts. 6d. The Hon. Secretary of the 
Association is Mr G. F. Bridge, 45, South Hill Park, Hampstead, 
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addressed. 



NEW PUBLICATIONS. 

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GENERAL. 

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^ Keitbr, H., und T. Kellbn, Der Romau. Qeschichte, Theorie und Technik 

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(Eversley Series.) London, Macmillan. 4*. net. 
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I Symonb, a., The Symbolist Movement in Literature. 2nd ed. London, 

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16 M. 40. 

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Allan, A., Studi sulle opere poetiche e prosastiche di G. Carducci. Turin, 

Pasta. 1 L. 50. 
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BiAOi, v.. La Quaestio de aqua et terra di Dante : bibliografia, dissertazione 

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M. L. R. 111. 28 



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ToYNBEE, P., Dante Aligbieri. Traduzione dall' inglese, con appendice biblio- 
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CONTENTS. 

TAan 
ARTICLEb. 

Dante's Lyrical Metres : his Theory and Practicne. By 

C. B. Hebebden ....... 318 

The Connection between Words and Music in the Songs of 

the Trobadons. By Barbara Smythe . . 329 

Shakspere s Plays : An Examination. L By E, H. C 

Oliphant 337 

The Satire in Heinrich Wittenweiler's ' Ring/ By Jkssie 

Crosland . . , . , . .' , . 856 

Bibliographical Notes on Charlea Sealsfield, By Otto 

Heller , . 360 

MISCELLANEOUS NOTES. 

Notes on the 'Interlude of Wealth and Health.' By 
Mark Hunter. — 'Irisdision' in the Interlude of *^^Johan the 
Euangelyst.'- By W. H. Wiluams.— Shakespeare, * Troilus 
and Cressida/ m, iii, 161-3. By J. Derocquignt. — ' 
Shakespeare, * Antony and Cleopatra,' iii, xiii, 158-167. 
By A. JoANKA Partridge.— ' Victoria,' 'Exchange Ware' 
and 'Worke for Cutlers.' By G. C. Moore Smith.— 'To 
Appoint' (Milton, 'Samson Agonistes/ 373). By Ernest 
Weekley. — Fragment of an Anglo-Norman life of Edward 
the Confessor. By A. T. Baker. — Dante, 'De Vulgari 
. Eloquentia/ I, vii. By A. J. BXJTLER. — The Almanac of 
' Jacob ben Machir ben Tibbon.' By E. MoORE . 366 

REVIEW& 

J. Goebel, Ooetfies FausL Erster Teil, (A. R. Hohlfeld). 
— A. Adams, Syntax of ike Temporal Olausein Old English 
Prose (H. G. Shearin). — E. K. Chambers and F. Sidgwick, 
Early English Lyrics (W. !P. Ker).— K Hamilton Moore, 
English Miracle Plays and Moralities {Vf. W. Greg). — 
G. Chapman, All Fooles and The Gentleman Usher, ed. by 
T. M. Parrott (J. Le Gay BRERirroN).— C. E. Vaughan, 
Types of Tragic Drama (J. G. Robertson).— A. TiUey, 
Franfois Rabelais (H. Clouzot) ... ... 379 

MINOR NOTICES. ; 

A. G. F, Howell, Lives of St Francis ofAssisi by Brother 
Thomas of Celano,^-Dsjite, La Vita Nuova e il Canzoniere. 
— E. Walter, w4. F. Oraf von Sckack ais Ubersetzer. — The 
Journal of English imd Germanic Philology. -^The Modem 
Language jReview . . . ... . 407 

NEW PUBLICATIONS . ... . . . • . 409 



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W. Bang, Studien zur englischen Umgangssprache zur Zeit 

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A. A. TiLLEY, Rabelais and Geographical Discovery. III. 
Paget Toynbee, Thomas Roscoe and the Memmrs of Benvenuto 

Cellini, 

Raymond Weeks, The Covenant Vivien in the MS. of Boulogne. 
L. Wiener, Anglo-Russica. 



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