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JOHN M. MANLY, Managing Editor 













i/i 13 


May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December, 1915 
January, February, March, April, 1916 

Composed and Printed By 

The University of Chicago Press 

Chicago. Illinois, U.S.A. 


HOPE EMILY ALLEN. Two Middle-English Translations from the 

Anglo-Norman . . . . , 741 

C. R. BASKERVILL. A Forerunner of Warburton's Cook ... 52 

. John RastelTs Dramatic Activities 557 

WILLIAM B. CAIRNS. Some Notes on Poe's "Al Aaraaf " ... 35 

JOHN L. CAMPION. Aristoteles und Phillis 347 

GILBERT CHINARD. Notes sur le Prologue d' "Atala" .... 157 

CHARLOTTE J. CIPRIANI. Future and Past Future .... 379 
BERTHA REED COFFMAN. The Influence of English Literature on 

Friedrich von Hagedorn. Ill . . 75 

TOM PEETE CROSS. Laegaire Mac Crimthann's Visit to Fairyland . 731 

E. PRESTON DARGAN. Balzac and Cooper: Les Ckouans . . . 193 

. Trissino, a Possible Source for the Ple*iade .'.-.. . . 685 

HENRI DAVID. The"ophile Gautier: Le Pavilion sur Veau . 391 and 647 

JEFFERSON B. FLETCHER. Dante's "Second Love" .... 129 

T. S. GRAVES. On the Date and Significance of Pericles . . . 545 

R. H. GRIFFITH. The Dunciad of 1728 1 

CHARLES H. HANDSCHIN. Goethe und die bildende Kunst: Italien . 333 

. Goethe und Durer . . 65 

W. S. HENDRIX. The Auto da Barca do Inferno of Gil Vicente and the 

Spanish Tragicomedia Alegorica del Par ay so y del Infierno . . 669 
LAURA A. HIBBARD. "Guy of Warwick" and the Second "Mystere" 

of Jean Louvet . . . . 181 

HAROLD NEWCOMB HILLEBRAND. On the Authorship of the Inter- 
ludes Attributed to John Heywood . . ... ' 267 

J. R. HULBERT. Syr Gawayn and the Grene Knyjt . . 433 and 689 
GEORGE PULLEN JACKSON. The Rhythmic Form of the German 

Folk-Songs. I ..'... . . . 561 

T. ATKINSON JENKINS. An Etymon for English "Gun" . . . 239 

. On the Text of "La Bataille des VII Arts" .... 188 

ADELINE M. JENNEY. A Further Word as to the Origin f the Old 

Testament Plays 59 

H. S. V. JONES. The Plan of the "Canterbury Tales" 45 


ROBERT JAMES KELLOGG. Gothic Rendering of Greek Recurrents 

with Especial Reference to Matt. 5:23 99 

P. E. KRETZMANN. A Few Notes on "The Harrowing of Hell" . 49 

- JOHN LIVINGSTON LOWES. Chaucer and Dante's Convivio ... 19 

ROBERT GRANT MARTIN. Is The Late Lancashire Witches a Revision ? 253 

DUDLEY H. MILES. The Political Satire of The Non-Juror . . .281 

JOHN MUNRO. More Shakspere Allusions 497 

WILLIAM A. NITZE. Concerning the Word Graal, Great . . . 681 
GEORGE T. NORTHUP. The Influence of George Borrow upon Prosper 

Me'rime'e 143 

s T. M. PARROTT. The Authorship of Two Italian Gentlemen . . 241 

PAUL H. PHILLIPSON. Notes on Heine 123 

FREDERICK W. PIERCE. Concerning the German Relatives "Das" 
and "Was," in Clauses Dependent upon Substantivized Adjec- 
tives, and upon Neuter Indefinites, as Used in Schiller's Prose . 361 
K. PIETSCH. On the Language of the Spanish Grail Fragments 369 and 625 
ALLEN WILSON PORTERFIELD. Graf von Loeben and the Legend of 

Lorelei 305 

H. W. PUCKETT. The "Genoveva" Theme 609 

FRANCK L. SCHOELL. George Chapman and the Italian Neo-Latinists 

of the Quattrocento . . 215 

H. 0. SCHWABE. Germanic Coin-Names. I 583 

COLBERT SEARLES. Corneille and the Italian Doctrinaires . . . 169 
GEORGE A. UNDERWOOD. Rousseauism in Two Early Works of Mme 

deStael 417 

ERNEST H. WILKINS. The Enueg in Petrarch and in Shakespeare . 495 

. The Invention of the Sonnet 463 

ROBERT WITHINGTON. Queen Margaret's Entry into London, 1445 . 53 


Modern Philology 



All I could hear of you of late hath been by advertisements in the news- 
papers by which one would think the race of Curls was multiplied; and by 
the indignation such fellows show against you, that you have more merit 
than any body alive could have. Homer himself hath not been worse used 
by the French. Gay to Pope, August 2, 1728. 

The origin and the progress of the Dunciad have been discussed in 
the biographies of Pope and in several investigations. 1 In the present 
article I shall pass silently over the matter of origin, and treat only 
of the events of 1728. I desire, after resuming briefly what is 
known of the preparation of the poem for the press and of the prepara- 
tion of the public to receive it, to submit the results of a recent in- 
vestigation of the contemporary periodicals and pamphlets in so far 
as they afford information concerning the advertisements of the 
Dunciad, the dates and varieties of early editions, and their printers 
and publishers. 


The beginning of the year found the poem well along in composi- 
tion, if not complete. The earliest reference to the Dunciad is in 

1 John Nichols, in the seventeen volumes of the Anecdotes and the Illustrations of 
the Literary History of the Eighteenth Century, devotes a chapter to the subject, and alludes 
to it in other places. There is much information scattered through the pages of Notes 
and Queries, particularly in First Series, X, 197-200, 477-78, 497-98, 5^-20; XII, 161 
(1854-55). In the Elwin-Courthope edition of Pope's Works (187 1-89), Mr. Elwin gives 
to it some nineteen of the thirty-eight pages of the Introduction to Vol. IV (pp. 3-19, 
36-38) ; and Mr. Courthope reverts to it in chap, x (pp. 211-31) of the Life, which consti- 
tutes Vol. V. George Paston has several breezy chapters upon it in her Mr. Pope: His 
Life and Times, 1910 (I, 341 to Vol. II, 389, and 646-87). The most elaborate treatment 
is that of Professor Lounsbury in The Text of Shakespeare, 1906 (chaps, xi, xii, and passim). 

1] 1 [MODERN PHILOLOGY, May, 1915 


an Irish manner of speaking not to the Dunciad but to Dulness. 
The full name first decided upon was, apparently, The Progress of 
Dulness, though, so far as I recall, only the final word was used in 
references to it in the correspondence of the poet and his friends. In 
January Pope wrote to Swift: 1 

It grieves me to the soul that I cannot send you my chef-d'oeuvre, the 
poem of Dulness, which, after I am dead and gone, will be printed with a 
large commentary, and lettered on the back, Pope's Dulness. I send you, 
however, what most nearly relates to yourself, the inscription to it. 2 .... 
In what is, I think, the earliest reference at all to the poem, no name 
is given to it. So far back as October 22, 1727, Pope had written to 

My poem (which it grieves me that I dare not send you a copy of, for 
fear of the Curlls and Dennises of Ireland, and still more for fear of the worst 
of traitors, our friends and admirers), my poem, I say, will show you what a 
distinguishing age we live in. Your name is in it, with some others, under a 
mark of such ignominy as you will not much grieve to wear in that com- 

Whether thou choose Cervantes' serious air, 
Or laugh and shake in Rab'lais' easy chair; 
Or in the graver gown instruct mankind, 
Or, silent, let thy morals tell thy mind. 3 

In February it was still not quite finished, however; for Boling- 
broke wrote to Swift: 

In the meantime his Dulness grows and flourishes as if he were there 
{in Dublin] already. E.-C., Pope's Works, VII, 113. 

The growing was probably in the way of polishing, rather than in 
change of structure or length. For on the 26th, Swift wrote to 
Gay, asking: "Why does not Mr. Pope publish his Dulness?" 
implying, evidently, that he thought the poem ready for the printer. 
We know, indeed, that Swift had seen at least a part of it in manu- 
script, though how large a part remains undetermined. 4 

1 Perhaps I ought to point out that the date of this letter is supplied conjecturally 
by the editor. 

* And he quotes thirteen lines of verse, most of which did not appear till the 1729 
quarto version (Elwin-Courthope, Works, VII, 109 ff.). 

Works, VII, 104. Cf. modern editions of the Dunciad, Book 1, 11. 21-24. 

* He was with Pope at Twickenham more than half the period March to August, 1726, 
and made a second visit in the earlier half of 1727, leaving Twickenham August 31, but 
remaining a short time in London, where the two friends still met occasionally. After 
the Dean's return to Ireland, the two never met again. Some of the tune of the latter, or 


THE "DUNCIAD" OF 1728 3 

We infer that the end of February found the satire about ready 
for the press, though one notable change was yet to be made. 


Pope was an extremely skilful advertiser. While, as yet, he did 
not mean to publish the Dunciad over his own name, he was deter- 
mined to see that it did not fall flat from the press. He went now 
about the task of piquing the curiosity of the public. The poem 
was held back that it might be preceded by a sort of prose Dunciad. 
This was the "Bathos, or the Art of Sinking in Poetry," contributed 
by Pope to the third volume of Miscellanies in Prose and Verse, the 
so-called "The Last Volume," published March 7. 1 Swift appar- 
ently had no part in the "Bathos," and did not see it in manuscript, 2 
though he and Pope together had prepared the matter for the first 
two volumes of the Miscellanies. Part of the materials of the 
"Bathos" was gathered together by Arbuthnot, 3 but Pope prepared 
the piece for the press, and is, in a general sense, at least, its author. 

of both, of these visits, Pope gave to the Dunciad, as is shown by a note in the first edition 
of the poem in 1729: 

". . . . Dr. Swift, who whether Publisher or not, may be said in a sort to be the 
Author of the Poem : For when He, together with Mr. Pope, (for reasons specif y 'd in their 
Preface to the Miscellanies) determin'd to own the most trifling pieces in which they 
had any hand, and to destroy all that remain'd in their power, the first sketch of this 
poem was snatch'd from the fire by Dr. Swift, who persuaded his friend to proceed in it, 
and to him it was therefore Inscribed." Dunciad, 4to, 1729, p. 87, n. 

There is abundant confirmatory evidence; see E.-C., Works, IV, 5. 

I have not found a positive statement that it appeared on the 7th, but, because of 
the following advertisements, I take that to be the correct date: 

Saturday, March 2, The London Evening Post, No. 36, p. 4, col. 1, middle: 

"On Thursday next will be published, Miscellanies. The Last Volume. By the 
Rev. Dr. Swift, Alexander Pope, Esq; &c. consisting of several Copies of Verses, most 
of them never before printed. To which is prefix'd, A Discourse on the Profound or the 
Art of Sinking in Poetry- Printed for Benj. Motte at the Middle Temple Gate in Fleet- 

Wednesday, March 6, The Daily Courant, No. 8238, p. 2, col. 2, middle: 

"To-morrow will be published, Miscellanies. The Last Volume .... [Rest as 
the preceding]." 

Friday, March 8, The Daily Post, No. 2640, The Daily Courant, No. 8240, and The 
Daily Journal, No. 2232: 

"This Day is publish'd, Miscellanies. The Last Volume " 

Saturday, March 9, The Daily Journal, No. 2233, and The Country Journal; or, 
Craftsman, No. 88, repeat this notice. 

Since it was customary in this generation for a paper to repeat for weeks, or even for 
months, an advertisement beginning "This Day is published," it is necessary to exercise 
care in determining a date upon its authority. 

The date on the title-page of the " Last Volume," at any rate in some copies, is 1727. 

* "As for these scribblers .... how much that nest of hornets are my regard will 
easily appear to you when you read the Treatise of the Bathos." Pope to Swift, March 23. 

'There are several references; one will suffice: " . . . . The Doctor grew quite 
indolent in it, for something newer, I know not what." Pope to Swift, Works, VII, 110. 



Its nature is indicated by the subtitle. The reception it had " at the 
hands of the town" was a warm one, though not so warm as the 
following extract from an exaggerated account 1 would indicate: 

.... In which [the "Bathos"] was a chapter, where the species of bad 
writers were rang'd in classes, and initial letters of names prefix'd, for 
the most part at random. But such was the number of poets eminent in 
that art, that some one or other took every letter to himself. All fell into 
so violent a fury, that for half a year or more the common News papers 
(in most of which they had some property, as being hired writers) were filled 
with the most abusive falsehoods and scurrilities they could possibly devise: 

Professor Lounsbury has presented at length the thesis, sug- 
gested by Elwin, that the purpose of the " Bathos" was to incite the 
Dunces to a retaliatory attack upon Pope, so that he might reply 
with the Dunciad. The current of his argument is indicated by the 
following quotations: 

The real firebrand thrown into the literary powder-magazine was the 
prose preface with which the third volume opened. No one doubts now 
that it was prepared with the intent of creating the explosion which fol- 
lowed More than a score of authors, indicated by their initials, 

were classified under the names of various members of the animal creation. 
This [chapter] Pope desired and expected to be followed by an outcry that 
would furnish in turn the needed pretext for the publication of the satire 
which, long contemplated, had now been brought substantially to com- 
pletion As a matter of fact, the attacks upon the poet, compared 

with the provocation given, were exceedingly few. Not a single pamphlet 
was published. All the articles of any nature, whether in prose or verse, 
whether the briefest of paragraphs or the longest of letters, which appeared 
between the dates of the "Essay on the Profund" and of "The Dunciad," 
were collected soon after into a single volume. They were just twenty in 
number. Of these it is perfectly clear that four either came directly from 

Pope himself or were instigated by him The Text of Shakespeare, 


The "single volume" here referred to is A Compleat Collection of 
all the Verses, Essays, Letters and Advertisements .... occasioned by 
the . . . . Miscellanies by Pope and Company, long ago mentioned by 

i Published first as a part of "The Dedication" of A Collection of Pieces in Verse and 
Prose, Which have been publish'd on the Occasion of the Dunciad, ostensibly by Savage, in 
1732; and incorporated later, with slight changes, among the notes to the Dunciad, 
making its initial appearance in Works, Vol. II, 1735 (4to and folio), where it is appended 
to the note on Swift's rescue of the Dunciad manuscript from the flames. 

THE "DUNCIAD" OF 1728 5 

Pope. 1 It did make an almost clean sweep of the papers. My 
search has revealed only two pieces to be added: one from the Crafts- 
man of April 20, and another from the British Gazetteer of the same 
date. All included, the journals printed, in the space of eight weeks, 
seventeen skits about the Miscellanies, chiefly concerning the 
"Bathos." In addition, against Pope personally, there were five 
pieces, one of which appeared in two different periodicals. And 
besides these there were printed several books and pamphlets, for 
some of which the advertisements constituted a sort of ancillary 
attack upon the Miscellanies or the poet. 2 

The month of March saw, also, at least one alteration in the 
Dunciad, and that a capital one. The vision of a book lettered on 
the back, Pope's Dulness, was too much for the poet's sense of humor; 
so the title was changed. March 23 he wrote again to Swift of: 

.... My Dulness (which, by the way, for the future you are to call 
by a more pompous name, the Dunciad), .... 

That Pope was writing a poem to be called " The Progress of Dulness " 
was but an imperfectly kept secret. On May 11 the Daily Journal 
contained an anonymous letter (next year attributed by Pope to 
John Dennis), in which the final paragraph opens thus: 

1 Published not later than June 12, it contains a dedication "To the Author of the 
Dunciad," and reprints of twenty-one pieces from the periodicals, with a note on the 
personal names occurring in the Miscellanies. The first of the reprints is from a journal 
of November 25, 1727; the remaining twenty bear dates from March 18 to May 11, 1728. 
To sixteen of these Pope refers by name and date in the quarto Dunciad of 1729, p. 92, 
where he hypothesizes an author for most of them. 

2 April 13. Daily Journal. The promise of Gulliveriana. 

"24. " " The Knight of the Kirk. 

" 29. " 2d. ed. 

May 4. Mist's Journal. 

9. Daily Journal. The Twickenham Hotch-Potch. 

As permitting an insight into the ways of literary warfare, I quote from the first and 
last of these advertisements: 

" In the Press, and speedily will be Publish'd, Gulliveriana To which will be 

added, A Comparison between the Ecclesiastical and Poetical Pope; wherein will be 
contained many curious and entertaining Pieces, both in Verse and Prose, relating to the 

" The whole being a 4th Volume of Modern Miscellanies: Or, A Supplement to the 
3 Volumes of Miscellanies, publish'd by Dr. Swift and Mr. Alexander Pope, &c. 

"Any pieces proper for this Work, sent to me, at the Rainbow, St. Martin's Lane; or 
to Mr. Whitridge's, the Corner of Castle Alley, at the Royal Exchange, shall be inserted 
in this Miscellany. 


"This Day is Published .... the Twickenham Hotch-Potch .... Printed for 
J. Roberts . . . . ; A. Dodd 

"N.B. This Design is to be carried on for the Good of the Publick. Any Letters 
directed for Peter Henning, Esq; to be left at Hurt's Coffee-house against Catherine- 
Street in the Strand, will come safe to the Compiler." 


Yet notwithstanding his [Pope's] Ignorance and his Stupidity, this 
Animalculum of an Author, is, forsooth! at this very Juncture, writing the 
Progress of Dulness. 


The Dunciad made its appearance on Saturday, May 18. It was 
not infrequent at the time to advertise the coming of a book, 1 but I 
find no evidence of any preliminary campaign of the sort for the 
Dunciad. The satire was left to be its own herald. It must have 
been widely purchased, for several editions appeared within a few 
weeks. Let me here place together, for the sake of comparison, 
all the advertisements of the Dunciad, of the Key to the Dunciad, and 
of other pamphlets, that I wish to use. The vagaries of type, spelling, 
and line formation I shall not attempt to indicate; but significant 
changes are pointed out. It is interesting to observe the publisher's 
skilful discriminations among the daily, thrice-a-week, and weekly 

The Daily Post, 2701, Saturday, May 18, 1728, p. 2, col. 2, middle: 
This Day is publish'd, The Dunciad. An Heroic Poem. In Three 
Books. Dublin, printed, London reprinted for A. Dodd, 1728. 2 

The same advertisement, but with different type, line division, and 
capitalization, and without the year date, was carried by The Daily 
Journal, 2293, May 18, p. 2, col. 2, top. In the Monday papers I 
found no Dunciad advertisements. On Tuesday, Wednesday, and 
Thursday the Post (2703-5) and the Journal (2295-97) repeated the 
advertisement as above, adding at the end "Price Is." On Friday, 
May 24, there were two alterations: 

The Daily Post, 2706, p. 2, col. 3, upper middle: 

The Daily Journal, 2298, p. 1, col. 3, upper middle: 

This Day is publish'd, The Dunciad. An Heroic Poem. The 2d 
Edition. Dublin, printed, London reprinted for A. Dodd, 1728. Price Is. 

N.B. Next week will be publish'd the Progress of Dulness, by an 
Eminent Hand. 

1 Of. the anticipatory notices of the Miscellanies. My investigations were con- 
fined to the Burney Collection at the British Museum, which lacks some papers of that 

* This advertisement is quoted by C. W. Dilke in N. and Q., 1 S., X, 198, who also 
refers, but vaguely, to advertisements of May 25, 27, and 29. 


THE "DUNCIAD" OF 1728 7 

The same, omitted by the Saturday dailies, appeared in the weekly 
The Country Journal: or, The Craftsman, 99, May 25, p. 3, col. 1, 
middle. 1 Further change was made on Monday, thus: 

The Daily Post, 2708, May 27, p. 2, col. 1, lower middle: 

The Daily Journal, 2300, May 27, p. 2, col. 2, upper middle: 

This Day is publish'd, The Second Edition of, The Dunciad. An 

Heroic Poem. In Three Books. 

He, as an Herd 

Of Goats or timorous Flock together throng'd, 
Drove them before him, Thunder-struck pursu'd, 
Into the vast Profund. 


Dublin, printed, London reprinted for A. Dodd, 1728. Pr. Is. 

And speedily will be publish'd, which will serve for an Explanation of 
this Poem, The Progress of Dulness. By an Eminent Hand. 

Tuesday the dailies omitted the advertisement, but a thrice-a-weekly 
The London Evening Post, 73, May 25-28, p. 4, col. 2, top took up 
the burden. The dailies repeated the notice on Wednesday (Post, 
2710, Journal, 2302), but not in the next three issues; on Thursday it 
reappeared in the London Evening Post (74) ; and on Saturday in the 
weeklies Mist's Weekly Journal, 163, June 1, p. 3, col. 2, middle; 
The Craftsman, 100, June 1, p. 3, col. 1, bottom. The next alteration 
occurred a week later: 

Mist's Weekly Journal, 164, Saturday, June 8, p. 3, col. 1, bottom: 
This Day is published, the 3d Edition of, The Dunciad. An Heroic 
Poem. In three Books. [4-line quotation from Milton.] Dublin, Printed, 
London Reprinted for A. Dodd, without Temple Bar. Price Is. Where may 
be had 2 the Dunciad, in octavo. Price Is. Qd. Speedily will be published, 
which will serve for an Explanation of this Poem, The Progress of Dulness. 
By an Eminent Hand. 

The same announcement, with just the slightest of changes, appeared 
in The London Evening Post, 79, June 8-11 (Tuesday), p. 3, col. 2, 
top. And this, for the time being, ended the advertisement of the 

In the meanwhile, however, and slightly later, several books 
related to the Dunciad were being advertised. 

* In N. and Q., 1 S., X, 298, Thorns quotes or refers to advertisements in the Craftsman, 
May 25 and June 1 ; and Mist's, May 25 and June 8. 

2 By current convention an advertisement beginning "Where may be had . . . ." 
implied that a book had been public for some time. Cf. my discussion of editions, infra. 



Concerning the Key to the Duntiad, I have noted the following: 

The Daily Journal, 2300, Monday, May 27, p. 2, col. 1, bottom: 

This Day is publish'd, Adorn'd with Cuts, The Supernatural Philosopher: 
Or, " 

Printed only for E. Curll, against Catherine-Street in the Strand. 
Price 5s. 

N.B. A Compleat Key to the Dunciad will be published next Wed- 
nesday. Price, Qd. 1 

The Daily Journal, 2302, May 29, p. 2, col. 2, upper middle: 

This Day is publish'd (In the same Size to bind up with it) Price 6d. 
A Compleat Key to the Dunciad. Explaining all the Passages, Pieces, and 
names of Persons, libelled in that scurrilous, obscene, and impious Satire. 
With a Character of Mr. Pope and his profane Writings, by Sir Richard 
Blackmore, Kt. M.D. 

Printed for A. Dodd without Temple-Bar; and sold by E. Curll in the 
Strand; A. Whitridge near the Royal Exchange; N. Blandford at Charing- 
Cross; J. Jackson near St. James's House; and M. Turner at the Post- 
House in Covent-Garden. 

Where may be had, New Editions of, Three Books, viz. 

I. Mr. Pope's Court Poems, viz. 1. The Basset-Table. 2. The Toilet. 
3. The Drawing-Room. 4. Moore's Worms. A Satire. 5. A Version of 
the First Psalm, &c. Pr. Is. 

II. The Knight of the Kirk: Or, The Ecclesiastical Adventures of Sir 
John Presbyter. The 2d Edit. Pr. Is. 6d. 

III. The Parson's Daughter. A Tale. For the Use of Pretty Girls 
with small Fortunes. Price Qd. 

This latter advertisement was placed in the same column as, and 
immediately under, that of the Second Edition of the Dunciad 
quoted supra. On Monday the second edition of the Key was 
announced in The Daily Journal, 2306, June 3, p. 2, col. 3, upper 
middle. Another notice of it was affixed by Curll to an advertise- 
ment of other books in The Daily Journal, 2310, June 10, p. 1, col. 3, 
top. And still another, in 2314, is quoted infra. The third edition 
of the Key was published July 5. 

A different Key must have been printed about this time (June ?), 
though I have found no advertisement of it. The only two copies of 
it of whose existence I am aware are the one in Yale University 

1 How keenly Pope's friends were on the watch is shown by Lord Oxford's letter to 
him written on this same day (May 27, 1728) : 

". . . . I see Curll has advertised a Key to the Dunciad. I have been asked for 
one by several; I wish the true one was come out " E.-C., Works, VIII, 236. 


THE "DUNCIAD" OF 1728 9 

Library and the one I own. It is not listed in any of the bibliog- 
raphies. Apparently Professor Lounsbury and I are the only 
students of the Dunciad who have seen a copy. It is a small sheet 
folded once to make four 12mo pages, showing no title-page, and 
no indication of place, date, or publisher. It may be the Key men- 
tioned by Lord Oxford in his letter of May 27. And again it may be 
the one concerning which some entertaining but vague information 
is quoted by Thorns from the back of an early pamphlet. 1 But, 
rendering either conclusion dubious, both the Yale copy and mine of 
of this Key are bound up with edition CC of the Dunciad, CurlPs 
pirated edition. 

In some of the advertisements of the Dunciad in the newspapers 
and in a notice in two editions of the Dunciad itself there was prom- 
ised a Progress of Dulness. A reader might reasonably have inferred 
that this was a poem by Pope. A Progress did appear shortly, but 
it was not written by Pope; it was signed "H. Stanhope/' and was 
dated June 8; and probably, though not certainly, was published by 
Curll. 2 The initial advertisement of it appeared in 

The Daily Journal, 2314, Wednesday, June 12, p. 2, col. 2, middle: 

This Day is published, (Which will serve for an Explanation of the 
Dunciad) With Two remarkable Letters to Mr. Booth the Player, The 
Progress of Dulness. A Poem. By an Eminent Hand. 

Nought but himself can be his Parallel. Theobald. 

Printed: And sold by A. Dodd without Temple-Bar; all the Booksellers 
in St. Paul's Church-yard; J. Brotherton in Cornhill; W. Lewis in Covent 
Garden; J. Jackson near St. James's Palace; J. Pote near Suffolk-Street, 
Charing-Cross; and E. Curll in the Strand. Price Is. 

Where may be had, just Published, Six Books, viz. I. Mr. Pope's 
Court Poems .... II. The Parson's Daughter .... III. The Key to the 
Dunciad. 2d. Edition .... IV. The Confederates .... V. The New 
Rehearsal .... VI. Woman's Revenge. . . . Price Is. Qd. All printed 
for E. Curll in the Strand. 

Speedily will be publish'd, The Popiad. 

This notice was repeated in 2315 and 2316, June 13 and 14. In the 
Monday issue, 2318, June 18, the first words were altered to: 

Just publish'd, Being truly Genuine, (Which will serve ....).... 

i N. and Q., 1 S., XII, 161-62. Of. also Lounsbury, The Text of Shakespeare, p. 234. 
* Query: "H. Stanhope" equals William Bond or Daniel Defoe? The poem was 
reprinted, with some annotations, by Thorns in N. and. Q., 2 S., II, 201-4. 



This, with the further change of the last line to the following, reap- 
peared in 

The Daily Journal, 2322, June 21: 

Next Week will be published, The Popiad. A Counterpart to the 
Dunciad. Price Is. Bella plusquam Civilia. 

On Monday the "Next Week" became "This Week." Then, after 
a wait of more than a week, the public was rewarded thus: 

The Daily Journal, 2334, Friday, July 5, p. 2, col. 3, top: 
This Day is publish'd, The Popiad. A Counterpart to the Dunciad. 
Bella plusquam Civilia. Lucan. 

His own Example strengthens all his Laws, 
He is Himself, the Bathos that He draws. 

Ess. on Crit. 

Printed for S. Chapman at the Angel in Pall-Mall; J. Jackson near St. 
James's Palace; M. Boulter at Charing-Cross: E. Curll against Catherine- 
street in the Strand; A. Dodd without Temple-Bar; and J. Brotherton in 
Cornhill. Price Is. 

N.B. To keep Pace with Mr. Pope, this Day is likewise publish'd, the 
Third Edition, of 

1. A Compleat Key to the Dunciad. Containing an exact Account of all 
the Persons abused, and Books mentioned, in that scurrilous and obscene 
Libel. With a Character of Mr. Pope .... Price Gd. 

2. The Progress of Dulness. A Poem. (Which will serve to explain 
the Dunciad.) The True Copy, no other Piece, under this Title, being 
intended to be publish'd. Price Is. 1 

3. The Confederates. A Farce. By Mr. Joseph Gay, i.e. Captain 
Breval, for which he is put into the Dunciad. Price Is. 2 

4. The New Rehearsal: Or, Bays the Younger. A Dramatic Enter- 
tainment. By Charles Gildon, Esq; in which for characterizing Pope 
under the Name of Sawney Dapper, he is put into the Dunciad. Price 
Is. 6d. 

VI. Woman's Revenge .... 

6. Mr. Pope's Court Poems, viz 

7. The Parson's Daughter .... Price Qd. 

1 The wording of Curll's advertisement here implies that he was not responsible for 
the initial advertisement of a " Progress of Dulness." It is probable that Pope arranged 
for that first advertisement, meaning thereby further to mystify the public as to the 
authorship of the Dunciad. 

* Cf. Pope's Dunciad, 4to, 1729, p. 93; 

"Others of an elder date, having layn as waste paper many years, were upon the 
publication of the Dunciad brought out, and their Authors betrayed by the mercenary 
Bookseller (in hope of some possibility of vending a few) by advertising them in this 
manner The Confederates, a Farce, By Capt. Breval, (for which he is put into the Dunciad) 


THE "DUNCIAD" OF 1728 11 

With the correction of VI to 5, this was repeated in 2339, 2341, and 

It is not possible to mention here all the pamphlets of the War of 
the Dunces for even this short period (a bibliographical feat I mean 
to attempt elsewhere) ; so we may close the list with this conclusion to 
an advertisement from 

The Daily Journal, 2349, July 19, p. 2, col. 1, bottom: 

III. The whole Pope-ish Controversy occasioned by the Dunciad, viz. 
1. A Compleat Key to the Dunciad. 2. The Progress of Dulness. 3. The 
Popeiad, in a neat Pocket Size. Price 2s. 6d. any of which are sold single. 

All printed for E. Curll, against Katherine-street in the Strand. 1 


To the best of my knowledge, no list hitherto printed of the 
editions of the Dunciad in 1728 is both complete and accurate. 
Concerning the number the earliest statement is that of Pope 
himself. The first piece in the Appendix to the quarto of 1729 is 
(p. 87): " Preface prefixed to the five imperfect Editions of the 
Dunciad, printed at Dublin and London, in Octavo and Duod." 
And in the Works, Vol. II (1735), the first of the " Notes Variorum" 
is: "This Poem was writ in 1727. In the next year an imperfect 
Edition was published at Dublin, and re-printed at London in 12. 
Another at Dublin, and another at London in 8, and three others in 
12 the same year." The probable inaccuracies in this "note" will 
appear from the discussion that now follows. 

The greatest effort to determine the number was that made by 
writers in Notes and Queries, 1854-55. The discussion begun then 
has continued to the present time. The best information I can 
command substantiates Pope's statement in part but not altogether. 
There were seven editions, or, if two varieties of one edition be desig- 
nated as editions, there were eight two in octavo, the rest in duo- 
decimo. All these have been mentioned by the bibliographers at 
one time or another. The use of letters of the alphabet for numbering 
them, begun by Notes and Queries and continued bj* writers since, 
leads into so much awkwardness that it must break down sooner or 
later; but for the present I shall maintain the tradition. Certain 

i Repeated in No. 2353, July 24. 




distinguishing peculiarities of the different editions are indicated in 
the appended table. 1 









Book for Books. 





Interludes for Enterludes. 













Curl in the Pillory 




159 [160] 

Spirits for Spirts 





*Dr. Faustus etc 





Advertisement of "Dulness " 

2, 3, 4, 6. 

D 5. 

2, 3, 4, 6. 

DD 5, 7. 

4, 6, 8. 

D2 5, 7. 

3, 8. 

E Many differences. 

The editions show: 
A 1, 
B 1, 

C 3, 

CC 2, 

B is an octavo; E, a small octavo; the rest are duodecimos. On the 
title-page, D is called "The Second Edition"; DD and D2, both 
"The Third Edition." DD has a device of fruit and flowers on the 
title-page; D2, a figure of Justice with sword and balance: upward 
of thirty peculiarities distinguish between the two. E was printed 
in Dublin; the others in London. 

Edition A, described as a 12mo, seems to be a ghost or a myth. I 
cannot learn the whereabouts of a copy of it, nor find a man who has 
ever seen one. Recent bibliographers and the scholars with whom I 
have communicated are strongly of the belief that no such edition 
ever existed. Nevertheless, it occurs in the lists from 1854 to 1885; 
in the former year Messrs. Thorns and Dilke wrote: ". . . . with 
the exception of the Museum copy of B, all the other issues of this 
first composition [or edition, inspected by them] have been in 12mo."; 
and in the latter, Mr. Solly, who had something like ninety copies 
of early editions of the Dunciad in his collection, wrote as if he had 
a copy of A before him. Similarly, the first (12mo) of the two 
Dublin editions mentioned in Pope's note is entirely unknown at 
the present time. 2 

1 Slightly condensed and revised from a table published by Mr. Edward Solly in 
N. and Q., October 18, 1879. Mr. Solly's list of editions is the fullest known to me 
too full, in fact. 

* Evidence of a contradictory nature pointing, i.e., to the existence of but a single 
Irish edition occurs in another place, the note to Book I, 1. 104, of the 4to of 1729: 
".... which, in that printed in Ireland . . . ."; Dilke wrote: " By the phrase ' in that 
[edition] printed in Ireland,' the writer clearly refers to one edition, all published or at 
least known to him; he would otherwise have said 'in those,' or ' in one of those'" (N. 
and Q., 1 S., X, 239). 


THE "DUNCIAD" OF 1728 13 

B, the octavo, is nowadays reckoned the first edition. I am not 
convinced that it actually was so. Certainly C and it came from 
the press at very nearly the same time. With such information as I 
have at present, I rather incline to think that they were issued 
simultaneously, the octavo being the equivalent of a "large paper 
copy" of the duodecimo. 1 So far as we can now see, then, either B 
or C was the first edition. From one of them, though from which 
I cannot now say, three succeeding editions were drawn. These 
were CC, E, and D. 

CC was pretty certainly the third in point of time; and in all 
probability it came from the "chaste press" of Curll, the pirate 
printer. With the exception of some minor differences and a con- 
siderable variation on one page (p. viii of the "Publisher to the 
Reader") it tracks B and C 2 page for page and line for line; but 
font of type and ornaments are different, and other rules of capitaliza- 
tion are observed. A notable variation appears in Book I, 1. 76, 
wherein the holiday necklaces of aldermen are changed from "glad 
chains" to "Gold chains," thus affording Pope an opportunity, in 
the notes of the next year, for a fling at the density of the editor of 
this edition. If CC had not appeared earlier than the next London 
edition which on the title-page is called "The Second Edition" 
or, at any rate, been meant to appear before that one, it would have 
lost most of its excuse for being; or, to put the matter the other way 
around, its publisher would have incorporated the alterations made 
by "The Second Edition." 

1 The divergences are few. They have the same number of pages; with the same 
number of lines, and the same lines, on the page; the printed portion of the page is of the 
same size; and the exact sameness of the way letters occur one under another on the page 
shows they are from the same setting of type. The "signature" letters, of course, are 
unlike. In the text one of the greatest differences is in the first line of the poem. In 
all editions except B we read: 

"Books and the man I sing, the first who 

In B the first word is singular, Book; and the o of who has dropped down. A London 
friend, a great book-collector and an editor of experience, tells me that he believes the 
singular noun was originally intended by Pope, who had in mind Theobald's Shakespeare 
Restored. But I think it might reasonably be argued that C was printed first, and, in 
reworking the forms to be used for an octavo, the printer accidentally allowed the s of 
Books to fall out entirely, and the o of who to drop down. Some untried sources of 
information that I have in view may later help me determine the point^ The 12mo must 
have been the commonly used edition: witness the wording of Curll's advertisement of his 
12mo Key "In the same Size to bind up with it." The octavo, as such, is first men- 
tioned rather incidentally then in an advertisement of June 8. Compare, moreover* 
the advertised prices as a further bit of evidence. 

2 It was probably set up from B, since it has Interludes in the note on p. 5; on the 
other hand, it reprints the Dulness advertisement of C, which is not in B. 



E is the Irish edition, printed and published in Dublin. Concern- 
ing the date of issue, I have not procured definite information; but 
it was before July 16, for on that day Swift wrote, in a letter to Pope : 

I have often run over the Dunciad in an Irish edition (I suppose full of 
faults) which a gentleman sent me. 

It was, indeed, not free from faults, some of which are amusing. It 
was set up from a copy of B or C (I think C, since it has Enterludes 
in the note on p. 5) sent over from London, with the names (indicated 
in the original only by the first, or the first and last letters) filled out 
in script by someone who, like Curll, was familiar with Pope's 
intentions but not in his intimacy. At least, I infer so much from a 
comparison of editions. For example, the letters M. . . . n of B 
and C, Book II, 1. 311, became Mefbwin in E; the correct name was 
Milbourn (sometimes spelled Milburn), as we know from later 
editions and from the Keys. Again, in Book III, 1. 271, we find 
Ecyden for Eusden (a name correctly spelled in other lines in E). 
The most entertaining of the errors is the Dryden in Book 1, 1. 94, for 

the D n of B and C. Pope never intended Dryden, and in a 

note in 1729 laughed at this blunder. The bungle was the occasion 
of one of the famous anecdotes gathered around the Dunciad, a 
friendly dispute between Macaulay and W. J. Thorns in the library 
of the House of Lords. I have related that story, and have given 
what I think is the explanation of the error, in a note in the (New 
York) Nation, May 14, 1914, attributing the mistake to the Dublin 
compositor and not to either Pope or the unidentified London 
"editor." The title-page of this edition bears the legend "Written 
by Mr. Pope," but this information, too, I think, was furnished by 
the editor and was entirely without connivance on the part of Pope. 1 
Of D, the titular "Second Edition," there are two varieties. 
D(a) has the word Dublin misspelled Dudlin on the title-page; 
D(b) corrects the error. About the only other difference between 
the two which I have noted is that (in my copies) D(a) has A for 
the catchword on p. 9, while D(b) has the correct As. In neither of 
my copies is the title-page an insert; but the sheets were printed 
from the same setting of type. This edition adds some notes and 

i The statement that this Dublin edition "is the first edition in which Pope acknowl- 
edges the authorship of the work" (Catalogue of the Grolier Exhibition, 1911) is therefore 
to be considered inaccurate. 


THE "DUNCIAD" OF 1728 15 

alters some of the names of persons satirized, which changes need 
not be specified here. 

Nor need those be which appear in the two varieties of the so- 
called "The Third Edition/' DD and D2. Some of the peculiarities 
which distinguish between the two have been mentioned already. 

The seven London varieties appeared in the three weeks from May 
18 to June 8. 1 

The eight varieties of 1728, then, are B, C, CC, E, D(a), D(b), 
DD, and D2. 

The content is much the same in the eight, and may be examined 
in the easily accessible reprints of B in the Elwin-Courthope Works, 
IV, 263 ff., and in Crowell's "Astor Edition" of the Poetical Works, 
pp. 537-69. There is a frontispiece to each except E; it shows, 
perched on top of a pile of books, an owl with a banner in its beak on 
which is inscribed "The | Dunci | ad"; CC's is a re-engraved copy 
of the one that appears the same in all other varieties. There is a 
title-page, of course. By way of preface there is "A Letter from the 
Publisher to the Reader." After this follows a half-title, and then 
the poem in three books. On some pages there are footnotes, in all 
instances rather short ones. The revisions from edition to edition 
affect proper names and phrases, and a few footnotes are added. 
But the number of lines remains unaltered, a total of 916; Book I, 
250; Book II, 384, misnumbered 382 (line 131 is misnumbered 130, 
the error continuing to line 207, which is misnumbered 205, the 
double error continuing thence to the end) ; and Book III, 286. 2 


All the editions except E bear on the title-page the words "Dublin, 
Printed, London Reprinted for A. Dodd"; E has "London: Printed, 
and Dublin Re-pririted by and for G. Faulkner, J. Hoey, J. Leathley, 
E. Hamilton, P. Compton, and T. Benson." The imprint of E 
requires no comment, but that of the others has occasionally been 
taken more or less seriously by the commentators. If meant to 
deceive any contemporary, it failed. As a device it was not unknown 

1 If this rapidity astounds any reader, he may be comforted by the information that 
Stephen Duck's Poems, under a demand stimulated by court favor, passed through 
seven legitimate editions in twelve days, September 28 to October 9, 1730, besides 
"surreptitious" ones. 

8 The reprints number the lines correctly, silently rectifying the errors of the original. 



before; and my impression is that it was then considered no greater 
piece of deception than is the use of a pseudonym today. 1 

Pope chose to refer to all the 1728 editions as imperfect or "sur- 
reptitious," meaning the public to infer that the "coming abroad" 
of the poem at all at that time was contrary to the wishes of its author. 
Superficially, though not fundamentally, his statements may be 
granted to be true. But the Irish edition and at least one London 
edition were probably surreptitious in the full meaning of the word. 
It was said above that the edition CC very likely was printed by 
Edmund Curll. One reason for thinking so is the connection between 
the " Gold chains" of this edition (alone) and a note on the line in the 
Key, which is known to have been printed by Curll; another is that 
the rules of its capitalization are those of Curll's books generally. 

The printer of the other London editions was probably James 
Bettenham. In a postscript to his Notes and Queries list Thorns says : 

We have been kindly permitted by the Stationers' Company to consult 
their registers of the years 1728 and 1729, where we discovered the following 

" May 30, 1728. James Bettenham. Then entered for his copy of 
The Dunciad, an Heroic Poem, in three books. Received nine books." 

Bettenham was a printer (not publisher, so far as I know) of con- 
siderable eminence in his time. His name occurs, as the printer, on 
the title-page of the "Second Edition" (in twelves) of Pope's Iliad. 
Since there is no account of him in the Dictionary of National Biog- 
raphy, it will not be taken amiss if I abstract a short notice of him 
from Nichols's Literary Anecdotes. In December, 1712, he married 
a stepdaughter of the printer William Bowyer the elder (she was a 
half-sister, then, of the more famous printer William Bowyer the 
younger). He "pursued" his profession "with unabated industry 
and reputation till the year 1766, when he retired from business; 
and died Feb. 6, 1774, of a gradual decay, at the advanced age of 91. 
.... His first wife died Dec. 8, 1716, aged 30; and he had a second 
who died July 9, 1735, aged 39." The elder Bowyer was the printer 

1 In the Daily Post, February 21, 1728, I noticed: 

"This Day is publish'd, A Trip to the Moon, by Mr. Murtagh McDermot .... 
Printed at Dublin, and Reprinted at London, for J. Roberts in Warwick-Lane. Price 
One Shilling." 

Dr. Be,ntley, who never set foot out of England, subscribed his Remarks upon a Late 
Discourse of Free-Thinking as from " Leipsic, Jan. 26." 

Curll was the first, I think, to point out that the Dunciad was not first printed in 
Ireland. Cf. Curll's Dean Swift's Literary Correspondence (1741), p. 63, note. 


THE "DUNCIAD" OF 1728 17 

of the 1717 volume of Pope's Works; and, a quarter of a century 
later, the younger William printed the quarto Dunciad of 1743, con- 
cerning which Pope had correspondence with him. Bettenham, 
son-in-law and brother-in-law to the Bowyers, and already known 
to Pope, was a good man, then, to turn to when the poet had a 
printing job that he wished to maintain secrecy about. 1 

How Mistress Dodd happened to be chosen as publisher is still 
uncertain probably at the suggestion of the printer. She and 
Mrs. Nutt, J. Roberts, and Curll were among the most fecund pub- 
lishers of the generation. The firm of " A. Dodd" was of long stand- 
ing and energetic; yet I have succeeded in garnering only a few 
scraps of information concerning it. The earliest occurrence of the 
name 2 to come under my notice is in a pamphlet I have, An Answer 
to the Discourse on Free-Thinking By a Gentleman of Cam- 
bridge .... London, Printed: And Sold by John Morphew near 
Stationers-Hall; and A. Dodd at the Peacock without Temple-Bar. 
1713. This A. Dodd was a mister. 3 His advertisements appear in 
the journals of the ensuing decade. Mr. A. Dodd, the master- 
printer, died some time between the middle of 1721 and the middle 
of 1724, but the business continued under the management of the 
widow, often referred to as Mrs. Dodd. In the latter year the firm 
name went near to suffering a change by way of the altar; but 
Thomas Gent, Printer, forsook the widow Dodd, and, making such 
excuses as he could, fled away to the arms of an old sweetheart in 
York. 4 The writer in Notes and Queries adds, apparently on the 
authority of Gent, that the widow subsequently married again, 5 
but "very indifferently." The firm name continued in use, and 
Mrs. Dodd was still advertising books as late as 1744, living, indeed, 
long enough to publish The Last Will and Testament of Alexander 

iln N. and Q., 1 S., X, 217-18; XII, 197, there are some speculations on the possi- 
bility that Woodfall may have been the printer of the first edition. 

2 A column on Mrs. Dodd in N. and Q., 1 S., X, 217, does not add much to our 

3 "The Peacock without Temple-Bar" was Edmund Curll's place of business from 
his setting up in 1706 to 1711. It will be an interesting coincidence if it shall ever appear 
that Dodd was apprenticed to Curll or associated with him. In 1713 Dod also published 
some of Swift's pamphlets. 

4 See Mr. Austin Dobson's essay "Thos. Gent, Printer," in Eighteenth Century 
Vignettes, 3d Series, pp. 125-27. 

8 The assertion, however, seems to me to need verification. Gent was now a citizen 
of York. And "Mrs. Dodd" continued long to be referred to in advertisements and 
notes. Is it possible that it was another Mrs. Dodd or even one of Mrs. Dodd's "dear 
children" of whose " indifferent " marriage Gent had word? 



Pope, of Twickenham, Esq; 1 The name was spelled commonly Dodd, 
with a double d, but not infrequently with a single d at the end. 2 The 
business of A. Dodd was carried on from 1713 to 1744 "at or without 
Temple-Bar," but the sign of "The Peacock" was not always men- 
tioned. 3 


It was, from the beginning, a part of the plan that the poem 
should be accompanied by a vast aggregation of pseudo-critical 
apparatus. This was meant to be a reductio ad absurdum of the 
scientific editing of the day, its especial target being Theobald, of 
course. Much of the matter must have been in hand when the 
poem was published, but it was not made public until the time of the 
quarto, in April, 1729. It was being amplified, as we learn from 
letters that passed between Pope and Swift on June 28 and July 16, 
1728. Apparently, too, it was for a while Pope's intention to pub- 
lish the quarto some time in the autumn of 1728. In October he 
informed Swift, referring to the lines that first appeared in the 

The inscription to the Dunciad is now printed, and inserted in the poem. 

But since the volume was not published until 1729, it need not be 
discussed further in this article. 

In November came the final incident in the history of the Dunciad 
of 1728, the sale of the copyright. I have nothing new to say con- 
cerning the dealing with the "Noble Lords," who were complacent 
enough to act as Pope's cat's-paws. From them the copyright 
passed by sale to Lawton Gilliver. We have not information in 
detail, but the fact is attested in a document (now in the Record 
Office, London) appertaining to a law-suit brought by Pope against 
Henry Lintot in 1742. The life of the copyright was fourteen years. 


1 1 have a folio pamphlet Printed for A. Dodd, opposite St. Clement's Church in the 
Strand, 1746. 

2 This fact has no special bearing in the discussion of editions of the Dunciad in 1728; 
but the spelling of Dod as the publisher's name in the quarto of 1729 has been an occasion 
of stumbling to some bibliographers. Spelling was less uniform then than now; and the 
difference between Dodd and Dod was no greater, I suspect, than that between Curll and 
Curl. The Dob of an edition of 1729 is a different matter. 

* The name was not an unusual one among bookish folk. A Nicholas Dodd, book- 
seller, was friendly toward William Bowyer, Sr., in 1712; and in 1743, a B. Dodd was 
advertising books for sale "at the Bible and Key in Ave-Mary-Lane, near Stationers- 



In 1891 Koeppel suggested, on the basis of Chaucer's use of the 
phrase "old richesse," both in the Wife of Bath's Tale and in the 
balade on Gentilesse, that the Convivio had a place in Chaucer's 
library. But he adduced no further evidence than the striking 
correspondence, in passages having a common theme, of "old richesse" 
and antica ricchezza. 1 Eighteen years later Paget Toynbee, in his 
Dante in English Literature, quoted the passage on " gentillesse " from 
the Wife of Bath's Tale, and appended the following note: 

This discussion as to the true nature of nobility, though partly based on 
a passage in the De consolatione philosophiae (iii, pr. 6, met. 6) of Boethius, 
.... almost undoubtedly owes much to Dante's canzone on the subject 
prefixed to the fourth book of the Convivio; as does also the Balade of Gen- 
tillesse There is evidence to show that this canzone of Dante was 

the subject of discussion, in respect of his opinions as to what constitutes 
nobility, at a very early date. See for instance the account given by Lapo 
da Castiglionchio (ca. 1310-81) in the second part of the letter to his son 
Bernardo (ed. Menus, Bologna, 1753, pp. 11 ff.) of the examination of Dante's 
arguments by the famous jurist, Bartolo da Sassoferrato (ca. 13 13-56) . 2 

Inasmuch as Koeppel bases his conclusion on a single phrase, 
and since the plan of Toynbee's work precluded the detailed state- 
ment of his evidence, there seems still to be a place for a fuller 
presentation than has hitherto been made of the grounds for believ- 
ing that Chaucer knew and used the Convivio. 

The canzone prefixed to the fourth Tractate of the Convivio deals 
with the nature of Gentilezza. Excluding the Preface and the tornata, 
it falls into two parts. The first is negative, and is devoted to the 
refutation of the view that Gentilezza depends on ancestral riches or 
on descent. The second is positive, and traces Gentilezza (or Nobil- 
tate) to its ultimate and only source in God. The Tractate that 
follows is a detailed commentary on the canzone, afcd poem and 

i See Anglia, XIII, 184-85. 

* Dante in English Literature, I, 14, n. 1. Koeppel's suggestion had long been 
known to me; Toynbee's note I read only after the present study was practically com- 

19] 19 [MODEEN PHILOLOGY, May, 1915 


comment alike are suffused with Dante's singular nobility and lofti- 
ness of thought. And the twofold emphasis of the canzone is main- 
tained throughout the commentary; " gentillesse " does not derive 
from ancestral riches or ancestral stock; it does derive from God. 

Jean de Meun had also discussed gentillece at great length. 1 Like 
Dante he recognized that true nobility does not depend on birth. 
But his treatment of its relation to wealth is incidental, 2 and its 
source in God is not within his ken. That Chaucer drew on Jean 
de Meun's treatment, there can be no doubt. 3 But no one can read 
the two passages, I think, without feeling that in this case Jean de 
Meun's oat has been taken up into a strain of higher mood. The 
lines which Chaucer quotes from the Purgatorio give a clue to the 
heightening, but not the full solution. It is the spirit of the Convivio 
with which the whole treatment is pervaded. In other words, 
Chaucer seems to have done in this passage what in his maturer 
performance he does repeatedly. He has drawn upon all the sources 
of his inspiration, and has fused them not dovetailed them, as in 
his earlier work into a product that bears his own peculiar stamp. 
And in the present instance the fine democracy of Jean de Meun's 
conception of true nobility has been merged with Dante's loftier 
idealism, and both have been tempered by Chaucer's own broad 
humanity. That this is true, it is the task of this brief article to 

The key to Dante's negative treatment of the subject lies in the 
phrase of the emperor Frederick of Suabia, antica ricchezza. The 
phrase itself does not appear in the canzone, but it occurs six times in 
the body of the Tractate. It is used, as is well known, three times 
by Chaucer twice in the Wife of Bath's Tale, once in the balade. 
But that is not all. Dante makes much of the implications of 
antica, in a characteristic discussion of time (in its relation to descent) 
as a supposed cause of nobility. His argument on this point reap- 
pears in Chaucer. His positive doctrine that God is the sole source 
of Gentilezza is fundamental and explicit in Chaucer's treatment too. 
And finally there are verbal parallels as well. I shall take up these 
points seriatim. 

Roman de la Rose, 11. 19540-828 (ed. Michel). 2 See 11. 19760 ff. 

Cf., for example, D 1121-23 and RR, 19561-63; D 1150-51 and RR, 19818-21; 
etc. See further Fansler, Chaucer and the Roman de la Rose (1914), p. 221. 



The first division of the canzone opens with the following lines: 
Tale imperd che Gentilezza volse, 
Secondo '1 suo parere, 
Che fosse antica possession d'avere, 1 
Con reggimenti belli. 
Ed altri fu di piti lieve sapere, 
Che tal detto rivolse, 
E Pultima particola ne tolse, 
Ch non 1'avea fors' elli. 
Di dietro da costui van tutti quelli 
Che fan gentile per ischiatta altrui, 
Che lungamente in gran ricchezza e stata: 2 
Ed & tanto durata 
La cosl falsa opinion tra nui, 
Che Puom chiama colui 
TJomo gentil, che pud dicere: I' fui 
Nepote o figlio di cotal valente, 
Bench& sia da niente. 3 

With this may at once be compared the opening of Chaucer's 

exposition : 

But for ye speken of swich gentillesse 
As is descended out of old richesse, 
That therefore sholden ye be gentil men, 
Swich arrogance is nat worth an hen. 4 

The general parallel is obvious enough, and the similarity of 
expression is scarcely less striking, even apart from the "old richesse," 
which is wanting in the canzone. 5 Of this phrase Chaucer's repeti- 
tions are as follows: 

Crist wol, we clayme of him our gentillesse, 
Nat of our eldres for hir old richesse. 6 

Vyce may wel be heir to old richesse. 7 

1 Of. : Heer may ye see wel, how that genterye 

Is nat annexed to possessioun [D 114647]. 

2 Of. D 1109-11, below. 

3 II Convivio, Trattato Quarto, Canzone Terza, vss. 21-37. I use throughout 
Moore's text (Tutte le Opere di Dante Alighieri, Oxford, 1904). With the last lines quoted 
above cf. D 1152-55: 

And he that wol han prys of his gentrye 

For he was boren of a gentil hous, 

And hadde hise eldres noble and vertuous, 

And nil him-selven do no gentil dedis, etc. 
See also below, p. 26. 

D 1109-12. 

5 Except as it appears in "antica possession" and "gran ricchezza." 

6 D 1117-18. i Gentilesse, 1. 15. 



Its salient position in the Tractate may easily be made clear, 
Dante's exposition of the first words quoted from the canzone (Tale 
impero) is as follows. When Frederick of Suabia was asked "che 
fosse Gentilezza" he replied: 

. . . . ch' era, t( antica ricchezza" e be' costumi. E dico che "altri fu 
di pill lieve sapere," che, pensando e rivolgendo questa definizione in ogni 
parte, Iev6 via 1'ultima particola, cioe i "belli costumi," e tennesi alia prima,. 
cioe all' "antica ricchezza"', e secondoche '1 testo par dubitare, "forse per 
non avere i belli costumi," non volendo perdere il nome di Gentilezza, difinlo 
quella secondoche per lui facea, cioe "possessione d' antica ricchezza." 1 

The next six chapters of the Convivio constitute a digression upon 
the imperial authority; in chap, x Dante returns to his main theme. 
The Emperor's opinion regarding belli costumi he does not deem 
worthy of refutation. 2 It is Frederick's first phrase on which, 
throughout his whole negative argument, 3 he dwells. He begins with 
a statement to which we shall have to return: 4 

L'altra particola, che da natura di Nobilta e del tutto diversa, s'intende 
riprovare; la quale due cose par dire, quando dice antica ricchezza, cio& 
tempo e divizie, le quali da Nobilta sono del tutto diverse, com' detto, e 
come di sotto si mostrera. 6 

A few lines farther on he reverts to the phrase: 

Poi dico "similemente lui errare," che pose della Nobilt& falso suggetto,. 
cioe antica ricchezza* 

And finally, in the fourteenth chapter, he treats it under the aspect 
already foreshadowed in the tenth: 

Riprovato Paltrui errore, quanto in quella parte che alle ricchezze 
s'appoggiava, .... in quella parte che tempo diceva essere cagione di 
Nobilita, dicendo antica ricchezza; e questa riprovazione si fa in questa parte 
che comincia: "Ne voglion che vil uom gentil divegna." 7 

i IV, iii, 44-55. Chaps, x-xv. IV, x, 12-18. 

See IV, x, 1-12. < See below, p. 23. IV, x, 48-50. 

7 IV, xiv, 1-8. It is interesting to observe that Dante also uses the same phrase in 
his De monarchia: "Sed constat quod merito virtutis nobilitantur homines: virtutis 
videlicet propriae vel maiorum. Est enim nobilitas virtus et divitiae antiquae, juxta 
Philosophum in Politicis, et juxta Juvenalem: 

'Nobilitas animi sola est atque unica virtus.' 

Quae duae sententiae ad duas nobilitates dantur: proprium scilicet, et maiorum" (II, 
iii, 12-20). 

It is true (though it does not seem to have been noticed) that the words also occur in 
Jean de Meun: 



The emphatic recurrence in both writers of a striking phrase in a 
context of identical import has, as Koeppel felt, considerable weight. 
And I have already shown that the connection is much closer than 
Koeppel pointed out. It is, however, even more organic than has 
thus far been indicated. 

Besides the fallacy involved in ricchezza (namely the assumption 
of divizie as the source of Gentilezza) stands in Dante's argument the 
fallacy inherent in antica the error, that is, of assuming that time 
(tempo), or the continuance of a single condition (questo processo 
d'una condizione), is the cause of nobility. 1 And upon this idea, 
which does not appear at all in Jean de Meun, Dante lays, in his 
fourteenth and fifteenth chapters, unusual stress. 

Se Nobilta non si genera di nuovo, siccome piu volte e detto che la loro 
opinione vuole, non generandola di vile uomo in lui medesimo, n& di vile 
padre in figlio, sempre & 1'uomo tale quale nasce; e taie nasce quale il padre: 
e cosl questo processo d'una condizione & venuto infino dal primo parente; 
perchS tale quale fu il primo generante, cio Adamo, conviene essere tutta 
la umana generazione, ch da lui alii moderni non si pud trovare per quella 
ragione alcuna trasmutanza. Dunque, se esso Adamo fu nobile, tutti siamo 
nobili; e se esso fu vile, tutti siamo vili; che non altro, che torre via la 
distinzione di queste condizioni, e cosl 6 torre via quelle. E questo dice che 
di quello ch'& messo dinanzi seguita, "che siam tutti gentili ower villani." 2 

Si troveroit toute la terre 

O ses richeces ancienes 

Et toutes choses terrienes; 

Et verroit proprement la mer, 

Et tous poissons qui ont amer, 

Et tres toutes choses marines, 

laues douces, troubles et fines, 

Et les choses grans et menues, 

En iaues douces contenues; 

Et 1'air et tous les oisillons 

and so on through all the elements (11. 21244 ff.). But the context is totally different 
the account, namely, of what one sees in the Garden of Mirth and the passage can 
scarcely have any bearing on the present case. 

i See IV, x, 12-18 (quoted above, p. 22), and add the immediately succeeding lines: 
"E per6 riprovando si fanno due parti; prima si riprovano le divizie, poi si riprova il 
tempo essere cagione di Nobilta. La seconda parte comincia: 'N8 voglion che vil uom 
gentil divegna'" (IV, x, 18-23). 

* IV, xv, 19-38. Of. the following, from the preceding chapter: "Dico adunque: 
' N6 voglion che vil uom gentil divegna.' Dov' 6 da sapere che opinione di questi erranti 
, che uomo prima villano, mai gentile uomo dicer non si possa; e uomo che flglio sia di 
villano, similmente mai dicer non si possa gentile. E ci6 rompe la loro sentenza medesima 
quando dicono che tempo si richiede a Nobilta, ponendo questo vocabolo antico; perocch' 
6 impossible per processo di tempo venire alia generazione di Nobiltafper questa loro 
ragione che detta 6, la qual toglie via che villano uomo mai possa essere gentile per opera 
che faccia, o per alcuno accidente; e toglie via la mutazione di villan padre in gentil 
figlio; ch6, se '1 flglio del villano e pur villano, e '1 figlio suo fla pur flglio di villano, e cosi 
fla anche villano il suo flglio; e cosi sempre mai non sara a trovare la dove Nobilta per 
processo di tempo si cominci" (IV, xiv, 18-39). 



We have already seen that Chaucer follows Dante in his emphasis 
on the error regarding "old richesse." He follows him no less closely 
in this peculiarly characteristic treatment of the processo d'una con- 
dizione, implicit in antica. For in a striking paragraph he too declares 
that if "gentillesse" were a matter of direct descent, a stock once 
gentle could never cease to be what it first was. 

Eek every wight wot this as wel as I, 
// gentillesse were planted naturelly 1 
Un-to a certeyn linage, doun the lyne, 
Privee ne apert, than wolde they never fyne 
To doon of gentillesse the faire offyce; 
They mighte do no mleinye or vyce* 

Chaucer has, to be sure, reversed the emphasis of Dante's exposition 
from "once base, always base" to "once gentle, always gentle" 
a change which grows out of the requirements of his Tale. 3 But the 
argument is Dante's argument. 4 

In a word, Dante's negative treatment of the source of Gentilezza 
involves the implications not only of ricchezza, but also of antica. 
The bearing of the first is fairly obvious; that of the second is char- 
acterized by Dante's own intellectual subtlety. And both reappear 
in Chaucer the first with the repetition of Dante's very phrase; the 
second, with a masterly compression of the essence of two long chap- 
ters into a passage of six lines. 5 

1 Of. IV, i, 47-49: "Questo 1'errore dell' umana bonta, in quanto in noi dalla 
natura seminata, e che Nobiltade chiamar si dee." 

2 D 1133-38. 

It is perhaps due in part, as well, to the fact that the apt figure from Boethius' 
discussion of dignitees, of which he makes such consummately effective (and organic) 
use, suggested itself to him at just this point. 

The reference to Adam and Eve in a discussion of "gentillesse" is of course a 
commonplace. See the Parson's Tale, I, 460; Confessio, Amantis, IV, 2222 ff.; Wyclif 
(ed. Arnold), III, 125 ; etc. But the turn which Dante (and after him Chaucer) gives to 
the familiar argument is Dante's own. 

Fansler calls attention (Chaucer and the Roman de la Rose, p. 105) to Koeppel's 
derivation of Chaucer's use of "nacioun" (D 1068) from Jean de Meun's "Par noblece 
de nation" (RR, 19545), and, with his usual admirable caution, expresses doubt of any 
necessary connection. It is at least worth noting that nazion, in precisely Chaucer's 
sense, occurs in 1. 63 of the canzone: "N6 di vil padre scenda Nazion, che per gentil 
giammai s'intenda." But as in the case of Jean de Meun, so here the parallel is without 
real significance. Nassion occurs in Baudouin de CondS's Li Contes de Gentilleche (a 
poem which I am strongly inclined to think Chaucer knew), 1. 11: "Qui gentius est de 
nassion." See also Jean de CondS's Li Dis de Gentillesse, I. 148: " Erent gentil de nation. 1 ' 
My only reason for referring to the word here is to point out that its use by Jean de Meun 
has no bearing on the case. 



The correspondence in the positive phase of the discussion is no 
less striking. The conclusion of the canzone is explicit: 

Perd nessun si vanti 

Dicendo: Per ischiatta io son con lei; 

Ch'elli son quasi Dei 

Que' c' han tal grazia fuor di tutti rei: 

Che solo Iddio all' anima la dona, 

Che vede in sua persona 

Perfettamente star; sicche ad alquanti 

Lo seme di felicit& s'accosta, 

Messo da Dio nelT anima ben posta. 1 

And the comment merely elaborates what the canzone states: 

Poi quando dice: "Ch solo Iddio all' anima la dona"; ragione 6 del 
suscettivo, cioe del suggetto, dove questo divino dono discende, ch' e bene 
divino dono, secondo la parola dell' Apostolo: "Ogni ottimo dato e ogni 
dono perfetto di suso viene, discendendo dal Padre de' lumi." Dice adunque 
che Iddio solo porge questa grazia all' anima di quello, cui vede stare per- 
fettamente nella sua persona acconcio e disposto a questo divino atto 
ricevere. 2 

Precisely so in Chaucer: 

Thy gentillesse cometh fro god allone; 
Than comth our verray* gentillesse of grace.* 

Dante's entire argument, accordingly, both negative and positive, 
is resumed in Chaucer's lines not formally, but with a complete 
assimilation of its content and with an untrammeled adaptation of 
it to the more flexible structural outlines of the Tale. 6 

i Ll. 112-19. 

2 IV, xx, 47-57. Of. IV, xx, 24-28: "E rende incontanente ragione, dlcendo, che 
quelli che hanno questa grazia, ciod questa divina cosa, sono quasi come Dei, senza 
macola di vizio. E cid dare non pu5, se non Iddio solo." The whole of the nineteenth 
and twentieth chapters should be read. 

The last words of the preceding chapter (which sum up its theme) are: "ch f d 
allora frutto di vera nobilta" (IV, xix, 97-98). 

* D 1162-63. Of. 1. 1117, and the balade, 11. 19-20. 

6 The context hi the Purgatorio of the lines which Chaucer quotes ( D 1125-30) 
embodies once more the doctrine of the Convivio as regards descent, and that it should 
have suggested itself to Chaucer is far more natural than the three lines indicate, when 
taken by themselves. Dante, at the close of the seventh canto of the Purgatorio, is 
speaking of Peter of Aragon and of his son Alphonso, as contrasted with his other two 
sons, James and Frederick. Peter, he says, 

D'ogni valor portd cinta la corda; 
E se re dopo lui fosse rimaso 

Lo giovinetto che retro a lui siede, 

Bene andava il valor di vaso in vaso; 



To the verbal parallels already indicated above may be added 
at least one more. Lines 1152-58 in Chaucer are as follows: 

And he that wol han prys of his gentrye 
For he was boren of a gentil hous, 
And hadde hise eldres noble and vertuous, 
And nil him-selven do no gentil dedis, 
Ne folwe his gentil auncestre that deed is, 
He nis nat gentil, be he duk or erl; 
For vileyns sinful dedes make a cherl. 

The general correspondence of these lines with 11. 34-37 of the 
canzone has been already pointed out. The parallel with the phras- 
ing of the commentary is closer still: 

E cosl quelli che dal padre o da alcuno suo maggiore di schiatta & nobili- 
tato, e non persevera in quella, non solamente e vile, ma vilissimo, e degno 
d'ogni dispetto e vituperio piu che altro villano. 1 

And finally, it is worth noting that the Loathly Lady's discussion of 
poverty stands in close relation to Dante's exposition of riches as 
cagione di male. For Dante too quotes Juvenal's lines, and in an 
almost identical context: 

Verray povert, it singeth proprely; 
Juvenal seith of povert merily: 
" The povre man, whan he goth by the weye, 
Bifore the theves he may singe and pleye." 2 

Ben lo sanno li miseri mercatanti che per lo mondo vanno, che le foglie, 
che '1 vento fa dimenare, li fan tremare, quando seco ricchezze portano; 
e quando senza esse sono, pieni di sicurtd cantando e ragionando fanno lor 
cammino piu brieve. E pero dice il Savio: "se vdto camminatore entrasse 
nel cammino, dinanzi a' ladroni canterebbe."* 

Che non si puote dir dell' altre rede; 
Jacomo e Federico hanno i reami; 
Del retaggio miglior nessun possiede. 

Then come the lines which Chaucer quotes: 

Bade volte risurge per li rami 

L'umana probitate: e questo vuole 

Quei che la da, perchg da lui si chiami [Purg., VII, 114-23]. 

The relation to the theme of the Convivio is obvious, and the turn which Chaucer 
gives the passage from valor and probitate to gentilezza makes it clear that the association 
was in his mind. 

i IV, vii, 87-92. The same general idea appears in Jean de Meun, 11. 19788-801. 
But a comparison will leave little question of Chaucer's immediate source. 

*D 1191-94. 

IV, xiii, 101-10. Poverty also appears in the conventional discussions of "gentil- 
lesse." See, for example, the passage in Gower referred to above (p. 24, n. 4). But 
once more Chaucer and Dante elaborate the convention in the same way. 



That the balade on Gentilesse is Chaucer's elaboration of Dante's 
positive argument in the canzone, under the ever-present influence 
of Jean de Meun as well, it is now not difficult to see. The negative 
element appears, of course, in the "old richesse" of line 15. But 
that the canzone was very definitely in Chaucer's mind appears 
unmistakably from the fifth and sixth lines: 

For unto vertu longeth dignitee, 

And noght the revers, saufly dar I deme. 

E Gentilezza dovunque e virtute, 
Ma non virtute ov' ella; 
Siccome & '1 cielo dovunque la stella, 
Ma do non e converso. 1 

In Chaucer's treatment of "gentilesse," then, there is a charac- 
teristic mingling of all the springs of his inspiration. As in the 
Fortune balade, Jean de Meun, Boethius, and Dante 2 are all present 
the heart of their teaching grasped and assimilated in Chaucer's own 
thought, and fused in a new and individual expression by his ripened 
art. There is here no question of originality. Few passages in 
Chaucer unless it be the Fortune balade itself show with greater 
clearness his consummate gift of gathering together and embodying 
in a new unity the disjecta membra of the dominant beliefs and 
opinions of his day. To overlook that in any study of external 
influences on Chaucer is to take the chaff and leave the corn. 3 

If the Convivio was known to Chaucer, the question at once arises: 
Was his use of it confined to the great exposition of Gentilezza? I 
think it was not. I shall make no attempt to adduce all the possible 
parallels. Two passages in the House of Fame, however, seem to be 
reasonably clear. 

The lines that introduce the eagle's demonstration of the way in 
which all sounds at last arrive inevitably at the House of Fame 4 have 

1 Ll. 101-4. 

2 In that case Deschamps too! In a volume on the French Influences on Chaucer, 
now in preparation, I shall have occasion to deal more fully with the merging, especially 
in Chaucer's later borrowings, of many sources. The instance under discussion is 
absolutely typical. ^ 

8 1 have discussed certain other matters connected with the Wife of Bath's discourse 
on "gentillesse" in an examination of Professor Tupper's doctrine regarding Chaucer and 
the Seven Deadly Sins, which will shortly appear in the Publications of the Modern 
Language Association of America. 

HF, 11. 729-45. 



been variously fathered. Rambeau's ascription of them to the 
influence of Paradiso, I, 109-17, 1 can scarcely be accepted. That 
Boethius and perhaps Jean de Meun are again involved is pretty 
clear. 2 But there are indications also of Chaucer's reading of the 
Convivio. The eagle's exposition begins thus: 

Geffrey, thou wost right wel this, 
That every kindly thing that is, 
Hath a kindly stede ther he 
May best in hit conserved be; 
Unto which place every thing, 
Through his kindly enclyning, 
Moveth for to come to, 
When that hit is awey therfro; 
As thus; etc. 3 

Fansler observes regarding these lines: "In the Convito, Treatise 
III, chap. 3, we find this same idea expressed by Dante, who was 
doubtless following Boethius, as was Chaucer." 4 Of that there can 
be no question. But was Chaucer not following Dante too? One 
striking detail in the eagle's elucidation is the constant repetition of 
"kindly stede" or its equivalent: 

Thus every thing, by this resoun, 
Hath his propre mansioun. 5 

And that the mansioun, y-wis, 

That every thing enclyned to is, 

Hath his kindeliche stede: 

Than sheweth hit, withouten drede, 

That kindely the mansioun 

Of every speche, of every soun .... 

Hath his kinde place in air. 6 

Hit seweth, every soun, pardee, 

Moveth kindely to pace 

Al up into his kindely place. 7 

1 Englische Studien, III, 247-48. See Sypherd, Studies in Chaucer's Hous of Fame, 
pp. 61, 95-97. 

*With Chaucer's "Light thing up, and dounward charge" (1. 746) cf. Boethius: 
"sursum levitas .... deorsum pondus" (Lib. Ill, Prosa 11), which appears in Jean 
de Meun (11. 17700-701) as "Les IggiSres en haut volSrent, Les pesans ou centre ava- 
lerent" (see Koeppel, Anglia, XIV, 246). 

8 HF, 11. 729-37. * Chaucer and the Roman de la Rose, p. 216. 

LI. 753-54. o LI. 827-34. 7 LI. 840-42. 



In Boethius this appears merely as loca (without repetition) in 
the phrase: "nisi quod haec singulis loca motionesque eonveniunt"; 
in Jean de Meun (again without repetition), as "leus convenables." 
I shall quote a few sentences from the beginning of the third chapter 
of the third Tractate of the Convivio: 

Onde 6 da sapere che ciascuna cosa, siccome & detto di sopra, per la 
ragione di sopra mostrata, ha '1 suo speziale amore, come le corpora semplici 
hanno amore naturato in se al loro loco proprio, e perd la terra sempre di- 
scende al centro, il fuoco alia circonferenza di sopra lungo '1 cielo della luna, 
e perd sempre sale a quello. Le corpora composte prima, siccome sono le 

miniere, hanno amore al loco, dove la loro generazione e ordinata Le 

piante, che sono prima animate, hanno amore a certo loco piti. manifestamente 
. . . . le quali, se si trasmutano, o muoiono del tutto o vivono quasi triste, 
siccome cose disgiunte dal loco amico. Gli animali bruti hanno piti manifesto 
amore non solamente al loco, ma Puno Taltro vedemo amare. 1 

Chaucer's striking emphasis, which is also Dante's, is found in 
neither of his other sources, and it seems reasonable to suppose, in 
the light of independent evidence of his knowledge of the Convivio, 
that its influence is present here. The discussion in the Convivio 
starts from precisely the passage in Boethius from which Chaucer 
took his cue. 2 It passes beyond it into subtleties with which Chaucer 
for the moment was not concerned. But its insistent phraseology 
seems to have stuck in his mind. 

There is still another passage in the House of Fame which seems 
to betray the same source. 

"Now," quod he tho, "cast up thyn ye; 
See yonder, lo, the Galaxye, 
Which men clepeth the Milky Wey, 
For hit is whyt: and somme, parfey, 
Callen hit Watlinge Strete: 
That ones was y-brent with hete, 
Whan the sonnes sone, the rede, 
That highte Pheton, wolde lede 
Algate his fader cart, and gye." 3 

i III, iii. 5-33. 

8 Of. with the close of the first sentence quoted above from the Convivio the citations 
on p. 28, n. 2. 

HF. 11. 935-43. 



Rambeau referred this passage to the Inferno, 1 where the connec- 
tion between the galaxy and Phaeton's journey is implied. But the 
galaxy is not specifically named and the allusion (though undoubted) 
is by no means obvious. In the fifteenth chapter of the second 
Tractate of the Convivio, however, Dante is dealing with the galaxy 
explicitly. I shall quote two passages from the beginning of the 

. . . . e siccome la Galassia, cio& quello bianco cerchio, che il vulgo 
chiama la Via di santo Jacopo* .... Perche da sapere che di quella 
Galassia li filosofi hanno avuto diverse opinioni. Che li Pittagorici dissero 
che '1 sole alcuna fiata 3 err6 nella sua via, e, passando per altre parti non 
convenienti al suofervore, arse il luogo, per lo quale passo; e rimasevi quell' 
apparenza deW arsura. E credo che si mossero dalla favola di Fetonte, la 
quale narra Ovidio nel principio del secondo di Metamorfoseos* 

The substitution of the English "Watling Street" for Dante's 
"Via di santo Jacopo" (cf. "somme .... callen hit" with "il 
vulgo chiama") is the obvious thing. And the explicit connec- 
tion in both (even to verbal agreement) of the origin of the galaxy 
with the story of Phaeton which Chaucer characteristically proceeds 
to summarize is too striking to need comment. It is of course 
possible that Chaucer may have known the connection from some 
other source. No other, so far as I know, has been pointed out, and 
in view once more of independent evidence of his acquaintance with 
the Convivio, it seems highly probable that he recalled it here. 

There is another passage this time in an unexpected and even 
incongruous setting which contains an unmistakable reminiscence 
of the Convivio. Two lines in the Compleynt of Mars I have long 
suspected, from their tone and phraseology, to be a borrowing from 
Dante, but no definite suggestion for them appears in the Divine 
Comedy. In point of fact, Chaucer is recalling the doctrine of the 
most intricate and baffling section of the Convivio, in which Dante 
explains and interprets the conflict between his two loves. The 
second Tractate opens with the canzone beginning: "Voi che 
intendendo il terzo ciel movete," addressed to the Intelligences who 
move the third heaven. The passage in Chaucer, unequivocal 

i Inf. XVII, 106-8 (cf. Purg., IV, 71-72). See Englische Studien, III, 245-46. 
II, xv, 8-10. Cf. Chaucer's "ones." II, xv, 45-55. 



as the reminiscence is, does not involve the more complex subtleties 
of Dante's argument, and for our purpose these may happily be 
disregarded. The lines, in their context, are these: 

The firste tyme, alas! that I was wroght, 
And for certeyn effectes hider broght 

By him that lordeth ech intelligence) 
I yaf my trewe servise and my thoght, 
For evermore how dere I have hit boght! 

To hir, that is of so gret excellence, etc. 1 

In the fifth chapter of the second Tractate Dante discusses the 
Intelligenze at length, and a few lines may be quoted: 

Poich' e mostrato nel precedente capitolo quale e questo terzo cielo e 
come in se medesimo e disposto, resta a dimostrare chi sono questi che '1 
muovono. E adunque da sapere primamente, che li movitori di quello sono 
Sustanze separate da materia, doe Intelligenze, le quali la volgare gente chia- 

ma Angeli Altri furono, siccome Plato, uomo eccellentissimo, che 

puosono non solamente tante Intelligenze, quanti sono li movimenti del cielo, 
ma eziandio quante sono le spezie delle cose . . . . e vollero, che siccome le 
Intelligenze de } deli sono generatrid di quelli, dascuna del suo, cosl queste 
fossero generatrici dell' altre cose, ed esempli ciascuna della sua spezie; e 
chiamale Plato Idee, che tanto e a dire, quanto forme e nature universali. 
Li Gentili le chiamavano Dei e Dee, etc. 2 

In this same chapter the effects (effetti) of the Intelligences are 
referred to, but it is in the ninth chapter that this phase of the 
subject is explicitly treated: 

Potrebbe dire alcuno: conciossiacosache amore sia effetto di queste Intel- 
ligenze (a cui io parlo), e quello di prima fosse amore cosl come questo di poi, 
perche la loro virtu corrompe Puno, e 1'altro genera ? .... A questa qui- 
stione si pud leggiermente rispondere, che lo effetto di costoro e amore, come 
e detto 3 

The emphasis on " effect" is Dante's own: "Dico effetto, in quanto," 
etc. 4 

In Chaucer's lines, now, it must be remembered that it is Mars 
that is, one of the Intelligences themselves 5 who is speaking, and 

i Ll. 164-69. 

2 II, v, 1-8, 20-25, 28-35. Juno, Vulcan, Minerva, and Ceres are then mentioned. 
II, ix, 22-27, 31-33. Of. also II, vi, 109-19. * II, ix, 43-44. 

5 Of. II, vi, 105 ff. Into Chaucer's variation from Dante in his use of "the third 
heaven" (1. 29) it is not here necessary to go. Mars is not, strictly speaking, one of the 



as such he declares that he has been brought hither for "certeyn [i.e., 
fixed, determined] effectes." In other words, he was brought and 
set in his place for the effetti that belong to the Intelligences "[e] lo 
effetto di costoro & amore." 1 And the reference to "him that lordeth 
ech intelligence" is no less clear. The canzone is directly addressed, 
as we have seen, to the Intelligences, and in the address Dante names 
his "soave pensier," that went often "a' pie del vostro Sire. 1 ' 2 In 
the comment this line receives its explanation: ". . . . questo pen- 
siero che se ne gia spesse volte a' pi del Sire di costoro a cui io parlo, 
ch> e Iddio."* 

Chaucer's lines, accordingly, in the light of their source, are clear. 
Mars complains that as one of the Intelligences he was created by 
his lord " the god that sit so hye" (1. 218) to fulfil the very end 
of his existence, which end was love. He has loved has given to 
his lady his true service and his thought, and his love has ended in 
"misa venture." The cause of his complaint, on which he lays such 
stress, 4 lies therefore deep enough. The fact that Dante's whole 
doctrine of the Intelligences is implicit in two lines is evidence again 
of Chaucer's power of assimilation. And his ability to " reject what 
cannot clear him" 5 is no less striking. For what he takes from the 
Convivio (as well as how he takes it) and what he leaves are equally 

There are other passages that Chaucer may have drawn from the 
Convivio, but there are equally possible sources elsewhere. The lines 
invoking the "firste moeving cruel firmament" in the Man of Law's 
Tale 6 are in striking accord, in their phraseology, with certain state- 
ments of the Convivio. 7 But in this case Chaucer and Dante may be, 

Intelligences of the third heaven. But Chaucer's whole conception in the poem is as far 
removed from that of Dante's canzone as the conception of the House of Fame is remote 
from that of the Divine Comedy, and his recollection of certain phrases must be treated, 
in the one case as in the other, independently of any idea that he is following in Dante's 
footsteps in his plan. It is only a single idea and its phraseology that is involved. 

* For the indubitable astrological significance of the next stanza, which describes the 
lady, see Manly, Harvard Studies and Notes in Philology and Literature, V, 125-26. 

Canzone, 11. 14-16. * II, viii, 38-40. 

* See the preceding stanza throughout. 

* The whole passage in Arnold (The Second Best, 11. 13-19) is rather curiously applic- 
able to Chaucer. 

* B 295-98. 

' See II, vi, 145-151; II, iii, 39-45; II, iv, 19-27. 



and probably are, drawing on a common source. 1 The "Etik" pas- 
sage in the Prologue to the Legend of Good Women finds an interesting 
parallel in the canzone upon which Chaucer drew for his account of 

.... for "vertu is the mene," 

As Etik saith. 2 

Virtute intendo, che fa 1'uom felice 

In sua operazione. 

Quest' & (secondoche V Etica dice) 

Un abito eligente, 

Lo qual dimora in mezzo solamente* 

But, as I have pointed out elsewhere, 4 there is a similar passage 
in John of Salisbury, and as between the two, honors seem easy. 5 
Such parallels as the two just cited, accordingly, are inconclusive, 
even though the list might easily be lengthened. 

The correspondences, however, in the cases of the Wife of Bath's 
Tale, the Gentilesse balade, the House of Fame, and the Compleynt of 
Mars, are of a different character, and they seem to establish beyond 
doubt the conclusion tentatively suggested by Koeppel and Paget 
Toynbee. And the addition of the Convivio to Chaucer's library is 
an important one. 



See Skeat's note on 1. 295 (Oxford Chaucer, V, 148-49). 

* Prologue, B-version, 11. 165-66. 

8 IV, canzone, 11. 83-87. Of. IV, xx, 8-10: "dunque ogni Virtute .... doe 
I'abito elettivo consistente nel mezzo." 

* Modern Language Notes, XXV (March, 1910), 87-89. 

6 The context in the Convivio, however, is closer than in the Polycraticus to the context 
in the Legend. 



Hereafter Modern Philology will print, in addition to the longer 
articles constituting the bulk of each number, shorter articles and 
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lished for years merely because the proper statement of them requires 
only a page or even less. Some are buried in the footnotes of long 
articles with which they have little or no connection. The general 
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MODERN PHILOLOGY, May, 1915] 34 [34 


The two longer early poems, " Tamerlane" and "Al Aaraaf," 
have heretofore received but scant attention in proportion to that 
which has been bestowed on most of Poe's work. "Al Aaraaf," 
in particular, has been the subject of interpretations and com- 
ments the diversity of which indicates that some of the ablest critics 
of Poe have passed it by with little more than a cursory reading. 
While "Al Aaraaf" is not a poem of great intrinsic merit, it is the 
most important production of a period that is significant in the his- 
tory of Poe's literary development, and for this reason if for no other 
it is entitled to consideration. 


The facts regarding the publication of "Al Aaraaf" are well 
known, and are repeated here only for convenience. Poe had pub- 
lished Tamerlane and Other Poems in June, 1827, when he was eighteen 
years of age; and he brought out Al Aaraaf, Tamerlane, and Other 
Poems at the close of the year 1829. There is evidence, however, 
that the poem which occupied the place of honor in the latter col- 
lection was virtually completed some months earlier; 1 and it can 
hardly be doubted that it was written after the publication of Tamer- 
lane and Other Poems. If it had been available Poe would almost 
certainly have included it in the earlier pamphlet; and the verse 
differs so greatly from that of "Tamerlane," and shows so great an 
advance toward Poe's later manner that it seems to mark the begin- 
ning of a new period in the author's development. 2 If these con- 
jectures are true "Al Aaraaf" must have been written some time 
between June, 1827, and the spring of 1829. During most of this 
time Poe is supposed to have been serving as private and non- 
commissioned officer in the United States army. 

1 Selections from the poem were printed in the Yankee for December, 1829, and 
a note in the preceding issue seems to show that they were in the hand^of the editor 
at least as early as November. According to Professor Woodberry (Life of Poe, 1909, 
I, 54) William Wirt wrote on May 6, 1829 regarding a poem which the young author 
had sent him for criticism, and which "must have been ' Al Aaraaf.' " Poe also showed 
the manuscript to William Gwynn, a Baltimore editor. 

2 In this connection may, however, be noticed Poe's statement, usually discredited, 
that he wrote the poems of the Tamerlane volume in 1821-22. 

35] 35 [MODERN PHILOLOGY, May, 1915 


"Al Aaraaf" was reprinted with unimportant changes in the 
volumes of 1831 and 1845, and a portion of it appeared in the Phila- 
delphia Saturday Museum in 1843. In 1845 it received some notoriety 
from the fact that Poe delivered it before the Boston Lyceum, the 
members of which had expected a poem composed for the occasion. 


" Al Aaraaf " is in places somewhat obscure, owing in part to the 
allegorical nature of the subject-matter, in part to involved sentence 
construction. There seems, however, to be no serious difficulty in 
the interpretation of the story. 

If my understanding of the poem is correct, the entire action 
takes place on Al Aaraaf. 1 This is a wandering star, of which Poe 
said in a footnote to the title: "A star was discovered by Tycho 
Brahe which burst forth, in a moment, with a splendour surpassing 
that of Jupiter then gradually faded away and became invisible 
to the naked eye." 2 To this star the poet assigns two attributes. 

1 1 should feel more hesitation in contradicting earlier interpreters of the poem if 
they did not contradict each other, and in some instances even themselves. Professor 
Harrison thus summarizes the first part of the poem (Virginia ed. of Poe, VII, 161): 

"Nesace personified Beauty takes up her abode on earth, where surrounded by 
beauty she reverently looks into the infinite. Flowers are grouped around her to bear her 
song, in odors, up to Heaven. The Song has to do with the thought that, though humans 
conceive God after a model of their own, He has revealed himself as a star. Abashed 
Nesace hears the sound of silence as the eternal voice of God speaks to her, bidding her 
tell man everywhere that he is guilty (because he believes God is only magnified man ?). 
Let man behold Beauty as the revelation of God. This maiden worshipping a vanishing 
star dwells on a vanishing island over which she now takes her way." 

From an editor usually so careful this is surprising. It is "yon lovely Earth" 
(1. 30), not "the earth" in which Nesace kneels. God has not "revealed himself as a 
star," but a "spirit" (1. 82), unknowable in material form, 

the shadow of whose brow 
What spirit shall reveal? (11. 100-101). 

Nesace is not bidden to tell man that he is guilty, unless "man" includes the inhabitants 
of the other worlds to which she is sent (11. 143-50). She neither worships a vanishing 
star nor dwells on a vanishing island. This last statement is evidently based on a mis- 
understanding of Poe's note on 1. 158 "but left not yet her Therasaean reign." In 
explanation of the adjective "Therasaean," which he applies to the wandering star, 
Poe says: " Therasaea, or Therasea, the island mentioned by Seneca, which, in a moment, 
arose from the sea to the eyes of astonished mariners." 

Professor Woodberry is less definite in his outline of the poem, and he does not make 
quite clear where he supposes the action of the poem to take place. Most of his dis- 
cussion (Life of Poe, A. M. L. series, 1884, pp. 48-50; Life of Poe, 1909, I, 60-62) seems 
to imply that it is on Al Aaraaf; but he says: "The action of the maiden in whom beauty 
is personified begins with a prayer descriptive of the Deity, who in answer directs her, 
through the music of the spheres, to leave the confines of our earth and guide her wander- 
ing star to other worlds." Nesace is, however, upon Al Aaraaf, and this star is so far 
from the confines of our earth that the latter appears dim (1. 356) ; and the Deity com- 
mands her not to guide, but to leave, her wandering star (1. 143; and compare 1. 158). 

* A superficial search fails to bring to light any reference by Tycho Brahe to this star; 
and it is unlikely that such a reference would be significant if it were found. Indeed, 
I half suspect that the whole note is one of Poe's inventions. In view of Poe's usual 


It is the domain of Nesace, a celestial maiden whose mission it is to 
bear the divine message of beauty from world to world throughout the 
universe; and it is the abode of certain spirits. "Al Aaraaf" is a 
poetic spelling of the Arabic Al Araf, which according to the Koran 
is a narrow partition between heaven and hell, inhabited by souls 
which have not as yet been assigned to either; but Poe takes even 
greater liberties with the meaning of the term than with its orthog- 
raphy. 1 

At the opening of the poem the star, after bearing its mistress 
and her message to distant spheres, "And late to ours, the favoured 
one of God" (1. 25 2 ), is anchored near four bright stars (11. 16-29). 
Nesace kneels upon a bed of flowers, whose odors carry her message, 
or prayer, to heaven (11. 30-81). In response to this prayer (11. 82- 
117) the Deity commands that she and her train disperse themselves 
throughout the heavens and bear his message to other worlds 
(11. 133-50). Part II of the poem opens with a description of the 
temple or palace on Al Aaraaf to which Nesace takes her way after 
receiving the divine command (11. 159-217). Here, in a lyric which 
is the most effective part of the poem (11. 226-313), she calls on her 
sleeping attendants, and bids Ligeia, the personified music of nature, 
to awaken them. All respond but two, "A maiden angel and her 
seraph-lover" (1. 336), the latter a spirit from earth. These are so 
engrossed in their mutual feeling that they fail to hear the summons, 
and so perish (11. 340-422). 

While the main facts of the slight story seem clear, the allegorical 
meaning is somewhat more troublesome. Al Aaraaf is 

yon lovely Earth 
Whence sprang the "Idea of Beauty" into birth 

(11.30-31; cf. 1. 154), 

appearance of accuracy in such matters the phrasing is peculiar. In an age when every- 
one watched the heavens it required no learned astronomer to discover a star "which 
burst forth, in a moment, with a splendour surpassing that of Jupiter." It may have 
been this consideration which led Poe to change the wording, which in later editions 
ran: "A star was discovered by Tycho Brahe which appeared suddenly in the heavens 
attained, in a few days, a brilliancy surpassing that of Jupiter then as suddenly dis- 
appeared, and has never been seen since." 

1 Poe may have gained his knowledge of Al Araf only from Moored note to the 
"Second Angel's Story" in the " Loves of the Angels " ; but it is probable that he had also 
read the rather obscure reference in chap, vii of the Koran as translated by Sale, and an 
interesting passage, too long to quote here, from Sale's "Preliminary Discourse," sec. IV. 

2 The numbers of lines refer to the text of the 1845 edition as given by Harrison , 
Virginia ed. of Poe. 



and Nesace is its ruler (1. 26). Her significance and the exact nature 
of her message are nowhere definitely stated, but are to be inferred 
from her prayer and the reply of the Deity (11. 82-150). Professor 
Fruit, in The Mind and Art of Poe's Poetry (pp. 24-25) says: "The 
message is to the effect that the beings whom Nesace has known, have 
dreamed for the Infinity of the Spirit 'a model of their own'; the 
will of God though has been done through the career of the wandering 
star. What that purpose was will become known 

' In the environs of Heaven.' " 

Professor Harrison accepts virtually the same view. 
A portion of the prayer or " message" reads: 

Spirit! that dwellest where, 

In the deep sky 
The terrible and fair, 

In beauty vie! 85 

Who livest that we know 

In Eternity we feel 
But the shadow of whose brow 100 

What spirit shall reveal ? 
Tho' the beings whom thy Nesace, 

Thy messenger hath known 
Have dreamed for thy Infinity 

A model of their own 105 

Thy will is done, Oh, God! 

The interpretation seems to turn on the question whether the interro- 
gation point at the close of 1. 101 marks a full stop or a subordinate 
pause. If a full stop, then Professor Fruit's reading, which makes 
important the anthropomorphic conception of Deity, is justified. 
It seems more probable, however, that 11. 100-101 are merely a 
rhetorical question in a doxology, or address of praise, which extends 
through 1. 105; and that the sense, directly stated, is: "Though man 
has imagined thee in his own image, no spirit can know or compre- 
hend thy form." 

The reply of the Deity runs: 

What tho' in worlds which sightless cycles run, 
Link'd to a little system, and one sun 


Where all my love is folly and the crowd 135 

Still think my terrors but the thunder cloud, 

The storm, the earthquake, and the ocean-wrath 

(Ah! will they cross me in my angrier path ?) 

What tho' in worlds which own a single sun 

The sands of Time grow dimmer as they run, 140 

Yet thine is my resplendency, so given 

To bear my secrets thro' the upper Heaven. 

Leave tenantless thy crystal home, and fly, 

With all thy train, athwart the moony sky 

Apart like fire-flies in Sicilian night, 145 

And wing to other worlds another light! 

Divulge the secrets of thy embassy 

To the proud orbs that twinkle and so be 

To ev'ry heart a barrier and a ban 

Lest the stars totter in the guilt of man. 150 

Of this Professor Fruit says: "The eternal voice of God answers her 
in a show of wrath, not towards her, but towards the creatures to 
whom she had been sent, because they had imagined a model of His 
Infinity. The consequence is His love is folly, and the crowd think 
His terrors manifested in the thunder-cloud, the storm, the earth- 
quake, and the ocean-wrath, when in fact there is an 'angrier path' 
in which they will cross Him." The passage does not seem to me, 
however, to express present anger or to convey a definite threat, but 
to emphasize the power of God, and to contrast the resplendency and 
permanency of Nesace with the briefer span of earthly affairs. The 
"guilt of man" is not defined. Professor Fruit says it is "evidently 
that his conception of God is anthropomorphic and therefore utili- 
tarian." More probably, however, the phrase is merely an indefinite 
term for "sin," which, as it comes from passion, will be prevented by 
a devotion to the higher beauty. 

The state of the spirits in Al Aaraaf is pictured in 11. 317-31: 

Seraphs in all but "Knowledge," the keen light 
That fell, refracted, thro' thy bounds, afar 
Death! from eye of God upon that star: ^ 

Sweet was that error sweeter still that death 320 

Sweet was that error ev'n with us the breath 
Of Science dims the mirror of our joy 
To them 't were the Simoom, and would destroy 


For what (to them) availeth it to know 

That Truth is Falsehood or that Bliss is Woe ? 325 

Sweet was their death with them to die was rife 

With the last ecstasy of satiate life 

Beyond that death no immortality 

But sleep that pondereth and is not "to be" 

With this passage should be connected the sonnet "To Science," 
which originally formed a sort of preface to the poem. In these 
obscure lines the poet seems to picture a state of innocence in which 
" error " that is, absence of " Knowledge " is a blessing. 1 " Knowl- 
edge," or Science, dims even earthly joys, and to these angels whose 
essence is devotion to beauty it would be a destroying Simoom. 2 
The death or annihilation referred to in 11. 320 and 326-29 is explained 
by Poe in a footnote : 

Sorrow is not excluded from " Al Aaraaf," but it is that sorrow which the 
living love to cherish for the dead, and which, in some minds, resembles the 
delirium of opium. The passionate excitement of Love and the buoyancy 
of spirit attendant upon intoxication are its less holy pleasures the price 
of which, to those souls who make choice of "Al Aaraaf" as their residence 
after life, is final death and annihilation. 

It was "the passionate excitement of Love" which caused the down- 
fall of lanthe and Angelo, though it must be confessed that their 
conversation shows little passion in the ordinary understanding of the 

1 This is the most perplexing passage in the poem; and I am not quite certain that 
1. 317 does not mean just the opposite of what I have assumed above, and that the poet 
does not try to say that the spirits on Al Aaraaf have knowledge, while seraphs have 
not. LI. 317-19 lend themselves more readily to this explanation than to the other; 
and the distinction between cherubim as spirits of wisdom and seraphim as spirits of love 
was frequent in the poems of the time, and conspicuous in the "Loves of the Angels." 
I am unable, however, to fit this reading with the lines that follow, and particularly with 
the statement, 

Ev'n with us the breath 
Of Science dims the mirror of our joy 
To them 't were the Simoom, and would destroy 

where the tenses in the last line clearly imply that the spirits did not have Science. It is 
just possible that the poet distinguishes between " Science" and the " Knowledge" which 
was refracted upon Al Aaraaf, the latter being enough to introduce the possibility of 
death, but not to destroy. This, however, seems fanciful; and if this is the meaning, 
what is "that error" ? 

With regard to the attributes of seraphim, it may be said that though the cherubim 
are sometimes distinguished as "Spirits of Knowledge," as in the introduction to the 
"Second Angel's Story," their chief characteristic seems to be definable rather as wis- 
dom, and it is hardly to be assumed that the seraphim, the "Spirits of Divine Love," 
were wholly without knowledge. Besides, as Moore's notes more than once remind us, 
the two orders were continually confused, and reasons of euphony might well have led 
Poe to prefer "seraph" to "cherub." 

2 1 am quite unable to understand Professor Fruit's comment (Mind and Art of Poe' s 
Poetry, pp. 29-30) which seems to interpret the Simoom (1. 323), as Nesace's summons 
to her train, or its response. 



term. Angelo's long speeches tell of his earthly death, which hap- 
pened at the time when Al Aaraaf was nearest our planet, and of his 
translation to that abode of beauty; and both he and lanthe pay 
tribute to the beauty of the world. 


"Tamerlane" is unquestionably imitative of Byron. "Al 
Aaraaf" as unquestionably shows a new manner. It has been cus- 
tomary to consider Moore as the chief influence in bringing about a 
change; and Professor Woodberry also names Milton. 

It is clear that Poe had been reading "Lalla Rookh," and the 
"Loves of the Angels," and his indebtedness to Moore's notes is 
obvious. 1 His own habit of using pedantic erudite notes was doubt- 
less encouraged by the bad example of Moore, though Southey, 
Shelley, and others were guilty of a similar affectation, and Poe had 
begun the practice in "Tamerlane." But this indebtedness to the 
machinery and accessories of Moore's poems does not seem to have 
been accompanied by much indebtedness to the poems themselves. 
Except that there is a suggestion of orientalism and orientalism was 
in the air from 1810 to 1830 there is little similarity in content or 
situation. Indeed, I have been able to find no greater likenesses 
than the reference to many flowers in the passage 11. 42-82, as in 
several passages of Moore; and such very natural correspondences 
as that between Nesace's awe and exaltation, 11. 118-21, and that of 

1 It is very likely that the title of the poem was suggested by Moore's note on Al 
Araf, already quoted. The names and special attributes of several of the flowers men- 
tioned (11. 42-80) the Sephalica, the Nyctanthes, the Nelumbo are taken from the notes 
to "Lalla Rookh." In some cases Poe did little more than borrow the idea, but in 
others he merely took a hint which he developed by his own imagination. Thus, Moore 
writes in the " Fire- Worshippers ": 

Ev'n as those bees of Trebizond, 

Which, from the sunniest flowers that glad 

With their pure smile the gardens round, 
Draw venom forth that drives men mad, 

and adds in a note: "There is a kind of Rhododendros about Trebizond, whose flowers 
the bee feeds upon, and the honey thence drives people mad. Tournefort." Poe devel- 
ops from this a passage of fifteen lines (11. 50-65) , in which he describes the earthly flower 
as the prototype of that which produced the nectar in heaven, and represents the honey, 
not as driving men mad, but as 

torturing the bee 
With madness, and unwonted reverie 9 

a conception surely more poetic than that of Moore. Poe's note reads: "This flower 
is much noticed by Lewenhoeck and Tournefort. The bee, feeding upon its blossom, 
becomes intoxicated." "Lewenhoeck" is, I surmise, the Dutch scientist, Leeuwenhoek, 
who, according to the biographical dictionaries, was a microscopist and physiologist. 
He probably owes his place in the note to the sounding quality of his name. 



the maiden after her prayer in the " Second Angel's Story." 1 The verse 
is not that of Moore; except for proper names there are no striking 
resemblances of vocabulary; and the tone and spirit are different, 
since Moore is usually telling a story for the story's sake, while Poe 
is attempting an allegorical presentation of abstract truth. It seems 
that, though Poe was indebted to Moore for some poetic botany and 
bits of oriental erudition, he really took few hints of poetic form. 

Nor is the indebtedness to other poets easier to trace. In the 
edition of 1829 the title was followed by a quotation from Milton, 
Milton is three times referred to in the notes, and there are several 
suggestions of Miltonic imagery. 2 In a footnote Poe credits the hint 
for two slightly affected rhymes to Scott. I have always suspected 
that his fondness for a special poetic vocabulary of onomatopoetic 
words, and for sonorous proper names, such as "Al Aaraaf" and 
"Ligeia" was derived in part from Shelley, but I am unable to trace 
definite Shelleyan influence in this poem. Nor, more strangely, 
considering Poe's devotion to Coleridge, is there obvious influence 
of that poet. Indeed, the verse is, for the work of a boy of twenty, 
remarkably free from striking imitations; and in some passages, 
notably the lyric beginning, "Ligeia, Ligeia, my beautiful one," and 
such lines as 

Flap shadowy sounds from visionary wings, 

And the Nelumbo bud that floats for ever 
With Indian Cupid down the holy river 

Poe shows unmistakably his own later manner. 

1 Poe says: 

She ceas'd and buried then her burning cheek 
Abash'd, amid the lilies there, to seek 

A shelter from the fervor of His eye; 120 

For the stars trembled at the Deity. 
She stirr'd not breath'd not for a voice was there, 
and Moore: 

Exhausted, breathless, as she said 
These burning words, her languid head 
Upon the altar's steps she cast, 
As if that brain-throb were its last 
Till, startled by the breathing, nigh, 
Of lips, that echoed back her sigh, 
Sudden her brow again she rais'd; 

2 A line like 

Headlong thitherward o'er the starry sea (1. 414) 

is clearly Miltonic. It is harder to say whether the prevailing influence is Milton, Spenser, 
or Keats in the following: 

High on a mountain of enamell'd head 

Such as the drowsy shepherd on his bed 160 

Of giant pasturage lying at his ease, 

Raising his heavy eyelid, starts and sees 

With many a mutter' d "hope to be forgiven" 

What time the moon is quadrated in Heaven 



The idea of beauty indefinitely bodied forth in "Al Aaraaf" 
seems' to foreshadow the critical theory of poetry which Poe formu- 
lated in his review of Longfellow's Ballads and Other Poems, in 1842, 
and which is probably better known as restated in the Philosophy of 
Composition and the lecture on the Poetic Principle. Poe here 
defined poetry as "the rhythmical creation of beauty." He took 
pains, however, to make plain that he meant "no mere appreciation 
of the Beauty before us but a wild effort to reach the Beauty 
above .... the struggle to apprehend the supernal loveliness." 1 
The province of the poem is not, he says, primarily truth, or passion. 
"In the contemplation of Beauty we alone find it possible to attain 
that pleasurable elevation, or excitement, of the soul, which we 
recognize as the Poetic Sentiment, and which is so easily distinguished 
from Truth, which is the satisfaction of the Reason, or from Passion, 
which is the excitement of the heart." 2 "In enforcing a truth 
... .we must be in that mood which, as nearly as possible, is the 
exact converse of the poetical." 3 "A passionate poem is a contra- 
diction in terms." 4 There is, however, no conflict or antagonism 
between beauty and truth or morals; and taste, the arbiter of 
beauty, is intimately related with both the intellect and the moral 
sense. It is a corollary to this theory that since the yearning after 
the supernal beauty leads to sadness, "Melancholy is thus the most 
legitimate of all the poetical tones." 5 

There is a striking relationship between this theory and the con- 
ception of beauty presented in " Al Aaraaf." It is the idea of beauty 
which the Deity disseminates throughout the universe as his special 
message, and which is to keep the worlds from tottering in the guilt 
of man. That an excess of truth, or "knowledge" is fatal to beauty 
is stated in the prefatory sonnet "To Science," and apparently in the 
passage 11. 317-25, already quoted. On the other hand the antago- 
nism between beauty and passion is shown by the fact that while 
love is admirable, 

0! how, without you, Love! 

Could angels be blest ? (11. 246-47) 

i The Poetic Principle. * Ibid. 

* Marginalia, note on Amelia B. Welby. See also review of Home's "Orion. 

5 The Philosophy of Composition. 



excess of passion is fatal: 

Heaven no grace imparts 
To those who hear not for their beating hearts; 335 

and this truth is illustrated by the fall of Angelo and lanthe. 

The thought of melancholy as an accompaniment of beauty is 
hinted at in the lines on Nesace's temple (11. 186-89) : 

But on the pillars Seraph eyes have seen 
The dimness of this world : that greyish green 
That Nature loves the best for Beauty's grave 
Lurk'd in each cornice, round each architrave 

and in the continuation of the same passage, which represents the 
niches of the temple as rilled with earthly statues. 1 

That "Al Aaraaf " was intended as a presentation of Poe's view 
of poetry, or that he had consciously formulated his critical theories 
in 1829, is hardly to be believed. His first definite utterance on the 
nature of poetry is found in the somewhat rambling "Letter to 
B ," prefixed to the volume of poems issued in 1831. This showed 
Poe to be strongly under the influence of Coleridge; and the essay 
is most interesting for its acceptance of Coleridge's distinction between 
poetry and science, and for the young author's attempt to improve 
on his master's distinction between poetry and romance. The term 
"beauty" does not occur. It was apparently not until thirteen years 
after the publication of "Al Aaraaf" that Poe put in definite form 
the theories associated with his name. Yet it can hardly be doubted, 
in view of his earlier critical utterances and the nature of his own poetic 
attempts, that the striking statements in the review of Longfellow's 
Ballads, and in later critical writings, were the expression of ideas 
that he had long been evolving. If the parallelisms here pointed 
out are significant, it is probable that he had at least the germs of 
these ideas at the very beginning of his literary career. 

December 1913 

1 Poe wrote to Neal: "I have supposed many of the lost sculptures of our world to 
have flown (in spirit) to the star 'Al Aaraaf a delicate place, more suited to their 



If Ferdinand Brunetire could be admitted to the counsels of 
latter-day scholarship he would have something pertinent to say 
about the much-discussed plan of the Canterbury Tales. With some 
reference to his L'Evolution des genres dans Vhistoire de la litterature, 
he would emphasize the obvious facts that The Book of the Tales 
of Canterbury is an ingenious variation of a popular literary species, 
the story book; that there was brought to bear upon this genre a 
motif that had before been repeatedly proved, that of the pilgrim- 
age; and finally what is known, but sometimes not well remembered 
that Chaucer's character book, the General Prologue, is a vivid 
realization in skilfully dramatic combination of that form of social 
satire which is specifically designated the Etats du monde. 1 These 
elements of Chaucer's scheme had appeared before the Canterbury 
Tales, apart and in certain combinations; their finished incorpora- 
tion into his great human comedy can be explained only with refer- 
ence to Brunetiere's "seul homme." 

And yet, as the great French critic would have been the first to 
note, there were mutations and combinations of these elements in 
antecedent literature which show what may be called their natural 
aptitudes. The threefold classification of men into those who 
fight, those who pray, and those who work appears at least as early 
as Alfred's Boethius (Chap, xvii; Sedgefield's ed., p. 40), not to 
mention Plato's husbandmen, soldiers, and philosophers in the 
second book of the Republic. Throughout the Middle Ages the 
classification was frequently employed; as, for instance, by Hugues de 
Bersil, 2 who tells us in his Bible that the three orders were ordained, 
"Quant Diex nous ot d'enfer rescous." It was in the failure of the 
estates to perform their assigned functions that the mediaeval 
Jeremiah and satirist found their opportunity. In the De diversis 
ordinibus (Wright, Latin Poems, Camden Society, 1841; p. 229) we 
learn that the comites and milites devour the substance of the poor; 
the world is filled with priests but scarcely a sober one is found; 
and the poor man would rather die than work. Similar censure 
may be noted in Deschamps' Estas du monde (II,*226 ff.) and 
in many other places. Of course the Etats du monde was an elastic 

i See P. Meyer, Romania, IV, 385 ff. 

* Histoire litUraire, XVIII, 816 ff.; Romania, XVIII, 553 ff. 
45] 45 [MODERN PHILOLOGY, May, 1915 

46 H. S. V. JONES 

classification, so that general satire upon the clergy easily becomes 
special satire upon cardinals, monks, and friars; and particular 
attention is given to merchants, lawyers, etc. In the Lime de 
I 'example du riche homme et du ladre (Meyer, Notices et Extraits, 
XXXIV, 176 ff.) we find about thirty different classes (approximately 
the number of Chaucer's pilgrims), including gamblers, tavern- 
keepers, and parasites. Particularly interesting as anticipating the 
Wife of Bath, who alone among Chaucer's pilgrims is not intro- 
duced specifically as the representative of a calling, is the recognition 
of matrimony as one of the etats. Jean de Conde, for instance, 
after attacking in his Dis des Estas dou monde (ed. Scheler, II, 371 ff.) 
clerks, prelates, knights, princes, justices, squires, etc., turns his atten- 
tion to married people. Matrimony is similarly classified in the 
Estas du siecle of the Rec. gener. d. fabliaux (II, 264). Rutebeuf s 
La vie du monde (vss. 178 ff.; Jubinal, II, 44) puts the matter very 


Sor totes autres ordres doit-on mult honorer 
L'ordre de mariage et amer et garder : 

Certes c'est grant doleurs que je ne puis trover 
En cest siecle estat u horns se puist salver. 

Professor Tupper (Nation, October 16, 1913, 354 ff.) reminds us that 
Venus, the patron saint of pilgrims, is particularly represented in 
Chaucer's company by the Wife of Bath. However, from what has 
been said above, it will be clear that a reservation among the pilgrims 
had been made for her long before Chaucer's book was written. 

In pre-Chaucerian literature, then, we have well defined the type 
which Chaucer splendidly realized in the General Prologue. More- 
over, we find there anticipations of his narrative adaptation of that 
type. The Roman de carite, which Professor Kittredge has shown 
that Chaucer knew, is, like the Canterbury Tales, a book of travel, with 
the differences that the poet visits the estates of the world instead 
of traveling in their company, and that his destination is not Canter- 
bury or any other place on the map but the uncertain abode of 
Charity. She can be found neither among the lawyers at Bologna 
nor among the doctors at Salerno; the monks know nothing of her. 
And so after seeking Charity in vain among the men who fight and 
the men who pray, the poet turns to the "peuple menu." With 
this story one naturally associates not only such books as the 
Speculum stultorum and the Architrenius, but the Pelerinage of 
Deguilleville, with whose work Chaucer was acquainted. 



That in these uses of the travel or pilgrimage motif, adjusted 
more or less closely to the Etats du monde, we are concerned chiefly 
with allegory should not disturb us; because allegory and social 
satire go hand in hand and because mediaeval allegory is nearer 
akin to Chaucer's realism than is direct satire. When we seek 
prototypes for the vividly described Canterbury pilgrims we turn 
to the Romance of the Rose or Piers Plowman; the figures on the 
wall of the garden of love, Fals-Semblaunt, the Duenna, have 
much to teach the student of the Prologue. In the Middle Ages 
the literature of realism grows easily in the soil of symbolism. 
"Every devout or undevout frequenter of the church in that time," 
writes Professor Saintsbury, "knew Accidia and Avarice, Anger and 
Pride as bodily rather than ghostly enemies, furnished with a regu- 
lar uniform, appearing in recognized circumstances and companies, 
acting like human beings." Moreover, the vividly seen, graphically 
represented Sins are closely associated with the several estates. In 
the Marriage of the Daughters of the Devil (Meyer, Romania, XXIX, 
54 ff.) each calling has its pet sin and one of the "callings" is mat- 
rimony! The devil, we are told, married Mauveiste, and of the happy 
union were born Simony, Hypocrisy, Ravine, Usury, Treachery, 
Sacrilege, False Service, Pride, and Lechery. In time all these 
daughters except Lechery were married: Simony to the Prelates, 
Hypocrisy to the Monks, Plunder to the Knights, Usury to the 
Bourgeoisie, Treachery to the Merchants, Sacrilege to the Laity, 
False Service to prevots and bailiffs, and Pride to the dames and 
damsels. Such associations as we have here will suggest further 
that there was ample precedent in pre-Chaucerian satire concerned 
with the estates of the world for that attention which Chaucer gives 
in the Canterbury Tales to the Seven Deadly Sins. 1 

So far, then, the approaches would seem to be clear, not only 
to Chaucer's graphic description of his pilgrims but to the narrative 
turn which he has given his social satire. To Chaucer's combination 
of pilgrimage and vividly described pilgrims Piers Plowman furnishes 
the nearest analogue. Chronology, at least, permits us to believe 
that the author of the Canterbury Pilgrimage knew of the Pil- 
grimage to the Shrine of Truth. At all events the episode shows 
an easy development of social satire along narrati^ lines and 
in the direction of realism. That something like this might have 

1 See Professor Tupper's admirable article in the Publications of the Modern Lan- 
guage Association, N. S., XXII, 93 ff. 


48 H. S. V. JONES 

grown in Chaucer's mind as well as in that of the alliterative poet 
seems, in the light of all that I have said, a matter of no great 
wonder. That, further, our poet should have grafted the social 
satire in narrative form upon the stock of the familiar story-book 
type is something easily credited to Brunetiere's "seul homme." 
Certainly, if we take into account Sercambi's Novelle on the one 
hand (Hinckley, Notes on Chaucer; Young, Kittredge Anniversary 
Volume) and Piers Plowman on the other, we find ourselves on the 
very threshold of the Canterbury Tales. 

Chaucer's variation of the story-book type is, therefore, one for 
which pre-Chaucerian literature prepares us. Not that we can 
wholly account for it by reference to any natural law in the literary 
world. As Professor Manly remarks, 1 "You have to take account 
of the presence and absence of genius"; and as Brunetiere says, 
" one man is often sufficient to deviate the course of things." But the 
habitation of genius is not a waste place; the Muse does not command 
the genius to build without bricks or straw. There were visions of 
heaven and hell before the Divine Comedy; and plays both courtly 
and Senecan before Shakspere. The interesting question raised 
by the plan of the Canterbury Tales is not one of immediate sources, 
but one of literary aptitudes and tendencies. Chaucer, no doubt, 
followed the road to Canterbury, and certainly he saw by the light 
of good-fellowship the streets and taverns of London. We may 
well believe that he made a pilgrimage similar to the one of which he 
writes, and we must believe that in the custom-house and in the 
French wars he saw merchants from overseas and knights of courtesy. 
That he had a number of first-hand and vivid impressions is perfectly 
clear. But besides having vital relations with the world of men, 
Chaucer found himself in the currents and cross-currents of many 
literary forces, setting more or less strongly in definite directions. 
It has not been attempted here to show that Chaucer was the 
creature of a relentless law of literary evolution; far less that his 
work was done for him by his predecessors. Rather it appears that 
many were groping where Chaucer found the way, but that he 
spoke in his admirably effective manner on pretty definite hints in 
antecedent literature. 



"Literary Form and the Origin of Species," Modern Philology, IV, 577 ft. 



In his paper on "The Harrowing of Hell" (Vol. XVI, Part II, 
Transactions of the Wisconsin Academy of Science, Arts, and Letters) 
Professor Karl Young has rendered a distinct service to the student 
of liturgical drama. The texts which he there offers in a series con- 
forming to the various stages in the development of the Harrowing 
of Hell theme in connection with the Easter office, as well as his intro- 
ductory and concluding remarks, have given a new stimulus to the 
investigations in this part of the liturgical field. All the more, then, 
it is to be regretted that Professor Young does not reach a definite 
conclusion. And this seems to be due to the fact that he overlooked 
two points of especial significance in this connection: (1) the 
importance of the Great Sabbath, the day before Easter, in con- 
nection with this theme; (2) the evidence of the liturgical element 
in the later vernacular plays. Without attempting a detailed dis- 
cussion of this subject at this time, I nevertheless venture the 
following suggestions: 

Professor Young says that a conclusion which would accept the 
Harrowing of Hell scene in the liturgical drama as an adaptation 
from the vernacular would be hazardous. This seems to me a far 
too mild expression for the point in question. Such a conclusion 
would appear extremely improbable at the very outset, since we know 
the position of the clergy of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries 
in regard to extra-ecclesiastical plays. Besides, the liturgical tags 
in the later vernacular plays, especially those in the German lan- 
guage, present sufficient evidence in refutation of such a conclusion. 
See, for example, the " Alsfelder Spiel," Z.d. A ., Ill, 477 ff . Without, 
therefore, going into the evidence offered by the texts of the Munich 
Breviary, the Cologne Agenda, the Processional of St. John of Dublin, 
the Rawlinson MS, the Benedictine Ordinal of the Nuns of Barking, 
the Bamberg Agenda, the Sacerdotale and Obsequiale op Eichstdtt, 
I sought another avenue of approach, the emphasis upon which had 
been strengthened by Professor Craig's suggestions in his paper on 
"The Old Testament Plays." 

49] 49 [MODEEN PHILOLOGY, May, 1915 


The position of the "Descent into Hell" in the Church Year is a 
matter of the history of liturgy and dogmatics. As early as the 
fourth century, Athanasius, the "Pater Orthodoxiae," used the 
argument of the "Descent" in defense of the doctrine of the true 
humanity in Christ. The first official statements of the descent 
into hell were formulated in 359 and 360, at the Synods of Sirmium 
in Pannonia, Nicae in Thrace, and Constantinople. A few decades 
later the doctrine is found in the confessions of the church of Aquileia. 

Since the earliest days, the Great Sabbath had been celebrated 
with special solemnity (see Apostolic Constitutions; Lactantius, 
Instil. VII, 19; Jerome ad Matth. XXV, 6). Since Epiphanius 
(403), the time of Christ's descent was fixed as the night before 
Easter. In a homily (published by W. Dindorf, Leipzig, 1859-62, 
ascribed to Polybius) he describes with dramatic vividness how the 
Lord broke down the portals of hell, overcame the spirits of dark- 
ness, and then in the company of thousands of angels led the believ- 
ers of the Old Testament, beginning with Adam, out of limbus to 
paradise. Whether his source was the Evangelium Nicodemi (whose 
date is now conceded to be not earlier than the fourth century) is 
of no consequence here. Since that time the descent was com- 
memorated on the Great Sabbath, and homilies in defense of the 
doctrine were read on that day (cf . Alt, Kirchlicher Gottesdienst, 573) . 
Moreover, since the earliest times the descent theme had a prominent 
place in the liturgy of the Great Sabbath. In an old hymn of that 
day the passages occur: "Haec nox est, in qua destructis vinculis 
mortis Christus ab infernis Victor ascendit. O vere beata nox, quae 
sola meruit scire tempus et horam, in qua Christus ab infernis resur- 

In the Liber Sacramentorum of Gregory the Great the Prae- 
fatio in Sabbato Sancto contains the following reference to Christ: 
"qui inferorum claustra disrumpens, victoriae suae clara vexilla 
suscepit, et triumphato diabolo, victor a mortuis resurrexit" (MPL, 
78, col. 91). In the Liber Responsalis of Gregory the Great the 
Antiphons and Responses of the first Nocturn of that day treat of 
the Death and Burial of Christ, those of the second and third prin- 
cipally of the Descent and Planctus, while the Matins and Vespers 
take up the Planctus and the Easter Story. Among the Antiphons 



of the second Nocturn occurs first in order the "Elevamini, portae 
aeternales, et introibit Rex gloriae"; and immediately after that 
"Domine, abstraxisti ab inferis animam meam" (MPL, 78, col. 768). 

It should be noted also that the liturgical responses in the later 
liturgical plays present a very striking similarity to a dramatic 
sermon of Augustine on the Descent (MPL, 39, col. 2059 ff.), while 
the subject is treated at length by the same man and mention made 
of the fathers who were saved from limbus by Christ in a homiletic 
Epistola (MPL, 33, col. 711 f.). The sermon published by Mr. 
Rand (Mod. Phil., II) would not seem to have nearly the same value 
as evidence in this connection, because it is a Good Friday homily. 
Another fact that should not be overlooked is this, that in the Egerer 
Spiel there is an awakening of Christ in the grave after the Setting 
of the Watch before the Harrowing of Hell, which precedes the 

There is no doubt then that the germ of the Harrowing of Hell 
play was contained in the liturgy and had as its nucleus the "Tollite 
Portas" Antiphon. The development most probably took place 
in two directions. In one case the scene remained a part of the 
Great Sabbath ceremonies, as we see in the "Ordo of Ruswil," Z.d.Ph., 
XVIII, 459. In this instance the procession, which had formerly 
taken place about midnight, was merely set forward to nine o'clock. 
In the other case the nucleus of the Great Sabbath Descent liturgy 
became the introductory scene of the Resurrection drama by a delib- 
erate change, and was placed in the new Ordines just before Matins 
on Easter morning. This was undoubtedly due to the powerful 
dramatic appeal of the story and its favor with the laity. The 
Augsburg Ritual, as well as those mentioned above, shows the later 
development of this growth. See Alt, Das Kirchenjahr, 364. 

The arguments advanced above are, I think, fully substantiated 
by the liturgical tags in the German passion plays even down to the 
earliest one, which Bartsch (Germ., VIII, 273) places at the beginning 
of the thirteenth century. In this there occurs a Harrowing of Hell 
scene with the Antiphon "Advenisti Desiderabilis." *At any rate, 
the above aphoristic suggestions would seem to be worth investigat- 
ing thoroughly. 




Warburton's story of the destruction of his old manuscript plays 
by his cook has been accepted with reservations by many students, 
and doubted in its entirety by some. Greg, in his article "The 
Bakings of Betsy" in The Library for 1911, taking the most charitable 
view of Warburton's account of his loss, shows that in all likelihood a 
large part of Warburton's list of plays came from entries in the 
Stationers' Register and only a small part from titles of plays 
actually in his possession. While Greg's explanation of a possible 
confusion of the two lists, and the reasonableness of the story for 
doubtless cooks in various centuries have prized manuscripts for 
pie baking may bolster our faith in the antiquary, the following 
passage, in print before Warburton's day, suggests a possibility that 
the borrowed list of plays was accompanied by a borrowed story. 
The supposed editor of Naps upon Parnassus, 1658, composed of 
"Such Voluntary and Jovial Copies of Verses, as were lately receiv'd 
from some of the Wits of the Universities," after many mock apolo- 
gies in his "Advertisement to the Reader" for the absence of the 
author's name on the title-page, continues : 

// neither of these two Reasons will satisfie thee, know in the third place, 
that I indeed do not know, neither can learn his Name. / found these Poems 
in a dark, blind Ale-house, where the Authour had with a cup too much, obnubu- 
lated his Muse, and so forgot, and left them behind. To speak truly, being 
unwilling to rob the world of so much Ingenuity, (I say) like the desperate St. 
George, redeemed these Ethiopian Virgin-Poems, out of the Jaws of that fell 
Dragon, (the furious gaping Oven) which, (even when I had first bestridden 
the threshold) yawn'd for them. Much adoe I had to recover Them out of the 
good Womans hands, who left the bottoms of her Pies (that baking) in very great 
jeopardy, for want of them: yet at last I did get them, as many as you see there 
are of them. I am apt to believe there were more once, but the injury of Fate 
ha's obliterated the rest. As many as could be found, hast thou here (Reader) 
carefully collected, by the sedulity and expences of 

Thy loving Friend 

Adoniram Banstittle, 

alias Tinderbox. 
Dated May 30. 1658 
from the Apollo in 

MODERN PHILOLOGY, May, 1915] 52 [52 


Dr. H. N. MacCracken, in 1910, speaking of Stow's ascription 
of various poems to Lydgate, remarked that certain "verses for 
pageants at the entry of Queen Margaret" into London in 1445, 
which the chronicler calls Lydgate's, "have not survived." 1 The 
verses were afterward found in Harleian MS 3869 by Professor 
Carleton Brown, who published them in the Modern Language 
Review for April, 19 12. 2 Dr. Brown, however, did not observe the 
occurrence of a fragmentary copy of this same piece, in Stow's own 
handwriting, in Harleian MS 542 (fols. 101a-2&). 3 It is there 
entitled, "The Speches in the pagiauntes at y e cominge of Qwene 
Margaret wyfe to Henry the syxt of that name, kynge of England, 
the 28 th of Maye 1445, y e 23 d of his reigne." 4 

Harleian MS 542 was used by Richard Thomson in 1827 5 to 
supplement the brief account of Queen Margaret's Entry in Stow's 
Annals. He prints two of the speeches (vss. 1-32). In 1831 J. G. 
Nichols also described the entry, referring to Fabyan and to "a 
copy of Lydgate's Speeches in the Pageants, Harl. MSS 542." 6 

Nichols observed that the text of Queen Margaret's Entry in 
Harleian MS 542 is incomplete. "At Leadenhall," he remarks, 
"was a speech by Madame Grace, who is styled the 'Chauncelor de 

1 "Minor Poems of Lydgate," E.E.T.S., Part I (1911), p. xl. 

2 VII, 225-34. 

8 This manuscript is described in the Catalogue of the Harleian Manuscripts (1808), 
I, 346, as "a Book in 4to, containing part of the Collections of Mr. John Stowe; almost 
all written by his own hand." An examination of the manuscript shows that fols. 101 
and 102 are in Stow's handwriting. 

4 Harleian MS 3869 must have contained a very similar title, but most of it has been 

pared away. "1445. ye 28 of may the citie of london" (in another hand not 

the scribe's) are distinguishable at the top of the first folio, just above " Atte the brigge 
foot in Suthwerke." Dr. Brown has been able to make out a Quene mar gar et also. 

5 Chronicles of London Bridge, pp. 275-77. For the show, cf. also Arthur Taylor, 
The Glory of Regality, 1820, p. 268; William Hone, Ancient Mysteries Described, 1823, 
p. 235 (following Taylor, but citing, erroneously, Stephen Jones's Biographia Dramatica, 
1812); Charles Davidson, English Mystery Plays, 1892, p. 87; E. KfChambers, The 
Medieval Stage, 1903, II, 170. Chambers cites (besides Stow and Fabyan) William 
Gregory, Chronicle of London (ed. by Gairdner, Camden Society, 1876), p. 186, and 
Chronicle of London (ed. by E. Tyrrell, 1827), p. 134. There is a brief account of the 
entry in Graf ton. 

8 London Pageants, p. 21. 
53] 53 [MODEKN PHILOLOGY, May, 1915 


Dieu/ and there were doubtless others; but the writer of the MS 
above mentioned turns off to copy Lydgate's poem of ' London 
Lickpenny.' J>1 

What Nichols took for Madame Grace's speech in Harleian MS 
542 consists of three stanzas the first standing at the bottom of 
fol. 1016 and the other .two at the top of the next page, fol. 102a 
and London Lickpenny follows, beginning on fol. 102a immediately 
below the two stanzas. The stanza on fol. 1016 is, as Nichols saw, 
the beginning of Madame Grace's speech. He failed to observe, 
however, that the first word on fol. 102a does not agree with the 
guide-word at the foot of fol. 1016, and that the two stanzas on fol. 
102a (immediately before London Lickpenny) are not a part of the 
speech of Madam Grace, but the conclusion of the whole piece. 2 
The scribe (Stow) did not "turn off" to copy anything. There is 
simply a lacuna in the manuscript between fol. 1016 and fol. 102a. 
Vss. 41-155 are lost. 3 

One circumstance seems to prove that Stow's text in Harleian 
MS 542 was not derived from Harleian MS 3869. The seventh 
verse in Harleian MS 3869 is incomplete, lacking the rhyme. 4 It 
reads: "with herte with worde with dede." In Harleian MS 542 
the verse runs: "With herte with worde with dede your high- 
nesse to advaunce." This is over measure, to be sure, but the 
rhyme-word (advaunce) is what is required. 

Neither Harleian MS 542 nor Harleian MS 3869 names the 
author. Stow, as we have seen, attributes the speeches to Lyd- 
gate, and Nichols calls them "Lydgate's speeches." 5 Chambers 
echoes Stow. 6 Professor Brown finds the evidence of style con- 
clusive for Lydgate's authorship. 7 But President MacCracken, 

1 Ibid. MacCracken, p. xlvii, decides against Lydgate's authorship of London 

* They were spoken "at Seynt Michaeles in Querne." 

Vss. 40-154 in Brown's numbering (he does not count the seventh verse of the first 
stanza). Stow's account of the pageants in his Annals proves that his copy was not 
originally defective to this extent. He had before him as much as is contained in Harleian 
MS 3869. 

In Harleian MS 3869 this verse is inserted between the sixth and eighth, as if the 
scribe had forgotten it, and had copied it in later perhaps from memory. Brown shows 
it "interlined" (p. 226), but does not count it. 

* Nichols, op. cit., p. 21; cf. also Thomson, p. 277. 
Chambers, op. cit., II, p. 170. 

* Modern Language Review, VII, 225. 



who has been consulted on the matter, is strongly of opinion that the 
language of the piece is quite inconsistent with Lydgate's known 
habits of speech. 

The stanzas from Harleian MS 542 follow: 

Harleian MS 542, fols. 101a-2o] 

The speches in the pagiantt at y e cominge 
of Qwene margaret, wyfe to henry the 
syxt of that name, kynge of england, 
the 28. of maye in the yere of our 
lorde. 1445 y e 23. of his reigne. 

At the brigge foot in Suthwerke \ pees and plente \ 
Ingredimini et replete terrain. 1 

moast cristen princesse | by influence of grace 

doughter of Jherusalem | oure plesaunce 

and ioie | welcome as ever princes was 

with hert entier | and hoole affiaunce 

Causer of welthe | ioye and aboundaunce 5 

youre Citie | your people | your subgets all 

with hert | with worde | with dede | your highnesse to advaunce 

welcome | welcome | welcome | vnto you call | 

At noes shippe vpon the brigge 

Jam non vltra irascar super terram. j 

so trustethe yowr people | with assuraunce | 

thrugh yowr grace | and high benignitie 10 

twixt the Reahnes two | England and fraunce 

pees shall approche | Rest and vnite 

mars set asyde | with all his crueltye 

whiche to longe hathe trowbled the Reahnes twayne 

bydynge yowr comforte | hi this adversitie 15 

moost cristen princesse | our lady sovereyne | 

moast cristen princesse | owre ladi sovereyne 2 
Right as whilom | by gods might and grace 
noe this ark dyd forge and ordayne 

1 Evidently a "scripture," i.e., a writing or motto on the pageant. The appro- 
priateness of this, as well as that of the other "scripture" at Noah's ark is apparent. 
Thomson points out (pp. 276 and 277) that these are from Genesis (9:l,*and 8:21). 

8 This line is crossed out, as if Stow thought he had made a scribal error. Thomson 
fails to print this line, as if he, too, considered it a scribal fault. But without it, the 
stanza has but seven verses; Harleian MS 3869 repeats the line; so we may presume the 
author intended it to remain especially as he uses it or verses much similar to it later. 



where in he and his | might escape and passe 20 

the flud of vengeaunce | caused by trespasse 
conveyed aboute as god list hym to gye 
by means of mercy | found a restinge place 
after the flud | vpon this armonie | 

fol. 1016] 

vnto the dove | that browght the braunche of pees 25 

resemblinge yowr symplenesse columbyne 

tokyn and signe | the flood shuld cesse 

conduite by grace | and power devyne 

sonne of comfort | gynneth faire to shine 

by yowr presence | whereto we synge & seyne 30 

welcome of ioye | right extendet lyne 

moost cristen princesse | owr lady sovereyne | 

now at draught brigge, 1 

At leden hall \ madam grace Chaunceler de dieu 

Oure benigne princesse | and lady sovereyne 

Grace convey you forth | and be your gide 

in good lyfe longe | prosperously to reyne 35 

Truthe and mercye | together bene alied 

Justice and peace | thes susters shall provide 

Twixt Realmes twayne | stedfast love to set 

God and Grace | the parties have applied 

now the susters | have them kist and mett | 2 40 

fol. 102a] 

This storie to your highnes | wolde expresse 

the great Resurection generall 

where of our feithe | berethe pleyne witnesse 

the ferefull sowne | of Trumpe Judiciall 

vppon the people | that sodeynly shall calle 160 

eche man to make acompte and reconing 

ryght as his conscience | bewreyen shall 

allbe it pope | Emperour | or Kynge | 

1 A space is left in both MSS at this point, as if the scribes expected to insert one, or 
perhaps two, stanzas later. 

* The guide- words at the foot of fol. 1016 are "pronostike of p" the first words of 
the next stanza (" prenostike of pees ") as given in Harleian MS 3869. The fact that the 
first stanza on fol. 102o begins with other words should have warned Nichols that there 
is a lacuna here. From Harleian MS 3869 we see that the next verse is not 41 but 156. 



who hath well doon | to lyf predestinate 

what ioie | what blis | how great 1 felicitie 165 

vnto the saved of god | is ordinate 

no tonge can tell | none erthly eis can see 

Joye | laude | Rest | pees | & perfect vnitie 

Trivmphes of eternall victorie 

with fruition | of the Trinitie 170 

by contemplation | of his glorie | 

deo gracias. AMEN.| 

The first stanza of "london licpenye" follows on fol. 102a. 



1 Stow wrote greatly, and then crossed out the -ly . 



In his article "The Origin of the Old Testament Plays," 1 Mr. 
Craig brings forward and upholds a new theory for the source of the 
most common series of Old Testament plays found in the various 
cycles and "Passions." M. Sepet 2 had maintained with much 
brilliant erudition that the Christmas play of The Prophets of Christ, 
which had its origin in the Advent and Christmas matin lessons 
drawn from the pseudo-Augustinian sermon De Symbolo, was the 
source for these plays. This Christmas procession of the prophets 
was lengthened by the addition of new prophets; 3 it was amplified 
by the expanding of these prophecies into plays, which, when they 
had grown too unwieldy, according to M. Sepet, fell away from the 
original procession only to unite again finally to form the cycles of 
Old Testament plays as we have them. 

Although this theory has been very generally accepted, there 
have always seemed to be fundamentally weak links in the chain of 
evidence; and all who are interested in the subject must therefore 
welcome Mr. Craig's new and well-sustained theory that these cycles 
arose rather "from the addition to the Passion play of a body of 
epical and homiletic material derived, in the first instance, from the 
lectiones and accompanying ritual of the church." 4 He goes on to 
show that most of these plays evince definite and frequent traces of 
the antiphons and responses of matins from Septuagesima Sunday to 
Passion Sunday, and that they present only those stories which are 
given in the Liber Responsalis* for this same period. The lectiones 
for this period cover the greater part of Genesis and Exodus, but 
the choral responses which follow take up only the Creation and 
Fall; Cain and Abel; Noah and the Flood; Abraham and 

i Hardin Craig, in Mod. Phil., X., (April, 1913), pp. 473-87. 

Sepet, "les Prophetes du Christ," in Bibl. de Vtcole des Chartes. XXVIII (1867), 
Iff, 210 ff.; XXIX (1868), 205 ft., 261 ff. ; XXXVIII (1877), 367 ff. 

8 Rouen MS y. 110. For text see A. Gaste, Ordinarium ecclesiae Rotomagensis, 
Festum Asinorum, in "les Drames liturgiques de la cathedrale de Rouen," in Revue 
catholique de Normandie, II, 349-72, 477-500; DuCange, Glossarium, \|nder "Festum 
Asinorum." In this Processus the number of the prophets of the sermon and of the 
simplest play (that of S. Martial of Limoges; for text see Du MSril, les Origines latines 
du theatre moderne, Paris, 1897) is doubled, and Balaam and Nebuchadnezzar have each 
a play based on their respective prophecies of Christ. 

Craig, p. 473. 

5 See Migne, "Pat. Lat." LXXVIII, S. Gregorii magni liber responsalis, cols. 725 ff. 
59] 59 [MODEEN PHILOLOGY, May, 1915 


Isaac; Isaac, Jacob, and Esau; Joseph and his Brethren; Moses 
and the Exodus. As one sees at a glance, these stories are also those 
usually dramatized in Old Testament cycles. 1 

It is not my purpose, however, to discuss Mr. Craig's article. 
Rather I desire to offer suggestions on two points which he brings 
forward and then add what seems to me a bit of interesting and 
important confirming evidence for this theory of the origin of the 
Old Testament plays drawn from my own comparison of the Breviary 
and the plays, which results in the same conclusions as those of Mr. 

Of the Or do Joseph 2 and the "widely current play of Joseph and 
his Brethren/' Mr. Craig says, "the material of the play would 
indicate that, although it seems to have an existence independent 
of the cycles, it belongs to the group [Old Testament cycle plays] 
to be treated later. There is, however, in several liturgical plays 
of the Slaughter of the Innocents, a confusion of the Rachael who 
utters the planctus with Rachael, the wife of Jacob and the mother 
of Joseph, which may have suggested the composition of the play." 

I should like to suggest that, instead of a confusion of the two 
Rachaels, there has always been a real and intimate connection 
between the two. Indeed, in a certain sense, there is but one Rachael. 
As regards Matt. 2 : 18, from which the Slaughter of the Innocents 
derives the name Ordo Rachaelis, the quotation from Jeremiah 3 
came to the mind of the evangelist, because he remembered that 
Bethlehem was the city of Rachael, for there she died and there 
she lies buried. She, as Jacob's beloved, was pre-eminently the 
mother of the Hebrews, and so he, with effective picturesqueness, 
used her name to indicate the mourning motherhood of Bethlehem, 
just as Jeremiah, also with a memory of her as the ancestress of 

1 That these plays often took their beginning in the troping of these responses which 
follow the matin lectiones seems clear to me from the interesting text of the Ordo repre- 
sentacionis Ade (K. Grass, Das Adamsspiel, Halle, 1891). The play opens with the 
chorus chanting the first lectio of matins on Septuagesima Sunday, which begins, In 
principio creavit Deus celum et terram. The response to this is the reiteration of the 
opening sentence of the lectio, and. its versicle is, Formavit igitur Deus hominem de limo 
terrae, et inspiravit in faciem ejus spiraculum vitae. The Adam proceeds: Qua finita 
(namely the lectio named above) chorus cantet: R[esponsorium] : 

Formavit igitur dominus, ADAM: 

Quo finito dicat figura: Ben le sai. 

Adam! Qui respondent: Sire! FIQURA: 

FIGURA: Je t'ai fourme a paun semblant, 

Fourmg tei ai A m'imagene t'ai feit de tere 

De limo terre. Ne moi devez ja mover guere. 

2 Craig, p. 476; also K. Young, "A Liturgical Play of Joseph and His Brethren," 
Mod. Lang. Notes, XXVI (1911), 33-37. 

Jer. 31 : 15. 



the Israelites, had in the first place made her name stand for the 
grief-stricken parenthood of Israel at the time of the slaughter 
and transportation of the great exile. The name of Jacob is very 
often similarly used for the whole people. 1 

The only value of calling attention to this is to throw into greater 
relief the probably pure origin of the plays of Joseph in the matin 
lessons and responses and in the many sermons of the Lenten period. 
From very early patristic times, wholly independently, so far as I am 
able to discover, of the planctus of Rachael, and its connection with 
his mother, Joseph was regarded as foreshadowing Christ, 2 by reason 
of the special love of his father for him, because he was sold for 
thirty pieces of silver, and because he showed the spirit of forgive- 
ness and saved his people. On the other hand, I have not found in 
the Joseph story any allusions to the Slaughter of the Innocents 
or, in the Slaughter, to Joseph. 

The second point is in connection with the Ordo Representa- 
cionis Ade s and Mr. Craig's statement that "the Adam is also singular 
in the fact that Adam and Eve are carried off to Hell before the 
murder of Abel, a feature which does not elsewhere appear."* 

Of course we have several plays, as la Nativite 5 and la Resur- 
rection? the introductory scenes of which are the Creation and Fall, 
which close with the haling of Adam and Eve to Hell, and lack a 
Cain and Abel scene. In la Nativite groups of prophets with their 
prophecies bridge the interval between the Fall of Man and the 
Advent of Christ. But the Vienna Genesis, 7 which is evidently a 

1 Jer. 31:11. 

2 See Migne, "Pat. Lat.," XXXIX, Sermones supposititii S. Augustini, col. 1765- 
1776: "Jacob Dei Patris, Joseph Christ! typum gessit. Fratres Joseph Judaeos et 
peccatores designant," etc.; see also "L'Estoire Joseph" (MS of thirteenth century); 
Gesellsch. /. Rom. Lit., XII (1905), 31 ff., and Heidelberger Passionsspiel in "Bibl. des 
Lit. Ver. in Stuttgart," CL. This Heidelberger Passion* makes the connection between 
Christ and Joseph on the ground of the thirty pieces of silver: see pip. 127 ff. Joseph is 
also made a prototype of Christ in Die Dichtung des Mittelalters, "Deutsch. Nat. Lit.," 
Band 3, Erster Teil, 192-93. 

3 K. Grass, Das Adamsspiel, Halle, 1891; V. Luzarche, Adam, Tours, 1854; extract 
in K. Bartsch, Chrestomathie, Leipzig, 1908, 68 ff. (neuvieme edition). 

* Craig, p. 477. (The italics are mine.) 

5 A. Jubinal, "la Nativite 1 de JhSsucrist," in Mysteres inedits du quinzieme siecle, 
Paris, 1837, II, 1 ff. 

6 A. Jubinal, "la Resurrection de notre Seigneur," ibid., 312 ff. 

7 Ed. by P. Piper, in Die Geistl. Dicht. d. Mittelalters, "Deutsch. Nat. Cit.," Band 
3, Erster Teil, 93 ff. That part of the Genesis known as "Schopfung. u. Stindenfall," 
pp. 93 ff., begins 

Nu fernemet, mine liebon, 
ich wil iu aine rede for ton; 
and ends 

des choden wir al zesamine; 
"laus tibi, domine!" 
This would indicate that this was the end of matins, and that lauds followed. 



series of metrical lectiones for matins, is constructed just as is the 
Adam. The first lesson of the Genesis deals with Creation, 
Fall, and carrying to Hell of Adam and Eve and closes with a 
prophecy of Christ's Harrowing of Hell. 1 It would seem that the 
preacher then calls on the people to begin Lauds. With the next 
line of the manuscript commences the entirely distinct recital of the 
story of Cain and Abel. The poem being wholly undramatic, this 
section refers back to Adam. But the significant point is that the 
Adam episode is complete even to the prophecy of his redemption 
from Hell, as it is in the Anglo-Norman Adam, before the Cain 
and Abel story is begun. This is suggestive. It points to the proba- 
bility of dramatic vernacular lectiones as an intermediate step 
between the Latin and perhaps the vernacular epic narrative such 
as we have in the Vienna Genesis and plays like the Adam. Another 
feature of the manuscript which must interest us in connection with 
Mr. Craig's theory is that the remainder of the Genesis relates the 
stories of Noah, Abraham, Isaac and his Sons, Joseph and his 
Brethren, while all intermediate matter is dropped, as it is in the 
responses and in the plays. 

And now for the bit of confirming evidence with regard to the 
origin of the Old Testament cycle of plays in the ritual of matins 
from Septuagesima Sunday to Passion Sunday, and the further reason 
for the constant choice of the particular stories of Adam, Noah, 
Abraham, and Moses for these cycles. As early as the " Gregorian" 2 
Liber Responsalis, which was in general use by the ninth century, 
the antiphons for the week of Septuagesima included parts of the 
parable of the Husbandman. 3 With the inclusion of Septuagesima 
in Lent 4 it became the seventh lesson of Septuagesima Sunday. It 
was also in use as the Gospel of mass 5 on Septuagesima Sunday 

* Piper, pp. 93 fl. 

2 See Baumer, Histoire du Breviaire, Paris, 1905, I, 6; and Batiflfol, History of the 
Roman Breviary, London, 1911; Migne, "Pat. Lat.," LXXVIII, S. Gregorii magni liber 
responsalis. cols. 725 f. 

Matt. chap. 20: "Simile est regnum coelorum homini patrifamilias, qui exiit 
primo mane conducere operarios in vineam suam. Conventione autem facta cum 
operariis ex denario diurno, misit eos in vineam suam. Et egressus circa horam tertiam, 
vidit alios stantes in foro otiosos, et dixit illis: Ite et vos in vineam meam, et, quod justum 
luerit, dabo vobis. Illi autem abierunt. Iterum autem exiit circa sextam et nonam 
hqram; et fecit similiter. Circa undecimam vero exiit, et invenit alios stantes, et dicit 
illis: Quid hie statis tota die otiosi? Dicunt ei: Quia nemo nos conduxit. Dixit illis: 
Ite et vos in vineam meam," etc. 

4 About the time of Pope Alexander II (1061-75) . See Batifltol, p. 90. See Breviarium 
Romanum, Mechlin, 1909; The Second Recension of the Quignon Breviary, H. B. Soc., 
1909; The York Breviary, The Surtees Soc., Vol. LXXI. 

8 Missale Romanum, Mechlin, 1909. 


throughout the Middle Ages. Thus this parable was very early 
and persistently associated with the beginning of the Lenten period. 
But its real influence on the future of the religious drama began 
when it came to be followed in the breviary by certain significant 
extracts from the nineteenth Homily of St. Gregory 1 which expounds 
this often-repeated story. St. Gregory makes the Day of the 
parable symbolize the entire period from the Creation to the Last 
Judgment. The various Hours mark the great epochs in world- 
history. These are five: from Adam to Noah, from Noah to Abra- 
ham, from Abraham to Moses, from Moses to the Advent of Christ, 
from the Advent of Christ to the end of the world. 

What could be more natural than that this oft-repeated outline 
of the world's history should become the outline of the cycles of Old 
Testament plays, which, we have seen, grew out of the dramatization 
of the lectiones and responses of the very ritual in which this parable 
and homily had so important a place ? The stories of Cain and Abel, 
of Isaac and his Sons, of Joseph and his Brethren are closely asso- 
ciated with, though not necessary to, this outline, and we find them 
very often omitted. 2 

It seems to me also that these lectiones of Lent may be responsi- 
ble in part for that introduction to the Creation and Fall which is an 
almost constant feature of the Old Testament cycles, namely, the 
Fall of the Rebel Angels, for this element is present in the extracts 
from St. Augustine 3 which form the three lessons of the second 
nocturn of this same important Septuagesima Sunday. As for the 
rest, the age between Adam and Noah could be bridged by the Cain 
and Abel, and, sometimes, by the Seth stories, that between Abra- 
ham and Moses by the Isaac and his Sons and the Joseph and his 

1 Migne, "Pat. Lat.," LXXVI, col. 1155 f.; also Breviary, matins of Septuagesima 
Sunday: "Hie itaque paterfamilias ad excolendam vineam suam, mane, hora tertia, sexta, 
nona, et undecima operarios conducit: quia a mundi hujus initio usque in flnem ad 
erudiendam plebem fldelium, praedicatores congregate non desistit. Mane etenim 
mundi fuit ab Adam usque ad Noe: hora vero tertia a Noe usque ad Abraham: sexta 
quoque ab Abraham usque ad Moysen: nona autem a Moyse usque ad adventum 
Domini: undecima vero ab adventu Domini usque ad flnem mundi." See also Migne, 
"Pat. Gr.," LXV, cols. 755 ff., for a probable Greek source of St. Gregory's Sermon. 

2 Cain and Abel do not appear in several of the Continental cycles; see supra. Isaac 
and his sons figure in only one (The Towneley Plays, E.E.T.S., E. S., 1897, pp. 49 fl.) 
while Joseph and his Brethren are entirely absent from the English cycles. , 

8 Breviary, op. cit.: "Hinc post peccatum exsul effectus, stirpem quoque suam, 
quam peccando in se tamquam in radice vitiaverat, poena mortis et damnatione obstrin- 
xit: ut quidquid prolis ex illo, et simul damnata, per quam peccaverat, conjuge, per 
carnalem concupiscentiam in qua inobedientiae poena similis retributa est nascetur, 
traheret originale peccatum quo traheretur per errores doloresque diversos ad illud 
extremum cum desertoribus angelis, vitiatoribus et possessoribus et consortibus suis 
sine fine supplicium . . . . et adjuncta parti eorum, qui peccaverant, angelorum, 
luebat impiae desertionis dignissimas poenas .... non sane Creatoris desistente 
bonitate, et malis angelis subministrare vitam," etc. 


Brethren narratives; because they were present in the responses 
and because they were regarded as highly symbolic of Christ's 
Advent and his life. For the long period between Moses and the 
Advent of Christ, there was already established in the Christmas 
procession of The Prophets of Christ a flexible and picturesque con- 
necting link which was in its very nature the normal introduction 
to the Nativity and Passion. Finally, the Assumption of the Virgin, 
the Antichrist, 1 and, occasionally, an apocalyptical play like that 
of the English Ezekiel, 1 bridged the indefinite stretch of time from 
Christ's Ascension to the Last Judgment. 

This article of Mr. Craig's may also throw light on the rise and 
growth of the other Old Testament plays which crop out regularly 
and finally get embodied in some of the more artificial cycles. 2 May 
we not presume that these also had their rise in the responses of 
matins, this time of the summer and autumn, 3 not of the winter and 
spring cursus. The stories from the other historical and epical 
books of the Old Testament were read at matins after the great 
culminating festival of Easter, and a part of them were still further 
separated from the symbolic Lenten cycle of narratives by the 
summer season when religious worship is naturally more lax. More- 
over, the heroes of these stories, for the most part, were not regarded 
as in any way prototypes of Christ as were those of the Lenten 
cursus, and lack the quality of symbolic and homiletic suggestion 
inherent in the latter. But sermon cycles and the extant plays 
would indicate that these other stories went through a similar process 
of emphasis; first, by exposition in the Latin and in the vernacular, 
and then, by dramatization. Naturally only a late, self-conscious 
literary impulse would interject them into the earlier, and, as we 
have seen, already complete cycle of Old Testament plays, the 
simple aim of which was to show the necessity and the manner of the 
Passion of Christ. 



1 The Chester Plays, II, ed. by T. Wright for the Shakespeare Soc., London, 1847. 

2 See le Mister e du Viel Testament, ed. by James de Rothschild for the Soci6te des 
Anciens Textes francais, Paris, 1885; and The Ancient Cornish Drama, ed. and tr. by E. 
Norris, Oxford, 1859. 

See C. Marbach, Carmina Scripturarum, Argentorati, 1907, pp. 5* flf. 

Modern Philology 



Kleine Miscellen zu unserem Thema sind schon von verschiedenen 
Seiten zusammengetragen worden. 1 Hermann Grimm hat eine 
auszerst ansprechende kleine Arbeit iiber Albrecht Diirer, 2 in der 
auch mitunter auf Goethe Bezug genommen wird. Drei Manner 
nennt Grimm, welche fur die Zeit der deutschen Renaissance mass- 
gebend sind: Luther, Hutten, Diirer! "Luther, die Kraft, der Wille 
und das Selbstbewusztsein; Hutten, die Rastlosigkeit, Zahigkeit und 
auch die Verwirrung; Diirer, die schaffende Freudigkeit, Geniig- 
samkeit und Biederkeit der deutschen Nation, wie sie damals der 

Aber nicht nur als Kiinstler ist Diirer bedeutend. Er ist geistig 
fur die Zeit maszgebend. Keine Bewegung in seinem Vaterland, an 
welcher er nicht geistig beteiligt, keine Bewegung wenigstens in 
seinem engeren Vaterland zu der man ihn nicht irgendwie zu Rat 
oder Tat heranzog! Mit den bedeutendsten Mannern in fort- 
wahrender Beziehung vermag er die Zeit wiederzuspiegeln und seine 
Briefe und Tagebiicher gewahren uns einen Einblick in manche 
Verhaltnisse der Zeit, die sonst in Dunkel gehiillt dalagen. Zudem 
hat er die Bildung seiner Zeit, nicht nur die kiinstlerische sondern 
auch die allgemeine. In Niirnberg, "das Ohr und Auge Deutsch- 
lands," wie Luther es nannte, im Verein mit einer Anzahl der bedeu- 
tendsten Mannern jener Zeit man denke nur an Pet^r Vischer, 

1 Zu nennen sind besonders: Volbehr, Goethe und die bildende Kunst, Leipzig, 1895; 
H. Uhde, "Goethe und Albrecht Durer," Allg. Zeitung, 2. Februar, 1878, Beilage. 

2 Zehn ausgewahlte Essays zur Einfiihrung in das Studium der modernen Kunst, 
Berlin, 1871, S. 152-92. 

65] 1 [MODEEN PHILOLOGY, June, 1915 


Adam Krafft, Veit Stosz, Pirkheimer und Hans Sachs darf er sich 
wohl inmitten der Groszten glauben die Deutschland damals 
hervorgebracht ! 

Als der bewahrteste deutsche Kiinstler besuchte er auch Italien 
und die Niederlande, damals die zwei Glanzstatten der Kunst. Was 
grosze Kunst oder grosze Kiinstler waren, er kannte sie! Seine 
Grosze erkannten leider nur die wenigsten seiner Zeit genossen. Der 
Kiinstler hatte eben damals nicht die beneidenswerteste Stelle 
inne. Der Ewigkeitswert, den er seinen Werken schenkt, wird 
nicht bezahlt. 

An diesem biederen echt deutschen, sonnenumflossenen Meister 
und Denker der deutschen Friihzeit schlosz sich der junge Goethe. 
Das durch hundert Tatsachen und Ausspriiche den Zeitgenossen 
Goethes Wohlbekannte, hat man zu Zeiten ganz oder teilweise zu 
leugnen gesucht. Aber bevor die Forschung der neueren Literar- 
historiker das wieder dargetan hatte, hatte schon Niebuhr ge- 
schrieben: "Der jugendliche Goethe gehort auch mehr in das Rom 
des 15. Jahrhunderts, als in das der Casaren, mehr in das Deutsch- 
land Luthers und Diirers als in das des 18. Jahrhunderts. " 

Uns eriibrigt es hier dieses Verhaltnis Goethes zu Diirer an der 
Hand seiner Ausspriiche iiber Diirer naher darzutun und zu einem 
bestimmten Bilde auszubauen. 

Obwohl Diirers Ruhm zu Goethes Jugendzeit nicht so hoch 
dastand wie heute, so konnte man doch nicht anders, wenn man ihn 
iiberhaupt nannte, als ihn mit Ehrfurcht zu nennen. Auch hatte 
Goethe wohl dies und das von Diirer gesehen. Besonders in Dresden 
bei seinem 1768 abgestatteten Besuch. Das Kapitel der vater- 
landischen Kunst ist wohl auch bei Oeser abgehandelt worden. 1 
Sicher hat er das Lob Diirers nicht aus der Luft gegriffen, als er nach 
seinem begeisterten Lobspruch auf die deutsche Baukunst, ausruft: 
"Mannlicher Albrecht Diirer, den die Neulinge anspotteln, deine 
holzgeschnitzteste Gestalt ist mir willkommener." 2 

Die Bewunderung Diirers steigert sich von hier ab, denn das 
dieszeitige Nature vangelium Goethes musz ihn, trotz Oeser, nicht 

i Vgl. zu Oeser und Dtirer Goethes Briefe: An Merck, 27. Oktober, 1782. (Oeser 
ist von Dtirer ganz entztickt und hat 100 Stticke von diesem Meister gesehen, usw.) 

' Werke, I, 37, 139-51. 


nur den Niederlandern wieder in die Arme treiben, sondern auch 
Dtirern. Denn das asthetische Glaubensbekenntnis Durers, das 
in jedem seiner Stticke abzubuchstabieren ist, ist es nicht dem 
dieszeitigen Goethischen ahnlich ? Goethe schreibt anlaszlich seines 
Besuches in der Dresdener Gallerie, 1768, von sich: "Was ich nicht 
als Natur ansehen an die Stelle der Natur setzen, mit einem bekann- 
ten Gegenstand vergleichen konnte, war auf mich nicht wirksam." 1 
Aehnliche Ausspriiche aus dieser Zeit sind haufig. 

Und nun Durers Glaubensbekenntnis, wie er es in seiner Propor- 
tionslehre zusammengefaszt hat: "Aber das Leben in der Natur 
gibt zu erkennen die Wahrheit dieser Ding. Darum sieh sie fleiszig 
an, richt dich darnach und geh nit von der Natur in dein Gutdiinken, 
dasz du wollest meinen das Besser in dir selbst zu finden; dann du 
wiirdest verfuhrt. Dann wahrhaftig steckt die Kunst in der Natur, 
wer sie heraus kann reiszen, der hat sie .... je genauer dein Werk 
dem Leben gemasz ist in seiner Gestalt, je besser dein Werk erscheint. 
Und dies ist wahr. Darum nimm dir nimmermehr f iir, dasz du Etwas 
besser mtigest oder wellest machen dann es Gott seiner erschaffenen 
Natur zu wlirken Kraft geben hat. Dann dein Vermogen ist 
kraftlos gegen Gottes Geschoff. Daraus ist beschlossen, dasz kein 
Mensch aus eignen Sinnen nimmermehr kein schon Bildnusz kunn 
machen, es sei dann Sach, dasz er solchs aus viel Abmachen sein 
Gemtit voll gefaszt [hat]." 

Dasz Goethe fortfuhr sich immer mehr fur Diirer zu interes- 
sieren das bezeugen die zahlreichen Aufzeichnungen in Tagebuch und 
Briefen iiber Diirersammlungen, die er fiir sich und andre anlegt. 2 ' 3 
Dazu wird Durers Reise gelesen. 4 Inzwischen fallt das schone Wort: 
"Denn ich verehre taglich mehr die mit Gold und Silber nicht zu 
bezahlende Arbeit des Menschen, der wenn man ihn recht im Inner- 
sten erkennen lernt, an Wahrheit und Erhabenheit und selbst an 
Grazie nur die ersten Italiener zu seines Gleichen hat." 5 

Die Freunde werden beauftragt Durers herbeizuschaffen, wenn 
nicht Original dann Kopie. 6 "Vor Durern selbst und vor der 

i Dicht. u. Wahr., I, 37, 174-75. An Merck, d. 18. Mar?, 1778. 

An Lavater, d. 7. Februar, 1780, und d. 6. Marz, 1780. 

4 Tagebuch, d. 18. Pebruar, 1880 (gemeint ist Durers Tagebuch tiber die nieder- 
Idndische Reise). 

An Lavater, d. 6. Marz, 1780. An Merck, d. 7. April, 1780. 



Sammlung die der Herzog besitzt, krieg ich alle Tage mehr Respekt. 
Sobald ich einmal einigen Raum finde will ich iiber die merkwiirdig- 
sten Blatter meine Gedanken aufsetzen, nicht sowohl liber Empfind- 
ung und Komposition, als iiber die Aussprache und die ganz goldene 
Ausftihrung. Ich bin durch genaue Betrachtung guter und schlech- 
ter, auch wohl aufgestochener Abdrucke von einer Platte auf gar 
schone Bemerkungen gekommen." 1 Hundert Blatter in Kupfer 
nebst den Holzschnitten kennt er von Diirer. Das Sammeln wird 
riistig weiter getrieben. Selbst der Herzog wird als Sammler einge- 
reiht. Es geht ein groszer Handel und Tausch in Diirerschen 
Werken unter den Freunden an "denn das versichre ich dir je mehr 
man sich damit abgiebt und beim Handel auf Copie und Original acht 
geben muss, desto grossere Ehrfurcht kriegt man fur diesem Kiinstler. 
Er hat nicht seines gleichen. 2 .... Die Diirers schick ich wenn die, 
die du dazu schicken willst einrangirt sind. Du hast recht, ich 
treibe die Sachen als wenn wir ewig auf Erden leben sollten. 3 Hier 
kommen endlich die Albrecht Diirerischen Kupfer. Es sind ihrer 
gegenwartig noch nicht mehr als hundert bekannt. In dem bei- 
kommenden Biichelchen sind sie deutlich beschrieben. Dieienigen 
Blatter die du besitzt sind mit einem+gezeichnet, die andern leer 
gelassen und hinten am Ende ist ein Verzeichniss zusammenge- 
schrieben, von denen Originalblattern die dir noch fehlen. Ich hab 
mir sie auch notirt und werde gewiss Gelegenheit finden sie nach 
und nach zu komplettieren, da du einmal so weit bist. Fur eben diese 
fehlende Originalien und auch fur die gute Kopien ist Platz gelassen 
und die Zahlen und Buchstaben driiber geschrieben, so dass wenn 
dir ein Blat unter Handen kommt du gar nicht fehlen kannst. Am 
besten wird sein dasz du einen deiner dienstbaren Geister recht 
drinne initierst dasz er sich's recht bekannt mache und du ihm wenn 
ein Blat vorkomme es zum einrangiren und einzeichnen iibergeben 
kannst. Kriegst du ein solches fehlende Blat so schreibe mir gleich 
die Nummer damit ich sie in meinem Catalogo auslosche und dir 

* An Merck, d. 7. April, 1780. 

2 An Lavater, d. 1. Mai, 1780. Zu seiner Beschaftigung mit Diirer sieh ferner 
Tagebuch, d. 2. Mai und 13. Mai, 1780; ferner an Lavater, d. 3. und d. 5. Juni, 1780; 
an Merck, d. 3. Juli, 1780; an Lavater, d. 3. Juli, 1780. 

a An Lavater, d. 24. Juli, 1780, zu seiner Beschaftigung mit Diirer ferner: an 
Lavater, d. 8. August, 1780, und den 20. September, 1780. 


kein doppeltes anschaffe. Hast du aber welche doppelt, so schick 
mir sie, theils kann ich sie zu einer Sammlung brauchen die ich 
mir selbst mache, theils kann ich sie auch an Kupferhandler 
vertauschen." l 

Und an Fr. Miiller in Rom, dem er eine Kiinstleranleitung gibt, 
schreibt er: "Wenn Raphael und Albrecht Diirer auf dem hochsten 
Gipfel stehen, was soil ein echter Schiiler mehr fliehen als die Will- 
kiirlichkeit. 2 Ueber Diirers Karl der Funfte aiiszert er : " Es ist ganz 
herrlich, ich mogte auch dich dariiber horen." 3 Nachdem Lavater 
hierauf geantwortet schreibt Goethe: "Ich habe einen Brief von 
Lavatern iiber den Albrecht Diirer, der mir schreibt er mochte iiber 
so ein Gesicht und iiber so ein Werk ein ganzes Buch schreiben. 
Oeser ist auch entziickt davon, er sagt er habe mehr als 100 Stiicke 
von diesem Meister gesehen und dies sei nur das zweyte von solchem 
Werthe. An dem Harnische erkenne man Albrecht Diirern, im 
Gesicht habe er sich selbst iibertroffen," usw. 4 

Nun folgt die Italiareise und Goethe benutzt die Gelegenheit 
die groszen Diirers in Miinchen zu betrachten. "In Miinchen habe 
ich ein paar Stiicke von ihm von unglaublicher Groszheit gesehen. 
Der arme Mann! statt seiner niederlandischen Reise wo er den 
Papagejen einhandelte u.c. Es ist mir unendlich riihrend o ein 
armer Narr von Kiinstler, weil es im Grunde auch mein Schicksal 
ist/' 5 usw. Raphael und Diirer stellt er gern nebeneinander, "in 
einem Zimmer neben der Sala del Consiglio di Died welches auch 
diesem fiirchterlichen Tribunal gehort hangt ein kostlicher Albrecht 
Diirer gegen einem Raphael iiber." 6 Dasz Diirer in Italien gewesen, 
war Goethen damals nicht bekannt. "Hatte doch das Gliick 
Albert-Diirern iiber die Alpen gefiihrt!" 7 Dieser Ausruf gerade 
nach einer begeisterten Betrachtung von Raphael Francesko di 

* An Lavater, d. 3. September, 1780. 
2 An Fr. Miiller, d. 21. Juni, 1781. 

a An Lavater, d. 4. Oktober, 1782. 

* An Merck, d. 27. Oktober, 1782. Vgl. auch an Knebel, d. 3. Marz, 1783. Uebrigens 
musz hier ein Irrtum vorliegen, denn Diirers Karl der Fttnfte ist nicht im Harnisch 

Tagebuch der Italienischen Reise, III, 1, 306. 

Ibid., Ill, 1, 264. 

7 Ibid., Ill, 1, 306. Vgl. auch Paralipomena, I, 47, 340, und I, 47, 233 ("Fleisz 
und die grosze Reinlichkeit der Diirerschen Arbeiten"). Und an Karl August, 18. 
Marz, 1788. 


Francia, und Peter Perugin! Auch im Vatikan unter der groszen 
Kunst Italiens kommt ihm die am Gottesdienst amtierende Gruppe 
der Kardinale mit dem Pabste wie ein Diirersches Stuck vor: "Son- 
tags gingen wir in die Sixtinische Capelle, wo der Pabst mit den 
Cardinalen der Messe beiwohnte. Da die letzteren wegen der 
Fastenzeit nicht roth sondern violett gekleidet waren, gab es ein 
neues Schauspiel. Einige Tage vorher hatte ich Gemalde von Albert 
Diirer gesehen und freute mich nun so etwas im Leben anzutreffen," 
usw. 1 

Interessant und zur Frage, was hat Goethe von Diirer gekannt, 
wichtig, sind seine Bemerkungen zu den Diirerschen Bildern, die er 
1790, z. T. wohl auch schon 1768, in Dresden gesehen hat. Die 
Anmerkungen stammen vom Jahr 1790. 2 

Obwohl man geglaubt hat Goethe habe sich zur Zeit der zweiten 
italienischen Reise ganzlich von Diirer abgewendet, 3 so ist das Epi- 
gramm, auf das diese Ansicht sich stiitzt, doch nur ein Quintchen 
der allgemeinen Verstimmung, die Goethen damals beherrscht. 
Dazu wollen wir noch gleich ein anderes aus ahnlicher Stimmung 
hervorgangenes Wort aus den Spriichen in Prosa hinzufligen: 
"Weil Albrecht Diirer bei dem unvergleichlichen Talent sich nie 
zur Idee des Ebenmaszes der Schonheit, ja sogar nie zum Gedanken 
einer schicklichen Zweckmaszigkeit erheben konnte, sollen wir auch 
immer an der Erde kleben." "Albrecht Diirer forderte ein hochst 
inniges realistisches Anschauen, ein liebenswiirdiges menschliches 
Mitgefiihl aller gegenwartige Zustande. Ihm schadete eine triibe, 
form- und bodenlose Phantasie." 4 

Dasz Goethe sich selbst, in dieser antiksten Zeit, von Diirer 
losgesagt, dagegen sprechen die oben angefiihrten Bemerkungen zu 
den Dresdener Diirers (1790), sodann sucht er auf der zweiten Reise 
nach Italien in Niirnberg, wo er nur 7J Stunden Aufenthalt hat, 

i Zweiter romischer Auf enthalt I, 32, 286. 

1 Ein Eremit mit einem Totenkopf . Fragt sich ob es original ist, aber nicht schlecht. 
Portrat eines Mannes in Pelz. Schmutzig hart, aber geistreich. Eine Hauskapelle. 
Vortrefflich, besonders die Thtiren. Die Kreuztragung. Simon von Gyrene. Grau in 
Grau und farbige Gewander mitunter. Ein kleiner Hase mit Wasserfarben. Gut und 
fleiszig. Die Anbetung der Konige. Gut aber unangenehm. I, 47, 370 fl. 

Stdcker, Palestra, XXVII, p. 100, zitiert dafttr Epigramme aus Venedig, No. 42: 

"So zerrttttet auch Durer mit apokalyptischen Bildern 
Menschen und Grillen zugleich, unser gesundes Gehirn," usw. 

* Maximen und Reflex, iiber Kunst, I, 48, 208. 



die Diirers auf. "In Niirnberg sahen wir die noch tibrigen prach- 
tigen Gemalde Albrecht Diirers." 1 Sodann schon im folgenden 
Marz schreibt er an seinen Fiihrer in der antiken Welt, J. H. Meyer: 
"In dem Stiicke Albrecht Diirers, das Sie mir anzeigen, stehen wahr- 
haft goldene Spriiche," usw. 2 "Unschatzbar hielt ich Albrecht 
Diirers Portrat (in der Bereis Sammlung in Helmstadt) von ihm selbst 
gemahlt mit der Jahreszahl 1493 .... (lange Beschreibung) 
.... das Ganze herrlich gezeichnet, reich und unschuldig, har- 
monisch in seinen Theilen, von der hochsten Ausfiihrung, vollkom- 

men Diirers wiirdig, obgleich mit sehr diinner Farbe gemahlt 

Dieses preiswiirdige, durchaus unschatzbare Bild, u. s. w " 3 

"Unter seinen Gemalden befindet sich auch ein Bildnis Albrecht 
Diirers von ihm selbst im 22. Lebensjahr gemahlt in welchem alle 
Tugenden dieses Meisters jugendlich bliihend erscheinen. Eins 
der interessantesten Bilder die ich kenne " 4 

Strixners 1808 erschienenes Buch, Albrecht Diirers christliche 
und mythologische Handzeichnungen in lithographischer Manier 
gearbeitetf rief von Meyers und Goethens Feder eine Rezension 
hervor, 6 und Goethe und seine Umgebung beschaftigten sich vielfach 
mit dem Buch. An Biographieen Diirers hat Goethe, wie wir 
oben bemerkt, Diirers niederlandische Reise, d.h. das Tagebuch, 
gekannt, jetzt kommt dazu Diirers Leben von Cramer. 7 

Bettina Brentano laszt nun das Diirersche Selbstportrat von 
einem Miinchner Kiinstler kopieren und Goethen iibersenden, 
woriiber Goethe eine auszerordentliche Freude bezeugt, 8 es einrahmen 
und in seinem Hause aufhangen lasst. 

In den Tag- und Jahresheften fur 1809 heiszt es: "Auch die 
bildende Kunst, die wir freilich immerfort auf das herzlichste pflegten, 
brachte uns dieses Jahr die schonsten Friichte. In Miinchen wurden 

1 Werke, III, 2, 13. 

2 An J. H. Meyer, d. 13. Marz, 1791. Gemeint ist wohl die "Ersten Reime." 

I, 35, 217 (1805). Zu der fortgesetzen Beschaftigung Goethes mit Diirer vgl. 
auch III, 3, 322 (1808), und I, 36, 39 (1808). 

4 An Herzog Carl August, d. 28. August, 1805. Gemeint ist das Selbstportrat im 
Venezianer Kostiim. 

8 Miinchen, 1808. 

6 In No. 67 der Jenaer Litter aturzeitung. 

7 Diirers Leben in Der Biograph, 7. Bd., Halle, 1808, S. 401 flf. 

8 Vgl. an Bettina d. 11. September, 1809; d. 3. November, 1809, und d. 10. Februar, 



die Handzeichnungen Albrecht Diirers herausgegeben, und man 
dtirfte wohl sagen, dasz man erst jetzt das Talent des so hoch ver- 
ehrten Meisters erkenne. Aus der gewissenhaften Peinlichkeit, die 
sowohl seine Gemahlde als Holzschnitte beschrankt, trat er heraus 
bei einem Werke, wo seine Arbeit nur ein Beiwesen bleiben, wo er 
mannichfaltig gegebene Raume verzieren sollte. Hier erschien 

sein herrliches Naturell vollig heiter und humoristisch ' n 

"Zunachst wiirde ich Ihnen rathen, die Ihnen gewisz schon bekann- 
ten Steinabdriicke des in Miinchen befindlichen Erbauungsbuches 
so fleiszig als moglich zu studieren, weil nach meiner Ueberzeugung, 
Albrecht Diirer sich nirgends so frei, so geistreich, grosz und schon 
bewiesen, als in diesen gleichsam extemporierten Blattern." 2 

Ein vermeintliches Diirersches Schnitzwerk Adam und Eva 
hat man in Weimar aus der Hohwiesnerischen Sammlung angekauft, 
obwohl Goethe und andere Kunstkenner sich vor abgeschlossenem 
Kauf, gegen die Diirersche Urheberschaft ausgesprochen. 3 

Dasz Diirer von Italien wenig profitiert hatte, kann man kaum 
behaupten, aber es ist doch wahr was Goethe schreibt: "Und sieht 
man es denn Diirer sonderlich an dasz er in Venedig gewesen? 
Dieser Treffliche laszt sich durchgangig aus sich selbst heraus 
erklaren." 4 Zum Diirerfest in Ntirnberg, 1828, war es Goethen 
nicht moglich zu gehen, er liesz es sich aber angelegen sein die 
Sache eines Diirerdenkmals, welche auf dem Fest angeregt wurde, 
in Weimar fleiszig zu fordern. 5 

I, 36, 50. 

2 An Peter Cornelius d. 8. Mai, 1811. 

Vgl. hierzu an J. F. H. Schlosser, d. 9. April, 1819, auch an den Herzog Carl August, 
d. 19. April, 1819: "Weder ich noch andre Kunstfreunde konnten bei genauester 
Priifung Albrecht Diirers Hand erkennen." Ferner an J. F. H. Schlosser, d. 6. Mai, 1819, 
d. 4. Juni, 1819, an den Herzog Carl August, d. 11. Juli, 1819, an J. H. Meyer, d. 7. 
Dezember, 1819 (Interesse an eigener Durersammlung), an J. A. G. Weigel, d. 13. Oktober, 
1819, an S. Boisseree, d. 10. Juli, 1816, Tagebiicher, d. 18. Juli, 1818, und d. 9. u. 10. 
April, 1819, " Beschaf tigung mit Diirer." Vgl. auch Biedermann, Goethes Gesprdche, 
VIII, 327 (Mitte August, 1813): "Endlich betonte er mit Nachdruck Albrecht Diirers 
Meisterschaft," usw. Vgl. Tagebiicher, d. 20. Februar, 1814: "Holzschnitte Diirers 
geordnet durch Keil," und an Christiane von Goethe, d. 1. Oktober, 1814: " Wiederholte 
Betrachtung der Bilder des Schore'el in Gesellschaft von Joh. V. Eycks, Hemskercks 
und Albert Diirers Wercken." 

I, 34, 189. Vgl. aber auch Schuchart, Goethes Aufsatze und Ausspriiche fiber 
bildende Kunst, Bd. 2, S. 154, Stuttgart, 1863. 

An den Magistrat von Nurnberg, d. 21. April, 1828; Tagebiicher, d. 20. Marz, 
1828; ibid., d. 8. u. 9. Mai, 1828. Verhandlung wegen des Albrecht Diirerischen Denk- 
mals, "Die Acten ajustirt wegen Albrecht Durers Denkmal." An Fr. v. Miiller, 



Warmes Interesse, ja liebevolle Teilnahme an Durer begleitet 
Goethen, trotz Antike, sein ganzes Leben hindurch. Dasz er in 
seinem literarischen Schaffen von Bildwerken vielfach anhaltend 
angeregt worden, 1st schon dargetan worden. Dasz er auch von 
Diirer, dem groszten deutschen Meister, in seinem Denken und 
Gestalten tief beeinfluszt worden, das bezeugt schon, um nicht 
weiter auf die Gestalten seiner deutschen Periode einzugehen, das 
wie ein Diirerscher Holzschnitt anmutende Gedicht "Hans Sachsens 
poetische Sendung" (worin ja auch Sachsens und Diirers Kunst 
neben einander gestellt werden), oder auch der Faust, der wie 
Alexander Dumas gegen Goethe auszerte "einem Albrecht Diirer 
gleicht." 1 


d. 9. Mai, 1828: "Ew. Hochwohlgeboren ersuche in Gefolg unserer gestrigen Verhand- 
lungen um die auf das Albrecht-Dtirerfest und eine diesem Kunstler zu enichtende 
Bildsaule beziiglichen Papiere, damit ich das Weitere veranstalten konne," Tagebiicher 
d. 27. September, 1828 (Beitrag an den Albrecht Diirer Verein, etc.). Ferner zur Be- 
schaftigung mit Durer, Tagebiicher, d. 11. Oktober, 1827: "Las ich in dem neuen Taschen- 
buch A. Diirers Reliquien betitelt." Gemeint ist Reliquien von Albrecht Durer. 
Taschenbuch seinen Verehrern geweiht von Fr. Campe, Nurnberg, 1827. An den 
Groszherzog Carl August, ca. 25. April, 1828. Gesprache mit Eckermann, d. 11. Marz, 
1828. Biedermann, Goethes Gesprache, Bd. VIII, 380 (1828) (Durer wiirde in Italien ein 
ganz anderer geworden sein). 

1 Biedermann, Goethes Gesprache, X, 174. 




The similarity between Hagedorn's attitude toward flattery in 
court life and Prior's is also striking. Compare the following from 
Solomon 1 with a quotation from Freundschaft: 2 
"What is a king? .... 

From the first blooming of his ill taught youth, 
Nourished in flattery, and estranged from truth : 
At home surrounded by a servile crowd, 
Prompt to abuse, and in detraction loud. 

Hat ihn der Himmel nicht mit seltner Kraft versehn, 
So wird er nur zu schwach Versuchern widerstehn. 
Der Hoheit Selbstbetrug vereitelt seme Giite, 
Der Schmeichler Hinterhalt umzingelt sein Gemuthe. 

The futility of the ravages caused by war is another subject 
which claimed the attention of both Hagedorn and Prior, and 
Thomson as well, as can be seen by comparing Hagedorn's stanza 
beginning, "Als aber Stolz und Neid den frechen Schwung erhub," 3 
with Solomon (Book III, 11. 303-8) and the Castle of Indolence (stanza 
LV). 4 

Although Hagedorn longed to see poets independent of the favor 
of princes, still he had long looked forward to the time when the 
rulers in Germany should foster German art. Along with other 
German poets, he was disappointed when Frederick the Great 
preferred Voltaire to the writers of his own country. In the poem, 
Der Weise, he cites the example of the English people in appreciating 
their own scholars: 

Gunst kront den Fleiss, den Macht und Freyheit schiitzen: 
Die Reichsten sind der Wissenschaften Stiitzen. 5 

i Book III, 11. 275-82. 

* Werke, I, 65. Ibid., I, 69. 

* See also Thomson's Britannia (II, 56-61). 
Werke, I, 16. 

75] 11 [MODERN PHILOLOGY, June, 1915 


He could have joined Parnell in his toast in The Book-Worm: 

A health to poets all their days, 

May they have bread as well as praise. 1 

Later in Wunsche, 2 Hagedorn proclaims his allegiance to the 
cause of freedom with even more spirit than in Der Weise: 

Du schonstes Himmelskind! du Ursprung bester Gaben, 
Die weder Gold erkauft, noch Herrengunst gewahrt, 
O Freyheit! kann ich nur dich zur Gefahrtin haben, 
Gewiss, so wird kein Hof mit meinem Flehn beschwert. 

In this poem Hagedorn's scorn of the favor of princes has become 
bolder than it was in Der Weise. He sees that the realization 
of happiness and virtue can come only through freedom, that no 
man can attain a high development so long as he fawns upon his 
rulers. The same spirit is expressed by Thomson in his Autumn 
(11. 1239-49), in a passage already quoted. 3 
And again in Wiinsche* 

Die Wollust darf ihn nicht aus Bergkrystallen tranken, 
Die Schmeichler kriechen nicht um seinen Speisesaal: 
Doch Freyheit kann der Kost Kraft und Gedeihen schenken, 
Und die fehlt Fursten oft bey ihren Gottermahl. 

It does not suffice merely to be independent as far as outside 
forces are concerned. This independence must be in the nature of 
an inner freedom. Only when a man can look himself squarely in 
the face is he able to regard himself on an equality with princes: 

Wer diess von Weisen lernt, sein eigner Freund zu werden, 
Mit der Versuchung nicht sich heimlich zu verstehn; 
Der ist (ihr Grossen, glaubts) ein grosser Mann auf Erden, 
Und darf Monarchen selbst frey unter Augen gehn. 6 

In a study of Hagedorn's Moralische Gedichte, it is impossible 
not to observe his growing love of freedom and his increasing bold- 
ness in expressing it. Emphasizing in Der Weise the beauty of 
freedom, citing England as its home, 6 and warning his readers 

1 That Hagedorn knew Parnell is shown by a letter from Bodmer referring: to him 
(Werke, V, 193). 

* Werke, I, 39. Modern Philology, XII, 8, p. 185. 

* Werke, I, 39. ' Ibid., I, 39. Modern Philology, XII, 8, p. 190. 



against the treachery of flattery, he continues to cherish this love of 
liberty until it becomes a passion with him. In his Schreiben an einen 
Freund he scorns rulers who obtain respect from their subjects only 
through the fear which they inspire: 

Wie durftig prangt ein Herr, den nur sein Thron erhebt, 
Dem jeder nur gehorcht, weil jeder vor ihm bebt! 1 

He goes so far as to prophesy that a time will come when such 
tyrants will no longer be tolerated: 

Der Ehre Heiligthum wird er nicht lang' entweihn. 
Verehrt ihm seine Zeit, so denkt die Nachwelt ktihner. 2 

He suggests, too, that the power of a ruler is often under the control 
of others without his realizing it: 

Vielleicht regieren ihn Gemahl und Kammerdiener, 
Und, lenken diese nicht den koniglichen Sinn, 
So kanns ein Sporus thun, und eine Buhlerin. 3 

Hagedorn states in this poem that friendship and flattery are 
absolutely incompatible : 

Die Nacht der Schmeicheley, die Fursten stets umgiebt, 
Erlaubt dem Besten kaum zu wissen, wer ihn liebt. 
Und, kann die Gleichheit nur den Bau der Freundschaft griinden, 
Wie wird er einen Freund, statt eines Heuchlers, finden? 4 

These lines should be read in connection with Thomson's Autumn 
(11. 1235-42), in which the happiness of friendship is contrasted 
with the "vile intercourse of flatterers." Hagedorn continues in 
the spirit of many of Thomson's utterances when he writes: 

Kennt ein Tyrann auch Freunde ? 

Bringt nicht, zur Sicherheit auf dem erstiegnen Thron, 

Ein Sohn den Vater um, der Vater einen Sohn ? 6 

Hagedorn's final summing-up of the poem is a mature expression 
of his English ideals: 

1 Werke, I, 46. This certainly has the vigor of Thomson's utterances on tyranny. 
Cf. especially Summer, 11. 1477-78: 

The dread of tyrants, and the sole resource 
Of those that under grim oppression groan. 

2 Ibid., I, 46. 3 Ibid., I, 46. * Ibid., I, 49. 6 ibid., I, 53. 



Nur der is wirklich gross, und seiner Zeiten Zierde, 
Den kein Bewundern tauscht, noch lockende Begierde, 
Den Kenntniss gliicklich macht, und nicht zu schulgelehrt, 
Der zwar Beweise schatzt, doch auch den Zweifel ehrt, 
Vollkommenheit besitzt, die er nicht selbst bekennet, 
Nur edle Triebe fuhlt, und Allen Alles gonnet, 
Der das ist, was er scheint, und nur den Beyfall liebt, 
Den seinen Tugenden Recht und Gewissen giebt. 1 

The significant thing for us in this poem is that Hagedorn in 
his conception of freedom shows a closer relation to Pope in his Essay 
on Man, to Prior in his Solomon, and to Thomson in his Liberty and 
Seasons, especially Autumn and Winter, than he did in his earlier 


In Hagedorn's philosophy the crowning glory of virtue is friend- 
ship. To it he devoted the longest and, in some respects, the best 
of his Moralische Gedichte, Die Freundschaft. In this poem he first 
does homage to the dog of Ulysses, which remained true to its 
master during his long absence and on his return paid more respect 
to him whom it thought a beggar, than did the servants whom he 
had exalted; then on being stroked by the stranger, looked up, 
recognized him, and died. 

Hagedorn bemoans the lack of true friendship in his own time, 
crowded out as it is by selfishness, inconstancy, indifference, servility, 
deception, laziness, and avarice. This leads up to an exposition of 
what real friendship means. He has little hope that princes will 
attain it, for, even after reading the history of former rulers, they 
will themselves become the victims of flattery unless they are strong. 
Friendship thrives best in the rural atmosphere, not in cities or at 
courts, for in the country freedom and peace reign. Friendship 
is the outgrowth of confidence and truth, not of jealousy and decep- 
tion. It is most easily killed by coolness and infidelity. It exists 
among people of like virtues and often among those of congenial 
tastes. It cannot exist with selfishness, flattery, and hypocrisy. 
The real test of friendship is fidelity. 2 

> Werke, I, 55. 

* In a footnote Hagedorn gives as his sources for the story of Ulysses* dog, Odyssey, 
Book xvii, Pope's note to line 399, his tenth letter to Cromwell, and Boileau's third critical 
treatise on some passages of Longinus in the third book of his works. 



Addison's essay on Friendship 1 emphasizes the same character- 
istics as Hagedorn's Freundschaft. 2 Thus he writes: " Among the 
several qualifications of a good friend, this wise man (the son of 
Sirach) 3 has very justly singled out constancy and faithfulness as 
the principal." 

According to this, the ideals of Hagedorn and Addison with 
regard to friendship are fundamentally the same. I have already 
quoted from No. 15 of the Spectator, 4 in which Addison represents 
happiness as an "enemy to pomp and noise," enjoying the friend- 
ship and conversation of a few, select companions, and loving "shade 
and solitude, .... groves and fountains, fields and meadows." 
In Freundschaft 5 Hagedorn affirms, as does Addison, that true 
friendship, a prerequisite of happiness, is to be found only in retire- 
ment from the pomp of the world: 

Land! der Tugend Sitz, wo zwischen Trift und Auen 

Uns weder Stolz noch Neid der Sonne Licht verbauen, 

Und Freude Raum erblickt; wo Ehrgeiz und Betrug 

Sich nicht dem Strohdach naht, noch Gift dem irdnen Krug; 

Wo Anmuth Witz gebiert, und Witz ein sichres Scherzen, 

Weil niemand sinnreich wird, um seinen Freund zu schwarzen; 

Wo man nie wissentlich Verheissungen vergisst, 

Und Redlichkeit ein Ruhm, und Treu ein Erbgut ist, 

Wie in Arcadien. Erkauft das Gold der Reichen 

Sich Freunde solcher Art, die rechten Hirten gleichen ? 

Hagedorn also expresses 6 what Addison infers in Spectator, No. 15, 
viz., that real friendship is not to be found in courts and crowds 
of people: 

Der Sitz geheimer Noth und offentlicher Pracht, 

Der Hof ist nicht der Ort, der Freundschaft herzlich macht. 

Thomson shows in Autumn (11. 1237 ff.) his highest conception 
of happiness, like Hagedorn's, to be a life in retirement with a few 
friends. Again, in Winter (11. 572-73) he expresses the same spirit: 

1 Spectator, No. 68. 

2 Although this essay is composed almost entirely of quotations from The Wisdom 
of the Son of Sirach, yet Addison gives the views contained in it the stamp of his own 

8 The parenthesis is my own. 8 Werke, I, 67. 

Modern Philology, XII, 8, p. 188. Ibid., I, 65. 



Thus in some deep retirement would I pass 
The winter glooms, with friends of pliant soul. 1 

One person who, in Hagedorn's judgment, is debarred from real 
friendship is the gossip. 2 His poem, Der Schwdtzer, calls to mind a 
long series of articles in both the English and German moral weeklies 
on the subject. It was one of their favorite themes. 

Hagedorn, like Addison and Steele, kept in close touch with the 
common people and had every opportunity to know their weaknesses. 
Like them, he spent much time in coffee-houses, where he could hear 
the conversation of all classes of people. In this poem Hagedorn 
represents himself as taking a walk and meeting a gossip, who became 
the subject of his satire. His antipathy for the class of people whom 
this man represents is well put: 

Ich eil', ich stehe still, von ihm mich zu befreyn, 

Und raun' ich weiss nicht was dem Diener in die Ohren; 

Noch hier ist alle Muh und alle Kunst verlohren. 

Mir bricht der Angstschweiss aus. O wie beneidenswerth, 

Gedenk ich, ist der Thor, der Thoren gerne hort! 3 

In this connection it is significant to recall that Addison in the 
Spectator discusses the conversation of his correspondents. 4 In 

* See also Winter (11. 343-44) : 

E'en in the vale, where wisdom loves to dwell, 
With friendship, peace, and contemplation joined. 

2 The aversion of Hagedorn to gossips was mentioned after his death by his friend 
Klopstock (Ed. Muncker und Pawel, I, 26) : 

So schliefst du sicher von den Schwatzern 
Nicht ohne Gotter ein muthger Jungling. 

Hagedorn refers to it himself in the third stanza of his Wunsche in which he speaks 
of the pleasure which his favorite books afford him when he can retire with them to a 
place where gossips cannot intrude ( Werke, I, 38) : 

O wie vergntigen mich, wo die kein Schwatzer storet, 
Die Werke, deren Ruhm die Meister iiberlebt. 

Werke, I, 85. 

* Spectator, No. 67, is devoted to the "party rage" of women, which has crept into 
their conversation. Addison decries anything in their speech which may detract from 
"the softness, the modesty, and those endearing qualities which are natural to the fair 

In No. 16, referring to requests from correspondents to print the private scandal 
connected with the names of particular persons and families, Addison replies that it is 
not his design "to be a publisher of intrigues and cuckoldoms, or to bring little infamous 
stories out of their present lurking holes into broad daylight." 

The familiar quotation on slander from Pope's Rape of the Lock, Canto III, 11. 11-16, 
should be recalled here: 

In various talk th' instructive hours they past, 

Who gave the ball, or paid the visit last; 

One speaks the glory of the British Queen, 

And one describes a charming Indian screen; 

A third interprets motives, looks, and eyes; 

At ev'ry word a reputation dies. 



No. 46 he prints a letter from a man who complains that his wife is 
a "gospel-gossip": "If at any time I have her company alone, 
she is a mere sermon pop-gun, repeating and discharging texts, 
proofs, and applications so perpetually that however weary I may 
go to bed, the noise in my head will not let me sleep until morning." 
No less persistent is Hagedorn's gossip. After trying in vain to 
get rid of him, 1 Hagedorn says dejectedly: 

Mich krumm' ich, wie ein Pferd, das, bey zu schwerer Last, 
Kopf, Maul und Ohren baugt, und seinen Treiber hasst. 2 

On turning again to Freundschaft, we find that Hagedorn got 
from Pope more than the suggestion for the opening of the poem. 
In the Second Epistle of the Essay on Man, Pope begins with self- 
love, "the spring of motion": 

Two Principles in human nature reign; 
Self-love, to urge, and Reason, to restrain. 3 

and proceeds from that to friendship, a tie which has grown out of 
mutual need : 

Heav'n forming each on other to depend, 

A master, or a servant, or a friend, 

Bids each on other for assistance call, 

Till one Man's weakness grows the strength of all, 

Wants, frailties, passions, closer still ally 

The common interest, or endear the tie. 

To these we owe true friendship, love sincere, 

Each home-felt joy that life inherits here. 4 

Hagedorn follows the same course : 

Die Liebe zu uns selbst, allein die weise nur, 
1st freylich unsre Pflicht, die Stimme der Natur; 
Doch sie verkniipft sich auch mit den Bewegungsgriinden, 
In andern wie in uns, das Gute schon zu finden, 
Dem Schonen hold zu seyn. 5 

The self-restraint urged by Pope throughout this epistle is 
stressed by Hagedorn also: 

1 In the chatter of this gossip is a passing reference to the English people ( Werke, I, 
86): "Im Gehen, glauben Sies, bin ich ein rechter Britte." 

2 Werke, I, 87. 4 j^d., 11. 249-56. 

3 Essay on Man, Ep. II, 11. 53-54. 6 Werke, I, 62 flf. 



Wie ruhig 1st ein Herz, das seine Pflichten kennt ! 
Das jede seine Lust, wie seine Richtschnur, nennt! 
Von ihm, und nur von ihm, wird Freundschaft recht geschatzet, 
Die wahrer Dichtkunst gleich, so bessert, als ergetzet. 1 

Reference has already been made to Hagedorn's warm friend- 
ships for contemporary authors, 2 but sufficient emphasis has not been 
put upon the fact that in this feature also Hagedorn was an innovator. 
Schuster states 3 that in Hagedorn's time there was scarcely a trace 
of a Freundschaftscultus in Germany: 

Von Freundeskreisen und freundlichem Leben wird aber mit einer 
einzigen Ausnahme in den deutschen moralischen Wochenschriften damals 
nirgends gesprochen. Dieselbe findet sich in den Diskursen der Maler, 
wo man II. Th. IV. D. auf die Freundschaft, wie sie Cicero behandelt hat, 
wieder aufmerksam macht; sonst trifft man in den Wochenschriften nicht 
eine einzige besondere Abhandlung iiber das Wesen und den Begriff der 
Freundschaft, welcher Mangel wohl den sichersten Beweis giebt, dass 
damals in Deutschland kaum eine Spur von einem Freundschaftscultus 
vorhanden gewesen sein kann. 

There is no doubt that Schuster 4 is correct in asserting further 
that Hagedorn's stay in England and his familiarity with English life 
and literature had much to do with his development of the Freund- 
schaftscultus in Germany. This was fostered by the younger German 
writers who got much of their inspiration from him, especially the 
groups of poets in Leipzig and Halle. 5 


With Hagedorn, the farmer is not only a useful member of society, 
but as a result of his environment a happy one as well. In this 
respect he agrees with Thomson in dividing society into two classes. 
In one are the quiet dwellers of the country, who enjoy a reasonable 
competence and are consequently happy, contented, and independent 

i Ibid., I, 69. Schuster, op. cit., p. 31. 

* Modern Philology, XII, 5, p. 124. Schuster, op. cit., p. 31. 

8 Hagedorn's friendship for the younger writers was not a matter of mere sentiment. 
It expressed itself in such assistance as suggestions, lending of books, and, when necessary, 
financial aid. His assistance to the "Bauersohn," Gottlieb Fuchs, might be men- 
tioned in this connection. He interested his Hamburg friends also in the blind poet 
Enderlein, and raised the sum of 200 thaler, which was given to Enderlein in such a way 
that he did not know from whom it came. Rabener called Hagedorn "ein liebreicher 
Vormund der witzigen und nothleidenden Kopfe in Sachsen" (Literarische Pamphleten, 
by Bodmer, p. 130). 



in spirit; in the other are those who live in cities and strive in vain 
for happiness through the attainment of wealth and influence. 
The following lines from Gluckseligkeit express Hagedorn's attitude 
in general toward the countryman: 

O Gliick der Niedrigen, der Schnitter und der Hirten, 
Die sich in Flur und Wald, in Trift und Thai bewirthen, 
Wo Einfalt und Natur, die ihre Sitten lenkt, 
Auch jeder rauhen Kost Geschmack und Segen schenkt! 1 

Without suggesting that Hagedorn was directly influenced by 
the following poem from Thomson, 2 1 quote it as illustrating the kin- 
ship of ideas between the two poets : 

If those who live in shepherd's bower, 
Press not the rich and stately bed: 
The new mown hay and breathing flower 
A softer couch beneath them spread. 

If those who sit at shepherd's board, 
Soothe not their taste by wanton art; 
They take what nature's gifts afford, 
And take it with a cheerful heart. 

If those who drain the shepherd's bowl, 
No high and sparkling wines can boast, 
With wholesome cups they cheer the soul, 
And crown them with the village toast. 

If those who join in shepherd's sport, 
Gay dancing on the daisied ground, 
Have not the splendour of a court; 
Yet love adorns the merry round. 

It is important to bear in mind in connection with what has just 
been said, that in Hagedorn's time a revolution in German thought 
was marked by a return to nature, which he united with Brockes 
in advocating. In Hagedorn's striving for simplicity, his break 
with conventions, preceding as it did the introduction of Rousseau 
into Germany by a good many years, helped to do for* Germany 
what Thomson did for England. 

1 Werke, I, 31. 

2 "Contentment," from Alfred, Act III, sc. v. 



Again although Hagedorn's beauty of language and perfection 
of style have frequently been commented on, and that usually in 
connection with his imitation of classic writers, comparatively little 
has ever been said about Hagedorn as an innovator, who helped to 
introduce into Germany the directness of description characteristic 
of English Romanticists. The Germans have not thought of him as 
we think today of Thomson, but his poetry, as does Thomson's, 
belongs to a transition period. When we think of Thomson as the 
forerunner of Wordsworth, not only in his treatment of nature, but 
also in his simplicity of style, we do not forget that his dramas and a 
large part of his poetry are conventional in style, 1 but we do not on 
this account overlook the romantic elements in his Seasons. Neither 
should we let the formality of Hagedorn's style blind us to the 
valuable work which he did in introducing a new type of literature 
into Germany, nor should we overlook the part which Thomson 
very probably played in influencing him. 

Special attention should be given to Hagedorn's Horaz, since it 
is very closely related in spirit to Thomson's Spring. The opening 
stanza 2 suggests the enjoyment of nature which one familiar with 
Thomson's poem will recall as decidedly characteristic of him.* 
The similarity in the handling of the theme is also significant. The 
cheerful spirit, characteristic of both Hagedorn's and Thomson's 
poems, was, as has been said before, 4 almost entirely lacking in the 
German poetry immediately preceding Hagedorn. "Das Recht 
vergniigt zu seyn" was an important element in his belief, as well 
as in that of Thomson and Addison. This was the feature in his 
work which Hagedorn's followers among the Anacreontic poets devel- 
oped, as will be shown in a later study of Hagedorn's Lieder. In 
this last of his Moralische Gedichte, Horaz, more than in any of the 
earlier ones, Hagedorn emphasizes this spirit of cheerfulness, another 
evidence that his point of view was consistently becoming that 
of contemporary English rather than German writers. 

i Many of the stilted expressions of pseudo-Classicism still clung to Thomson; for 
example: "musky tribes," "finny race," "glossy kind," "busy nations." 

* Modern Philology, XII, 8, p. 183. 
Cf. Thomson's Spring, 11. 1-4; 186-221. 
< Modern Philology, XII, 8, pp. 188 f. 



In this poem nature plays a more important part than in any of 
the previous poems of this group. Only a person who has learned to 
see nature first hand could write such lines as the following: 

Du sahest oft an hoffmmgsvollen Baumen, 

Um Rind' und Stamm, das Moos zu haufig keimen. 1 

Such a minute observance of details in nature is consonant with 
the development toward Romanticism in England during the eight- 
eenth century. Thomson's importance in making nature more than 
a mere ornament to poetry is too well known to need more than 
passing mention here. That Hagedorn was a pioneer in Germany, 
as Thomson was in England, in a sympathetic observation of nature 
is what concerns us. 

As with Thomson, so with Hagedorn, the quiet life of the country 
answers a real need in its restfulness to the weary city dweller: 

Warm sen ich dich, in Stunden freyer Ruh, 
Beym Schlaf am Bach, aus Biichern kluger Alten, 
Vergessenheit der Miihe zu erhalten, 
Der oftern Last, die in der Stadt mich driickt, 
Und meine Lust in enger Luf t erstickt ? 
Wann werd' ich mich in jenen kiihlen Griinden, 
An jenem Quell, verneuert, wieder finden ? 2 

The similarity of Hagedorn's point of view and Thomson's on 
this subject may be seen by comparing the above with a passage 
from Thomson's poem, Of a Country Life (11. 90 f .) : 

When the noon sun directly darts his beams 
Upon your giddy heads, with fiery gleams, 
Then you may bathe yourself in cooling streams; 
Or to the sweet adjoining grove retire, 
Where trees with interwoven boughs conspire 
To form a grateful shade. 

There you may stretch yourself upon the grass, 
And, lulled with music, to kind slumbers pass: 
No meagre cares your fancy will distract, 
And on that scene no tragic fears will act. 

But grant, ye powers, that it may be my lot 
To live in peace from noisy towns remote. 

Werke, I, 99. 2 Werke, I, 99. 



Hagedorn, as well as Thomson, likes to turn from a description 
of the artificial pleasures of the city to the innocent ones of the coun- 
try. Thomson's Autumn (11. 1246-77), in which he expresses his 
aversion to the restlessness and deception of the city, and his love 
of the quiet and sincerity of the country, is typical of many such 
passages in the Seasons. 1 In general, the same features are observ- 
able in Hagedorn's earlier moral poetry, but not until this poem does 
he mention with such " Thomson-like " concreteness 2 the country 
life as in the following lines : 

Der Schafe Schur, der Vogelfang, die Jagd, 
Die Taubenzucht, die Wartung seiner Bienen, 
Das frische Bad, der stille Schlaf im Griinen. 

Sein Vieh, sein Land, sein Garten giebt Gerichte, 
Die Milch, den Fisch, den Braten und die Friichte, 
Sein Weinberg Wein, den kein Verkaufer mischt. 3 

In connection with the same passage from Autumn, cited above, 
it should be noted in passing that Hagedorn's conception of domestic 
happiness also is found to be one where a simple meal with one's 
friends plays an important part: 

An Kriegsgerath besitzt er nur ein Zelt, 
In welchem er mit Freunden Tafel halt. 4 

But the activity which belongs to a life in the country is essential 
to this enjoyment: 

Dort schmeckt dir Brod, wie sonst kein Kuchen that, 
Denn alles schmeckt, wo man Bewegung hat. 5 

i Of. The Castle of Indolence, stanzas XLIX-LVIII. 

* Cf. Myra Reynolds, The Treatment of Nature in English Poetry between Pope and 
Wordsworth (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1909), for a careful treatment of 
Thomson's descriptive poetry- 

Werke, I, 104. Ibid., I, 104. 

* Werke, I, 105. Hagedorn's lines on fishing (Werke, I, 104) may have been sug- 
gested by Thomson's description of fishing in Spring (11. 379-442) and the one in his 
poem Of a Country Life (11. 53-66) : 

Und was er sonst bald mit begliickten Handen 
Zu angeln pflegt, bald in der Netze Wanden 
Gefangen ftihrt, bald, wie den fetten Aal, 
In Reusen lockt zum frohen Mittagsmahl. 

I add here four lines in which his concreteness is especially marked (ibid., I, 104) : 
Im Teich, im Strom, wo Schley und Karpe springen, 
Forell' und Schmerl durch Sand und Kiesel dringen, 
Der Frosche Feind, der Krebs, geharnischt laicht, 
Und, ganz vertieft, die bartge Barbe streicht. 



Though such passages as the above are a distinct echo of Horace, 1 
the admiration for whom formed a bond of sympathy between Hage- 
dorn and Thomson, the following evidence especially is strongly in 
favor of our regarding Hagedorn as having been influenced by 
Thomson in his treatment of nature. In the first place, the evidence 
advanced in the preceding pages indicates a close relationship 
between Thomson and Hagedorn in other significant characteristics. 
Then, in addition, Thomson had become well known in literary 
circles of Germany by the time Horaz was written. Not only had 
Brockes' translation of the Seasons been published seven years 
before, but imitations of it, as well, had begun to appear. 2 In view 
of this fact, and of the similarity between the two poets, it is logical 
to assume that Hagedorn, probably the widest reader of English 
literature in Germany at that time, was influenced, as well as his 
contemporaries, by Thomson's attitude toward nature. 

References to domestic activities form an important feature in 
the German imitations of the Seasons, especially Kleist's FriihUng, 
Zacharia's Tageszeiten, and Gessner's Idyllen. It will be recalled 
that previous to the time of Thomson any mention of common- 
place themes in the poetry of England and Germany was con- 
sidered in bad taste. It is significant that Hagedorn was one 
of the first German poets to refer in a natural way to everyday 

In connection with Thomson's influence upon the eighteenth- 
century poets of Germany, I believe that it was not as great upon 
Brockes and Haller as has generally been supposed. Brockes had 
been writing at least sixteen years before Thomson's Spring first 
appeared in English, and he had already formed his style, which was 
microscopic in contrast with the panoramic treatment characteristic 
of Thomson's style. Brockes and Haller both describe nature 
with scientific accuracy, but fail to animate it as Thomson does. In 
this respect Hagedorn is much closer to Thomson than is either 
Brockes or Haller. It is admitted that Hagedorn in his poems 
written before going to England followed Brockes in his microscopic 

1 Cf. especially Epodes of Horace, Ode 11. 

2 Kleist's FriihUng, the best of the imitations of Thomson's Spring, had appeared 
two years earlier than Hagedorn's Horaz. 



manner, 1 but like Kleist and Wieland, who were also influenced 
by Brockes in their early writing, he later abandoned this style 
and learned to use the broad effects characteristic of Thomson. 
Unlike Zacharia, and other imitators of Thomson, Hagedorn always 
stays within the bounds of good taste in his choice and treatment 
of subjects. Like Thomson he made everything poetic which he 
described. Further, Hagedorn is more closely related to Thomson 
in another characteristic than are Brockes and Haller: the work 
of both of these latter writers is characterized by a somber tone 
which is lacking in the poetry of Thomson and Hagedorn. The 
idyllic element which Haller, Wieland, and Gessner had learned 
from Thomson is found also in Hagedorn's Horaz. When we com- 
pare Hagedorn with his German contemporaries with regard to 
Thomson's influence upon their attitude toward nature, it appears 
certain that he was under the spell of the English poet, and that 
he was probably influenced more than were Brockes and Haller, 
and earlier than were Kleist, Wieland, Zacharia, or Gessner. 2 

In summing up the qualities which Hagedorn stresses, not only 
in this poem, but in all his Moralische Gedichte as well, I cannot do 
better than use a passage in Thomson's Spring (11. 1161-64): 

An elegant sufficiency, content, 
Retirement, moral quiet, friendship, books, 
Ease and alternate labour, useful life, 
Progressive virtue, and approving heaven! 


In the preceding pages an attempt has been made to show the 
development of the influence of English literature upon the thought 
and form of Hagedorn's didactic poems. In considering this influence 
upon his thought, special attention has been paid to his interest in 
the philosophy of the English Deists, since he was the first to do in 
Germany what Pope had done in England, viz., to popularize 
deistic philosophy. In tracing the development of Hagedorn's 
conceptions of virtue, wisdom, freedom, friendship, philanthropy, and 

It will be recalled that Hagedorn in his later years wrote a parody on this detailed 
form of description employed by Brockes. 

2 As a matter of pure speculation, I offer the suggestion that Hagedorn may have 
helped Kleist, Wieland, Zacharia, and Gessner to know Thomson. 


kindred subjects which constantly recur throughout his moral poems, 
attention has been called to the gradual change in Hagedorn's 
expressions concerning these themes; and especially as he departed 
from the prevalent views of his German contemporaries and 
approached those of his English models, chief among whom were 
Pope, Prior, and most probably Thomson and Addison. In his 
treatment of nature Thomson has been cited as the probable inspira- 
tion of Hagedorn in his marked advance in simplicity and directness 
over most of his contemporaries. The spirit of cheerfulness per- 
vading his poetry, which had a marked influence upon the 
Anacreontic poetry of Germany, has been shown to be mainly an 
outgrowth of his ideas of virtue, freedom, and friendship, all of 
which bear the stamp of English influence. 

In observing the influence of English literature upon Hagedorn's 
form, great importance has been attached to his introduction of the 
Moralisches Gedicht into German literature. Since this form, which 
he learned to use from Pope, afterward gained great popularity in 
Germany, this is a matter of considerable significance. Hagedorn's 
innovation is no less important in the use of the iambic pentameter 
with the heroic couplet at the end of each stanza, as in Der Gelehrte 
and Der Weise, and in the employment of the five-foot couplet 
exclusively in the last of these poems, Horaz; and this innovation 
has been cited as clearly of English origin. The concise, epigram- 
matic quality of Hagedorn's style, another innovation in German 
literature, has been pointed out as a contribution to him from Pope. 

Although Hagedorn followed classic ideals, as did his English 
contemporaries, his similarity to the latter in his manner of expressing 
those ideals is too close to be regarded as merely accidental. Again, 
it may be contended that since Hagedorn was influenced in these 
poems by the classics, especially Horace, he would have written 
as he did even if he had never known English literature. But this 
is mere speculation, and is contrary to positive evidence. The evi- 
dence shows that although he expressed many of the same ideas 
found in the classics, his treatment of them resembles ttoat of his 
English contemporaries more closely than it does that of the classics. 1 

1 Hagedorn in his development combines an approach to the conciseness of form and 
compactness of meter characteristic of Pope, with the tendency toward Romanticism 
for which Thomson stands. 


Furthermore, his lifelong interest in English books and moral weeklies, 
his association with literary men who also were students of English 
literature, and the impressions made upon him during his stay in 
London form evidence which approaches conclusiveness in a final 
consideration of our argument. Hagedorn's breadth of knowledge 
of English life and literature was so great that it must have exerted 
an influence upon what he wrote, especially since he was avowedly 
a free imitator. 1 Moreover, it is of special importance to note that 
his writings bear practically no stamp of English influence until after 
he has been in England. 

Finally, the English influences upon the thought and form of 
Hagedorn's moral writings are important, not only on account of 
the effect which they had upon him, but also because of that which 
they exerted through him upon his successors in Germany. 


Addison. I, v. 3 Cites Spectator, No. 512, as one of the sources of Der 
Sultan u. sein Bezier Azem. 

Ill, ix, footnote 15. Quotes Addison's lines on Waller. 
Ill, x, footnote 17. Reference to Guardian, No. 67. 
Ill, xi, footnote 19. Quotes from Spectator, No. 85. 
Ill, xi, footnote 20. Reference to Spectator, Nos. 70 and 74. 
Ill, xx, footnote 29. Quotes from his Discourse on Ancient Learn- 
ing, p. 6. 

Ill, xxix. Reference to his odes. 
Ill, 100, footnote. Reference to his Remarks on Several Parts of 

Italy, p. 212 if. 

V, 102. Reference to Spectator never tires of it. 
Akenside. V, 188. Bodmer's criticism of Akenside's Art of Preserving 


V, 204. Bodmer thanks Hagedorn for the Pleasures of Imagina- 

i Modern Philology, XII, 8, pp. 179 f. 

'There are, without doubt, other English references in Hagedorn's unpublished 
letters, to which I have not had access. 

'The references are to Hagedorn's Werke (Hamburg, 1800), unless otherwise 



Beaumont, Francis. IV, 123, footnote. Quotes from In the Praise of Sack, 
from A Select Collection of English Songs, II, 28, 
source of Mischmasch. 

Behn, Aphra. Ill, ix. Reference to her as song writer. 
Blackwells. Ill, xxii, footnote 30. Reference to Enquiry into the Life and 

Writings of Homer, pp. 80-103, 196. 
Blainville. II, 20, footnote 3. Reference to Travels through Holland, 

Germany, etc., I, 263, 264. 

Broome. V, 193. Bodmer refers to him as son of Homer. 
Brucker. I, 25, footnote 12. Reference to Histor. Critic. Philosophiae, 
I, 557. 

I, 48, footnote 27. Ibid., I, 655-56. 
I, 71, footnote 22. Ibid., I, 1315. 
I, 125, footnote 3. Ibid., I, 871. 
Ill, 113, footnote 1. Ibid., II. 
Ill, 114, footnote 2. Ibid., I, 1242-48. 
Buckingham. I, 120. Quotation from him used at head of Witz und 


Ill, ix. Reference to him as song writer. 
Ill, xiii, footnote 24. Quotation from him. 
Chaucer. V, 142. Reference to his fables. 
Gibber. V, 166. Bodmer refers to him. 

Cobb. I, 138. Reference to one of his epigrams as a source of Susanna. 
Congreve. Ill, xxix. Reference to his odes. 
Cowley. Ill, xvii. Reference to him. 
Croxal. V, 142. Reference to his fables. 
Delaney, D. V, 121. Reference to him. 
Donne, Dr. Ill, xvii. Reference to him. 

Dorset, Earl of. II, ix. Reference to Knotting in Works of the Earls of 
Rochester, Roscommon, Dorset, etc. (London, 1721), II, 
53-54, the source of Daphnis. 
Ill, ix. Reference to him as song writer. 
Ill, xi. Reference to him. 
Dryden. II, ix. Reference to his Fables, 185-92, as source of Phikmon and 


Ill, xi, footnote 19. Reference to him. 
Ill, xxix. Reference to his odes. 
V, 142. Reference to his fables. 

D'Ursey. Ill, x. Reference to him. ^ 

Eheselden, Wm. 1, 123. Carpser is called the " Eheselden der Deutschen." 

V, 119. Reference to "Deutschen Eheselden." 

Fenton. II, ix. Reference to Miscellaneous Poems, ed. by Lintat (1722), 

II, 124, Freeman and Wild, Two Hot Young Gallants, etc. 



Fielding. V, 167. Bodmer thanks Hagedorn for sending him the Life of 

Joseph Andrews. 
Fitzosborne, Sir Thomas. I, 61, footnote 6. Reference to his Letters on 

Several Subjects (London, 1748), Letter 19. 
I, 75, footnote 31. Ibid., Letter 15. 

Forrester. I, 116, footnote 47. Reference to his Polite Philosopher (Edin- 
burgh, 1734). 

Gay. II, vi. Cites his Fables (1733), No. 50, pp. 190-94, source of Der 
Hose und viele Freunde. 

II, viii. Cites Poems on Several Occasions (London, 1731), II, 55, as 
one of the sources of Aurelius und Beelzebub. 

III, ix. Reference to him as song-writer. 
V, 142. Reference to his Fables. 

Gildon. V, 166. Bodmer refers to him. 

Glover. V, 85. Compares Triller, author of a mock heroic, to Glover. 

Gordon. 1, 48, footnote 26. Reference to Discourses upon Tacitus, Disc. IV, 

I, 81-100. 

I, 64, footnote 10. Ibid., Ill, 55-56, 105. 
I, 65, footnote 12. Ibid., Ill, 71. 
Gould, W. I, 60, footnote 5. Reference to his Account of English Ants 

(London, 1747), p. 59. 
Hobbes. II, 212. Dedicates poem to him. 
Hume. I, 61, footnote 6. Reference to his Essays Moral and Political 

(London, 1748), XIV, 119-26. 

V, 211. Bodmer thanks Hagedorn for sending him Hume's Essays. 
Hutcheson. I, 76, footnote 25 (ed. Hamburg, 1757). Reference to Essay 
on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions and Affections 
(London, 1742), pp. 258 ff. 
Jonson, Ben. Ill, xi. Reference to him. 
Johnson, Samuel. V, 98. Reference to his Dictionary. 

V, 145. Reference to his "Incomparable Rambler." 
Lauder. V, 145. Reference to his opposition to Paradise Lost. 
L'Estrange, Sir Roger. II, v. Cites his Fables (London, 1694), No. 86, 

as one of the sources of Das Delphische Orakel 
und der Gottlose. 
II, vi. Cites ibid., No. 69, as source of Der Fuchs 

ohne Schwanz. 
II, vii. Cites ibid., No. 89, pp. 176, 177, as source 

of Die Bdrenhaut. 
Mallet. I, 135, footnote. Reference to his Poem of Verbal Criticism 

(London, 1743). 

Ill, ix. Reference to him as song writer. 



Mallet continued 

V, 97. Reference to his excellent poem, Amyntor and Theodora, 
his Poems on Several Occasions, in which he calls attention to 
the Poem of Verbal Criticism, which pleases him, and the Excur- 
sion, which he said was regarded in England as a masterpiece. 
V, 142. Reference to his fables. 
V, 207. Bodmer thanks Hagedorn for Amyntor, Verbal Criticism 

and Excursion. 

Mandeville. V, 142. Reference to his fables. 
Mead, Richard. I, 129, footnote. Reference to his Mechanical Account 

of Poisons. 
Middleton. I, 45, footnote 18. Reference to his History of the Life of 

Cicero, I, 85, 94, 98, 104. 
Milton. V, 105 ff. Reference to him. 
V, 109. Reference to him. 
V, 112. Reference to him. 
V, 113. Reference to him. 
V, 114 ff. Reference to him. 
V, 145. Reference to him. 
Newton. I, 23 (ed. 1757). Reference to him. 

V, 146. Reference to him. 
Oldham, John. II, vi. Cites The Works of Mr. John Oldham, II, 128, as 

one of the sources of Der Wolf und der Hund. 

Orrery, Lord. I, 61, footnote 6. Reference to 15th letter of Lord Orrery 
to his son, Hamilton Boyle, in the Remarks on the Life 
and Writings of Dr. Jonathan Smft (London, 1752), p. 

V, 120. Reference to him. 

Parnell. V, 193. Bodmer refers to him as son of Homer. 
Pemberton. V, 167. Bodmer thanks Hagedorn for sending him Observa- 
tions on Epic Poetry. 
Phillips, Ambrosius. Ill, ix. Reference to him as song writer. 

V, 166. Bodmer refers to him. 
Pope. I, xix, footnote. Reference to him. 
I, xx, footnote. Reference to him. 
I, xxx. Quotes from Essay on Criticism, 1. 584. 
I, xxxi. Quotes from Essay on Criticism, 11. 152-57. 
I, xxxii, footnote 3. Quotes from Observations on Homer, p. 2. 
I, xxxiii. Quotes from him. Reference to Pope's note to the 399th 
line of the 17th book of the Odyssey and to Pope's 10th letter to 

I, 135, footnote. Reference to Imitations of Horace, p. 430, 451. 



Pope continued 

I, 142, footnote 3. Quotes from Essay on Modern Education in 
Pope's and Swift's Miscellanies (London, 1736), III, 182. 

I, 175, footnote. Quotes from Dunciad, II, 33, 34. 

II, viii. Cites The Miscellanies by Pope and Swift, Vol. Ill, as the 
source of Ja und Nein. 

II, 118, footnote. Quotes from Eloise to Abelard. 

II, 135, footnote 2. Reference to his translation of the Odyssey. 

III, xii. Reference to Pope's and Swift's Miscellanies, V, 120. 
Ill, xxix. Reference to St. Cecilia. 

V, 16. Reference to German translation of Essay on Man. 
V, 18. Quotes from Pope. 

V, 60, footnote. Reference to Latin translation of Essay on Man. 
V, 98 ff. Reference to Dunciad. 

V, 110. Reference to rules of sound in 6th letter to Walsh. 
V, 115 ff. Reference to Hagedorn's translation of Universal Prayer. 
V, 122. Reference to Italian translation of Essay on Man. 
V, 141, footnote. Reference to Rape of the Lock. 
V, 166. Bodmer refers to him. 
Prior. I, 136, footnote. Quotes epigram from him. 

I, 138. Reference to an epigram of his as one of the sources of 

II, ix. Cites his Poems, I, 97, as source of Liebe und Gegenliebe. 

II, x. Cites his Poems, I, 109-15, as source of Paulus Purganti und 

II, 95, footnote 1. Quotes from Hans Carvel, one of the sources of 

Aurelius und Beelzebub. 
II, 140, footnote 5. Quotes from his Ladle, one of the sources of 

Philemon und Baucis. 

II, 148, footnote. Quotes from his Paulo Purganti and His Wife, 
one of the sources of Paulus Purganti und Agnese. 

III, ix. Reference to him as song writer. 
V, 142. Reference to his fables. 

V, 166. Bodmer refers to him. 

Ramsay, Allen. II, v. Cites Fable of the Lost Calf in Ramsay's Poems 
(Edinburgh, 1723), pp. 275, 276, as one of the sources of 
Das Gelubde. 

Ill, ix. Reference to him. 

Richardson. V, 110 ff. Criticism of Clarissa and reference to Pamela. 
Rochester, Earl of. IV, 49. Cites A Very Heroical Epistle in Answer to 

Ephelia as source of An Ephelien. 
V, 102. Reference to him. 

Roscommon, Earl of. Ill, xviii. Quotes from his translation of Horace. 



Sedley, Sir Charles. Ill, ix. Reference to him as song writer. 

Seldon. I, 65, footnote 12. Reference to him. 

Shaftesbury. I, 72, footnote 24. Reference to Essay on the Freedom of Wit 

and Humour in Characteristicks, I, 98 ff . 
V, 97. Reference to him. 
Shakespeare. I, xx, footnote. Reference to him. 

I, 26, footnote 11. Quotes from King Henry VI, Part III, 

Act II, sc. 3. 

I, 76, footnote 33. Quotes from a speech of lago's in Othello. 
I, 123, footnote. Reference to King Richard III, Act I, sc. 1. 
V, 99. Reference to German translation of Julius Caesar. 
Sidney, Philip. Ill, ix. Reference to him as song writer. 
Spence. I, 117, footnote 37 (ed. 1757). Reference to Polymetis: or an 
Inquiry Concerning the Agreement between the Works of the 
Roman Poets and the Remains of the Antient Artists, etc. (Lon- 
don, 1747), p. 21. 

I, 135, footnote. Reference to him. 
Spenser. V, 197. Bodmer refers to the Faerie Queene. 
Stanley. I, 25, footnote 10. Reference to History of Philosophy, Part III, 

chap, v, p. 72. 
Steele. Ill, xi. Reference to the Lover, No. 40. 

Ill, 196, footnote 3. Reference to the Spectator, No. 196. 

V, 133 ff. Hagedorn writes Ebert, asking him to translate The 

Conscious Lovers. 

Swift. I, 25, footnote 10. Quotes from the Voyage to the Houyhnhnms 
in Gulliver's Travels, chap, viii, p. 215. 

I, 142, footnote 3. Quotes from Essay on Modern Education in 

Pope's and Swift's Miscellanies (London, 1736), III, 182. 

II, viii. Cites Pope's and Swift's. Miscellanies, Vol. Ill, the source 
of Ja und Nein. 

II, ix. Cites Baucis and Philemon as one of the sources of Philemon 

und Baucis. 
II, ix. Cites Pope's and Swift's Miscellanies, 1731. Ill, 132-40, as 

one of the sources of Philemon und Bauds. 
II, 27, footnote. Reference to Gulliver's Travels and quotation from 

Pope's and Swift's Miscellanies, III, 311. 

II, 141, footnote 6. Quotes from Swift. 

III, xii. Reference to Pope's and Swift's Miscellanies, V, 120. 
V, 99. Calls Liscov "Deutschland's Swift." 

V, 101. Reference to him. 9 

V, 120. Reference to him. 
V, 166. Bodmer refers to him. 
Taylor, Lord. V, 63. Reference to him. 



Temple, Wm. I, 64, footnote 9. Reference to Memoirs (1672-79), p. 245. 
Thomson. V, 172. Bodmer refers to Thomson's Liberty. 

V, 259. Ebert writes to Hagedorn (Leipzig, January 15, 1748) 
that he has recently studied the divine Thomson thoroughly 
and he can scarcely forgive Brockes for translating him. 
He sighs for Thomson's poem, Liberty, and cannot rest until 
he can find and admire Thomson in Hagedorn's company. 
V, 262. Ebert writes to Hagedorn, Leipzig, January 15, 1748: 
"Mich argert's, dass ich den Thomson nicht mit habe ver- 
schreiben lassen. Bei solcher Gelegenheit empfinde ichs erst 
nicht, dass ich nicht reich bin. Was ftir eine herrliche 
Sammlung von schonen Buchern wollte ich haben! Sie 
sollte der Ihrigen nicht weichen; denn ich wiirde mir die 
Ihrigen zum Muster nehmen." 

V, 266. Ebert writes Hagedorn, Leipzig, April 8, 1748: "Es 
dauert mich nur, dass ich ihn (Giseke) nicht im Englischen 
habe weiter bringen konnen, ihn, der so wiirdig ist, Pope 
und Thomson zu lesen." 

Tickell. Ill, ix. Reference to him as song writer. 
Turnbull. V, 97. Reference to his edition of Shaftesbury's works. 
Waller. Ill, ix. Reference to him as a song writer. 

Ill, xvii. Reference to him. 
Wesley, Samuel. V, 197. Bodmer acknowledges receipt from Hagedorn 

of Samuel Wesley's Poems. 

Winchilsea, Lady. II, v. Cites Ardelia from Miscellany Poems (London, 
1713), pp. 73-83, as one of the sources of Das ge- 
raubte Schafchen. 
II, vi. Cites Miscellany Poems, p. 254, as one of the 

sources of Der Lowe und die Mucke. 
II, vii. Cites Miscellany Poems, pp. 212, as one of the 

sources of Der Adler, die Sau und die Katze. 

Wollaston. I, 72, footnote 25. Reference to Religion of Nature, 3-6. 
Young. I, xxviii. Quotes from his Love of Fame, Sat. I. 

V, 146. Reference to Ebert's translation of Night Thoughts. 


II, viii. Reference to Common Sense, or, the Englishman's Journal, of the 

year 1737, Nos. 34, 35, as one of the sources of Apollo und Minerva. 

III, 129, footnote 1. Reference to Common Sense, etc., Ill, 280-81. 

Ill, xxiii. Reference to the English collections, The Vocal Miscellany, 
Calliope, The Choice, The Syren, The Lark, etc. 




V, 63. Quotes, "Never a faint heart won a fair lady." 
V, 96. Quotes, "That each good author is as good a friend." 
V, 105. Quotes, "What authors lose, their booksellers have won; 

So pimps grow rich, while gallants are undone." 
V, 121. Quotes, "The greatest monarch may be stabbed by night, 

And fortune help the murderer in his flight," etc. 
V, 141. Quotes, "One moral, or a mere well-natur'd deed, 

Can all desert in sciences exceed." 




In the Greek of Matt. 5:23-24 the word 8&pov, 'gift' occurs three 
times in precisely the same sense of ' sacrificial gift.' The form aibr 
stands in the Gothic manuscript (Codex Argenteus) for the first 
occurrence, while giba, the regular Gothic word for 'gift' generally 
and for 'sacrificial gift' in all instances except this one, represents 
the other two occurrences. Giba is the common Germanic word for 
'gift' (OHG. geba, OE. giefu, ON. gypf); aibr occurs only here, and 
has no known meaning or etymological connection. It cannot 
possibly be regarded as another common word for 'gift,' as this idea 
is of such frequent occurrence that a word in common use would not 
be likely to escape notice, and it is certain that the common word 
was giba. Phonetically aibr is exactly equivalent to OHG. eipar, eivar 
'bitter'< supposed Gc. *aibraz aibr (an) > a possible Go. *aibr; but 
the meaning, as Grimm justly remarks (Gram. 3 , I, 63), cannot be 
made to agree with this connection. As far as this phonetic cor- 
respondence offers any evidence, it creates a presumption that we are 
dealing with a corruption of the text; because, if a form aibr was 
actual Gothic, it would probably, in view of the generally homo- 
geneous vocabulary of the older Germanic languages, be the same 
word as OHG. eipar, and therefore out of place in this passage. The 
only alternative supposition from the etymological standpoint 
would be that Gc. *aibraz 'bitter' did not occur in Gothic and that 
we have to do with a meaningless corruption. 

The presumption of corruptness is increased by the fact that the 
passage is extant only in the Codex Argenteus (CA). This MS has 
had the notice of scholars from its presence at the Monastery of 
Werden until its present abode at the University of Upsala. While 
its earlier history is not directly known, the evidence both of form 
and of content 1 points to its probable origin in Italy at tke time of 
Theodoric and to its being later in the possession of the Lombard 
kings. The marginal ornamentation and cross-references seem, 

See Bernhardt, Vulfila, pp. xl, xlix! 
99] 35 [MODERN PHILOLOGY, June, 1915 


according to Wiener, 1 to date from the Frankish or Burgundian 
scribes at the court of Charles the Great. Wiener thinks this shows 
that the original translation was in the Burgundian dialect dating 
from Alcuin and Charles the Great. It might, however, equally well 
indicate either a recopying of earlier Ostro-Gothic MSS or merely 
their freshening up by the Frankish scribes, with the addition of 
the marginal ornamentations and cross-references. The positively 
datable Ravenna Document 2 argues strongly against Wiener's view 
and in favor of one of these latter suppositions. Bernhardt's evidence 
favors the last supposition of the redoctoring of the MSS by the 
Frankish scribes. If further investigation should confirm this view, 
it would be worth while to see also whether any evidence existed to 
connect the work of Uppstrom's "nefarius corruptor" with the 
work of the Frankish scribes. 

For the purposes of this investigation it is not necessary to decide 
between these different possibilities, even if that were possible. But 
it is of interest to note under any of them that we are dealing with a 
manuscript prepared for kingly eyes, and this sheds light on the 
internal character of the MS and thereby also on our present prob- 
lem. The gold and silver letters on their background of royal purple 
are painstakingly even and beautiful, but the copyist while evi- 
dently thoroughly at home in Gothic was careless as to the exact 
text, and possibly did not always take the trouble to understand the 
sense of what he was copying. His punctuation is sometimes con- 
trary to the sense, and he makes fairly frequent mistakes in copying, 
varying from slight slips to occasional want of sense. When a 
mistake was once made, he seems to have been usually unwilling to 
mar his beautiful pages by erasure or correction, perhaps because 
his royal patron would demand a clean page, but would have no 
critical appreciation of a scrupulously accurate text. For instance, 
the extant verses of Matt. chap. 5, in which this passage occurs, show 
the following errors in copying: vs. 15, liuteip for liuhteip 'shines'; 
vs. 29, usstagg (pret. ind.) for usstigg (impv.) 'pluck out'; vs. 31, 

1 See his work on Gothic and Burgundian and Frankish documents shortly to be 
issued by the Harvard Press. Wiener's general conclusions as to the status of Gothic 
and Germanic philology seem to me to be based on very uncritical evidence, but his col- 
lation of materials and his new evidence as to the date of the Gothic MSS are undoubtedly 
valuable and must be taken account of. 

See Balg, Goth. Lit., pp. 218-20. 



ha foazuh 'what whosoever ' for hazuh 'whosoever/ The two com- 
plete and seven part chapters of Matthew which are extant show in 
CA a total of 20 copyist's errors. As a sample of errors elsewhere, 
John, chap. 6, shows: vs. 28, waurswa for waurstwa 'work'; vs. 39, 
omitted because similar in opening and closing words to vs. 40; 
vs. 40, ace. wiljan 'will' used for nom. wilja as subject of ist 'is'; 
vs. 46, was 'was' for has 'anyone.' (For a fuller account of textual 
errors and changes see BV, Einleitung, pp. xlv-lx.) 

In addition to these numerous copyist's blunders, the MS shows 
doctoring or retracing of dimmed letters by a later hand the 
"nefarius corruptor" referred to above. This has in some instances 
resulted in corruption of the text. Thus saislep (Matt. 8:24) is 
corrupted by retracing to the graphically almost identical saisaeu 

(S]\iSKen :S|ast\en); in Matt - 9:24 ; Mark 5:39; John 

11:12 slepip 'sleeps' is corrupted to saeuip 

8 KG D If)? Jo hn 10:23, ubizwdi (dat.) 'porch' to ubizali 
(nt(IZY]\l :nyiZ|\KI)> etc - It is not likely that all 

retracings, either correct or incorrect, would appear plainly as such 
to later readers of the MS, so that it might not always be possible 
to determine whether a given graphic corruption is due to the 
original copyist or to this later "nefarius corruptor." Compare for 
instance vp for f (p for t) in Luke 5:11; Mark 2:9; 10:38: 

afleipandans 'going away' for aftetandans 'leaving,' aftepanda for 
afletanda 'are remitted,' witups for wituts 'you both know.' (Cf. 
also BV, Einleitung, 35.) Probably in the first instance and 
possibly in the second also contamination between afleipan 'go 
away' and afletan 'send away' is involved, such contamination 
being made easier by the later graphic interchange between e and 
ei. In wituts contamination of the 2d person pi. witup is thinkable. 
In all three cases corruption through retracing is thinkable, with 
or without the co-operation of these contaminations; when the "J" 
became dimmed, its upright and corner strokes (twice as^hick as 
the horizontal connecting them) might remain visible the longest, 
and might appear as remnants of W Cy > " I ' > ^-p). 



In view of this frequency of errors in CA, we may safely assume 
aibr to be a corrupt form, either a meaningless corruption, or a good 
word (*aibr ' bitter ') out of place. In either case the corruption might 
be due either to a blunder of the original copyist or to a later mis- 
take in retracing in the process of freshening up the MS. The MS 
itself offers no direct evidence as to either of these possibilities. Dr 
Andersson, librarian of the University of Upsala, who kindly inspected 
this passage in the MS for me, states that the reading is very clear 
and distinct. While this clearness might conceivably be due to 
retracing and freshening, it in no sense proves this. The dimming 
of individual letters in the MS generally is very unequal, and it is 
likewise conceivable that in this particular word the original letters 
may have remained clear without retracing. 

Grimm (Gram? I, 43), for the sake of a possible etymology, 
tentatively conjectured *tibr<Gc. *tibr(ari) as a possible emenda- 
tion of aibr, this form being inferred from OHG. zepar, zebar 'op- 
fertier':OE. tlfer 'cattle, money, sacrificial victim/ It is important 
to note that Grimm himself candidly expressed doubt of the correct- 
ness of his conjecture (ibid., p. 63) on the ground that a and t could 
not easily be confused in the Gothic script. But the conjecture was 
certainly ingenious and striking and has appealed strongly to scholars 
for this reason. See, for instance, Feist, Etym. Wtbch. under aibr; 
BV, critical note to Matt. 5:23. There are, however, weighty 
reasons against it from the standpoint of meaning, style, and graphic 
form (the last only was mentioned by Grimm), which justify Grimm's 
doubt and force us definitely to reject this emendation. 

1. From the standpoint of meaning. (1) We should have expected 
giba as a translation of Gr. Scopes either in the general sense of 'gift' 
or in the particular sense of 'sacrificial gift.' The word giba occurs 
in extant Gothic 13 times, serving with a single exception noted 
later, as the only rendering, not only for d&pov (Matt. 5:24 twice; 
8:4; Eph. 2:8), but for all Greek words for 'gift' :56crw (Phil. 4: 15), 
56/xa (Eph. 4:8; Phil. 4:17), Scoped (II Cor. 9:15; Eph. 3:7; 4:7) 
and 3 times as a translation of xdpurjua 'grace, gift' when used in the 
latter sense (Rom. 11:29; I Cor. 7:7; II Cor. 1:11) compare the 
English rendering of x&piana. varying between grace and gift for 
similar semantic reasons. Aside from this moot form aibr, there 



is no variation in the rendering of Greek recurrent passages, but a 
uniform leveling of all Greek variants instead. Cf . Matt. 5 : 24 (Scopes 
5copoj>); Phil. 4:15, 17 (dons 66jua) ; Eph. 4:7, 8, (Scoped 
56/-ia), all leveled to giba in Gothic. If account is taken also of the 
cognate words giban 'to give' and gabei 'wealth/ the unvarying 
repetitions and levelings become even more striking. Thus we 
have in Matt. 5 : 24-26, Gr. b&pov Scopes rrapaSco TrapaSco ctTroScos : 
Go. giba giba atgibai usgibis; Eph. 2:7, 8, Gr. TT\OVTOS 8&pov: 
Go. gabeins (gen. of gabei) giba; Eph. 3:7,8, Gr. Scoped*' Sodelaav 
eSoflrj TT\OVTOS : Go. gibdi gibanon atgibana gabein (cf. vs. 11, 
Gr. Scor; 7rXoGros:Go. gibdi gabein); Eph. 4:7, 8, Gr. edodij 
Scopeas e5coKe*> Sojuara : Go. atgibana (isi) gibos atgaf gibos. 

In the meaning 'sacrificial gift' 5copo*> is, as noted above, the 
only word used in the Greek original, and (aside from the form aibr 
under consideration) is uniformly rendered by giba in Gothic. It 
occurs 7 times in the Greek New Testament (Matt. 5:23, 24, twice; 
8:4; 23 : 18, 19) of which the first four instances are extant in Gothic. 
Observe that three out of these four occurrences use the set phrase 
'to bring one's gift (to the altar) ':Gr. 7rpo<r0e'peu> TO dcopov.Go. 
(afybalran po giba in the other two instances. This meaning is to 
be distinguished on the one hand from 'gift to the treasury,' which 
occurs in the Greek 4 times (Matt. 15 : 5; Luke 21 : 1, 4; Mark 7:11) 
and is uniformly represented by 5copo*> in Greek. Only the last one 
(Mark 7:11) is extant in Gothic, where the word mdipms (:OE. 
madum) 'gift, treasure' is used. This is the only meaning in which 
any other Gothic word than giba is used to render a Greek word for 
'gift.' Observe that it is peculiarly appropriate for this meaning, 
and was therefore probably the regular Gothic word for this special 
meaning. The Greek word d&pov is, when used in this sense, a trans- 
lation of the Aramaic korban ' gift, treasure, treasury, sacrosanct as a 
gift to the treasury,' so that the Gothic rendering is here decidedly 
better than the Greek. Compare Matt. 27 : 6 not extant in Gothic 
where the Greek, because of its difficulty in accurately rendering 
this word, retained the Aramaic word as Gr. Kopfiavas 'treasury.' 
Observe further that the use of mdipms in this sense does not, as is the 
case with aibr in Matt 5:23, involve the variant translation of a 
recurrent Greek word in the same connection. Just as sharply to be 



distinguished from ' sacrificial gift' on the other hand are the mean- 
ings ' sacrifice ' and ' victim ' the ritualistic use made of the worship- 
er's gift. These two meanings are confused in the Ger. opfer and Gr. 
fluoia, 1 but are distinguished, though in some instances not very 
sharply, in Go. hunsl ' sacrificium, oblatio' (:ON. hunsl, husliQEi. 
husl Eng.>/i<raseZ 'eucharist') and sdups 'victima, hostia.' Hunsl 
stands for Gr. Bvaia 'sacrifice' (Matt. 9:13; Mark 9:49; Luke 2:24; 
I Cor. 10:18), Trpoo-^opd 'offering, oblatio' (Eph. 5:2; Skeir. I, a), 
Xarpeta 'act of worship' (John 16:2). Sdups stands only for Gr. 
Ovaia in the sense of 'sacrificial victim' (Mark 12:33; Rom. 12:1; 
Eph. 5:2; Skeir, I, a). 

Observe that in all of this there is no suspicion of any confusion, 
either in Greek or in Gothic, between the words meaning ' (sacrificial) 
gift' and those meaning 'sacrifice' or 'sacrificial victim.' It follows 
that even if the conjectural *tibr 'opfertier' were a correct Gothic 
form and meaning, it could not have translated Gr. d&pov into Gothic, 
but could at best have been used only as a picturesque rhetorical 
variation without particular regard for the precise meaning of the 
original. Such a variation, even if generally permissible in Gothic 
style, would not have been especially appropriate to this connection, 
since the Jewish gifts at the altar were not limited to sacrificial 
animals. (SeeExod. 22:29; 23:19; Lev. 2:1-16; 23:10, 13, 15, 17; 
Num. 15:19-21.) 

(2) This difficulty of meaning is greatly increased by the fact that 
the primary meaning of WGc. *tibr was not 'victim' but 'cattle.' 
Kluge (Etym. Wtbch. under Ungeziefer) infers this from the OFr. loan 
word toivre 'cattle,' which is shown by its phonetic form to be bor- 
rowed from primitive WGc. and hence throws light on the earliest 
meaning of *tibr. With this evidence of OFr. agrees that of all the 
languages showing the word. Thus OE. tlfer had as its funda- 
mental meaning 'cattle,' with the secondary meaning 'money' 
(compare Lat. pecunia, Go. faihu, Eng. fee) and 'sacrificial victim.' 2 
It is commonly assumed, however, that OHG. zepar, zebar was 

'victim' also occurs beside Ova-ia. in Acts 7:42 (not extant in Gothic), but 
generally flvo-ta alone is used in both these senses. 00/u.a 'victim' and lepelov 'victim' 
are not used in N.T. Greek. 

3 See Leo, Angels&chsisches Glossar, p. 133 under tefan. 



limited in meaning to 'victim' with the added Jewish notion of 
"koscher" or 'ceremonially clean' as a close secondary meaning. 
The MHG. unzifer, ungezibere>NGH. ungeziefer 'vermin' is then 
explained as "unreines, nicht zum opfer geeignetes tier." Neither 
the assumption of meaning nor the definition derived from it will 
bear scrutiny. That the meaning 'cattle' not only had not dis- 
appeared in OHG., but persisted in the MHG. period, is positively 
shown byBavar. zifer 'federvieh,bisweilen auch ziegen und schweine.' 1 
Observe that this meaning is most decidedly not "koscher"! As a 
matter of fact 'koscher' and 'unkoscher' are not Germanic ideas in 
either the heathen or Christian periods, but Jewish; so that the 
current theoretical etymological definition of NHG. ungeziefer is 
ludicrously absurd as to meaning. It is also impossible from the 
standpoint of word-formation. NHG. ungeziefer < MHG. ungezibere, 
unzifer are not individual but collective terms, and the un- cannot 
be made to suggest a simple negative to sprachgefiihl, but is of the 
intensive pejorative type found in unmensch, untier, unkraut, etc. 
The analogical evidence of similar formations wholly agrees with this 
conclusion from sprachgefiihl. Compare MHG. 2 ungeschirre 
'schlechtes, unbeholfenes gerat'; ungefilde 'unbebautes und unweg- 
sames land'; ungewechse 'miswachs'; ungewiirme 'menge von 
wiirmern, schlangen'; ungeziuc 'ungehorige rustung'; unvihe 
'ungeziefer.' Observe especially the last form unvihe, and weigh the 
semantic proportion vihe ' cattle ' : unvihe ' vermin ' : : zifer ' cattle ' : 
unzifer 'vermin.' The conclusion is inevitable: NHG. ungeziefer 
and MHG. zifer, unzifer, ungezibere contain no idea of 'koscher' 
and 'unkoscher,' but are direct survivals of OHG. zebar 'cattle.' 
It follows that the meaning ' sacrificial victim ' was secondary only. 
In other words, the testimony of Old, Middle, and New High Ger- 
man forms taken together absolutely agrees with that of OF. and OE., 
showing that at all periods WGc. *tibr had the general meaning 
'cattle' which Kluge assigns to it. The term was then of course 
applicable to the cattle used as sacrificial victims, but in this second- 
ary meaning it had not become isolated from its broad^* funda- 
mental meaning nor lost the associations belonging to this. If 

1 Definition quoted from Mtiller and Zarncke. 

2 See Lexer's MHD. W tbch. under words cited. 



from the WGc. we conjecture Gc. *tibr(ari)>Gc. *tibr, we can only 
assign to it the same meaning. 

We must conclude, therefore, that Wulfila would not have used 
this word to translate Gr. d&pov. While the copyist of CA was care- 
less, the original translator was both discriminating and idiomatic 1 
and would hardly have been guilty of such a mistranslation as either 
of the meanings ' cattle ' or t victim ' would give. From the stand- 
point of meaning we could only expect giba as the translation of 

II. From the standpoint of style. (1) Bernhardt 2 defends the 
emendation to *tibr on the ground that it was Wulfila' s habit to vary 
the translation of recurrent Greek words "dass [in vs.] 24 giba fur 
dasselbe d&pov steht, ist der gewohnheit des gotischen iibersetzers 
mit dem ausdruck abzuwechseln angemessen." His statement in his 
Einleitung (p. xxxiv) is not quite so strong: " . . . . eine entschiedene 
neigung im ausdruck .... abzuwechseln." Because of the general 
critical excellence of Bernhardt 's work and the consequent deserved 
authority attaching to his statements, I began this investigation 
accepting his views on these points implicitly, merely finding it 
strange that, if the emendation to *tibr were allowed, we should 
have in this passage the picturesque variant (*tibr) before rather 
than after the twice recurring common prosaic form (giba) a normal 
rhetorical variation should exactly reverse all of this. I found, 
however, as the investigation proceeded that Bernhardt's statement 
is here absolutely uncritical and that Wulfila's habitual treatment 
of recurrent terms is in every respect the exact opposite of that 
claimed by Bernhardt. Wulfila not only habitually retains recurrent 
terms unvaried in his Gothic translation, but also habitually levels 
Greek variations in the expression of recurrent ideas, and that not 
only where the Gothic may have lacked a variant term, but also in 
instances where good variant terms were readily at hand if Wulfila had 
cared to use them. The matter is easily tested, as close repetitions of 
ideas are exceedingly common in the New Testament, owing partly 
to the concrete nature of most of its narrative, partly to the fact that 

i See BV, pp. xxxii and xxxiii, and Curme, "Is the Gothic Bible Gothic?" JEGP, 
X, Nos. 2 and 3. Observe that the suspicion entertained by some as to the Gothicity 
of Wulflla's word-order does not apply to his choice of Gothic words. 

* BV, Matt. 5:23, note, and Einleitung, p. xxxiv. 



Christ's discourses were regularly cast in the form of Hebrew poetic 
parallelism, partly to the frequent repetitions necessary in the 
admonitions, discussions, and reasonings of the Epistles. 

Thus the fifth chapter of Matthew up to the verses in which the 
aibr giba passage occurs (Matt. 5: 15-24) shows the following repeti- 
tions: vss. 15-16, Gr. XdjuTrei \ajjL\l/aTu (' shine ') : Go. unvaried Huh- 
teip liuhtjdi, though there is another common word skeinan ' shine/ 
which is elsewhere used as the equivalent of Xa/zTrew; vs. 17, KaraXDom 
'destroy' twice: Go. twice unvaried gatairan, leaving fraqistjan 
1 destroy ' unused; vs. 18, TrapeXflrj 'pass away' twice: Go. twice 
unvaried uskipip, though variant verbs of coming and going were 
numerous to select from; vss. 17-19, four repetitions of two words 
each, involving forms of vofjos 'law,' eXdxtoros 'least,' dt,8a<TKew 
'teach,' /caXeT(70(H 'be called ': rendered respectively by Go. witop, 
minnista, Idisjan, hditan, all unvaried; vss. 19-20, three repetitions 
of forms of /ScunXeia TCOJ> ovpav&v 'kingdom of heaven': Go. thrice 
unvaried piudangardi himine; vs. 21, Gr. <j>ovevais and <f>ovva"rj 
'murder': Go. unvaried maurprjdis and maurpreip; vss. 21-22, 
Gr. evoxos ecrTcn. rrj Kpto-ei, 'shall be liable to the court' twice: Go. twice 
unvaried skula wairpip staudi, beside two "reduced grades" of the 
phrase in skula wairpip twice unvaried from Gr. eVoxos eorai 'shall 
be liable'; bropr seinamma 'to his brother' twice unvaried from 
ct5eX$w auroD, and saei qipip ' whoever says ' twice unvaried from 6s 
6' av enri}; vss. 18-22, three repetitions of \eyu vplv 'I tell you': Go. 
qipa izwis thrice unvaried; vss. 23-24 two forms of Bvaiaariipiov 
'altar' rendered unvaried by forms of hunslastaps; two forms of 
a8e\(f>6s ffov 'your brother': Go. two forms of bropar peins unvaried; 
TO 8&pov <rov twice (ignoring for the moment the third instance corre- 
sponding to aibr pein) : Go. twice unvaried po giba peina in all 16 
instances of repetition involving 64 words in each language in the 
space of 10 verses with no variation in translation whatever. Against 
these we find the moot form aibr and one partial variation in vss. 
23-24 :Gr. irpov^epris irpoafape 'bring up': Go. bairdis du atbair 
'bring to' 'bring up.' In so far as this can be regarded a^ a varia- 
tion, it is idiomatic and not in any sense rhetorical. The first irpos 
is pleonastic in Greek and must be omitted in Gothic, being neces- 
sarily displaced by its more explicit equivalent du hunslastada 'to 



the altar.' In the second occurrence at- must be expressed, because 
du hunslastada is omitted. Compare such English and German 
phrases as he went into the house, er ging ins Haus, as against he 
went in, er ging hinein. It is clear that if Wulfila ever acquired the 
supposed habit of variant translation, it had not yet developed when 
he reached Matt. 5:23, and that on this basis also we could have 
expected only giba as a translation of d&pov at this point. This con- 
clusion need not, however, rest merely on the evidence of this one 
chapter. If we extend our count to the whole Gospel of Matthew, 
those portions extant in Gothic (about one-third of the whole) show 
705 unvaried translations of recurrent Greek words against 21 varia- 
tions, or more than 30 to 1 against variation. Furthermore, the 
treatment of giba and giban in all extant passages leads to the same 
conclusion. We saw above that in all recurrent passages involving 
nouns meaning 'gift' the Gothic never shows variation in rendering 
but always non-variation or leveling. The same is true of verbs 
meaning 'give': Gothic giban and its compounds occur 216 times in 
extant passages. They are without exception the only words used 
to render bibbvai and its compounds as well as all other Greek words 
used in the sense of 'give,' leveling all occurrences of xaptfeotfcu and 
Scope!? and all instances of TrapLcrravai and 7rapexe0"0<u in which these 
have the meaning 'give.' Many passages involve recurrences, as 
John 6:27-52 showing 10 occurrences of didbvai uniformly rendered 
into Gothic by giban, or II Cor. 2:7-10 showing 4 occurrences of 
Xapif <70<u with the uniform Gothic rendering fragiban. 

(2) The case against variation is actually much stronger than 
the 30 to 1 ratio shown by the numerical count of Matthew. In the 
first place, some variations are spurious, being due to corruption of 
the text in the various ways explained by Bernhardt (BV, Einleitung, 
pp. xlv-lxi), namely, (a) through copyist's blunders, including not 
only simple miscopying, but careless variation through substitution 
of synonymous terms, and the interpolation or substitution of 
marginal glosses in the text; and (6) through conscious efforts at 
critical correction, partly on the basis of parallel passages from other 
parts of the Gothic Scriptures, partly on the basis of the Latin (Itala) 
version. The percentage of spurious variations has not been investi- 
gated, so far as I know, but it is clearly safe to say that, after allow- 



ance is made for them, a ratio of 30:1 against variation would 
approach and perhaps reach 40:1. It is not always possible to 
determine in an individual instance whether an apparently synony- 
mous variation is spurious. Compare, for instance, Matt. 26 :70, 72, 

75, Gr. (aTr)apveicr6cn, (three times) : Go. CA , afdikan afdikan 

as against Cod. Ambr. Idugnjan Idugnjan invidan. 

Furthermore, the genuine variations are mainly, if not altogether, 
of non-rhetorical types and hence would not argue in favor of *tibr: 

a) A very considerable number are idiomatic, that is, necessary 
for the accurate rendering of the Greek meaning in Gothic, and 
hence give no evidence of a tendency to variation as such. Thus 
Gr. KWOS has the two meanings ' (in) vain ' (Go. sware) and ' empty ' 
(Go. Idus). In I Cor. 15:14, KWOV . ... TO Kijpiryjua i7/icoj>, Kerf 
. . . . y TrlffTis rinuv is accordingly forcibly rendered by sware .... 
so mereins unsara, . ... so galdubeins unsara Idusa ' purposeless our 
preaching, our faith void of content/ Gr. KaXe> has, among other 
meanings, those of God's calling men into membership into his 
Kingdom (Go. lapori) and calling by a name (Go. hditari). Accord- 
ingly in Rom. 9:24-25, .... e/cdXccre^ was . . . . ej e6i>w, .... 
KaXeVco TOV oi) Xaoj> juou TOV \abv juou necessarily becomes lapoda uns 
. ... us piudom, .... hdita pd ni managein meina managein 
meina 'called us .... from among the nations, .... I will call 
the people not mine my people/ 

6) Other variations are what we might term colloquial, that is, 
are due to the fact that two terms of approximately the same meaning 
and associative connections were more or less interchangeable in 
everyday speech. These may be of various sub-types. Some are 
close cognates, that is, ablaut or formative variants from the same 
significant base. It is very doubtful if these were felt by Gothic 
sprachgefiihl as wholly distinct from each other. Compare I Cor. 13:8, 
Gr. KCLTCLpyridrio-ovTai /caTapy^crerai : Go. gatairanda gataurmp; 
John 19:2, 5, Gr. ore0cu/os twice: Go. wdips, wipja i wreath.' That 
this type of variation is, in some instances at least, not lexical^s shown 
by the fact that it has in many languages, including Gothic, given rise 
to contaminative coalescences of such cognate forms into single 
irregular inflectional systems, as Gr. StSo>;iu eScoKa, rtflrj/u WijKa, 



Ger. stehen stand, gehen ging, Skr. karoti ' makes' :kriy ate 'is 
made,' Go. -nan verbs used as passives, as gatairan:gataurnan (above) 
gaqiujan 'make alive ' : gaqiunan 'be made alive/ etc. Others 
are complete semantic and associative equivalents from diverse 
roots, as Luke 19:1-12 (story of Jesus and Zacchaeus), Gr. forms 
of pxc<70cu eX0etj> translated twice by Go. galeipan, once by gaggan, 
twice by qiman (this last variation, however, is idiomatic from the 
Gothic standpoint) . Compare also the free interchange of gaswiltan 
and gaddupnan 'die,' more fully discussed below. This type of 
variation is particularly common with verbs of coming and going, 
resulting in many languages in contaminative coalescence in single 
irregular conjugational systems, as Eng. go'.went, Fr. vaisiallai, Gr. 
epXOAtcu:5X0oj>, Go. gaggaiiddja. Its characteristics are practically 
complete synonymy and community of linguistic associations and 
consequent absence of attention on the part of speaker and hearer 
to the merely phonetic variation. Neither cognate nor equivalent 
variations in rendering prove a general tendency to variation for its 
own sake. Others again are synonymous in the ordinary sense, as 
II Cor. 7:6, Gr. irapaKaKelv : Go. gaplaihan 'caress, soothe, comfort,' 
gaprafstjan 'comfort, cheer'; Matt. 6:25-31, Gr. 'worry' 
(4 times): Go. maurnan 'be anxious, worry' (3 times), saurgan 'be 
vexed, worry' (once). These synonymous variations cannot be 
sharply distinguished on the one hand from strict equivalents since 
they are regularly fully equivalent in the particular sense used 
and on the other hand from idiomatic variations since at least some- 
times idiomatic considerations also are present. Thus in II Cor. 
7:6, Gr. irapaKoKtiv has all the meanings (and more) of both gaplaihan 
and gaprafstjan (save the uncommon primitive meaning of gaplaihan, 
which is not here concerned), so that the rendering sa gaplaihanda 
hndiwidaim gaprafstida uns gup in quma Teitdus ' God, who comforts 
the lowly, cheered us in the coming of Titus' is stronger and fuller 
and more accurate. In Matt. 6 : 25-31 it is possible that the variation 
maurnan isaurgan is purely idiomatic, since the phrase in the one 
variant instance is saurgan bi (wastjos) 'worry about (clothes),' and 
maurnan is in extant examples never used with a complement but 
only absolutely. The extant passages are too few to settle the point. 
It is in fact quite possible that genuine synonymous variations are 



regularly idiomatic also. Compare further I Cor. 15:47-49, Gr. 
XOIKOS 'earthy, earthly 7 : Go. muldeins 'earthy/ airpeins ' earthly ' 
and Gr. cl/cw^ 'image, type ': Go. manleika 'image/ frisahts 'type/ 
both changes of the words in Gothic being demanded by the develop- 
ment of the thought. 

Very sharply distinguishable from both idiomatic and synonymous 
variations would be a picturesque or rhetorical variation of the *tibr 
giba type, in which the idea is viewed from a different objective 
standpoint and the variant term expressing it is neither a synonym 
nor an accurate translation. None of Bernhardt's or Loebe's 
citations are of this type, nor have I been able to find any in my own 
search. Some passages seem obvious illustrations at first glance, as 
Matt. 5:46, 47, Gr. reXaWt : Go. pdi piudo motarjos but this 
variation is spurious (see Bernhardt's note on the passage) : II Cor. 
7:10, 11, Gr. KdTepyafeaBcu, 'work out': Go. ustiuhan 'to perfect/ 
gasmipon 'to produce (as an artisan)/ gatdujan 'to make, cause* 
but a careful scrutiny of meanings in the actual connection shows 
the words to be discriminatingly chosen and the variation to be 
idiomatic. Similarly in II Cor. 9:5, 6, 1 where Paul's play on the 
word euXo7ta 'blessing' in the three senses of 'beneficence, benedic- 
tion, bounteousness ' occasions the discrimination of these three 
meanings in Gothic by aiwlogja, wallaqiss, piupeins (twice) with- 
out this discrimination the Gothic meaning would become perfectly 
blind. If any genuine instances of rhetorical variation occur, they 
are at least exceedingly rare too few in number to constitute even 
a minor characteristic of Wulfila's style. 

Far more numerous are the instances of the leveling of diverse 
Greek terms in the Gothic translation. This was already referred 
to under the discussion of II Cor. 9 : 1-6 just above, and earlier under 
the statement of the various Greek terms rendered by giba and giban. 
I cannot do better than quote Bernhardt's own statement of Wulfila's 

1 This same short passage, however, has four words that recur without change 
of meaning and are rendered into Gothic without variation, and two diverse Gr. words 
leveled to the same word in Gothic (Gr. o-ireipeii/ 'sow* [twice]: Go. saian [twice]: 
Gr. 4tSoju.e'vws 'sparingly' [twice]: Go. us gapagkja [twice] :Gr. Oepieiv 'reai>' [twice]; 
Go. sneipan [twice] ; Gr. evAoyia ' bounteousness ' [twice in succession in vs. 6] : Go. Piupeins 
[twice] ; Gr. npoapri^eiv eroijAO? : Go. fauragamanwjan manwjus) . With the last compare 
also in vss. 3, 4, 5, Gr. irapa<rcevaeiv 'prepare' [3 times]: Go. thrice unvaried gamanwjan, 
so that the stem manw- occurs 5 times in close succession leveling three entirely different 
Greek words. 



habit of leveling Greek variants: "Freilich ist . . . . der fall 
nicht gerade selten, dass ein gotisches wort zwei griechischen ent- 

spricht, vergl Lc. ix, 45, x, 24, Mk. i, 2, 3, viii, 24, xii, 8, 12, 

xv, 34, 35, I Cor. iv, 5 usw." 1 "ohne 2 vorgang des Griechischen 
.... stellt [Wulfila] gern verschiedene derivata vom gleichen 
stamme, namentlich nomen und verbum, nebeneinander : Matt, v, 43 
fidis fiand peinana /zi0T7<ms rov ex^pov ffov, 16 swa liuhtjdi liuhap izwar 
Xaju^drw TO <ws, ix, 2 ana ligra Ugandan tiri K\ii>rjs fieffKiwivov , ix, 13 
nip pan qam lapon uswaurhtans ak frawaurhtans diKaiovs djuaprcoXous, 
ix, 12 nipaurbun hdildi lekeis ak pdi unhdildi habandans iaxvovres 
KCIKCOS exoires, Jh. viii, 41 tdujip tdja Troietre rd epya, Lc. iv, 40 siukans 
sauhtim affdevovvTas voaois, ix, 2 gahdiljan allans pans unhdilans 
iaffdai TOVS affdevels, xix, 38 .... [and so through 10 other illustra- 
tions taken from Luke, Mark, Romans and Corinthians]. Diese 
neigung geht so weit, dass Lc. ii, 29 frdujinond zu frduja (SeWora) , 
Me. i, 40 kniwam zu knussjands (yovvTTtT&v) zugesetzt ist." Many 
other sweeping illustrations of the leveling of Greek variants in the 
Gothic translation will be given later. 

The Gospel of Matthew shows the following distribution of the 
different types of variation, non-variation, and leveling in the Gothic 
rendering of Greek recurrent words and ideas (first occurrences in a 
given passage are not counted but only subsequent recurrences): 
Greek recurrences 726, Gothic non-variant renderings 705, Gothic 
levelings of Greek variants 35, total Gothic recurrences 740 (or 14 
more than the Greek); number of variant renderings possibly gen- 
uine (besides 3 known to be spurious) 21, including: idiomatic 13, 
interchangeable equivalents 2, synonyms 6. The following ratios 
result: against all variation 740:21, or over 35:1; against synony- 
mous variation 755:6, or over 125:1; against rhetorical variation 
761:0. I have not counted other books in detail (Matthew was 
selected because it contains the aibr giba passage), but the indi- 
vidual words discussed in the following sections make it reasonably 
sure that others would make a similar showing. 

(3) It is only fair to Bernhardt, however, to note the instances he 
cites in support of Wulfila's supposed tendency to variation. I am 
the more concerned to do this, as I should expect others to have the 

* BV, Einleitung, p. xxxiv, note. 8 BV, p. xxxiii. 



same confidence I at first felt in his explicit statement and to be 
suspicious accordingly of any effort to ignore his proofs. 

Two of Bernhardt's references are cognate constructions, namely, 
Mark 5:42 (e^ea-Trjaav eKordcrei neYa\rj'Usgeisnddedun faurhtein 
mikildi) and 7 : 13 (7rapa56(7et 97 TrapeSaware : anabusndi poei anafulhup). 
It might be claimed that these variations are not strictly parallel to 
the aibr giba passage since they do not involve the repetition of 
the same word in Greek, but this is only a difference of degree they 
surely presented themselves as repetitions to Greek sprachgeftihl and 
to the Gothic translator. We must therefore allow Bernhardt the 
right to cite them as examples. A scrutiny of the passages will, how- 
ever, show that they are idiomatic and not rhetorical. Furthermore, 
we will let Bernhardt himself tell what Wulfila's habit is in the 
treatment of cognate constructions: "Griechische wortspiele und 
gleichklange, wie sie besonders Paulus liebt, pflegt auch Vulfila wieder- 
zugeben: .... Ro. xii, 3 py inrtp<t>poi>e'ii> Trap' 6 Set <j>poveiv, dXXd 
tfrpoveiv els TO crwfrpovelv ni mdis frapjan pdu skuli frapjan, ak frap- 
jan du walla frapjan, I Cor. ix, 21 iyevbwv .... rots dyojuois cbs 
avofjas, fir) &v avofjDS 0eou, dXX* eWojuos Xpiorrou, Iva Kepoavoj CLVO/JLOVS warp 
.... pdim witodaldusam swe witodaldus, ni wisands witodis Idus 1 
gups, ak inwitops Xristdus, ei gageigdu witodaldusans, II Cor. v, 9 
etre ip8rjnovvTs ctre K8rj^wvvTs jappe anahdimjdi jappe afhdimjdi, 
vi, 8 5td dvcr<f>riiJLias Kal ev<f>rjfj,las pairh wajamerein jah wailamerein, 
vergl. i, 13, iii, 2, x, 6, 12, Phil, ii, 2, 3, u.s.w. Bisweilen freilich 
bleiben solche beziige unausgedriickt wie II Cor. iv, 8, v, 6." 23 
Compare also Bernhardt's statement of Wulfila's habitual leveling of 
Greek cognate ideas to Gothic cognate words referred to just above. 
It follows that these two instances of variation are not only idiomatic 
but also exceptional. 

Luke 2:21, Gr. Ka\elv Ka\ew:Go. hditan qipan gives a good 
illustration of skilful translation. The variation is idiomatic : Kal 
eKK\fi6r) TO ovona avrov 'Irjffovs, TO K\rjOev ford rou ayy&.ov:jah hditan 
was namo is lesus, pata qipano fram aggildu. Gr. TO K\rj0v would in 
general mean 'that which is called, the thing called/ whic^ would 

1 The sub-variation witodaldus, witodis Idus is idiomatically necessary on account of 
the dependent genitive 9eov:gups. 

* Both solely for idiomatic reasons, not for rhetorical variation. 
1 BV, p. xxxiii. 



here give a good meaning and is clearly the way the Gothic trans- 
lator understood it. It could also mean in this particular connection 
'the one called' (that is, 'the name called'). A literal translation 
pata hditano could not have given either of these senses. The diffi- 
culty of a free paraphrase may be seen in the crude effort in the 
English version. The translation chosen retains the construction, 
sense, and Gothic idiom. In the closely connected narrative of 
Luke, chaps. 1-2, the word KciXelv occurs 13 times in this same sense, 
and the other 12 times is unvaryingly translated by Go. hditan, 
besides leveling Gr. OVO^CL &JTIV to hditan in 1:26. Eight of these 
instances occur in close succession in 1 : 31-36 and 59-62, all rendered 
without variation, though this could easily have been made by the 
use of namnjan 'to name' or phrases with namo 'name.' The whole 
passage therefore shows a sweeping tendency to uniform rendering 
rather than to variation. 

Luke 9:60 (Gr. veKp6s 'dead, corpse': Go. ddups 'dead' ndus 
1 corpse ') reads a<es TOVS veKpovs 8a\l/ai TOVS eavT&v veicpovs : let pans 
ddupans usfilhan seinans navins 'let the dead ones bury their own 
corpses.' The parallel passage is Matt. 8:22, identical in the Greek, 
but retaining ddupans unvaried instead of navins as the translation 
of the second vtKpovs into Gothic. In spite of this difference in the 
rendering of the two passages, the variation is clearly idiomatic. Gr. 
veicpos can be used both as an adjective ('dead') and as a noun ('corpse') . 
Gothic, like English, distinguishes the adjective ddups l dead ' from the 
noun ndus 'corpse.' But just as English dead may in the noun use 
of the adjective (dead one, dead man) replace corpse, so Go. sa ddupa 
may replace ndus, though neither corpse nor ndus can be used for 
the adjectives deadiddups. 1 In this passage the subject veKpovs is in 
idea an adjective used as a noun ('those who are dead') and could 
only be ddupans; the object veitpovs is the direct substantive use 
('dead bodies, corpses'), and hence should primarily be nawins, for 
which, however, ddupans may be substituted. But without regard 
to the explanation of this individual variation, Bernhardt has again 

1 The only apparent exception to this statement is Rom. 7:8, where vacpd ndus 
stands in the predicate, and ndus has by some been here classed as an adjective. But a 
noun gives equally good sense; and as it is everywhere else used as a noun, it should be so 
regarded here. The Gc. cognates ON. ndr ' corpse ':OE. ne in dryht-ne 'dead body of a 
warrior,' are substantives. Cf. also OBulg. nat>ti:OPruss. nowis 'corpse.' 



given us a rarest exception as proof of a supposed rule. This is the 
only passage that shows a variation between ddups and ndus, and in 
only one other place do they even occur near each other, namely in 
Rom. 7:4, 8, where they are ten lines apart and disconnected in 
thought. Against this there are 11 other passages, some of consider- 
able length and with many repetitions of Greek words meaning 
'dead,' always unvaried in the Gothic translation. There are in all 
24 instances of connected repetitions of ddups or ndus, of which the 
other 23 show no variation. Counting individual forms, ddups 
occurs 48 times and ndus 5 times. The connected passages are 
Matt. 8:22 (ddups ddups) , Mark 6:14, 16 (ddups ddups)] 9:9, 10 
(ddups ddups)] 12:26, 27 (ddups ddups) ; Luke 7:12, 15, 22 
(ndus ndus ndus)] 9:60 (ddups ndus)] 15:24, 32 (ddups 
ddups) ] 20 : 35, 37, 38 (ddups ddups ddups) ] John 11 : 39, 44; 12 : 1, 
9 (ddups 5 times); Rom. 10:7, 9 (ddups ddups)] I Cor. 15:12, 13, 
16, 20, 21, 29, 35 (ddups 7 times); II Cor. 1:9, 10 (ddups ddups) . 
Observe how overwhelming this cumulative evidence is against the 
alleged habit of variation, since in the synonyms ddups and ndus 
the materials for variation were ready to hand had the translator had 
the slightest inclination to use them. But the evidence is even more 
overwhelming there are two important passages where the Greek 
itself varies the word for 'dead.' In the story of the Widow of 
Nain's Son (Luke 7:12, 15, 22) Gr. TedvrjK&s veitpos veicpos levels 
to Go. ndus (3 times). In the story of Lazarus (John 11:39, 44; 
12:1, 9) Gr. rereXcurry/ccos reflz^Kcos TedvrjK&s veKpos veKpos all 
levels to Go. ddups (5 times), as in 12:1, Adfapos, 6 re^/ccbs ov 
riyeipfv IK veKp&i>:Go. Lazarus, sa ddupa panel urrdisida us ddupdim. 

Comment is unnecessary. 

Luke 20:31, 32, Gr. airodwja-Kew.Go. gaswiltan, gaddupnan is, 
however, a case of genuine variation of the colloquial type between 
two exactly equivalent terms which were evidently completely 
interchangeable in common use. An extended comparison of all 
extant instances of gaswiltan and gaddupnan shows this complete 
synonymy and a perfect irregularity of interchange betweei^ the two 
words, some passages being unvaried with gaswiltan (as in Matt. 9 : 18, 
24 story of Jairus' daughter where the Greek variants reXevrav and 
are leveled in Gothic) ; others unvaried with gaddupnan 


(as in Jesus' discussion of the Jews' dying in their sins in John 
8 : 21, 24 twice, 52, 53). Others show a single variation out of several 
otherwise unvaried forms (as in Luke's account of Jairus' daughter, 
Luke 8:49, 52, 53 gaddupnan once against gaswiltan 3 times). 
Others show a variation in the total connected passage, but unvaried 
repetition in every closer subdivision (as in the account of Lazarus 
in John 11:14, 16, gaswiltan unvaried; vss. 21, 25, 26, gaddupnan 
unvaried; vs. 32 gaswiltan; vs. 37 gaddupnan). Others show an 
even distribution (as in Luke's account of the woman with seven 
husbands, 20:28-36 gaddupnan twice, then gaswiltan twice, then 
gaddupnan once, gaswiltan once). In all gaswiltan occurs 44 times, 
gaddupnan 22 times; 43 of these 66 occurrences are in 17 different 
closely connected passages; 6 of these passages show variation and 
11 are unvaried; of individual recurrent forms 8 vary from the one 
next preceding and 18 are repeated without variation. This is the 
only citation in Bernhardt's note which is not in the nature of a rarest 
exception. With the possible exception of verbs of coming and 
going (discussed below), it is undoubtedly the best example he could 
have adduced. Observe that it counts 2:1 against habitual varia- 
tion, and is furthermore of an entirely different type of variation from 
the supposed *tibr giba. 

Coming next to the illustrations in Bernhardt's Vulfila,Einleitung, 
p. xxxiv Matt. 5 : 37, 39 is not a case of repetition but of accidental 
juxtaposition. The two passages are not connected in thought and 
both translations are strictly idiomatic. The Gothic for TO KO.K.OV or 
76 irovripbv '(that which is) evil' is pata ubilo, while 6 TIWT/POS 'der 
Bose' is sa unselja. The translator properly took e/c TOV irovrjpov: 
uspamma ubilin ' cometh of evil ' as neuter in vs. 37, and /-ny ai>Tt,(TTrji>ai 
T$ 7rovr)p$:ni andstandan pamma unseljin 'not to resist the wicked 
man' as masculine in vs. 39. Cf. vocabulary under ubils in Braune's 
Gothic Gram., Heyne's Stamm's Ulfilas, Balg's Comp. Glossary, etc. 

Matt. 6:16, 17, Gr. irpoGwirov : Go. andwairpi, ludja 'face (in its 
physical sense)' is another uncritical use of a rare exception as if it 
illustrated a rule. Ludja is a hapax legomenon occurring only in 
this passage just enough to show that it was available for variant 
use generally if Wulfila had wished. Andwairhi is the general word 
for 'presence, face, front,' occurring 70 times in all (32 times in the 



strict sense of 'face') and leveling Gr. epTTpoadev, ev&mov, 
evavTi, evavrloit, irpbcrwjrov, besides 11 occurrences of the corresponding 
adjectival and adverbial forms andawairps 'present/ andawairpis 
'facing, opposite.' Of these 81 occurrences, 59 are in connected 
passages showing either non-variation or leveling in the Gothic 
rendering, 42 of these being closely recurring forms and 17 standing a 
few verses apart. Leveling of Greek variants occurs in 4 closely and 
7 loosely connected passages. Against these are 2 instances of 
variation in the Gothic rendering. Of other words used for Gr. irpb- 
<7co7iw, wlits ' look, personal appearance, face ' shows 6 forms, namely 
3 isolated, 2 in close unvaried repetition, and 1 serving as variant 
to andwairpi in one of the two instances just noted; andawleizn 
'visage, face as it presents itself to others' shows 5 isolated occur- 
rences only. This gives for all these words a total of 61 repeating 
forms against 2 cases of variation, each of course involving two 
words. Illustrations of repeated passages are: Luke 1:6, 8; 15, 17, 
19; 75, 76, Gr. 7rp6<7co7roj> (twice); irpbwirov (3 times); iv&iriov 
irpbwirov : Go. leveled to andwairpi (7 times) in all three passages; 
I Cor. 13 : 12, Gr. irpbwjrov (twice) : Go. andwairpi (twice) ; I Thess. 
2:17, 19, Gr. irpbcruirov tuirpoffdev.Go. andwairpi (twice); Rom. 
12:17, Gr. &&TTIQV (twice): Go. andwairpi (twice) followed by word- 
play gawairpi 'peace' (:Gr. eiprjvevovres) in vs. 18; II. Cor. 3:7, 
Gr. TrpooxoTTcw (twice) : Go. wlits (twice). The two variant renderings 
are Matt. 6 : 16, 17, Gr. a<f>aviov<ni> ra Trpbacoira avr&v TO irpbawirbv 
<rov vtyaLiGo. frawardjand andwairpja seina ludja peina pwah 
'they disfigure their faces wash your face'; Mark 14:65, Gr. 


speiwan ana wlit is huljan andwairpi is 'to spit in his face to 
cover up his face.' Observe that both of these passages involve 
concrete colloquial phrases, whose set form must have been fully 
determined by common usage. We must therefore class them as 
idiomatic. They cannot weigh, therefore, against the very large 
number of non-variant and leveled renderings just noted. 

Matt. 6:27, 28, Gr. /Aept/wcu> : Go. maurnan (3 times) 9 saurgan 
(once) was partly discussed above. This is the only instance of 
variation in these words. Against it occur several unvaried repeti- 
tions, namely: John 16:20, 21, 22. Gr. XuTreto-flcu, Xu7r?7(3 times) : Go. 



unvaried saurgan, saurga (3 times); II Cor. 7:9, 10, 11, Gr. 
(twice), \virrj (twice): Go. unvaried saurgan (twice), saurga (twice); 
II Cor. 2:1, 3, Gr. \virrj (twice): Go. saurga (twice). The Gothic 
rendering of \virelv, XuTreTo-flcu is, however, subject to another 
uniform variation, clearly idiomatic in character, which is not 
noted by Bernhardt. When used as a passive deponent to express 
the feeling of grief as such, it is always rendered by Go. saurgan, 
as in the passages just cited. When used either in the active or 
passive to denote the action of hurting another's feelings or having 
one's feelings hurt by another, it is always rendered by gdurjan (or, 
in the passive participle, by the closely related adjective gdurs 
' grieved, hurt, sorrowful'), as in II Cor. 7:8, 9 (3 times); 2:2, 5 
(4 times). 

John 19:2, 5, Gr. ore0a?'os : Go. wipja, wdips was treated above. 

Luke 4:35, Gr. QeKQeiv : Go. usgaggan, urrinnan 'go out'; I Cor. 
16:4, 6, Gr. iropeveaQai 'go': Go. galeipan, wraton, etc. It would be 
easy to heap up illustrations of variant translations of verbs of 
going, but they would prove nothing save the fact that in all languages 
such words are hopelessly idiomatic and intertwined with each other, 
and also stereotyped in their concrete uses, and that their inter- 
changes do not agree with each other in different languages. This 
results in levelings as well as variations. Thus different formations 
of Go. gaggan level formations of Gr. epxe<r0at, eXfletf, iropevtvdai, 
, ftalveiv, ayew, virayeiv, TrepLirarelv Trapaylyveo-dai, (e^tord- 
(70cu, xcopeo', aKO\ov6eiv, Sia>Keiz>, (i>7r)aj>raj>; rinnan and 
its compounds level formations of rpexe>, dpa^elv, 6pnai>, 
eX0etJ>, pelv, 5ia\eye<Tdat,, KVK\OVV, (0W)dyecr0(H, 
(/cara)XajLi/3d^t^, e7ri/3aXXew, Tropeveffdai 
\ayxww, afaweicrdcu, (Trpi)7riirTeu>. Illustrations of levelings in 
specific passages are Mark 1:20, 21, Gr. eXflew', iropevea-dai : Go. 
galeipan (twice) ; Luke 8 : 22, Gr. ava(3aiveu>, SieX0eZj>, avaye(r6ai : Go. 
galeipan (3 times) ; etc. 

Luke 9 : 60; I Cor. 13 : 8; 15 : 14 were discussed above. 

Rom. 7:2, 6, Gr. Karapyelv : Go. galdusjan, andbindan 'release.' 
The forms are close synonyms, evidently both in good colloquial 
use. It is not quite clear that they would be felt as a variation, as 
they are 75 words apart. At any rate the passage as a whole (Paul's 



comparison of the dominion of the Law and of Christ to that of a 
husband) is emphatically not characterized by variation. In its 
25 verses witop 'law' occurs 22 times unvaried from Gr. j>6juos; 
frawaurhts 'sin' 15 times unvaried from Gr. d/iaprta beside adjective 
frawaurhts 'sinful' from Gr. d/iarcoXos; Go. aba 'husband' 5 times 
unvaried from Gr. avrjp 'husband' in the space of two verses (2, 3), 
beside Go. wair 'man' twice in one verse from Gr. avrjp in the sense 
of 'man.' Regarded as a variation aba wair is idiomatic, the two 
meanings being sharply distinguished in the Gothic "while her 
husband [aba] lives she will be called an adulteress if joined to another 
man [wair]." 

Rom. 9 : 24, 25, Gr. KaKelv ' call into the Kingdom, call by a name ' : 
Go. lapon ' call into the Kingdom,' hditan ' call by a name' was partly 
dealt with above. This whole chapter contains KaKtiv 5 times, 3 
times (vss. 7, 25, 26) = ' call by a name ' and rendered uniformly by 
Go. lapon, twice (vss. 25, 26) = ' call into the Kingdom ' with Gothic 
rendering lapon. The variation is therefore strictly idiomatic. 
Compare further Luke, chap. 1 (more fully discussed above), Gr. 
Ka\elv 'call by a name' 9 times + variant 6j>ojud e<mz> once: Go. 
hditan 10 times unvaried; Luke 14: 10-24, Gr. Ka\e?i> 'bid [to a feast]' 
8 times+variant <l>weiv once: Go. hditan 9 times unvaried, though 
lapon would also have been correct in this sense had Wulfila desired 
to vary the translation; I Cor., chap. 7, Gr. KoKelv 'call into the 
Kingdom' 6 times +/cX^<ns 'calling' once : Go. 7 times unvaried 
lapon or lapons, beside KaXelv twice in vs. 22 taken by Wulfila in the 
sense of 'call by a name': Go. twice in close succession hditan. 

For a more extended list both of variations and of levelings see 
GL, Gram., 286. Besides significant words, the list contains also 
inflections, derivative formations, compounds, prepositions, and 
particles. While none of these concern our present problem, they 
show the same general principles of variation and leveling as do 
significant words. Bernhardt criticizes Loebe's list as needing 
critical sifting ("beispiele .... die freilich starker kritischer sich- 
tung bedurfen"). The foregoing scrutiny of Bernhardt's citations 
shows them to be seriously suffering from the same need. When we 
weigh the full force of the passages and words cited by him, they 
confirm the conclusions reached from the critical study of the Gospel 



of Matthew and from Bernhardt's own study of Wulfila's treatment 
of cognate constructions. Each of these lines of investigation over- 
whelmingly shows Wulfila's tendency both to preserve uniformity in 
rendering recurrent Greek words and to level Greek variant expres- 
sions for recurrent ideas, subject only to Gothic phrasal usage and 
the requirements of an accurate idiomatic translation. They all 
show the same absence of merely rhetorical variation, and lead to the 
conclusion that from the standpoint of style as well as meaning the 
variation *tibr giba is impossible and that we must expect on 
stylistic grounds the translation giba instead of the corrupt form aibr. 
III. From the standpoint of graphic form. Grimm, as we saw 
at the outset, objected to his own emendation on the ground that a 
and t could not easily interchange in the Gothic script. In judging 
this, as well as the other graphic comparisons involved, the reader 
is requested not to follow the form of the Gothic alphabet given in 
the front of current Gothic grammars, but that actually occurring 
in the Codex Argenteus. See the facsimile page in frontispiece of 
Uppstrom's Codex Argenteus or Balg's Gothic Literature. A com- 
parison of the three words aibr: giba, *tibr in the script form of CA 

shows that > in s P ite of 

the difference of two letters between giba and aibr as against only 
one letter different for *tibr, there is a decidedly closer resemblance 
in general graphic appearance between aibr and giba than between 
aibr and *tibr. The two medial letters -ib- (|J{8&) are common to 
the three words; the resemblances between the final letters a and r 
is in their Codex form very striking, especially for those forms of r 
in which the nexus is closest to the top ((V I 0^)- A and g have a 

slight general resemblance in their standard CA form (]P (ftvj, which 

was sometimes increased in one of the following ways: (1) heighten- 
ing of the left stroke of the a, (2) broadening of the lower end of 
the right oblique stroke, which might also bring it nearer to a hori- 
zontal position, (3) slight overlapping of the top stroke of g to the 
left of its upright stroke; (4) depression of the right end of its 
horizontal stroke accompanied in some cases by a uniform broaden- 
ing instead of the sudden spreading at the right end. On the other 



hand, there is, as Grimm pointed out, small resemblance between 
a and t (j^ ^p) to start with, and no tendency to approach each 

other in form appears in the actual CA variations of either letter. 
Consequently it would have been easier for either the original copyist 
or the "nefarius corruptor" to have gotten aibr from giba than from 
*tibr . For the corruptor giba > aibr would have been easy, but *tibr > 
aibr practically impossible, since, while t and a cannot be laid on each 
other in any stroke, aibr is almost exactly superposable on giba. 
All main strokes except the horizontal of g and the oblique of a 
exactly or approximately coincide and these have the same point 
of departure and lie close to each other. At a hasty glance (such 
as the copyist was frequently guilty of) , or in the event of dimming 
or blurring (such as the " nefarius corruptor" essayed to correct), the 
one form could readily be taken for the other. 

If the reader will carefully think through the Gothic alphabet, 
he will easily convince himself that no other extant or imaginable 
Gothic word than giba shows this remarkably close graphic resem- 
blance and superposability. The conclusion from graphic form is 
therefore the same as that from meaning and style the emendation 
to giba satisfies graphic conditions, *tibr does not. 

From every standpoint therefore the true reading for aibr must 
be giba. 

IV. From the standpoint of grammatical connection. This emen- 
dation offers, however, one difficulty the neuter possessive pein 
agreeing with aibr. If this form is correct, the original of aibr must 
have been a neuter, and forms ending in vocalic r were either mascu- 
line or neuter. *Tibr therefore would require no change in pein. 

5, however, is feminine and would require the formpeina as in the 
two instances in vs. 24. The new emendation must therefore be a 
louble one aibr pein to gibapeina. 

This difficulty is not, however, as serious as it looks. Even if no 
solution could be offered, it would I think be far outweighted by the 
mass of cumulative evidence pointing to giba instead of *tilf. But 
the copyist of CA frequently omitted letters, and sometimes words, 
lines, and verses from sheer carelessness. For other omissions of 
simple a see Matt. 11:10 (meinna for meinana)', 27:64 (ufto for 



aufto) ; Luke 1 : 55 (frdiw iorfrdiwd) ; 1 : 79 (ddupus for ddupdus), etc. 
For omission of words, lines, and verses, see John 12:14; 10:18; 
6:39, etc. There need therefore be no hesitation in restoring any 
letter required by actual considerations of construction or meaning. 
It is thinkable that the connection here would have helped the 
change of peina to pein. The form aibr stands before pein if it 
were still after-echoing in the copyist's " lower centers of conscious- 
ness," his Gothic sprachgefuhl would have made it easier to re&dpein 
than the now impossible peina after a word ending in vocalic r. 
He shows himself occasionally content elsewhere with an unintelligible 
form, and capable of consciously and unconsciously correcting copy. 
It is possible, however, that the two errors were entirely discon- 
nected in their origin. The MS shows no erasures or vacant spaces, 
so that if a was dropped from peina, it must at least go back to the 
copyist, perhaps to his prototype. But such a change as that of 
giba to a superposable and apparently meaningless aibr looks more 
like the work of the "nefarius corruptor." 




There is scarcely another poet who has challenged critical investi- 
gation to a greater degree than does Heine. His life and works, his 
technique, his sources and literary relations have been furnishing 
the subject-matter of innumerable commentaries, articles, and 
dissertations, and it is safe to suppose that, while these lines are 
taking shape, a successful doctorandus is just penning the conclusion 
of a literary syllogism with Heine as the major premise. 

These facts need not surprise us. Heine was a romanticist, and 
romanticism, even in its barren beginnings, is avowedly rich in the 
cosmopolitanism of its sources and material. Add to this the creative 
genius and the virtuosity of a Heine, and the popularity of the sub- 
ject is adequately accounted for. 

In spite of the many excellent results obtained, this mine of 
scientific endeavor is far from being exhausted. Every renewed 
effort is likely to lay bare another vein of the richest ore which has 
hitherto escaped the hammer of the indefatigable miner. Once 
exposed to the eager-eyed seeker of riches, such a vein may be traced 
to a bed of untold treasures; it may lose itself labyrinthically in the 
endless field of poetic expression; it may be efferent or afferent, and, 
again, it may lead nowhere. To encourage renewed efforts in two 
directions is the purpose of these lines. 

In the Gartenlaube of 1884, p. 113, Eduard Engel prints for the 
first time Heine's famous "Memoiren" in extenso. After quoting 
Heine's dedicatory introduction, the author goes on to say, 

Die vorstehende Widmung ist foliiert von Seite 1 bis 5. Auf der Riick- 
seite des ersten Blattes steht das Brouillon eines bisher noch nie gedruckten 
Gedichtanfanges, es ist em erster Entwurf, der nur die fltichtigen Gtedanken 
festhalten sollte und noch der Durcharbeitung im Einzelnen bedurft hatte. 
Correcturen finden sich darin, wie in allem, was Heine geschrieben, auszer- 
ordentlich viele. Die Strophen lauten: 

123] 59 [MODERN PHILOLOGY, June, 1915 


Manch kostbar edle Perle birgt 
Der Ocean; manch schone Blume 
Kiiszt nie ein Menschenblick, nur stumme 
Waldeinsamkeit schaut ihr Errothen 
Und trostlos in der Wildniszode 
Vergeudet sie die siiszen Diifte. 

Wenngleich tobsiichtig dort der Wind 
Die Fluten peitschet, dasz sie heulen, 
Und ihnen straks zu Htilfe eilen 
Entsetzlich gahnend aus den Tiefen 
Die Ungethiime, die dort schliefen 

Engel cites the following lines as a variant of the first stanza : 

Wohl manche edle Perle birgt 
Der Ocean in dunkler Thruhe, 
Wohl manche Blume in der Wildnisz 
Errothet ungesehn, die siiszen Dufte 
Vergeudend an die stumme Oede. 

Elster 1 prints part of EngePs explanatory material and the three 
stanzas by Heine, stating that " Kleinigkeiten, die wir dem Text 
nicht einverleiben mochten, mogen hier [i.e., in the appendix] noch 
eine Stelle finden." 

The "fluchtigen Gedanken" which "noch der Durcharbeitung 
im Einzelnen bedurft hatte" did not originate with Heine, at least 
not those which are expressed in the first stanza, and, particularly, 
in its variant, a fact which was noted neither by Engel nor by Elster, 
nor, to my best knowledge, by any other commentator. We find 
them without extended search in the famous " Elegy" by Thomas 
Gray : 2 

Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear; 
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 

It would be interesting to determine perhaps by examining 
the original "Brouillon" which of the two, the first stanza or its 
variant, takes poetic precedence. But whether or not this priority 

i Elster, Heinrich Heines aamtliche Werke, II, 507. 




is determinable, it is of value to note what distinctly romantic turn 
the obviously anti-Humean philosophy of Gray assumed in the 
alembic of Heine's creative imagination. Attention is called to 
such terms as "stumme Waldeinsamkeit " and "trostlos in der Wild- 


Traces of Heine's influence on nineteenth-century lyrical poetry 
may be discovered at the most unsuspected places. The imagination 
can scarcely picture two poets so widely divergent in character, 
artistic temperament, and choice of poetic material as are Heinrich 
Heine and the Low-German poet Fritz Reuter. The last-named 
poet had not yet reached the pinnacle of his fame when death was 
sealing Heine's lips forever. Reuter, of course, had read Heine, 
though we know of but one occasion on which he took public notice 
of him. We are told of an utterance by Reuter in the course of a 
speech at Eisenach, September 3, 1870, in which the Low-German 
poet pointed out that "Die Zeiten seien voriiber, in welchen ein 
jiidischer Dichter zur Verherrlichung des Landesfeindes in deutscher 
Sprache das Gedicht 'Nach Frankreich zogen zwei Grenadier' ver- 
fassen konnte." 1 A somewhat more eloquent testimonial of Reuter 's 
acquaintance with Heine's muse is to be found by comparing the 
following two stanzas, respectively by Heine and Reuter. 

Heine : 2 

Keine Messe wird man singen, 
Keinen Kadosch wird man sagen, 
Nichts gesagt und nichts gesungen 
Wird an meinen Sterbetagen. 

Reuter: 3 

Koster liidt de Klocken nich, 
Preister bedt nich sine Spriich; 
Ahn Gebet un ahn Geltid 
Drogen s' di mal still bisid. 

1 Seelmann, Reuters Werke, I, 58. 
* Lamentationen, 12. 

'From " Kein Hiisung," Seelmann's Renter, VII, 131. 



It would certainly overtax the meaning of philological evidence 
if we were attempting to build conclusive proofs of influence in the 
larger sense on these chips of poetic parallelism, convincing as they 
doubtless are as such. Yet it should be remembered that it is by 
untiring tapping, sounding, and probing that we uncover the secret 
channels which interlink the artistic expressions of all nations and 
all ages. 


In 1871 there was published by S. Zickel, New York, a volume 1 
containing poems and aphorisms selected from the posthumous writ- 
ings of Heinrich Heine, ostensibly published for the first time by 
Adolf Strodtmann. Following is a reproduction of the title-page: 






Even to those who are not intimately acquainted with Heine 
bibliography it would seem odd that Strodtmann should avail him- 
self of a New York firm for the publication of such an important 
addition to Heine literature, particularly in view of the fact that, 
only a few years previous, his noted biography of the poet had been 
published in Berlin. 2 On the face of it, there may be room for the 
argument that during the period of the German national revival of 
1870-71 no German publisher would have lent himself to the promul- 
gation of such invectives as are contained in "Die Menge tut es," 3 
"1649-1793-????," 4 and "Berlin." 5 

> 8vo, pp. xii+196. 

J H. Heine's Leben und Werke, Berlin, 1867. 

P. 51. < P. 54. P. 5. 



Examining the preface which appears over Strodtmann's name 
we are at once struck by the opening statement, " Zwischen dem Tode 
H. Heine's und der jetzt endlich ermoglichten Veroffentlichung seines 
literarischen Nachlasses ist ein Zeitraum von mehr als dreizehn 
Jahren verflossen." Heine died in 1856, a fact which would point 
to 1869 and not to 1871 as the year of the first publication of the 
Letzte Gedichte und Gedanken. As a matter of fact Strodtmann 
edited the Letzte Gedichte und Gedanken (hereafter called LG) in 1869, 
in Hamburg, as a supplementary volume to his edition of Heinrich 
Heine's sdmmtliche Werke. Following is the title-page of the Ham- 
burg edition: 1 




II morto Enrico poetava ancora 




A comparison of the prefaces of the two editions shows a number 
of omissions from LG New York for which obviously Strodtmann is 
not responsible. Nor does the content of the portions omitted fur- 
nish any clew which might lead to the reason for their exclusion. 
Apparently the New York publisher was anxious, for technical or 
commercial considerations, to keep the stock of the book within the 
limit of thirteen sheets of sixteen pages each, that is 208 pages, which 
is the exact size of the book. Unable to apply his Procrustean 
method to the text, he attacked the preface, eliminating a sentence 
here and a paragraph there, until the desired length was obtained. 
When, later, in the appendix, 2 he reprints with faithful accuracy a 

1 1 was unable to secure a copy of the first edition. 
P. 192. 



note by the editor, " . . . . Aus derselben Ursache habe ich ein 
ahnliches, die Grenze des Wohlanstandes allzu muthwillig tiber- 
schreitendes Gedicht: 'Citronia,' bis auf die in der Vorrede citierten 
Schlusz verse, ebenfalls unterdriickt," he had the misfortune of for- 
getting that the aforesaid poem had fallen a victim of his editorial 

From the evidence presented above it is, therefore, obvious that 
the LG New York edition is an unauthorized reprint of the LG 
Hamburg edition, and as such has no right to the publisher's claim, 
"zum ersten Male veroffentlicht." 




Modern Philology 



In the story of the Vita Nuova, Beatrice's death left Dante morally 
and physically prostrated. His friend Cino da Pistoia remonstrated. 
Such suicidal grief, sinfully rebellious, must debar him forever from 
the "blessed joy which her name signified." 1 Let Dante therefore 
cease to rebel against God's will; let him take comfort in hope. 

Strip thee of these habiliments of woe, 

As very Reason doth importune thee: 

Of grief men die, yielding them to despair. 

How then might'st see again the visage fair 

If thee, thus desperate, death overtake ? 

Prithee, for God's sake, 

Cast off this heavy burden from thy heart; 

Lest it a traitor's part 

Play to thy soul, which hopeth on God's stair 

To see her welcome thee with arms outspread. 

With that hope please thee to be comforted. 2 

Dante was pleased to be comforted, but with another lady. 
Later, disillusioned and remorseful, he came to find peace in Cino's 

1 "La beata gioia come chiamava il nome." Canzone Avegna ch'io non aggio pi& 
per tempo. Ed. A. J. Butler, Forerunners of Dante, Oxford, 1910, p. 136. Cf. Vita 
Nuova, ii. 6-8. 

Ibid., 11. 46-53. 

Spogliatevi di questa veste grama, 

Da che voi siete per ragion richiesto: 

ChS 1'omo per dolor muore e dispera. 

Come vedrete poi la bella clera 

Se v'accogliesse morte in disperanza ? 

Da si greve pesanza 
Traete il vostro core omai, per Dio; 

Che non sia cosi rio 
Ver 1'alma vostra, che ancora ispera 
Vederla in cielo, star nelle sue braccia; 
Dunque di speme confortarvi piaccia. 

129] 1 [MODERN PHILOIXJGT, July, 1915 


It is not an unfamiliar story. There is also something not 
unfamiliar in Dante's insistence that the other lady was "gentle, 
beautiful, young, and sage," 1 that indeed she first attracted by 
reminding him of his old love, 2 so that in the new were "vestiges of 
the antique flame." It is but human to plead extenuating circum- 
stances. The reader smiles, and with Beatrice forgives. 

But many readers find it hard to forgive Dante's calm assertion 
in the Convivio that by this other lady, his "second love," he only 
meant Philosophy. If, as he says, 3 "not passion but virtue" had 
really moved him to sing of her, why have called his desire of her 
"culpable" ? 4 Why have shed bitter tears for shame of it? If the 
Donna Pietosa was just Philosophy, how have denounced her as an 
"adversary of reason," 5 and in the name of Virtue have renounced 
her? Not for being a pagan: the philosophy of the Convivio is 
orthodox Christian- Aristotelian. If common-sense suggests that he 
simply forgot his dead lady in study, the Convivio emphatically 
replies: "I believe, affirm, and am certain that I shall pass from this 
to another and better life, where that glorified Lady liveth, of whom 
was my soul enamored." 6 

Is Dante then just fooling us? Critics have said so Signor 
Antonio Santi, for instance, recently. 7 According to Santi, Dante 
is concerned to explain away not so much his "second love," namely, 
for the Donna Pietosa, as what we may term his third love, namely, 
for la Pietra, so called. In fact, however, the Convivio, as far as it 
goes, does nothing of the kind. It is the Donna Pietosa, not la Pietra, 
who is identified with Philosophy. How Dante, had he continued 
the Convivio, would have "moralized" the canzoni relating to la 
Pietra is matter of conjecture; but Santi's allegation of disingenuous 
trickery on Dante's part in leaving the Convivio unfinished is gratui- 
tous. The symbolic logic of the Convivio, as it stands, provides for 
la Pietra in a way verified, as I shall attempt to show, by the argu- 
ment of the Commedia. Meanwhile, let us consider the prior issue 
of the Second Love, or Donna Pietosa, as presented in the Vita 
Nuova and Convivio. 

V.N., xxxix, 5-6. Cone., I, ii. B Ibid., xl, 1. 

Ibid., xxxvii, 1-6. V.N., xl, 14-15. Com., II, ix, 132-36. 

7 "II ravvedimento di Dante 6 1'inganno del Convivio," Giornale dantesco, July- 
August, September-October, 1914. 



In both works, certain poems, purporting to record actual expe- 
rience, are brought together and interpreted from the vantage-ground 
of retrospect. The interpreter views the recorded experience as a 
whole, knows its outcome of spiritual regeneration "new life" sus- 
tained by Wisdom. And now he would share his crumbs from the 
"banquet" of that "food of Angels." Every happening on the way 
to this fortunate outcome now looks providential, however dubious 
at first. 

There's a divinity that shapes our ends, 

Rough-hew them how we will. 

For Dante, Love was that divinity. Obedient to Love's inspiration, 
often enigmatic, he had come by successive trial and failure to a final 
success, the test of which was inward peace; as the proof of previous 
failure had been inward unrest. His service of the Donne dello 
Schermo in Beatrice's lifetime, and of the Donna Pietosa after 
Beatrice's death had indeed been at noble Love's bidding, and so of 
virtuous intent; yet of the insufficiency of these loves each ensuing 
"battle of thoughts" had been proof. Service of Beatrice on earth 
or in heaven had alone brought peace. And peace, stilling of desire, 
is the one and final object of all desire. 1 

So subtly, but truly, in the retrospect he can declare Beatrice 
from first to last the one real object of his desire. 

I mind me not 

That ever I estranged myself from thee, 
Nor have I therefore conscience that doth prick. 2 

Before this declaration, to be sure, he has drunken of Lethe; but 
Lethe washes away, not the deed, but the sin in the deed. Blindfold, 
he had all along been groping for her in whom his desire might be 
stilled. If in his infirmity he had grasped at others in the way, they 
had been but mistaken identities, 

false images of good 
The which no promise can fulfil entire. 3 

Now his eyes are unbandaged. He knows his true lady. Detain- 
ing him from her, these other loves had been "culpable"; yet^n fact 
Providence had brought him by way of them to her; and for Provi- 
dence, the end justifies the means. He had been weak; but Beatrice 

1 Of. Epist., X, 472-74. * Purg., xxxiii, 91-93. Ibid., xxx, 131-32. 



might say, as God to Paul: "Sufficit tibi gratia mea: nam virtus in 
infirmitate perficitur." 

Now if by grace his very infirmity had been seed of good, why 
might not the voice of his infirmity, his song of false love, show 
inspired intimation of his predestined true love ? So he looks, and 
finds there oracular ambiguities, coincidences big with fate. That 
"salute di Beatrice," his first blessedness shows also as his last; for 
salute means "salvation" as well as "salutation"; and the root of 
the name "Beatrice" is that of "Beatitude," the Christian's reward. 
And truly "nomina sunt consequentia rerum"; 1 for as the root of 
her attendant Nine is Three, so must Beatrice herself be rooted in 
the Trinity. Singing of the Lady Joan preceding Beatrice, had he 
not unwittingly implied that other John who had preceded the "True 
Light " ? Had he not reason also, like St. Paul, to " glory in an abun- 
dance of visions" to guide him? 

Is Dante serious ? Well, if we are to go on calling him a mystic, 
we should remember that the word means something meant more 
yet in the thirteenth century. Dante certainly believed that Virgil 
had unwittingly announced the Messiah, and had come unhappily 
too late for his own profit to know it. 2 If Virgil in his song might 
build better than he knew, why not Dante ? And why not to Dante 
the more blessed grace of realizing in time his own at first unappre- 
hended inspiration, of playing the Daniel to his own Nebuchad- 
nezzar's dream ? 

But even if prophecy were "read into" his songs by Dante for 
literary effect, the things prophesied were real for him. The Donna 
Pietosa became for him Philosophy, because through her he achieved 
Philosophy. Consider the situation. 

Beatrice was in heaven; Dante disconsolate with life; the 
accepted consolation of the Donna Pietosa reconciled him with life 
saved him from the sin of moral and perhaps physical suicide which 
Cino warned him against, and led him back to his appointed duty, 
fulfilling which he might earn that merit through which, grace given, 
salvation was to be won and Beatrice's salutation in heaven. So by 
the inscrutable decree of Providence the rival of Beatrice is trans- 
formed into her ally. 

V.N., Jdii, 20-21. 2 Purg., xxii, 67-69. 



Now to be with Beatrice in heaven would be to share her blessed- 
ness, communion with God. 1 That "blessed joy, which," as Cino 
had said, "her name signified," is in effect the joy of the blest. 2 
Beatrice in glory, "la viva Beatrice beata," becomes then no arbi- 
trary, but a real, symbol of heavenly blessedness. Attaining her 
means attaining that, just as for Catholics partaking of the conse- 
crated bread and wine means partaking of Christ. 

Similarly, as the Donna Pietosa was the providential agency which 
called Dante from rebellion against God back into the path of obedi- 
ence which leads to earthly blessedness, so she becomes a real symbol 
of that earthly blessedness. Desire of her fatefully involved desire 
of that. 

Again, if Beatrice so is heavenly blessedness not as a mere 
figure of speech, but as a real symbol her guidance is one with the 
guidance of theology revelation as interpreted by the pope. As she 
herself says: 

Ye have the Old and the New Testament, 
Also the Shepherd of the Church to guide: 
Let this suffice you unto your salvation. 3 

So, if the Donna Pietosa is, symbolically, earthly blessedness, her 
guidance is one with the guidance of philosophy reason as inter- 
preted by Aristotle. "Because," says Dante, 4 "all human activities 
require a single end, namely, the end of human life for which man is 
ordained so far as he is man, the master and artificer who shows us 
this end and devotes himself to it ought to be most of all obeyed and 
trusted; and this master is Aristotle .... [his] school [of moral 
philosophy] at the present day holds the sceptre of the world in teach- 
ing everywhere, and their doctrine may almost be called 'Catholic 
opinion.' Thus it may be seen that Aristotle was the guide and 
conductor of the world to this goal" earthly blessedness. 

Thus by her fruits known and symbolized, the Donna Pietosa 
signifies Moral Philosophy, and her sphere of influence is the active 
life presided over by philosopher and emperor, as Beatrice, signifying 
Theology, has for her sphere of influence the contemplative life pre- 
sided over by Scripture and pope. 

Of. V.N., xliii, 15-17. Cf. Purg., xxxi, 22-24. Par., v, 76-78. 

Cone., IV, vi, 63 flf. (transl. of W. W. Jackson). 



To call this interpretation a deception is to mistake Dante's pur- 
pose. Vita Nuova and Convivio are not personal memoirs like the 
Confessions of Rousseau, but edifying confessions like St. Augustine's, 
like parts of St. Paul's Epistles. The common theme is redemption 
by grace of divine love. That for Dante divine love shone through 
the eyes of two women, "gentle" and "gentlest," may have been the 
fact. It may have happened so. The same love spoke to Paul 
through a great light, to St. Augustine in a mysterious voice. 1 

God moves in a mysterious way 
His wonders to perform. 

Dante is talking about the effects of his loves on himself. Edifi- 
cation of others is his excuse. And so, for speaking of himself, he 
pleads the precise precedent of Augustine, who "in the Confessions 
.... by the progress of his life, which was from bad to good, and 
from good to better, and from better to best, .... gave example 

and instruction " 2 The three stages of progress, moreover, 

are precisely Dante's, (1) to the good of the Christianly active life, 
(2) to the better of the Christianly contemplative life, (3) to the best 
of the perfect life to come. 

Let me now briefly trace this argument in the Convivio itself. 

Beatrice is dead. "The source of edification" 3 for Dante has 
been suddenly dried up. He is left forlorn like the apostles, Christ 
being risen. Fitly therefore had his vision of her passing savored of 
the Crucifixion. 4 He knows indeed, without Cino's reminder, that 
his redeemer liveth, and his orphaned soul yearns to her. "I was, 
and am certain," he declares, 5 "by her gracious revelation that she 
was in heaven. Therefore many a time, pondering on her as deeply 
as I might, I went thither as though rapt." Indeed, such was the 
sweetness of this thought, "that it made me long for death, to go 
thither where it went." 

But such impatience is subject to Cino's admonition. Against 
it, as rebellious to God's will, a spirit of love from Venus incites. The 
angelic Intelligences are not urging unfaith to Beatrice, but on the 

i Confessiones, VIII, xil. * Conv.. I, ii. 104-10. 

i la fontana 

D'insegnamento, tua donna sovrana. 
ANON.: Ben aggia 1'amoroso e dolce core. 

V.N., xxiil. Conv., II, viii, 40-55. 



contrary would exact the one thing presently needful for the final 
fulfilment of faith to her, by "indirections finding directions out." 
Humanly blind to that divine purpose, Dante hesitates, questions. 
Even as the angelic adviser in the Vita Nuova, Love " clad as a youth 
in whitest raiment," they in effect answer: "Ask not more than is 
expedient for thee." 1 

The love to which the Intelligences incite is of earth, "the only 
region within their power." 2 Its reward lies within the "active or 
civil life." 3 For as motor-Intelligences, they possess only the blessed- 
ness of the active life, and cannot confer a blessedness which they 
have not. 

So in effect, they, agents of divine Providence, would correct 
Dante's inordinate desire of instant salvation by inspiring a love 
reconciling him with present duty. As they are the agents of God, 
the Donna Pietosa is their agent. Themselves, as Dante says, 4 
"natured by love of the Holy Spirit," send to him a comforter to his 
earthly task, as the Holy Spirit itself, the Comforter, was sent to the 
apostles for theirs. So Dante is brought to "the loving practice of 
wisdom," "!' amoroso uso della Sapienza," to the 

Virtue which giveth man felicity 
In his activity. 5 

So known by her fruits "finis est principium omnium opera- 
bilium" 6 his Second Love is fittingly hailed as "fairest and most 
noble daughter of the Emperor of the Universe .... Philosophy." 7 
By the figure she would be younger sister of Beatrice. Later, as we 
shall see, Dante draws analogy between his two loves and the sisters 
Martha and Mary. 

This symbolical sisterhood of the two loves is further indicated 
by the parallelism of the two canzoni of praise, first of the Vita Nuova 
and secondly of the Convivio. But the Convivio also draws clear dis- 
tinction. To possess the "hope of the blest," 8 "la viva Beatrice 
beata," would be "for the human intellect," says Dante, "to find 
that full satisfaction, that perfect peace, which constitutes eternal 
blessedness. But such is for man only when he shall havg become 

Cf. V. N., xii. 2 Cone., II, ix, 3O-48. Ibid., II, v, 66-80. Ibid., II, vi, 110. 

8 Virtute .... che fa Vuom felice 
In sua operazione [Conv. Cam., iii, 83-84]. 

Aquinas, Comm., II Cor., 12:3. Conn., II, xvi, 100-103. V.N., xix, 47. 



as an angel in heaven." 1 The Donna Pietosa, on the other hand, 
offers indeed "pleasures of paradise," such that her lover finds 
satisfaction (si contentd), "but in other wise than contentment in 
Paradise, which is perpetual: and to man on earth such is not 
vouchsafed." 2 She represents perfection "up to the limit of 
capacity of the human essence." 3 And Dante's capacity was for 
God's purposes in the activity of prophetic song. 

Book III having declared the virtue of the Second Love, Book IV 
shows how that virtue, descending into the lover, may exalt him to 
likeness. Whatever degree of nobility, gentilezza, is latent, God- 
given, in him may be actualized. In the measure of his grace he may 
receive the freedom of Eden, human perfection. 

There is a higher earthly blessedness, communion with Beatrice 
in thought, contemplation of heavenly blessedness. That, however, 
Dante must postpone until his mission is fulfilled, as St. Bonaventura 
hi the zeal of his "great offices ever postponed the left-hand care" of 
mystic contemplation. 4 

Again, there is a highest blessedness, not earthly communion 
face to face with the glorified Beatrice. For that Dante must be 
"transhumanized," either through the purgation of death, or as in 
the Commedia he actually represents by the miracle of rapture. 

Such I take to be the dialectic of the Convivio. Toward the end 
of Book IV, the argument is summed up impersonally in two alle- 
gories. In the first, 5 the Lord's judgment of Martha and Mary is 
declared to mean that the contemplative life is "best," although the 
active life is "good." In the second allegory, Marcia, by command 
of her first husband, Cato, leaves him for her second, Hortensius; 
then, her womanly task accomplished, asks as reward of her merit 
reacceptance by Cato. This means, says Dante, that the noble soul 
by God's will turns from contemplation of him to its earthly task, 
then, that accomplished, would return to its first loving contempla- 
tion. Substitute for Marcia Dante, for Cato Beatrice, Dante's First 

Of. Aquinas, Summa Theolog., I-II, qu. iii, a, 2: " Promittitur nobis a Deo beatitudo 
perfecta, quando erimus sicut angeli in coelo." 

* Cont>., Ill, Iv, 34-37. Ibid., Ill, vl, 85-87. 

Par., xii, 129. Cf. E. G. Gardner, Dante and the Mystics, London, 1913, pp. 255- 
56; but cf. infra, pp. 10, 14. 

Cone.. IV, xvii, 85 flf. 



Love, and for Hortensius the Donna Pietosa, Dante's Second Love, 
and the analogy is perfect. 

There is also in Book IV a third allegory, which would show the 
Second Love, if not ordered to God, " culpable" thus justifying the 
judgment at the close of the episode of the Donna Pietosa in the Vita 
Nuova. This allegory of the Angel at the Tomb 1 repeats the moral 
of the episode of the Pilgrims in Vita Nuova, xli, as later interpreted 
in Paradiso, xxxi, 103-11. The three Marys, or the three sects of the 
philosophy of the active life, vainly seek Christ, la somma Beatitudine, 
in the tomb of this world. The Angel, or " appetite of the soul" for 
Wisdom, food which satisfies but never sates, 2 directs the seekers to 
where alone that Highest Blessedness is to be found on earth, namely, 
in Galilee. For "Galilee," meaning " whiteness," "a color more 
charged with material light than any other," says Dante, may 
properly signify Contemplation. 

For the Marys to have remained at the tomb after the Angel's 
enlightenment would have been culpable. The risen Christ was not 
there. So for the Christian to cleave to the active life as if highest 
blessedness were to be found in it would be equally culpable. The 
contrary has been revealed to him. He is erring, therefore, not in 
darkness like the virtuous pagan Virgil but against the light. 
Ignorance of God is only privation of good, the judgment of limbo. 
Defection from God is election of evil, meriting the judgment of hell. 
Dante was called into the active life of this world for God's purposes. 
His confessed error was for a time to be seduced by "things present 
with their false pleasure," 3 and to follow a worldly life, not for God's 
purposes, but for his own; or, symbolically speaking, to cleave to the 
Donna Pietosa, forgetting Beatrice. So Aquinas: "The perfection 
of man is that, despising things temporal, he cleave unto spiritual. 
.... Imperfection is it to desire temporal goods, though ordered to 
God; but it is perversity to set in temporal goods the end." 4 

> Com., IV, xxi, 134 ff. 

*Cf. Par., ii, 11-12: 

.... pan degli angeli, del quale 
Vivesi qui, ma non sen vien satollo. 

1 Purg., xxxi, 34-35. 

4 "Perfectio autem hominis est ut contemptis temporalibus, spiritualibus inhaereat. 
.... Imperfectorum autem est quod temporalia bona desiderent, in ordine tamen ad 
Deum: perversorum autem est quod in temporalibus bonis flnern constituant." S,T. t 
I-II, qu. xcix, a, 6. This allegory also interprets retrospectively the episode in the Vita 



In the Divina Commedia this progressive allegory of the two Loves 
is only dramatically clarified. Moved by the divine Love expressed 
through Beatrice in glory, Virgil or Moral Philosophy unillumined 
by Faith 1 leads Dante up to the Earthly Paradise, freedom whereof 
is given by Matilda, opener of Dante's eyes to the faith by the 
pageant of the church. Matilda's reward, therefore, is earthly bless- 
edness so far as attainable by Christian moral philosophy. She is 
the antitype of the Leah of Dante's dream, 2 who is explained as sig- 
nifying "action." In other words, Matilda is simply the symbolic 
Donna Pietosa, given a " local habitation [in Eden] and a name." 3 

She leads him back to Beatrice, clothed in the symbolic attributes 
of the Christian contemplative life the colors of the theological 
virtues and the crown of wisdom. She is thus the antitype of Rachel 
in the same dream. 4 But though absolved from his guilt of aliena- 
tion from Beatrice, Dante may not yet satisfy his thirst for contem- 
plation of her. The Seven Virtues themselves forbid, just as before 
the angelical Intelligences had done. "Too absorbedly," they cry, 
and turn away his eyes. 5 Beatrice herself explains why. 6 Like the 
Disciples, like St. Paul, Dante must abide yet awhile in the active 
life of this world. He must prophesy to men the wrongs of church 
and empire, that these may be set right. He must call men to sal- 
vation by declaring his vision. That done, the reward of his service 
shall be contemplation of her. So him, through his attendant guides, 

Nuova of the Donne dello Schermo simulacra of true love from whom Dante Is providen- 
tially recalled to that. In other words, his successive experiences progressively illustrate 
one spiritual lesson. 

i Quivi [in limbo] sto io con quei che le tre santc 
Virtu non si vestiro, e senza vizio 
Conobber 1'altre, e seguir tutte quante. 

Purg., vi, 34-37. 

2 Purg., xxvii, 94-108. 

Dante sees Leah under the planet Venus (Purg. xxvii, 94 flf.) under the influence of 
which he had been moved to love the Donna Pietosa. 

4 Ibid. The contention of some critics that Rachel's antitype is not Beatrice but 
St. Bernard is counter to Dante's custom of making his dreams in the Purgatorio sym- 
bolically anticipative of immediately following experience. Moreover, St. Bernard 
symbolizes passage from mediate to immediate vision of God. Dante is not competent 
for this until "transhumanized." 

8 Purg., xxxii, 1-9. If the "sinistra cura" of Par., xii, 129, means "temporal care," 
the turning here of Dante's eyes "to the left hand" may appropriately signify his turning 
to the active life at the bidding of all the virtues. Cf. again Par. x, 55-63. 

Purg., xxxii, 100-105; xxxiii, 31 ff.; also Par., xvii, 124-42. 



the Seven Virtues, Beatrice comforts in the very words of Christ to 
his disciples: 

Modicum, et non videbitis me, 

Et iterum, sorelle mie dilette, 

Modicum, et vos videbitis me. 1 

In identifying the Donna Pietosa with Matilda, I do not mean to 
say that at the time of her appearance in the Vita Nuova or even in 
the Convivio she would have responded to that name. I do not know 
whether she would have or not. Her development as a symbolic 
character was, I repeat again, by retrospective process. She may in 
the first place have been a real woman loved by Dante after Beatrice's 
death, and made the theme of his occasional verse. The retrospec- 
tive interpretation of the Vita Nuova then at once justifies his love 
of her as " noble," and yet condemns it as " culpable." Resolution of 
the apparent contradiction lies, I think, in the logic of the Vita Nuova 
itself, but as the dramatic plan of that work demanded the truth 
is shown enigmatically, "quasi in sogno." 2 Next, the Convivio, more 
clearly shows the benign effects of the Donna Pietosa' s influence, 

lely, his attainment through her agency of an earthly activity in 
accord with Wisdom. But the Convivio, though it implies, yet slurs 
the resolution of the dramatic conflict between her and Beatrice. 

illy, in the Divina Commedia all strands of the argument, both 
dramatic and symbolic, are smoothly interwoven, their tangles 
untwisted. The Donna Pietosa becomes a God-given Comforter to 
his appointed activity in the world, Philosophy, peace-bringer to the 
"battle of his thoughts," soothing his sense of exile from his true 
Uessedness, Beatrice, by the realization given that this exile is but 
temporary and a needful "way of sighs," on which God has sent him 
Forth, yet by which, his mission done, he shall return to God. But, on 
the other hand, to desire the Donna Pietosa inordinately, to make her 
the too great delight of his eyes, as in the Vita Nuova 3 he confesses 
to have done was to make of her a "siren" seducing him from his 
true blessedness, Beatrice. 4 To follow worldly activities in a Godly 
spirit is man's bounden duty; to follow them in a worldly spirit 
for their own sakes is, as Aquinas said, "perversity." "Amicitia 

1 Purg., xxxiii, 13-15. . xxxviii, 1-3. 

* Cone., II, xiii, 27-29. * Purg., xxxi, 45. 



hujus mundi, inimica .... Dei." 1 Enmity with God is anticipa- 
tion of hell. But by divine grace Dante was warned in time. 

So low he fell that all expedients 

For his redemption were already vain 
Else than to show him the lost folk. 2 

Dante believed himself the object of a special providence. He 
believed that, like St. Paul, an "abundance of visions " guided him. 
These called him from the withdrawn life of contemplation to active 
service in the affairs of men, the " civil life." According to his 
capacity, he was given Martha's "good part," not Mary's "best 
part." 3 Though he might yearn toward Beatrice in heaven, he was 
bound on earth to service of the Donna Pietosa. 

Actually, the "active life" into which he plunged shortly after 
Beatrice's death was that of politics. The reward of his labors was 
exile. That he felt his judges to be unjust would be no bar to his 
recognizing in the affliction itself the hand of Providence. On his own 
showing, the Jews were no less unjust in crucifying Christ for that 
they were at the same time carrying into effect the will of God. 4 
Divine justification of his exile must lie in its warning of a more per- 
ilous and self-imposed exile of his soul from the higher patria of heaven. 
So Virgil warns him among the sons of Cain: 

ye take the bait, so that the hook 

Of the old adversary draws you to him; 

And so availeth little curb or call. 
The heavens call unto you, and wheel around you, 

Displaying unto you their everlasting beauties; 

And your eyes yet but looketh unto earth. 
Hence doth he buffet you who seeth all things. 5 

In other words, betrayed in his weakness like St. Paul by the "angel 
of Satan," the stimulus carnis or concupiscence, as Aquinas inter- 
prets 6 Dante is also chastened into humility. Now the category of 
concupiscence in Dante's dramatic symbolism is represented, as 
shown above, by the Donna Pietosa in so far as Dante's desire of her 

i James, 4:4. Purg., xxx, 136-38. 

8 Vulgate: optimam partem. < Par., vii. 8 Purg. xiv, 145-51. 

Comm., II Cor. 12:3. Beset by the Evil One at the precise noon of his earthly 
day "nel mezzo del cammin" Dante may possibly have had in mind the "noon-devil," 
"Daemonium meridianum" (Ps. 91:6), theologically identified with the proneness to 
worldliness of middle life. 



became inordinate. But just as the other and benignant aspect of 
the Donna Pietosa comes in the Commedia to be represented by 
Matilda, so this her malignant influence may well, as Signer Santi 
argues, be represented by the Medusa-like siren, la Pietra. In other 
words, the influence of the Donna Pietosa was equivocal good or 
bad according to Dante's reaction upon it. Matilda and la Pietra 
may represent univocally the divergent potentialities of the influence 
of the ambiguous Donna Pietosa. 1 

Although, both literally and symbolically, Dante's desire of la 
Pietra if indeed she is to be identified with the pargoletta of Beatrice's 
rebuke 2 was admittedly culpable, it is still rigorously possible even 
here for him to maintain that the "moving cause" of his praise of 
her was "not passion, but virtue." Again, in the retrospect he sees 
how by divine grace his weakness was made strength; therefore, like 
St. Paul, he will glory in his weakness. "Libenter igitur gloriabor 
in infirmitatibus meis, ut inhabitet in me virtus Christi." 3 In other 
words, as before in the case of his Second Love, behind his will was 
the will of God. 4 Not his "passion," but the "virtue" of divine 
Love was the true "moving cause" of his conduct, itself needful to 
bring him to contrition. He must experience subjectively that " hell" 
which he objectifies in the great confession of his poem. Thanks to 
his inordinate desire of her, la Pietra, he says, 

robs me of that 
Whereof I have most thirst. 6 

Later enlightenment has shown him that his truly greatest thirst is 
for Wisdom. Unconsciously, therefore, he had declared that his 
inordinate love had robbed him of that. And so again he had spoken 
prophetically when he had said, "For her I boil in the hot caldron." 6 
For the soul which has lost Wisdom is in danger of hell-fire. And in 
a consistent continuation of the Convivio Dante might have moralized 
these passages of his canzone on the text of Job: "Si deceptum est 

1 By analogous process differentiation of the category of Reason into Reason unil- 
lumined by Revelation, and illumined, is symbolized by Virgil and Matilda, respectively, 
Dogmatic and Mystic Theology by Beatrice and St. Bernard. 

'Purg., xxxi, 59. II Cor. 12:9. Par., v, 7-1^ 

B m'invola 

Quello, ond'io ho piu gola. 

Cosi-nel-mio-parlar, 11. 80-81. 

8 per lei nel caldo borro. 

Ibid., 1. 60. 



cor meum super muliere Ignis est usque ad perditionem 

devorans in 

In fact, humbled in spirit, having paid his penitential scot of 
tears, 2 he is brought back to his true blessedness, to Beatrice. His 
temporary experience of "hell" had been the only way, as she said. 
Consolation of his exile is given him. Not ungrateful Florence, but 
the world is his country, 3 yet only as a " threshing-floor " where he 
may aid in God's task of separating the chaff from the corn. 4 His 
ultimate mood is in effect one with that expressed by Hugh of St. 
Victor in the Didascalicon* 

All the world is a place of exile to philosophers. It is a great beginning 
of virtue for the mind to learn by degrees, by exercise, first to change these 
visible and transitory things, that afterwards it may be able also to relinquish 
them. He is yet delicate to whom his native land is sweet. But he is 
already strong to whom every soil is his country, and he is perfect to whom 
the whole world is a place of exile. The first has fixed his love on the world, 
the second has scattered it, the last has quenched it. 

Dante fixing his love on the Donna Pietosa inordinately, or upon 
la Pietra inordinately, is the real exile from his true patria, having 
lost his way among " these visible and transitory things" 

present things 
With their false pleasure turned aside my steps. 6 

Yet exile for a while he must be, serving his time as God's laborer, 
overseen by his Second rather, secondary Love, that Moral 
Philosophy which may reward him with earthly blessedness, promis- 
sory itself of the wages of his true mistress, his First Love and Last, 
Beatrice, dispenser of the heavenly blessedness which is eternal. 


131:9, 12. 

Purg., xxx, 144-45. 

8 "Nos autem cui mundus est patria " De Vulg. Eloq., i,6. 

* Par., xxi, 151. 

6 iii, 20. I quote Gardner's translation Dante and the Mystics, London, 1913, p. 150. 
'Purg., xxxi, 34-35. 



Scholars who have concerned themselves with the life and writings 
of Me*rimee have generally assumed that the descriptions of Gypsy 
life in Carmen are the fruit of the author's personal observation and 
first-hand study of the language and lore of that interesting people. 
In thus supposing Carmen to be a portrait painted ad vivum they are 
not wholly wrong; but the important part which the writings of 
Borrow play as sources of Carmen appears to have escaped attention. 
In the final chapter of Carmen, added after the first appearance of the 
story in the Revue des Deux Mondes, 1 Me'rime'e mentions Borrow's 
name solely to hold him up to ridicule. Always fond of mystifying 
his readers he throws dust in their eyes by affecting an authority of 
knowledge not possessed by the writer whose works he has been 
exploiting. But he is more ingenuous in his intimate correspondence 
with his Inconnue, Mile Jenny Dacquin. He there confesses that 
much of his Gypsy lore was derived from Borrow: "You asked me 
the other day where I obtained my acquaintance with the dialect of 
the Gypsies. I had so many things to tell you that I forgot to reply. 
I got it from Mr. Borrow; his book is one of the most curious which I 
have read." 2 In view of this admission there is no need of proving 
that such an influence existed. The purpose of the present article 
is merely to examine its extent. 

The Gypsy was one of the stock characters of Romanticism, and 
Merime*e in his earliest works exhibits the prevailing interest in the 
race. His mythical Clara Gazul is the offspring of a Granada canon 
and a gitana of the Albaicin. Her favorite ditty is: Cuando me pario 
mi madre, la gitana. His equally mythical Hyacinthe Maglanovich, 
the bard of La Guzla, owed his gift of song to the Tchinge*mcha 
or Bohemians who kidnapped him when a child. His first real Gypsy 
character occurs in la Chronique du regne de Charles IX in tlys person 
of Mila. We know that Mila is a Gypsy because we are told that 

1 Carmen was first published in the issue of October 1. 1845. 

2 Lettres d une inconnue (Paris, 1889), II, 289. 

143] 15 [MODBEN PHILOLOGY, July, 1915 


such is the fact. The portrait exhibits a complete lack of modeling. 
Not the slightest bit of local color illustrative of Gypsy life is intro- 
duced, unless the telling of fortunes and a propensity for theft may 
be so considered. Borrow had not yet published the results of his 
studies, and Me'rime'e was still to begin his own. But these slight 
allusions at least betray an interest in the subject, an interest which 
will quicken with the first opportunity to see and associate with the 

That opportunity came in the year 1830 when Merimee first 
visited Spain. In that year he gathered some of the material after- 
ward woven into the fabric of Carmen. It was then that the Con- 
desa de Teba (later the Condesa de Monti jo) related to him the 
anecdote which served as the "germ" of Carmen, a trivial drama of 
jealousy and murder in which Gypsies played no part. " II s'agissait 
d'un Jacques de Malaga, qui avait tue* sa maitresse, laquelle se con- 
sacrait exclusivement au public," writes Me'rime'e to the countess, 
recalling the incident fifteen years later. 1 In 1830, likewise, he wrote 
his article on the bandit Jose* Maria. And in this same year also the 
Condesa de Teba introduced him to the Spanish novelist Estebanez 

Este*banez Calder6n and Me'rime'e had much in common. Both 
were intimates of the Condesa de Teba, assiduous attendants at her 
tertulia, moving on a footing of easy familiarity with the aristocratic 
circle of Madrid; yet the Spanish costumbrista might have said as 
truly as Me'rime'e that he was never so in his element as "in a Spanish 
venta with muleteers and peasants of Andalusia." Both men were 
novelists devoted to the depiction of manners and the creation of local 
color. Both plumed themselves on being serious historians as well. 
Both were bibliophiles. Estebanez Calder6n purchased books for 
Me'rime'e in Madrid; Me'rime'e in Paris attended book auctions in the 
interest of his friend. But above all Estebanez was valuable to 
Me'rime'e in the capacity of guide. He it was who introduced him 
to certain aspects of the low life of Madrid from which was gained a 
first-hand knowledge of Spanish manners. This intimacy was not 
suspected by even the best-informed Merimeeistes of France until the 

1 First printed In the preface to the Edition de luxe of Carmen, "Pour les cent bib- 
iophiles" (Paris, 1901). Not having seen this edition, I quote from the reproduction 
Of the letter. Of. Pinvert, Sur Merimee, Notes bibliographiques et critiques (Paris, 1908). 



recent publication of seven letters addressed by Merimee to his 
Spanish friend. 1 Much of this correspondence is the reverse of edi- 
fying, but reveals how helpful each friend was in the literary labors 
of the other. 

Years afterward Estebanez Calderon received a presentation copy 
of Carmen with the inscription: "A mon maitre en chipe calli" ("To 
my master in the Gypsy tongue")- 2 In an accompanying letter he 
says : " Voici en attendant un petit souvenir de nos anciennes e*tudes 
sur la chipe calli, pour lequel je vous demande un coin dans votre 
bibliotheque." 3 Este*banez Calderon was, therefore, the first who 
made Me*rimee acquainted with the Spanish Gypsy and his language, 
but we may doubt whether Me*rimee was able to acquire from his 
friend more than a few scattered phrases of the jargon. When he 
departed for the South he continued his investigations alone. The 
Gypsies of Granada excited his lively interest. Whether, as has so 
often been stated, he there found the original of Carmencita cannot 
definitely be decided. But Filon, quoting from the unedited Montijo 
correspondence, has indicated that at Granada he flirted with a pretty 
gitana, "assez farouche aux chre*tiens, mais qui, pourtant, s'appri- 
voisait a la vue d'un duro." 4 This trip " of a thousand follies" as he 

led it in later life was by no means wholly devoted to frivolity. 
We may be confident of his sincerity when, writing from Valencia, 
he said: "In a foreign land, one is compelled to see everything and 
is always apprehensive lest a moment of idleness or disgust will make 
one lose a curious bit of manners." 5 

For over a decade after his first visit to Spain Me*rimeVs interest 
the Gypsies lay dormant. It was reawakened by the successive 
publication of Borrow's works. The first of these, the translation of 
the Gospel of Luke into calo, appeared in 1837. 6 That Me*rime*e had 
the patience to read this book through we know from a statement in 
his correspondence with Mme de la Rochejacquelein. That good 

1 Mitjana, "Lettres de Me'rime'e a, Estebanez Calder6n," Revue bleue, November 12 
and 19, 1910, pp. 609-14 and 645-47. 

Ibid., p. 609. Ibid., p. 612. 

Filon, Merimee et ses amis (Paris, 1909), p. 54. 

Mosaique, Lettre de Valence (Paris, 1909), p. 287. 

8 Embeo e Majaro Lucas. El evangelic segun S. Lucas traducido al Romani, 6 dialecto 
de los Gitanoa de Espafia (Madrid, 1837). 



lady, whose efforts to convert the skeptical courtier of Napoleon III 
are well known, had apparently been urging her friend to read his 
Testament. We may imagine the malicious glee with which he coolly 
informs her that he has even read the Gospel of Luke in Romany. 1 

But two far more stimulating books were soon to follow: The 
Zincali; or an Account of the Gypsies of Spain (London, 1841) 2 and 
The Bible in Spain (London, 1842). Salillas has stated that serious 
interest in the Spanish Gypsy dates from the publication of Borrow's 
Zincali. 3 The statement mighjb well be broadened to include Gypsy 
studies the world over. Whatever the defects of this work from the 
philologist's point of view, no other writer has done anything com- 
parable in arousing interest in the " affairs of Egypt." Superficiality 
and inaccuracy were not Borrow's worst faults. He dishonestly 
utilized the work of his predecessors in the field without giving credit. 4 
Yet many of his more scholarly successors have acknowledged that 
to Borrow they owed their first interest in the Gypsies. His vivid 
style and propensity for romancing won him a popular audience. 
The Zincali inspired a Carmen, a thing Pott's learned Zigeuner could 
never have done. 

Naturally Estebanez Calderon was one of the first in Spain to 
learn of the publication of The Zincali. In a letter dated May 6, 
1842, he requested his friend Pascual Gayangos, then residing in 
London, to procure him a copy. "Buy me," he writes, "the Can- 
cionero de burlas of Usoz and Borrow's book on the Gypsies. He has 
not remembered to send me a copy, though I procured for him so 
many data. Tell him he does not know the word for 'manger.'" 5 
From this we see that Este"banez was not only "master of chipe calli" 
for Merime*e but for Borrow as well, a detail which has escaped the 
notice of that author's biographers. MerimeVs own study of The 
Zincali seems to date from August, 1844, as appears from a letter 

i Une Correspondence inedite (Paris, 1897), p. 125. 

* My references are to the enlarged and corrected second edition (London: John 
Murray, 1843). 

Salillas, Ham-pa (Madrid, 1898), p. 130. 

Cf. Groome, The Academy, July 13, 1874. Borrow took much from Bright's 
Travels in Hungary (Edinburgh, 1819). He was also indebted to Grellmann, though he 
specifically denies having seen that author's book. As we shall see he was also indebted 
to Estfibanez Calderon. 

Cf. Canovas del Castillo, "El Solitario" y au tiempo (Madrid, 1883), II, 381. 



which he wrote on the twenty-first of that month to his friend 
Grasset, French consul in Janina: 

Apropos of linguistics, I have been studying for several days the jargon 
of the Bohemians (Zingari). Probably you have some of them in Albania 
as in all the Turkish provinces. Could you answer these two questions? 
Have they an individual tongue or only a patois ? Do you know whether they 
know the time of their arrival in Albania and from what direction they came ? 
There is a German who is now writing their history and who seems to me 
to be making a kind of romance. An English missionary or spy has made 
a very amusing book on the Gypsies of Spain; it is Mr. Borrow. He lies 
frightfully, but now and then says things both true and excellent. 1 

This letter shows Merime'e, just previous to the writing of Carmen, 
eagerly seeking detailed information about a distant Gypsy tribe. 
Doubtless other friends like Gobineau and Francisque Michel were 
similarly questioned. The German referred to can only be Friedrich 
Pott, professor in Halle, and author of Die Zigeuner in Europa und 
Asien. 2 Me'rimeehad j ust seen the first volume of Pott's work. The 
second appeared in 1845, and at a joint session held May 2, 1845, the 
five academies conferred upon the author the Volney prize in linguis- 
tics. The Proceedings of the Academy fail to show whether Me'rime'e 
was instrumental in the award of that prize to Pott. Pott's work 
was the first rigidly scientific study of the Gypsy race and language 
which had appeared. He does not seem to have studied the Gypsy 
tongue at first-hand, but he subjected the work of others to a critical 
examination from the viewpoint of a trained Orientalist. It is cer- 
tain that Me'rime'e knew Pott's book, but as a source for the Carmen 
it counts for little. Its ponderous erudition must have seemed to 
Merime'e rebarbatif. 

The allusion to Borrow shows that Me'rime'e was not the dupe 
of that author's romancings; yet it hardly tallies with what Me'rime'e 
says of him elsewhere. For example he writes to the Inconnue: 

What he (Borrow) relates of the Bohemians is perfectly true, and his 
personal observations are entirely in accord with mine save on a single 

1 Cf. L' Intermediate des chercheurs et curieux, October 16, 1892. This letter offers 
evidence that M6rim6e was familiar with either the first or second English edition of 
The Zincali. The French translation appeared a year later: Borrow, Esquisses de la vie 
des gitanos d'Espagne (Paris, 1845). This translation is not mentioned in te Borrow 
bibliography compiled by Professor Knapp and published in his biography. A more 
complete Borrow bibliography has just appeared: Wise, Bibliography of the Writings in 
Prose and Verse of G. H. Borrow, London, 1914. 

* Halle, 1844-45. 



point. In his capacity of clergyman (sic), he may very well have deceived 
himself where I, in my capacity of Frenchman and layman, was able to make 
conclusive experiments. What is very strange is that this man, who has the 
gift of tongues to such an extent that he can speak the dialect of the calli, 
has so little grammatical perspicuity that he fails to recognize at the first 
glance that many roots foreign to Spanish have remained in the dialect. He 
claims that only Sanskrit roots have been preserved. 1 

In the Carmen also he ridicules Borrow for naively believing in 
the chastity of Gypsy women. He cites an Andalusian friend (pos- 
sibly Este"banez) who had a different tale to tell. This Andalusian 
may have had the best possible sources of information, but the 
majority of Spanish writers bear out Borrow's statement. Besides, 
Borrow was not a clergyman, and the man who taught Isopel Berners 
of Mumpers Dingle to conjugate the verb "to love" in Armenian 
may not have been so naive an observer after all. Me'rimeVs second 
statement is incomprehensible. Borrow did not refer all words in 
the language of the Spanish Gypsies to Sanskrit roots. He derived 
several from modern Greek, and Me'rime'e himself cited these same 
examples in Carmen. 

Me'rimeVs interest in Borrow continued to the end of his life. He 
doubtless read with interest Lavengro and Romany Rye, though there 
is no record of the fact and these works did not influence his own 
writings. Late in life he records his disappointment on reading Wild 
Wales, a book which he had purchased for 30 francs and would gladly 
relinquish for 15. He further remarks that Borrow had deteriorated 
greatly. 2 The most ardent Barrovian would agree with this opinion. 
An allusion to the British Bible Society in the opening pages of Lokis, 
his last novel, shows that Borrow was still in his mind. He had in 
common with Borrow and many other Romanticists a dilettante 
interest in exotic tongues. At various periods of his life he studied 
such out-of-the-way languages as Arabic, modern Greek, Lithuanian, 
Armenian, Catalan, Basque, and the Celtic speech of Brittany. His 
knowledge of most of these dialects was superficial, and his proficiency 
in languages which he better understood such as Spanish and Russian 
has been somewhat exaggerated. 3 His point of view was not that of 

i Lettrea d une inconnue, II. 289. Ibid., II, 229. 

1 Of. Groussac, Une Enigme litteraire (Paris, 1909), p. 170: "Son savoir 6tait si rSel 
et si complet sur presque toutes les choses dont 11 parlait que, sans le vouloir, il a fait 



the philologist. He studied for personal amusement and to gain 
local color for his books. The Gypsy speech seems to have interested 
him longer than most of the other languages mentioned, excepting 
only Russian, though writing to his friend Gobineau, February 9, 
1855, he says: "I am beginning to be very rusty in chipe calli which 
I formerly jabbered with some success in Madrid." 1 In this and 
subsequent letters he gives ample evidence that he has studied not 
only the Gypsy dialects of Spain, but other European dialects of that 
tongue as well. He subjoins a list of 28 Gypsy words of general 
European use (certainly not taken from Borrow's vocabulary), and 
asks his friend, then secretary of the French ministry in Persia, to 
send him the corresponding forms used by the Gypsies of Persia. 
This Gobineau did, and Me*rime*e replies: 

I have read and reread your little vocabulary of the Persian Gypsies, and 
from the trouble which I had in collecting a few of the words of their Spanish 
brothers, I understand all that the list which you have been so kind as to 
transcribe for me has cost you. There is certainly a striking connection 
between the majority of the words of your Gypsies and those of ours, and 
it is astonishing that an unwritten language should not alter far more among 
individuals situated so far from each other. 2 

The translation of Pushkin's Bohemiens is another token of the 
interest Merime*e took in Gypsy matters late in life. 

When at last Me"rime*e was able to command the assistance of 
books, he renewed his direct observation of the Gypsy. He has left 
us several accounts of his methods of work: 

I found at Perpignan two superb Bohemians shearing mules. I spoke 
cold to them, to the great horror of the artillery colonel who accompanied 
me, and it was found that I was far cleverer than they and that they rendered 
a startling testimony to my learning of which I was not a little proud. 3 

This proves no more than that Merime'e was master of a few 
conversational phrases. A very slight knowledge of Romany is 

illusion sur d'autres aux critiques les plus dgflants comme il est arrivS pour sa connais- 
sance du bohfimien et mgme de 1'espagnole, qu'on a fort exag6r6e." Groussac probably 
had in mind Taine's remarks on this point. Cf. Taine's introduction to the Lettres d 
une inconnue. Groussac's statement is correct except in supposing MerimSe innocent 
of a desire to impose upon his readers, which in view of his many mystifications we may 
well doubt. 

i Revue des Deux Mondes, 1902, 5th period, 728. 

Ibid., p. 733. 

8 Lettres d une inconnue, I, 256. 



sufficient to arouse Gypsy astonishment. The following passage 
gives a better idea of his methods of investigation : 

Yesterday they came to invite me to a party on the occasion of a Gypsy 
mother's accouchement. The event had taken place only two hours ago. 
We numbered about thirty individuals in a chamber like that which I 
occupied in Madrid. There were three guitars, and they sang at the top of 
their voices in Romany and Catalan. The society was made up of five 
gitanas, one of whom was tolerably pretty, and a like number of men of the 
same race; the rest were Catalans, thieves, I suppose, or horse jockeys, 
which amounts to the same thing. Nobody spoke Spanish, and mine was 
hardly understood. We exchanged ideas only by means of a few words of 
Gypsy, which greatly pleased the honorable company. "He is one of us," 
they said. I slipped a duro into the hand of a woman, telling her to go and 
get wine. These tactics had occasionally proved successful under similar 
circumstances in Andalusia. But the Gypsy chief immediately snatched the 
money from her hand and restored it to me, saying that I honored his poor 
house only too much. They gave me wine, and I drank without paying. 

On returning home, I found watch and handkerchief in my pocket 

The songs, all of which were unintelligible to me, had the merit of recalling 
to my mind Andalusia. One of them they dictated to me in Romany which 
I understood. It has to do with a man who speaks of his wretchedness and 
tells how long he has been without eating. Poor people! Would they not 
have been perfectly justifiable, if they had taken my money and clothes and 
ejected me with a beating 7 1 

These adventures occurred subsequent to the writing of Carmen, 
but previous to 1844 he had conducted many similar investigations 
among the Gypsies of Madrid, Granada, Seville, and Cordoba. He 
had also visited some of the tribes of Germany and the Vosges 
Mountains. MerimeVs opportunity for direct observation of Gypsy 
manners was therefore extensive. Why, then, is it necessary to seek 
a literary source for the Carmen? Because Merimee when he set 
out to manufacture local color seldom dispensed with literary aid. 
He did, indeed, frequently dispense with direct observation. Thus, 
Le Theatre de Clara Gazul was drawn entirely from the author's reading 
and imagination. Me*rimee, at the time of its publication, had never 
set foot in Spain, South America, or any of the other countries 
described. Yovanovitch has ably indicated the sources of La Guzla. 2 
It will be remembered that Me'rime'e, desiring to journey to Illyria, 
had written that famous mystification based upon rare books of 

i Filon, op. cit., p. 164. Yovanovitch, La Guzla de Prosper Merimee (Paris, 1911). 



travel, with the intention of later using the profits of his book to 
defray the expenses of a tour beyond the Adriatic which would enable 
him to ascertain how near he had come to the truth. The trip to 
Illyria never came to pass, but Merimee did visit Corsica after having 
first written his little masterpiece Mateo Falcone, a work filled with 
Corsican local color. As has recently been shown, personal observa- 
tion led him to make numerous alterations in later editions of the 
story. 1 The local color of Lokis is reminiscent of the author's studies 
on Lithuania. Not having himself visited the region described, 
Me*rime*e asked Tourge*nieff to criticize the local color in it. Colombo, 
and Carmen, on the other hand, were written after Me*rime*e was 
personally familiar with Corsica and Spain; nevertheless in writing 
the latter work, he depended even more upon books than upon his 
own eyes. And the book from which he drew most freely was 
Borrow's Zincali. 

Except for the strong impulse given to Gypsy studies by the pub- 
lication of the Zincali, Carmen at least in the form in which we 
know it would never have been written. The vulgar little item of 
police court news related by the Condesa de Teba afforded scant 
material for a masterpiece. It was not until Sorrow's books had 
revived MerimeVs interest in the Gypsies that he conceived the idea 
of Carmen. This we may infer from the letter to the Condesa de 
Montijo (May 15, 1845) from which I have already quoted: "As I 
have been studying the Gypsies for some time, I have made of my 
leroine a Gypsy." 2 He had waited fifteen years before turning to 
iterary account the story which is rightly regarded as the germ of 
"armen. Meanwhile Borrow had published his Zincali (1841), The 
in Spain (1842); Trujillo his Vocabulario del dialecto gitano 
[1844) ; Pott his Zigeuner (1844-45) . 3 Carmen, then, was written at 

Of. Souriau, "Les Variantes de Mateo Falcone," Rev. d'hist. litt. de la France, XX, 
No. 2, 332-42. , Pinvert, op. cit., p. 116. 

Without attempting to give a complete bibliography of works dealing with the 
Gypsies prior to 1845 (for such a list see Pott), the following are the more important 
works which Merimee may have used: Grellman, Die Zigeuner (Leipzig, 1873) ; Hoyland, 
A Historical Survey of the Customs, Habits, and Present State of the Gypsies (York, 1816) ; 
Puchmayer, Romani Chib (Prague, 1821); Passa, Essai historique sur les Gitanos (Paris, 
1827); Bischoff, Deutsch-Zigeunerisches Wdrterbuch (Ilmenau, 1827); Kindler, Mittei- 

lungen ilber die Zigeuner (Niirnberg, 1831) ; J. M , Historia de los Gitanos (Barcelona 

and Madrid, 1832, cited by Borrow) ; Graffunder, Ueber die Sprache der Zigeuner (Erfurt, 
1835) ; Tetzner, Geschichte der Zigeuner (Weimar, 1835) ; Heister, Ethnographische und 
geschichtliche Notizen uber die Zigeuner (Konigsberg, 1842). Most of these works I have 
handled and can find no evidence that M6rime used any of them in writing Carmen, 
except for a few words which he may have taken from German glossaries. 



a time when definite information about the Gypsies was beginning 
to replace the imaginings of the preceding decade. The day of the 
Preciosas and Esmeraldas was past. The heroine of the Condesa de 
Teba's story was not a Gypsy. Merimee alters facts in order to pro- 
vide himself with an opportunity of creating local color and to air 
his newly acquired knowledge of the Gypsy tongue and Gypsy 
manners. Similarly, in order to display his scanty knowledge of 
Basque, the original Jacques de Malaga is transformed into Don Jose 
Navarra. 1 It remains now to examine the Carmen in detail and to 
point out what facts Merimee drew from Borrow. 

First of all, the Carmen contains a number of Gypsy proverbs, all 
but two of which are taken from Sorrow's collection in the Zincali: 
"Chuquel sos pirela, cocal terela" ("The dog who walks finds a 
bone"); "Or esorjie* de or narsichisle* sin chismar lachinguel" ("The 
extreme of a dwarf is to spit largely"); 2 "Len sos sonsi abela pani o 
reblandani terela" ("The river which makes a noise has either water 
or stones"). Here Merimee corrects an error of Borrow who had 
written bela for abela, but himself has reblendani instead of the correct 
reblandi. That Me*rimee did not follow his authority slavishly is 
shown also by the following example: Borrow writes: "Aunsos me 
dicas vriard6 de jorpoy ne sirlo braco" ("Although thou seest me 
dressed in wool, I am no sheep") ; Merime'e gives it thus: "Me dicas 
vriardd de jorpoy, bus ne sino braco." He has omitted the word for 
"although" and substituted that for "but." He has changed the 
agreement of the participle from masculine to feminine to suit his 
context, and lastly he has corrected the misprint of sirlo to sino. 
Nobody has hitherto pointed out that the Carmen ends with one of 
those pretty mystifications of which Me'rime'e was so childishly fond. 
The last sentence of Carmen contains a proverb not found in Borrow: 
"En retudi panda nasti abela macha" ("A fly does not enter a closed 
mouth"). This is nothing in the world but the common Italian 

1 M6rimee may have been indebted for his knowledge of Basque to his friend, Fran- 
cisque Michel, professor in Bordeaux, the future author of Le Pays basque, with whom he 
maintained a constant correspondence. In that book Michel devotes a chapter to the 
Basque Gypsies. He also has something to say of the Gypsies in his Histoire des races 
maudites de la France et de I'Espagne (Paris, 1847). 

2 In all the editions of Carmen this is rendered: "La promesse d'un nain c'est de 
cracher loin." This is nonsense. For promesse read prouesse. This misprint which 
dates from the first issue of Carmen in the Revue des Deux Mondes has never before been 



proverb: "In bocca chiusa non entro mai mosca" which Merimee 
has amused himself by rendering into calo with the aid of Borrow's 
glossary. But even this was, I think, suggested by Borrow. The 
one proverb given in the Zincali without a Gypsy equivalent 
runs thus: "The poor fool who closes his mouth never winneth a 
dollar." This may have suggested to Merimee the well-known 
Italian proverb which is such a close equivalent. That he was ca- 
pable of writing a sentence in the calo dialect is proved by the corre- 
spondence with Estebanez Calderon. Another proverb also seems 
to be the author's own invention : " Sarapia sat pesquital ne punzava" 
("Gale avec plaisir ne demange pas")- None of these proverbs is 
taken from Pott's collection or from any other printed source then 

We have Me*rime*e's own statement that he was familiar with 
several glossaries of the Gypsies' dialects; but in writing Carmen, 
Borrow's vocabulary was his chief aid. Nearly all the Gypsy words 
and phrases used in Carmen may there be found. E.g., baji, rommani, 
chipe calli, payllo, bar lachi, romalis, rom, romi, calo, majari, ustilar 
d pastesas, lillipendi, erani (Borrow, erani), minchorro (Borrow, min- 
choro), bari, crallisa, pani, manro, Ion, jamar, lillar, gras, graste, gris, 
i, sarapia (Borrow, zarapia). He accepts Borrow's etymologies in 
the case of three words without giving credit proof positive that the 
Zincali was his source :cocal from Greek kokkalon; petalli (Borrow, 
petali) from Greek petalon; cafi from Greek karphi. He occasionally 
makes slight changes in the orthography which seem to show that 
his own observations were different. There are only a few Gypsy 
words not found in Borrow: tchouri, a variant of chori; rommane 
tshave; firla, a variant offila. These, as well as the statement regard- 
ing perfects in -ium he took from some German source; it would be 
impossible to say which. He further gives a sentence which he says 
he took down from the lips of a Gypsy in the Vosges: "Singo, singo 
honti hi mulo." This is clearly not the calo dialect. 

Many a detail in the plot and local color of Carmen was taken 
directly out of Borrow's works, though there are a few resemblances 
which may be nothing more than coincidences. Two suh close 
observers as Borrow and Me'rime'e visiting Spain at about the same 
period must have seen many of the same things. Nevertheless, for 



the details which I shall now mention the Frenchman must have 
been indebted to the Englishman. 

The narrator of Carmen meets the highwayman at the bottom of 
a mountainous gorge through which runs a rivulet. The mise en 
scene is identical with that in which Borrow's traveler has his sinister 
encounter with the Gypsy horde. The description of the women 
bathing in the Guadalquivir is reminiscent of a similar picture in the 
Bible in Spain. The description of Carmen in anger suggests Borrow's 
portrait of the "gitana of Seville": "Elle s'avangait en se balangant 
sur ses hanches comme une pouliche du haras de Cordoue . . . . le 
poing sur la hanche, effronte"e comme une vraie bohe"mienne qu'elle 
e*tait." Borrow's gitana of Seville "stamps on the ground, and pla- 
cing her hands on her hips, she moves quickly to right and left, advan- 
cing and retreating in a side-long direction." In describing Carmen's 
dress Me'rime'e says: "Elle avait un jupon rouge fort court qui lais- 
sait voir des bas blancs," etc. Borrow quotes the Spanish writer 

J. M to the effect that the Gypsy women wear "a scarlet 

colored say a, which only covers a part of the leg." The romalis 
dance is frequently referred to and described in the Zincali. What 
Me'rime'e tells us of the bar lachi or loadstone and the charms wrought 
with it is information derived from Borrow. In describing the riot 
of a Gypsy wedding Borrow tells of their lavish expenditure for yemas 
and other sweetmeats which they strew upon the floor and dance 
upon. Carmen on the occasion of her quasi-marriage with Don Jose* 
purchases sweetmeats lavishly, breaks the yemas against the wall, 
smashes crockery, and dances madly upon the debris. "I pay my 
debts," says Carmen, "that is the law of the Gypsies." Borrow 
expatiates at length on the " Gypsy law," especially emphasizing the 
antipathy of the race to remaining in debt and the fidelity which the 
romi must observe toward her row. We have seen that Me'rime'e was 
a skeptic in the matter of Gypsy chastity, but even here he saves 
himself from criticism by making Carmen a half-blood, and on one 
occasion makes her say to her lover: "I should like to be your romi; 
but that' is nonsense; it is impossible." When Don Jos6 inquires 
Carmen's whereabouts, he is told that she has gone to Laloro (Por- 
tugal). Borrow mentions Laloro as a favorite resort of Spanish 
Gypsies who are pursued by justice. "The Affairs of Egypt" is a 



phrase of frequent recurrence in Sorrow's works; compare Me*rimeVs 
"Les Affaires d'Egypte." Similarly one author has "Flamenca de 
Roma," the other "Flamande de Rome." Don Jose* kills his lieuten- 
ant. Whether the hero of the Condesa de Teba's story committed 
any other murder than that of his wife we do not know; but it is 
interesting to note that the husband of the Gypsy crone in the Bible 
in Spain was a soldier who murdered his sergeant, after which the 
two took refuge among the Moors of Barbary. A sleeping potion is 
administered to Don Jose". This is the Gypsy drao mentioned in 
Borrow. Carmen's exploits on the highway were unquestionably 
suggested by those of Borrow's one-eyed feminine contrabandista, La 
Tuerta. As Me"rime*e had no occasion for two female smugglers, 
La Tuerta suggested the name for a male character, Le Borgne. La 
Tuerta dealt chiefly in cotton goods, Carmen in colonnades. Carmen 
frees her husband from jail. "Carmen a si bien embobeline le 
chirurgien du presidio, qu'elle en a obtenu la liberte* de son rom." In 
the Zincali a Gypsy says: "My wife soon got me out; she went to 
the lady of the corregidor, to whom she told a most wonderful bahi, 
promising treasures and titles, and I wot not what; so I was set at 
liberty." Carmen also tried to liberate Don Jose* from jail by some- 
what different means. Carmen sang one of the songs in which the 
Gypsies invoke Marfa Padilla. Borrow gives one of those songs in 
full. Me*rimee as the future historian of Peter the Cruel was natu- 
rally interested in this bit of folk-lore. 1 Me*rime*e mentions the well- 
known Gypsy trick by which a Gypsy woman induces a credulous 
victim to tie some gold pieces in a handkerchief as a means of dis- 
covering a buried treasure, whereupon the Gypsy disappears with the 
handkerchief and its contents. This is the hokano baro } or "great 
trick," of the Gypsies which Borrow describes at length. The trick 
is also described in some of the old Spanish picaresque novels, but 
Merime'e probably did not resort to such an out-of-the-way source. 2 
The general account of the Gypsies with which Carmen, in its 
final form, ends is the result of Me*rimeVs wide reading on this sub- 
ject. Nevertheless, here as elsewhere, Borrow is his chief source. 

1 Cf. Schuchardt, "Los cantes flamencos," Zeit. f. rom. Phil., V, 260. 

8 Cf. Salillas* very interesting chapter on "Los gitanos en la novela picaresca," op. 
cit., pp. 142 fl. 



Some of his generalizations about Gypsy customs and characteristics 
are so vague that it would be futile to attempt to indicate an exact 
source; but we may be sure that he draws from Borrow in giving the 
etymologies of the three words cocal, petalli, and cafi referred to 
above. Me'rime'e further imitates Borrow in connecting thieves' slang 
with the Romany. The author of the Zincali had shown how much 
the criminal jargons of Spain and England owed to the Gypsy tongue. 
This suggested to Merimee a few similar remarks on the language of 
French thieves. Both writers quote Vidocq's Memoires. In this 
connection it may be remarked that Merimee's etymology of fri- 
mousse, though apparently overlooked by subsequent lexicographers, 
who naturally do not turn to novels for philological facts, appears far 
more plausible than any other derivation that has been proposed. 
It is in this last chapter that Merimee most unkindly heaps ridicule 
upon the head of the author whose works he has so thoroughly 

In the foregoing study I have made no attempt to study all 
the possible sources of Carmen. The work reflects many of its 
author's variegated interests and is indicative of wide reading in 
numerous unrelated fields. I have merely sought to show that in 
his study of the Gypsies Borrow was MerimeVs most important, 
though not his sole, literary guide; and of that a careful comparison 
of the two works leaves not the slightest doubt. 





II est peu de passages dans Pceuvre de Chateaubriand qui soient 
plus connus que la description du Mississipi qui se trouve au debut 
d'Atala; il en est peu aussi qui aient e*te plus discute"s et plus critiques. 1 
Des la publication du livre, le critique de la Decade philosophique, 
Utter air e et politique, dans le nume'ro du 10 flore'al, an IX, sans mettre 
en doute Inexactitude des "couleurs" employees par Chateaubriand, 
se recriait devant "les ours enivres de raisins qui chancellent sur les 
branches des ormeaux." Le passage piqua evidemment au vif Cha- 
teaubriand qui, dans une note du Genie du Christianisme (IV, 180), 
appela a la rescousse pour se justifier et "Carver, Travels through 
the Interior Parts of North America, p. 443, 3d ed., London, 1791, et 
John Bartram, Description of East Florida, 3d ed., London, 1768, 
et Charlevoix, Voyage dans I'Amerique septentrionale, tome IV, lettre 
44, pp. 175, Edition de Paris, 1744, et Imley (sic) qui dit en propres 
termes que les ours s'enivrent de raisins (intoxicated with grapes)/' 

L'auteur tenait a prouver "Fexactitude scrupuleuse" de ses 
descriptions de la nature, et dans la preface de F edition d'Atala- 
Rene (edition de 1805) il est revenu encore une fois sur le sujet: "des 
notes ajoutees a cette edition d'Atala, disait-il, m'auraient aise*ment 
justifie"; mais s'il avait fallu en mettre dans tous les endroits ou 
chaque lecteur pouvait en avoir besoin, elles auraient bientot sur- 
passe la longueur de Pouvrage" (Preface, p. 7). 

Malgre une affirmation aussi nette, les critiques ne se sont pas 
avoue*s vaincus. En 1832, un voyageur qui signe Rene" Mersenne, 
apres avoir pris connaissance d'un article de I* American Quarterly 
Review (de*c. 1827, p. 460), entreprit de verifier sur place la veracite* 
de Chateaubriand. II fit le voyage du Niagara, descendit le Mis- 
sissipi, et arriva a la conclusion suivante: 

II faut done confesser que les herons bleus Chateaubriand, ses 
flamants roses, ses perroquets a te"te jaune voyageant de compagnie a^c des 

1 J. Bedier, Etudes critiques (Paris, 1903) ; E. Dick, Les Plagiats de Chateaubriand 
(Berne, 1905) et Revue d'histoire litteraire de la France, XIII, 228-45; Emma Kate 
Armstrong, Modern Language Publications, XXII, 345-70; Madison Stathers, Chateau- 
briand et I'Amerique (Grenoble, 1905). 
157] 29 [MoDEEN PHILOLOGY, July, 1915 


crocodiles et des serpents verts sur des lies flottantes de pistia et de nenuphar, 
plus son vieux bison a la barbe antique et limoneuse, dieu mugissant du 
fleuve; plus ses ours qui s'enivrent de raisins au bout des longues avenues, 
la ou il n'y a pas d'avenues; plus ses cariboux qui se baignent dans des lacs, 
la ou il n'y a pas de lacs; plus la grande voix du MeschacebS qui s'eleve en 
passant sous les monts, la ou il n'y a pas de monts; plus les mille merveilles 
de ces bords, qui font du Meschacebe* Fun des quatre fleuves du Paradis 
terrestre, sont des contes a dormir debout, et que les bords de la Garonne 
eux-mSmes n'auraient pu inspirer. 

Sainte-Beuve eut connaissance des lettres de Mersenne et leur 
emprunta un trait ou deux (Chateaubriand et son groupe litteraire, 
I, 207); mais sans mettre s&ieusement en doute la veracite* de 
Chateaubriand, 1'accusant tout au plus cP avoir remanie d'autorite" 
ses souvenirs. 

C'est depuis les eludes de M. Bedier que les attaques se sont 
multiplies. Mile Armstrong s'est spirituellement moque*e de la 
couleur locale de Chateaubriand; M. Stathers qui n'est pourtant 
point suspect d'hostilite* a Fe*gard de 1'auteur d'Atala n'a pas os6 le 
de*fendre dans le detail, et M. Dick Pa vivement pris a parti. Dans 
Pensemble, on parait avoir adopte Pattitude increMule et desap- 
pointe*e que le fils du marechal Ney avait prise aprSs un voyage en 
Ame"rique : 

Avant d'avoir vu le Mississipi, [e*crivait-il] je ne m'en faisais pas une 

image moins se*duisante que celle du Meschacebe* d'Atala Mais 

c'est en vain que je cherchais a me reconnaitre dans le pays que j'avais sous 

les yeux par les descriptions du livre J'e*tais re*ellement de*sappointe* 

en me trouvant ainsi en face de la re*alite\ La description de ce fleuve, dans 
Atala, est faite par quelqu'un qui ne Pa jamais vu. 1 

On pourrait s'en tenir la, et moi-m&ne apres avoir indique" un 
emprunt fait par Chateaubriand a Carver, dans cette fameuse 
description (Modern Philology, IX, 129-49) j'ai cru que les herons 
bleus, les serpents verts et les flamants roses n'avaient jamais existe* 
que dans Pimagination de Chateaubriand. Pour qui est familier 
avec les proce*de*s de composition de Pauteur d'Atala, il y a cependant 
quelque difficult^ a admettre que Phomme qui a suivi si fidelement 
les ouvrages de Bartram, de Carver, et de Charlevoix dans le Voyage 
en Amerique, et m&ne dans Atala, se soit fi6 a son imagination quand 

i Revue des Deux Mondes, I (1883), 531-32, cit6 par M. B6dier, p. 134. 



il fi'agissait de peindre le panorama du Mississipi. II reste aussi 
cette affirmation de 1'auteur qu'il aurait pu demontrer 1'exactitude 
de ce tableau par des notes dont 1'etendue aurait de*passe celle du 
texte. Ce travail qu'il a de*daign6 de faire, il est cependant possible 
de le faire aujourd'hui. C'est le dossier qu'il avait sous les yeux 
au moment ou il ecrivait le Prologue d'Atala que nous avons voulu 
essayer de reconstituer. Pour cela il nous a suffi de consulter les 
auteurs que Chateaubriand lui-meme nous a indique"s comme ses 
autorite"s; nous y avons cependant ajout6 quelques ouvrages que 
Chateaubriand a pu connaitre mais qu'il n'a pas expresse*ment cite"s, 
et plusieurs autres qui n'ont paru qu'apres Atala, mais qui confirment 
la ve'rite' du tableau du Mississipi. J'ai eu plus particulierement 
recours a Marc Casteby, Histoire Naturelle de la Caroline, de la 
Floride et des lies Bahamas, contenant les desseins des Oiseaux, 
animaux, poissons, serpens, insectes et plantes .... avec lew 
description en anglais et en fran$ais, Londres, 1737, 2 vols. in 8; a 
Thomas Ansbury, Journal d'un voyage fait dans I'interieur de I'Ame- 
rique septentrionale .... traduit de I'anglais par M. Noel, Paris, 
1793, 2 vols. in 8; a H. M. Brackenridge, Recollections of Persons and 
Places in the West, Philadelphia, 1834; enfin a Elliott Coues, Key 
to North American Birds, nouv. e*d., Boston, 1903. J'ai cru utile 
de reproduire fidelement le texte de la premiere Edition d'Atala, 
plus pres des sources que le texte des Editions suivantes; pour les 
autres ouvrages de Chateaubriand je me suis servi de l'e*dition des 
ceuvres completes de 1826. 

On pourra voir dans les pages suivantes ou "les notes surpassent 
la longueur de 1'ouvrage" avec quel soin minutieux Chateaubriand 
s'est renseigne"; on y pourra e"tudier sur le vif ses proce*de*s de travail 
et de composition; on pourra se rendre compte du labeur auquel s'est 
astreint 1'auteur d'Atala pour rendre sa documentation aussi exacte 
que le permettaient les ouvrages qu'il avait a sa disposition. 

A) La France posse"doit autrefois dans PAme'rique septentrionale, un 
vaste empire, qui s'e"tendoit depuis le Labrador jusqu'aux Florides, et depuis 
les rivages de PAtlantique jusqu'aux lacs les plus recu!6s du haut Canada. 

Quatre grands fleuves, ayant leurs sources dans les memes mofttagnes, 
divisoient ces regions immenses: le fleuve Saint-Laurent, qui se perd a 
1'Est dans le golfe de son nom; la riviere de 1'Ouest, qui porte ses eaux a 
des iners inconnues; le fleuve Bourbon, qui se pre"cipite du midi au nord 



dans la baie d'Hudson; et le Meschacebe", qui descendant du nord au midi, 
s'ensevelit dans le golfe du Mexique. 

Ce dernier fleuve, dans un cours de plus de mille lieues, arrose une 
delicieuse contre"e que les habitans des Etats-Unis appellent le nouvel Eden, 
et a qui les Francois ont laisse" le doux nom de Louisiane. Mille autres 
fleuves, tributaires du Meschacebe*, le Missouri, Plllinois, FAkansa, POhio, 
le Wabache, le Tenase, Pengraissent de leur limon, et la fertilisent de leurs 

Les elements principaux de ces paragraphes se retrouvent dans 
le Voyage en Amerique: 

Au bout de la valle*e, et loin par-dela, on apercoit la cimes des montagnes 
hyperbore"ennes, ou Dieu a place" la source des quatre plus grands fleuves 
xie PAme'rique septentrionale. Ne"s dans le meme berceau, ils vont aprSs 
un cours de douze cents lieues, se meler aux quatre points de 1'horizon, a 
quatre oceans: le Mississipi se perd au midi, dans le golfe Mexicain; le 
Saint-Laurent se jette, au levant, dans PAtlantique; POntawais se pre"cipite, 
au nord, dans les mers du Pole; et le fleuve de POuest porte, au couchant, 
le tribu de ses ondes a I'Oce'an de Nontouka (Voyage en Amerique, p. 67). 

M. E. Dick (p. 34) a vu dans ce passage du Voyage un emprunt 
a Beltrami dont Pouvrage ne fut publi6 qu'en 1823. II est bien 
eVident que tout au contraire Chateaubriand n'a fait que reproduire 
dans le Voyage des notes de"ja utilises pour A tola. II n'est du reste 
pas original et s'il n'a pu se servir de Beltrami, et pour cause, il a 
combine" ici deux passages de Carver. "La source des quatre 
grands fleuves qui prennent naissance a quelques lieues seulement les 
uns des autres, vers le centre de ce vaste continent; sc, avoir, la 
riviere Bourbon qui se jette dans la baye de Hudson, celle de Saint- 
Laurent, le Mississipi et I'Ore'gon ou la riviere de 1'Ouest qui verse 

ses eaux dans la mer Pacifique 1 Ailleurs Carver avait dit: 

"Les quatre principaux fleuves de PAme'rique Septentrionale, 
scavoir le fleuve Saint-Laurent, le Mississipi, la riviere Bourbon, et 
POre'gon ou la riviere de POuest, prennent leurs sources dans un 

petit espace de terrain assez circonscrit Du lieu de leurs 

sources a la baye de Saint-Laurent a PEst, au golfe du Mexique au 
Sud, a la baye de Hudson au Nord, et au detroit d'Anian ou a la mer 
Pacifique a POuest, il y a au moins deux mille lieues" (Carver, 
pp. 47-48). 

1 Carver, Voyage dans les parties interieures de V Amerique septentrionale, trad, 
franchise, Paris, 1784, introduction, p. xxi. 



B) Quand tous ces fieuves sont gonfle*s des deluges de 1'hiver; quand 
les temp6tes ont abattu des pans entiers de forets; le Temps assemble sur 
toutes les sources, les arbres de'racine's. II les unit avec des lianes, il les 
cimente avec des vases, il y plante de jeunes arbrisseaux, et lance son ouvrage 
sur les ondes. Charie's par les vagues Scumantes, ces radeaux descendent 
de toutes parts au Meschacebe*. Le vieux fleuve s'en empare, et les pousse a 
son embouchure, pour y former une nouvelle branche. Par intervalle, il 
e"leve sa grande voix, en passant sous les monts, et re"pand ses eaux de'borde'es 
autour des colonnades des fore"ts, et des pyramides des tombeaux indiens: 
c'est le Nil des de*serts. Mais la grace est tou jours unie a la magnificence 
dans les scenes de la nature: et tandis que le courant du milieu entraine 
vers la mer les cadavres des pins et des chenes; on voit sur les deux courants 
late>aux remonter, le long des rivages, des ties flottantes de Pistia et de 
Nenuphar, dont les roses jaunes s'elevent comme de petits pavilions. Des 
serpens verds, des herons bleus, de flammans roses, de jeunes crocodiles 
s'embarquent, passagers sur ces vaisseaux de fleurs, et la colonie, de*ployant 
au vent ses voiles d'or, va aborder, endormie, dans quelque anse retiree du 

Ici Chateaubriand a consulte au moins deux auteurs. La 
premiere partie de cette description me parait surtout devoir a 
Imlay, la seconde a Bartram. On en jugera par les passages 
suivants : 

The bars that cross most of these small channels, opened by the current, 
have been multiplied by means of trees carried down with the streams; 
one of which stopped by its roots or branches, in a shallow part, is sufficient 
to obstruct the passage of a thousand more, and to fix them at the same 

place No human force being sufficient for removing them, the mud 

carried down by the river serves to bind and cement them together 

In less than ten years, canes and shrubs grow on them, and form points 

and islands, which forcibly shift the bed of the river It is certain 

that when La Salle sailed down the Mississippi to the sea, the opening of 

that river was very different from what it is at present The slime 

which the annual floods of the river Mississippi leave on the surface of the 
adjacent shores may be compared with that of the Nile (G. Imlay, A Topo- 
graphical Description of the Western Territory of North America, 3d ed., 
London, 1797, pp. 404, 405, 410). 

Les courants lateraux ou contre-courants sont trop connus pour 
qu'il soit ne*cessaire d'insister, tous les voyageurs en ont parle*; mais 
ces courants lateraux transportent des iles flottantes que Btrtram 
avait vues non sur le Mississipi, mais sur la riviere Saint Jean dans 
la Floride orientale. 



Je remis de bonne heure la voile [dit Bartram], sur la riviere Saint Jean, 
et je vis ce jour 1 de grandes quantity's de pistia stratiotes, plante aquatique 
tr&s singuliere. Elle forme des lies flottantes dont quelques-unes ont une 

tres grande e"tendue et qui voguent au gre* des vents et des eaux 

Quand les grosses pluies, les grands vents font subitement clever les eaux 
de la riviere, il se de"tache de la c6te de grandes portions de ces ties flottantes. 
Ces ilots mobiles offrent le plus aimable spectacle: ils ne sont qu'un amas 
des plus humbles productions de la nature, et pourtant ils troublent et 
de*goivent Timagination. L'illusion est d'autant plus complete qu'au milieu 
de ces plantes en fleurs, on voit des groupes d'arbrisseaux, de vieux troncs 
d'arbres abattus par les vents et habitus et peuple"s de crocodiles, de serpents, 
de grenouilles, de loutres, de corbeaux, de he"rons, de courlis, de choucas 
(Bartram, Travels through North and South America, Philadelphia, 1791; 
trad, frangaise, Paris, an vii, I, 167; cite* par M. Be"dier, p. 265). 

L'emprunt fait par Chateaubriand a Bartram est manifeste; il est 
cependant probable que Chateaubriand 1'a complete" par quelque 
autre ouvrage, car ni les he*rons bleus, ni les serpents verts ne sont 
des animaux imaginaires. 

Casteby de*crit deux especes de serpents verts: le serpent vert 
tachete*, anguis viridis maculatus, et le serpent vert proprement dit, 
anguis viridis, et en donne des reproductions en couleur (Casteby, 
II, 53, 57). 

Le he*ron bleu est probablement Vardea herodias, ou grand he*ron 
bleu, qui se trouve dans toutes les parties de FAme*rique du Nord, 
jusqu'au Labrador et a P Alaska (Casteby, I, 76; E. Coues, p. 875). 

On est plus e*tonne* de rencontrer des flamants roses sur les bords 
du Mississipi. Casteby qui de*crit cette espece et en donne une 
reproduction en couleur ne Pa rencontre*e qu'aux lies Bahamas 
(Casteby, I, 75). Cependant Coues indique comme habitat du 
flamingo ou phoenicopterus ruber les Bahamas, la Floride, le Golfe du 
Mexique, et peut-etre meme la Caroline du Sud. De plus, le meme 
auteur e*tudiant Fibis rouge, eudocimus ruber, renvoie a Audubon 
qui, en juillet 1821, vit en Louisiane un e*chantillon de cette espece 
tres rare aujourd'hui aux Etats-Unis. Ibis ou flamant, peu importe, 
Fessentiel est d'e*tablir la possibilite de Fexistence d'un grand oiseau 
rose sur les bords du Mississipi. Chateaubriand pourrait bien ici 
comme en beaucoup d'autres endroits avoir raison contre ses critiques. 
Nous verrons plus loin que ce n'est pas le seul passage ou il a eu 
recours a Casteby pour se documenter. 



C) Mais qui pourroit peindre les sites du Meschacebe"? Depuis son 
embouchure jusqu'a la jonction de 1'Ohio, le tableau le plus extraordinaire 
suit le cours de ses ondes. Sur le bord occidental, des savanes se de*roulent 
a perte de vue: leurs flots de verdure, en s'eloignant, semblent, par une pro- 
gression insensible, monter dans Pazur du ciel, ou ils s'eVanouissent. Quel- 
quefois un bison charge" d'anne'es, fendant les flots a la nage, se vient coucher 
parmi les hautes herbes dans une ile du Meschacebe*. A son front orne" de 
deux croissans, a sa barbe antique et limoneuse, vous le prendriez pour le 
dieu mugissant du fleuve, qui jette un ceil satisfait sur la grandeur de ses 
ondes, et la sauvage abondance de ses rives. 

Telle est la scene sur le bord occidental; mais elle change tout-a-coup 
sur la rive opposed, et forme un admirable contraste. Suspendus sur le 
cours des ondes, groupp4s sur les rochers et sur les montagnes, disperses 
dans les valle'es, des arbres de toutes les formes, de toutes les couleurs, de 
tous les parfums, se melent, croissent ensemble, montent dans les airs a 
des hauteurs qui fatiguent les regards. 

Une des phrases de cette description se retrouve presque textuel- 
lement dans le Voyage en Amerique; il s'agit il est vrai de montagnes 
et non de savanes, mais la notation est la m&ne: "d'autres collines 
paralleles, couronne*es de forets, s'elevent derrire la premiere colline, 
fuient en montant de plus en plus dans le ciel, jusqu'a ce que leur 
sommet frappe* de lumiere devienne de la couleur du ciel et s'e*van- 
ouisse" (Voyage, 34). Chateaubriand n'est d'ailleurs pas original 
ici, c'est a Imlay qu'il a emprunte" le trait essentiel de ce paysage: 
" the eye receding, finds new beauties in the rising hills of Silver creek, 
which, stretching obliquely to the north-west, proudly rise higher 
and higher as they extend, until their illumined summits impercep- 
tibly vanish" (Imlay, p. 34). 

Chez Carver, Chateaubriand a trouve le contraste entre les deux 
rives : 

Ce fleuve a de chaque c6te* une foule de montagnes tout le long de son 
cours: et ces montagnes tant6t s'approchent, et tant6t s'eloignent conside*- 
rablement. Le terrain entre ces montagnes est en ge"ne*ral couvert d'herbes 
avec quelques bouquets de bois dispersed ca et la, pr&s desquels on voit des 
troupeaux de cerfs et d'elans qui paissent tranquillement dans ces vastes 
solitudes. En plusieurs endroits on apergoit des pyramides de rochers 
qui ressemblent a de vieilles tours en ruines, dans d'autres on voit des pre*- 
cipices effrayants, et ce qu'il y a de plus remarquable, c'est que tfindis qu' 
un cote" pre*sente cet aspect, le c6te* oppose" est couvert de la plus belle verdure 
jusqu'a son sommet. On jouit la d'une vue dont la beaute* et l'e"tendue 
surpassent tout ce que 1'imagination peut se figurer. Qu'on se repr&ente 



des plaines verdoyantes, des prairies couvertes de fruits, des lies nombreuses, 
le tout rempli d'une varie*te* d'arbres fruitiers, comme des noyers, des Arables 
a sucre, des vignes charge"es de riches grappes et de pruniers succombant 
sous le poids de leurs fruits: qu'on se figure ce riche spectacle rehausse 
par la perspective d'un superbe fleuve roulant majestueusement son cours 
aussi loin que la vue peut s'e*tendre (Carver, p. 31). 

D) Les vignes sauvages, les bignonias, les coloquintes s'entrelacent 
au pied de ces arbres, escaladent leurs rameaux, grimpent a rextremite* des 
branches, s'elancent de Triable au tulipier, du tulipier a Talc4e, en formant 
mille grottes, mille voutes, mille portiques. Souvent e"gare*es d'arbre en 
arbre, ces lianes traversent des bras de rivieres, sur lesquels elles jettent des 
ponts et des arches de fleurs. Alors les chaines de feuillage, les pommes d'or, 
les grappes empourpre*es, tout pend eh festons sur les ondes. Du sein de 
ces massifs embaume*s, le superbe magnolia e*lve son c6ne immobile. Sur- 
monte* de ses roses blanches, il domine tous ces berceaux, et n'a d'autre rival 
que le palmier qui balance le"gerement auprs de lui ses eVentails de verdure. 

Bartram avait e"crit: 

It is very pleasant to observe the banks of the river ornamented with 
hanging garlands, composed of varieties of climbing vegetables, both shrubs 
and plants, forming perpendicular green walls, with projecting jambs, 
pilasters, and deep apartments, twenty or thirty feet high, and completely 
covered with Glycine frutescens, Glyc. apios, Vitis labrusca, Vitis vulpina, 
Raj ana, Hedera quinquifolia, Hedera arborea. . . . Bignonia crucigera, 
and various species of Convolvulus, particularly an amazing tall climber 

of this genus, or perhaps an Ipomea It is exceedingly curious to 

behold the Wild Squash climbing over the lofty limbs of the trees; its yellow 
fruit, somewhat the size and figure of a large orange, pendant from the 
extremities of the limbs over the water (Bartram, pp. 134-35). 

II est facile de reconnaitre dans les pommes d'or qui dans le 
texte de Chateaubriand font tout d'abord naitre Pidee d'oranges le 
tres prosaique fruit de la coloquinte ou "wild squash" de Bartram. 

Le magnolia a e"t6 dcrit plusieurs fois par Bartram et dans des 
termes qui se ressemblent tellement qu'il est difficile de distinguer 
de quel passage Chateaubriand a fait usage. "It is a tree perfectly 
erect," dit Bartram a un endroit, "rising in the form of a beautiful 
column, and supporting a head like an obtuse cone" (ibid., p. 84). 
Ailleurs, il le montre poussant a cot de palmiers nains et continue: 
"but what appears very extraordinary is to behold there depressed 
and degraded, the glorious and pyramidal magnolia grandiflora, 
associated amongst these vile dwarfs, and even some of them rising 



above it, though not five feet high ; yet still showing large and expan- 
sive white fragrant blossoms" (ibid., pp. 169-70). Chateaubriand 
semble bien avoir combine" ces deux passages, non sans transformer 
en arbres majestueux les arbustes rabougris qu'avait vus Bartram. 

E) Pour embellir encore ces retraites, Pine*puisable main du Cre*ateur 
y fit une multitude d'animaux, dont les jeux et les amours re*pandent la vie 
de toutes parts. De I'extr&nite* des avenues, on apergoit des ours enivre*s 
de raisins, qui chancellent sur les branches des ormeaux; des troupes de 
cariboux se baignent dans un lac, des e"cureuils noirs se jouent dans Fe*paisseur 
des feuillages; des oiseaux moqueurs, des colombes virginiennes, de la gros- 
seur d'un passereau, descendent sur les gazons rougis par les f raises; des 
perroquets verds a t6te jaune, des pi verts empourpre"s, des cardinaux de feu, 
grimpent en circulant, au haut des cypr&s; des colibris e*tincellent sur le 
jasmin des Florides, et des serpents oiseleurs sifflent suspendus aux domes 
des bois, en s'y balangant comme des festons de lianes. 

Chateaubriand a suffisament justifie* en invoquant Fautorite* 
de Charlevoix "les ours ivres de raisins qui chancellent sur les 
branches des ormeaux." Je citerai cependant le t&noignage du 
voyageur anglais Thomas Ansbury qui parlant de Fours du Canada 
a e*crit: "II aime avec passion le raisin et, pour en avoir, il grimpe 
au sommet des arbres les plus eleves. Apres qu'il s'en est nourri 
quelque temps sa chair devient delicieuse et continue de Petre 
jusqu' au printemps" (T. Ansbury, I, 166). 

L'e*cureuil noir est bien connu, c'est le "scurius niger, trs pre*- 
judiciable aux bleds de la campagne" (Casteby, II, 73). 

L'oiseau moqueur ou "mocking bird" est le "turdus minor 
qu'Hernandes a raison d'appeler le roi de tous les oiseaux chantants, 
.... son ramage est vane* a 1'infini. II fait entrer dans la composi- 
tion de ses airs les chants de tous les oiseaux" (ibid., I, 27). 

La colombe virginienne est la "ground dove, petite tourterelle 
tachete'e . . . . le poids de cet oiseau est d'une once et demie, et 

la grosseur celle d'une alouette Us vivent dans la partie 

basse des pays vers la mer. Ces oiseaux volent en troupe, ils s'arre*- 
tent souvent et se reposent ordinairement sur la terre" (ibid., I, 26). 
Son nom scientifique d'apres Coues est columba passerina terrestris. 

Au nombre des productions de la Virginie qui pour lui s'e"tend 
jusqu'au Missouri, Jefferson indique les "scarlet strawberries" 
(The Writings of Thomas Jefferson, Washington 1903, II, 49-53). 



"The native strawberry is found in these places in the greatest 
abundance," dit Imlay (p. 36); et il ajoute ailleurs: "Scarlet 
strawberries; fragaria virginiana; of an excellent flavor, and so 
plentiful, that from the beginning of April the savannahs appear 
quite red with them" (Imlay, p. 266). 

Les perroquets verts a tete jaune sur les bords du Mississipi ont 
exerce" la verve de plusieurs critiques. On les verra represented 
dans Pouvrage de Casteby. "II a le devant de la tete couleur 
d'orange; le derriere de la tete et le col jaune, tout le reste de Poiseau 
parait verd," dit le vieux naturaliste (Casteby, I, 11). On s'est 
fort moque" de ces perroquets qui auraient fre"quente* les bords du 
Mississipi. Au commencement du XIX 6 siecle, on en trouvait 
cependant encore quelquefois aux environs de Cincinnati. Voir sur 
ce point Daniel Drake, Notices concerning Cincinnati, 1810, reim- 
prim6 dans les Quarterly Publications of the Historical and Philo- 
sophical Society of Ohio, Vol. Ill, Ho. 1, p. 16. Imlay (p. 319) cite 
le perroquet, un animal qui ressemble en tout au parrot, mais plus 
petit, au nombre des animaux qui fre"quentent les bords de FOhio. 
J'emprunte le passage suivant a Coues, j'espere qu'il paraitra 
concluant : 

L'opinion re"pandue que les perroquets sont des oiseaux des Tropiques 
est une grave erreur. Dans l'Ame*rique du Nord, le Perroquet de la Caro- 
line, Conurus Carolinensis, au commencement du siecle, se trouvait en e"te" 
j usque sur les rivages de PErie* et de P Ontario; dans les quarante dernieres 
ann^es, suivant des te'moins dignes de foi, il remontait jusqu' a Pembouchure 
de POhio, bien que maintenant son territoire soit tres diminue" et qu'il ne 
se trouve plus que pres du golfe du Mexique (Coues, p. 617). 

A la page meme ou Casteby donnait une gravure representant 
le perroquet verd a tete jaune, s'en trouve une autre representant 
le Cypres d'Ame'rique: "sa situation invite un grand nombre 
d'oiseaux a se loger sur ses branches pour y multiplier leur espece" 
(Casteby, I, 11), notation dont Chateaubriand a fait imme*diatement 
son profit comme on peut le voir par son texte. 

Le cardinal ou cardinalis habite le sud-ouest des Etats-Unis 
et se trouve de fac.on permanente dans les Etats du Golfe. "II 
fre"quente les buissons, les lianes, les arbres bas et e"pais, les fourre*s 
et se fait remarquer par son activite* inlassable" (Casteby, I, 38; 

Coues, p. 455). 



Casteby a repre*sente le Picus niger maximus capite rubro (I, 17- 
19) ; Carver a decrit le meme oiseau, " qui," dit-il, " a le plumage noir 
par tout le corps excepte la t6te et le cou qui sont rouges," et le 
traducteur frangais a ajoute* en note: "c'est le Pic a domino rouge 
d&rit par Edwards" (Carver, p. 360). 

On pourrait opposer aux critiques de Mersenne bien des pages 
tirees des voyageurs frangais ou americains et qui confirmeraient 
1'impression de splendeur et de richesse luxuriante laisse*e par le 
tableau de Chateaubriand, je ne citerai que quelques lignes em- 
pruntees a Brackenridge qui visita le haut Mississipi en 1794 et 
qui en a trace* une description enthousiaste publie*e seulement en 1834: 

We gathered the wild pea vines and made ourselves soft beds under the 
shades of the trees, which stretched their giant vine-clad limbs over the 
stream. Flocks of screaming paroquets frequently lighted over our heads, 
and the humming birds attracted by the neighbouring honeysuckles came 
whizzing and buzzing around us (Brackenridge, p. 34). 


Nous ne reviendrons pas ici sur la question si discutee du voyage 
de Chateaubriand en Ame*rique, nous reservant de le faire ailleurs 
et en detail. La seule conclusion que nous puissions tirer des rap- 
prochements que nous venons d'indiquer c'est que le paysage du 
Mississipi a change de f agon considerable durant les premieres anne*es 
du XIX e siecle. Si aux environs de 1830 on ne voyait plus ni he*rons 
bleus, ni buffles, ni serpents verts, la faute en e*tait uniquement a 
1'homme, devant qui la vie sauvage s'e*tait retire*e, et non a Chateau- 
briand. Le Mississipi qu'il pretend de*crire n'est du reste pas le 
Mississipi de 1830, ni meme celui de 1791, c'est "le Mississipi de 
La Salle et de Charlevoix," comme il 1'a dit lui-m&ne. Si done nous 
voulons juger Chateaubriand selon les regies de la methode historique, 
il nous faudra tout d'abord chercher a reconstituer le paysage depuis 
longtemps disparu. Si Ton se place a ce point de vue, et en bonne 
justice on doit le faire, bien des reproches adresse*s a Chateaubriand 
par des voyageurs venus longtemps aprs lui ou par des critiques 
mal informe*s, perdront toute valeur. L'auteur d'Atala a pu jemanier 
d'autorite quelques textes, comme Pavait soupgonne* Sainte-Beuve, 
il a pu transporter sur les bords du Mississipi quelques plantes comme 
le pistia stratiotes qui ne se voyaient qu'en Floride, il n 'en reste pas 



moins que, dans Pensemble, sa documentation est aussi exacte que 
peuvent le souhaiter les plus exigeants. II avait parfaitement le 
droit de re*pondre avec quelque hauteur dedaigneuse a Pabbe Morellet 
et au critique de la Decade philosophique, politique et litteraire; s'il 
avait voulu se justifier, il aurait pu le faire aise*ment. 

Get article e*tait de*ja sous presse quand on m'a signale* 1'existence d'une 
Edition d'Atala publie"e par M. Timothy Cloran, professeur de langues 
romanes a FUniversite* d'0r6gon (Jenkins, New York, 1911), et qui contient 
des notes Erudites et nombreuses dont je regrette de n'avoir pu faire usage. 
M. Cloran a tres soigneusement e"tudie" la geographic du Prologue tfAtala en 
se servant de Charlevoix et de Carver, il cite Bartram comme 1'autorite* 
de Chateaubriand pour les vignes sauvages, les coloquintes, le tulipier, le 
magnolia, etc. II a retrouve* chez Carver, p. 485, les serpents-oiseleurs que 
je n'avais recontr6 ni chez Casteby, ni chez Bartram. Je tiens a signaler 
ici la priorite* de M. Cloran et a attirer 1'attention sur son travail qui vient 
confirmer cette e*tude sur plusieurs points. 




Writing thirty years after the event, Corneille asserts that he had 
never heard of the rules governing dramatic composition when he 
wrote his first play. 1 However, we find him citing Horace, and/ 
apparently from memory, in the preface of Clitandre published in 
1632 (I, 261). Two years later in the preface of La Veuve he is evi- 
dently much concerned with the question of the unities and he 
promises: "Quelque jour je m'expliquerai da vantage sur ces mati- 
eres" (I, 378). In 1637, at the time when the Academy was at work 
upon its Sentiments sur le Cid, La Suivante was published. In its 
preface Corneille cites: le docte Scaliger. He declares: "j'aime a 
suivre les regies," and he hopes once more: "un jour traiter ces 
matieres plus a fond" (II, 119). The quarrel of the Cid directed 
forcibly his attention to the doctrinaires 2 and marked a turning- 
point in his career as a dramatist. His letter to M. de Zuylichem 
states the matter very clearly. Corneille is speaking of the first 
volume of the 1648 edition of his works which contained the plays 
composed before the Cid: "Ce sont les peches de ma jeunesse et les 
coups d'essai d'une muse de province qui se laissoit conduire aux 
lumieres purement naturelles, et n'avoit pas encore fait reflexion 
qu'il y avoit un art de la trage"die" (X, 449 f.). While this state- 
ment should not perhaps be taken too literally, it is evident that 
Corneille, himself, divided his work into two parts, of which one was") 
composed before, the other after he had taken up the study of the \ 
art of tragic composition. -J 

Just how assiduously he studied this art which had been finally 
revealed to him must be largely a matter for conjecture, because his 
writings prior to the publication of the Trois discours* (1660) contain 
but few indications. In the preface to Heraclius (1647) he cites the ( 

i (Enures, Paris, 1862, I, 137. 

1 See A. GastS, La Querelle du Cid, Paris, 1898. Lettre apologetique du Sieur forneille 
contenant aa responce aux Observations faites par le Sieur Scuderi sur le Cid, pp. 147 flf. ; 
and La Preuve des passages alleguez dans les Observations sur le Cid (Scude"ry), pp. 219 flf. 

1 " Discours de I'utilitS et des parties du poeme dramatique " ; " Discours de la tragS- 
die"; "Discours des trois unites," (Euvres, Paris, 1862, I, 13 flf., 52 flf., 98 flf. 
169] 41 [MODERN PHILOLOGY, July, 1915 


"Latin terms (extra fabulam) of the interpreters of Aristotle" (V, 
146). The Avertissement of the 1648 edition of the Cid speaks of the 
different interpretations of Aristotle's text given by the philosophers 
(i.e., the commentators) : " qui le tirent chacun a leur parti dans leurs 
opinions contraires" (III, 85), and in the same connection he makes 
a very clear allusion to a page of Robortelli: "un des plus doctes 
commentateurs de ce divin traite*" (III, 86). In a letter of 1650 to 
M. de Zuylichem he claims to be speaking "le langage d'Aristote" 
(X, 454) and the 1/JpUre of Don Sanche, published the same year, cites 
a definition from the commentary of Averroes on Aristotle 1 along with 
/ a reference to Heinsius. 

The studies which these statements suggest entered into the com- 
position of Corneille's theoretical writings, the Examens and Les trois 
Discours, which were incorporated for the first time in the collective 
edition of his works published in 1660. He declares near the end of 
his first Discours: "Je tache de suivre toujours le sentiment d'Aris- 
tote," and he cites the following commentators as auxiliaries in his 
quest for the real meaning of some of the statements contained in the 
Ars Poetica: Robortelli, 2 Vettori, 3 HeinsiusT 4 Ca^eTvetro7 Beni, 6 and 
Minturno. 7 But he insists that these "interpreters" have often 
"explained" Aristotle and Horace "only as grammarians or phi- 
losophers" and he declares: "Le commentaire dont je m'y sers le 
plus est l'expe*rience du theatre et les reflexions sur ce que j'ai vu y 
plaire ou de*plaire" (I, 51). We shall not attempt to determine 
exactly to what extent these conflicting statements are to be taken 
literally. It would be merely a matter of patience to tabulate our 
reading notes and show that on all points, save possibly in the intro- 
duction of the love element in tragedy and a few minor details of 
doctrine and stagecraft, Corneille was in substantial conformity with 

1 Corneille was probably indebted for this bit of erudition to Robortelli, who quotes 
Averroes very frequently throughout his commentary. 

* In Librum de Arte Poetica Explicationes, Florentiae, 1548. 

* In primum Librum de Arte Poetarum Commentarii, Florentiae, 1573. 
De Tragoediae Constitution, Lugduni Batavorum, 1611. 

5 La Poetica d'Aristotile, vulgarizzata e sposta, Basilea, 1576. 

8 In Aristotelis Poeticam, Commentarii, Padova, 1613. 

7 De Poeta, Venetia, 1559. 

There are also some passages which seem reminiscent of Piccolomini, Annotation* 
nel Libra della Poetica, Vinegia, 1575; Corneille seems to have had a special predilection 
for Robortelll, Castelvetro, and Minturno. 



these authorities whom he treats so disdainfully. We shall limit 
ourselves to the consideration of those few cardinal or working prin- 
ciples to which were due Corneille's successes and failures as a 
dramatic poet. 

Lanson considers Corneille " ve*ritablement original et novateur" 
in his definition of the unity of action; for, while d'Aubignac had 
preceded him in the formulation of the rule, the poet had first exem- 
plified it in his works. 1 This is Corneille's definition: "I/unite 
d'action consiste, dans la come"die, en Punite d'intrique, ou d'obstacle 
aux desseins des principaux acteurs, et en Punite" de peril dans la 
tragSdie, soit que son heros y succombe, soit qu'il en sorte. Ce n'est 
pas que je pretende qu'on ne puisse admettre plusieurs perils dans 
Pune, et plusieurs intriques ou obstacles dans Pautre, pourvu que de 
Fun on tombe ne*cessairement dans 1'autre" (I, 98). And this is 
what Castelvetro has to say, after dilating upon the necessity of the 
tragic or comic action being one and complete, with a beginning, 
middle, and end, according to the consecrated formula: "Adunque 
& cosa manifesta che le solutioni delle favole deono avenire per la 
favola stessa, cio &, che Puscita dei pericoli, & che i cessamenti delle 
difficulta sopravenute nella favola deono avenire per messo delle cose 
della favola, che di necessita, o di verisimilitudine seguitono dopo i 
pericoli, o le difficulta" (p. 332). 

The idea of the tragedy as a problem, as a product of literary art 
which strives to "exposer les moyens par lesquels le fait illustre, qui 
est le sujet tragique, est produit, a mettre sous les yeux du public le 
jeu de sentiments et de passions qui, concourant ou s'opposant, 
travailient a retarder ou amener PeVenement final," and which, 
according to Lanson (loc. cit.), "est, dans la technique du theatre, la 
grande invention de Corneille, Pide"e par laquelle il est le vrai fonda- 
teur du theatre frangais," is all contained, at least in the germ, in 
this passage of Vettori: "Qui mores optime in personis exprimere 
scierit, aliosque post alios pro eorum natura, ex verisimile effingere, 
facile inveniet solutionem fabulae, tota enim pendet ex personarum 
moribus; vitabitque erratum, in quo saepe veteres poetae inci^erunt, 
qui per machinam inducentes Deos Deasque, solvunt fabulam atque 
exodum, quae ultima est tragoediae pars, conficiunt. Nam solutio 

1 Corneille ("Les grands Scrivains frangais"), Paris, 1898, p. 65. 



fabulae, est ipsa exodus seu exitus fabulae; exitus vero debet deduci 
ex praecedentibus moribus, non quibusvis, sed qui magis accommo- 
dati ad solvendam fabulam videbantur" (p. 176). 

Equally characteristic is Corneille's interpretation (not often 
followed in his practice), of the rule of twenty-four hours : " La repre*- 
sentation dure deux heures et ressembleroit parfaitement si Faction 
qu'elle repre*sente ne demandoit pas davantage pour sa re"alite*. 
Ainsi ne nous arretons point ni aux douze ni aux vingt-quatre heures; 
mais resserrons Faction du poeme dans la moindre dure"e possible, 
afin que sa representation ressemble mieux et soit plus parfaite" (I, 
113). "Voila," says Lanson (op. cit., p. 64), "le principe rigoureux: 
le portrait le plus vrai est celui qui est grandeur nature. 19 Now Castel- 
vetro says the same thing and in terms quite similar to those of both 
Corneille and Lanson : " Delia grandezza della favola, che sottoposta 
ai sensi .... e da dire, che sia tanta, quanta sarebbe quella d'un 
caso fortunoso degno d'historia, che avenisse veramente, essendo di 
necessita, che corra tanto tempo in rappresentare questo caso della 
favola imaginato .... quanto corse in simile caso, o correbbere, 
mentre veramente avenne o avenisse. Perche si puo dire, che la 
grandezza della favola, la quale e cosa artificiale, in quanto e sotto- 
posta ai sensi, sia uguale alia grandezza della verita del caso fortunoso, 
& che ella tenga quel luogo, che tiene, pogniamo, la figura, quanto e 
d'uguale grandezza all' huomo vivo figurato" (p. 163). l 

The one thing which, according to Lanson (op. cit., p. 71), reveals 
better than anything else "la nature originate" of French tragedy, 
and in which Corneille entered into conscious opposition to Aris- 
totle, is his insistence that the highest type of tragic action is that 
action in which the parties involved know what they are doing, and 
will to do what they do (I, 63). While it must be conceded that 
Corneille formulated here with more force and precision than his 
predecessors, he did not lack for a precedent. Castelvetro, after a 
laborious analysis of the different types of plot and their relative 
merits, closes the series with this conclusion: "La favola volontaria 
.... nella quale la mutatione dello stato si fa in alcuno di sua 
volonta . . . . e piu a lodare che la necessaria" (p. 312) . 2 

1 About the same statement, except for the comparison with the life-size portrait, is 
found in Vettori, p. 79. 

2 That iSi one in which the solution is brought about by external or involuntary 



Here are two or three points of a less general nature which may 
be taken as fairly typical. In discussing the denouement, Corneille 
remarks: "Nous devons garder toutefois que ce consentiment [i.e., 
solution of the plot in comedy] ne vienne pas par un simple change- 
ment de volonte*, mais par un e*ve*nement qui en fournisse Foccasion. 
II n'y auroit grand artifice au denouement d'une pi&ce, si, apres 
1'avoir soutenue durant quatre actes sur 1'autorite d'un pre qui 
n'approuve pas les inclinations amoureuses de son fils ou de sa fille, 
il y consentiroit tout d'un coup au cinquieme" (1, 27) . The same idea 
is expressed in strikingly similar language by Vettori: " Recte autem 
concludit agnitiones factas a poeta arte carere: nullum magnum 
artificium poetae requirit, hoc aut illud ponere in ore alicujus per- 
sonae, quod valeat ad efficiendum quod illi volunt" (p. 158). Cor- 
neille's definition of the necessaire: "Je dis done que le ne"cessaire, 
en ce qui regarde la poe*sie, n'est autre chose que le besoin du poete 
pour arriver a son but, ou pour y faire arriver ses acteurs" (I, 94), 
finds its parallel in Castelvetro's defense of Dante who had made 

r irgil descend to limbo during the war between Caesar and Pompey : 
a thing manifestly impossible, since Virgil was not dead at that time. 
However it serves in the formation of the plot and should therefore 
accepted (p. 565). * In the following instance Corneille seems to 
have consulted Castelvetro without however taking advantage of all 
the latitude which his Italian forerunner would allow. At the close 
of his long discussion of the vraisemblable and the necessaire, he seeks 
to formulate a principle regarding the extent to which a poet may go 
in the invention of surprising details. He arrives at the conclusion 
that the poet must not invent any which are more extraordinary than 
the historical details contained in the same poem. He adds that this 
contrary to the opinion of those who believe that such improbable 
inventions are proper if one can find any parallel for them in history 
or mythology, even though one has to search for them outside of the 

ibject being treated (I, 97). This must be a reference to the follow- 
ing passage of Castelvetro: "Egli & vero, che bisogna, accioche le 
cose avenevoli, & non avenute ancora sieno verisimili, & credibili, o 
che sieno simili a quelle, che sono avenute altra volta, o a quelle, che 
havevano minore verisimilitudine di dovere avenire, & non dimeno 

1 Castelvetro illustrates his point further by reference to some of the Greek tragedies ; 
Corneille cites his own. 



sono avenute, o almeno che le parti d'esse, o le particelli sieno simili 
a quelli parti, o particelli, che sono avenute in diversi accidenti a 
diverse persone" (p. 186). 

Near the beginning of his first Discours, Corneille gives expression 
to the doctrine to which is due much of what is most characteristic 
in his work: "Les grands sujets qui remuent fortement les passions, 
et en opposent l'impe*tuosite* aux lois du devoir ou aux tendresses du 
sang, doivent toujours aller au dela du vraisemblable " (I, 15). This 
was not only in accord with the poetic art of the ancients, as Lanson 
states (op. cit.y p. 67), but it is insisted upon by practically all the 
Italian doctrinaires; by Castelvetro, for example: " La compassione, 
& lo spavento sono richiesti alia tragedia. Ma 1'una & Paltre cose 
ricevono accrescimento grandissimo, quando oltre alle predette 
qualita sono anchora maravigliose, percioche la maraviglia & il colmo 
dello spavento, & della compassione " (p. 232). l Corneille insisted 
that the poet must derive this improbable subject-matter from his- 
tory because these "great subjects" "ne trouveroient aucune croy- 
ance parmi les auditeurs, s'ils n'e"toient soutenus, ou par 1'autorite" 
de 1'histoire qui persuade avec empire, ou par la preoccupation de 
1'opinion commune qui nous donne ces memes auditeurs de*ja per- 
suades" (1, 15). Here, too, he could find ample confirmation and 
perhaps sources in the authorities whom he avowedly consulted : as, 
for example, in the following passage from Robortelli: "Necesse est 
igitur, ut sciant (spectatores) prius rem ita cecidisse; quod si fabula 
tragica actionem contineat, quae non acta sit, neque sit vera, sed 
ab ipso poeta fuerit afficta secundum verisimile, commovebit fortasse 
animos audientium, at minus certe, nam verisimilia si nos oblectant, 
oblectatio omnis inde provenit, quod in veris inesse ea scimus; & 
omnino quatenus verisimile veritatis est particeps vim habet movendi 

ac persuadendi Verisimilia nos movent quia fieri potuisse 

credimus ita rem accidisse. Vera nos movent quia scimus ita acci- 
disse, id totum arripit a vero" (p. 93) . 2 

Thus far Corneille may fairly be said to have been guided. Here 
are two important instances in which he may well have been mis- 
guided. The farther the poet proceeds in his career as a dramatist, 

i Cf. Robortelli, p. 294; Minturno, pp. 121, 124; Vettori, p. 119. 
Cf. Castelvetro, pp. 188 f., 205, 212, 383; Vettori, p. 95. 



the more one notes in him the tendency to "fix up " dramatic situa- 
tions. In the Examens and Prefaces of his later plays, one comes 
more and more frequently upon passages like this, where, in speaking 
of Rodogune (1644), he admits that his predilection for this par- 
ticular play is due to "les incidents surprenants et qui sont purement 
de mon invention, et n'avoient jamais e*te vus au theatre" (IV, 421) ; 
or, in the Preface to Othon (1664), where he declares that he had, up 
to that time, produced no tragedy in which there was a greater dis- 
play of his " invention" (VI, 571). Such statements recall very 
forcibly this precept given by Robortelli: "Si videatur (exodum) 
non posse deduci ex praecedentibus, ingeniosus, peritusque poeta 
debebit excogitare aliquid verisimile, quod cum iis, quae ante dicta 
sunt, sit conjunctum quasi pars ex quo deducat exodum seu solu- 
tionem fabulae, id vero sit multis modis" (p. 176). A still more 
conclusive bit of evidence that Corneille sought at least confirmation 
for his procedures, along this particular line, is to be found in the 
last sentence of the Preface to Sertorius (1662), where, seeking indul- 
gence for a breach of verisimilitude, he asserts: "Vous n'en serez 
desavoue* par Aristote, qui souffre qu'on mette quelquefois des choses 
sans raison sur le theatre, quand il y a apparence qu'elles seront bien 
regues, et qu'on a lieu d'espe*rer que ces avantages que le poeme en 
tirera pourront meriter cette grace" (VI, 363). Corneille's editor, 
Marty-Laveaux, notes with some surprise that nothing in the Ars 
Poetica quite corresponds to this statement of the poet. But it does 
occur in Castelvetro, who, like Corneille, claims to have deduced it 
from Aristotle's treatise: "Ultimamente la predetta seconda, o 
quarta maniera d' impossibilita si puo fingere per lo poeta, con tutto 
che non sia informata di ragione, ne accompagnata da molti beni, ne 
ricoperta da ignoranza degna di scusa, quando opera il fine della 
poetica, cio e giova alia constitutione della favola" (p. 619). 

The next and last point which we shall consider exerted a more 
and more important influence upon Corneille's dramatic production. 
Corneille at least implies that he is giving an original interpretation 
to Aristotle's precept regarding the average goodness required of 
tragic characters: "S'il m'est permis de dire mes conjecture* sur ce 
qu' Aristote nous demande par la (la bont6 des moeurs), je crois 
que c'est le caractre brillant et e*lev d'une habitude vertueuse ou 



criminelle, selon qu'elle est propre et convenable & la personne qu'on 
introduit" (I, 31 f.). Now Robortelli, whom, moreover, Corneille 
cites in this very connection (p. 33), had arrived at precisely the same 
interpretation: "Sed Aristotelis in tradendis praeceptionibus tragoe- 
diae actionis, personaeque deligendae, quae apta sit ad tragoediam, 
specimen capit a praestantissima actione & persona, quae sibi videtur 
aptissima" (p. 133); and again, after adducing numerous examples 
from the ancients: "Eodem modo censenda est apta ad tragoediam 
persona, quae fortitudine corporis sit praedita; sed summa iniquitate, 
& crudelitate insignis hujus personae exemplum non apposuit Aris- 
totelis, sed a nobis facile potest proferri" (p. 219). Castelvetro held 
the same view: "lo non posso comprendere, come la persona di san- 
tissima vita, trapassando da felicita a miseria, non generi spavento, 
& compassione, & molto maggiori anchora, che non fa la (persona) 
mezzana." 1 After dilating upon this idea, Castelvetro applies the 
same line of reasoning to vicious characters and then concludes for 
both classes: "Si che puo non meno il trapassamento del malvagio 
da miseria a felicita generare spavento & compassione, che il trapassa- 
mento del giusto da felicita a miseria" (p. 279). 

It will be remembered that after the Cid (end of 1636) Corneille 
produced nothing until the end of the dramatic season of 1640-41. 
Then he came forward with two plays which, in spite of their great- 
ness as tragedies, may be regarded as experiments; one, Cinna, 
a conspiracy tragedy, ending in the exit of the hero from peril by 
means of a reconciliation, without bloodshed or catastrophe; the 
other, Horace, ending in the exit from peril of the hero by means 
of the killing in duel of his friends and brothers followed by the mur- 
der of his sister. These two plays were followed (1642 or 1643) by 
Polyeucte in which the tragic situation is quite as extraordinary 
as that of Horace, and whose hero presents the type of a flawless 
character. According to a familiar tradition, Corneille, before risk- 
ing his tragedy on the stage, read it at the H6tel de Rambouillet, 
whose guests objected to the sanctity of the hero. In spite of their 
adverse comment the play succeeded. While we have no proof at 
hand, it is reasonable to suppose that it was in the face of this criti- 

1 Corneille presents the same point of view in the Examen of Polyeucte (III, 479) 
where he cites in support Minturno, pp. 182 f. 



cism and of this success that Corneille sought and found confirma- 
tion for his procedure in the passage of Minturno, which he cites in 
his Examen, written some seventeen years later. At any rate, from 
this time on, the trend toward the extraordinary, in character as well 
as in situation, becomes more and more strongly marked in his 
tragedies. It appears even to some extent in his very next play of 
the following year, La Mori de Pompee, in which two of the principal 
characters (Ce*sar and Cornelie) showed traits so extreme as to draw 
down upon them the savage raillery of Racine in the preface of 
Brittanicus, 1 which was published a few years later. Nor can it be 
entirely fortuitous that his next two dramatic works are comedies, 
Le Menteur and its sequel (La Suite du Menteur), in which the leading 
character is an embodiment of "Phabitude vicieuse de mentir." 
Corneille again seems to be experimenting, to be "trying out" in a 
less elevated form of dramatic composition, his idea of an extreme, 
vicious character before risking it in the tragedy. This inpression 
is confirmed by the satisfaction which the poet seems to find in the 
fact that, although La Suite du Menteur had been "mieux e*crite," it 
had not, nevertheless, pleased the public as well as had Le Menteur, 
and that the hero had lost, at the same time with his "bad habits," 
"almost all his graces" (IV, 280). In his next play, Rodogune 
(1644) he ventures, finally, to present a tragic heroine who is "tres- 
mechante" and who recoils before no crime to attain her ends. In 
his Examen, written some fifteen years later, he declares that to this 
play, among all those which he had hitherto composed, "j'aurois 
volontiers donne* mon suffrage, si je n'avois craint de manquer de 
quelque sorte, au respect que je devois a ceux que je voyois pencher 
d'un autre cot<" (IV, 420). 

After his Rodogune, Corneille's predilection for extraordinary 
situations and extraordinary characters is very strongly marked, 
and after that play his productions begin to have less attraction for 
the public. It was, finally, this predilection that led directly to the 
failure of Pertharite and his first retirement from dramatic composi- 
tion, as he himself confesses, with some bitterness: "Ce qui 1'a fait 
avorter au theatre a e*te* Pe"ve*nement extraordinaire qui m Tavoit 
fait choisir" (VI, 17) . 2 To the same cause are due those other 

1 (Euvres, Paris, 1885, II, 254 f. 

2 And especially the extraordinarily virtuous character of the hero; see below. 



characters of his final period of composition, which elicited the biting 
sarcasm of Racine (loc. tit.), who accused him of having " betrayed 
common sense" and of having "abandoned the natural to plunge 
into the extraordinary." This explains the long, sometimes broken, 
but always dropping, curve which leads from Rodogune (1644) to 
Surena (1674), which was so complete a failure, that the poet had 
the heart to write only three sentences in his Preface, of which 
here are the two which bear upon our thesis: "Le sujet de cette 
trage"die est tire* de Plutarque et d'Appian Alexandrin. Us disaient 
tous que Sure*na e*toit le plus noble, le plus riche, le mieuxfait et le plus 
vaillant des Parthes" (VII, 460). 

It is quite possible that Corneille discovered in the doctrines of 
these Italian theorists only what he had already observed in practice, 
although it hardly seems probable. We may at least accept Lanson's 
statement that he did "what he wanted to do" (op. tit., p. 61); only 
we shall have to add that really he carried his independence too far. 
In doing this he sought confirmation in these Italian doctrinaires, 
who thereby exerted a greater influence upon him than is generally 
placed to their credit, or, if one prefers, to their discredit. But our 
findings do not conform to Lanson's other assertion that Corneille was 
"docile to the indications of the public" (loc. tit.) unless indeed it be 
limited to a relatively short period of his career, i.e., for a few years 
preceding and following the Cid. The discussion to which that play 
gave rise convinced him of the necessity of adopting certain rules 
and especially of concentrating his dramatic materials. Since he 
avowedly studied, during the period that followed, these Italian expo- 
nents of Aristotle (see above) whose doctrines or interpretations of 
doctrines we have confronted with his, he must have derived more or 
less assistance from them, although he may have become unconscious 
of it, at the time when he wrote his Discours and Examens. His 
great successes followed rapidly and his docility diminished accord- 
ingly. 1 He becomes more determined to proceed along the way most 
congenial to him and he gradually assumes the attitude that his 
audiences, like his stage heroes, shall be what they ought to be, 
instead of being what they are. He rails at them for having hissed 
the too perfect husband, Pertharite, on the ground that "les vertus 
de bon mari sont peu a la mode" (VI, 17). 

Note his preference for Rodogune in the passage cited above. 




In the discomfitures, at first partial, and then complete, which 
came to him, it was only natural that he should turn again to the 
sources which had confirmed him in his successes: 1 they confirmed 
him now in his obedience to certain dramatic principles which led 
to his defeats. Hence, if the latter part of his work is relatively a 
failure, it is very largely because, lawyer-like, he sought justification 
for his methods in opinions and interpretations of the law emitted 
by these earlier doctrinaires, instead of letting himself be guided by 
that intercourse with the theater, the court, and the town, which 
shaped so happily the work of Moliere, his friend, and of Racine, his 
victorious rival. 



1 Notably for Polyeucte; see above. 




In an inedited and little-known manuscript (Nouv. Acquis. 481) 
in the Bibliotheque Nationale of Paris, there is a curious collection 
of early sixteenth-century mysteres which from a literary point of 
view, perhaps, merit the little attention they have received. The 
plays have, however, a genuine interest for the student of the early 
drama, or for one who cares about the later history of mediaeval 
romance. In general the material for either investigator has been 
made accessible by a Greifswald dissertation, Untersuchungen fiber 
Jean Louvets 12 Mysterien zu Ehren von Notre Dame de Liesse, 1900, 
by Wilhelm Lohmann. In this, Dr. Lohmann gave a re*sum6 of each 
play and made some attempt to identify its sources. As he failed 
to identify the second play, and as it is of interest both for its primi- 
tive dramatic technique, which is more suggestive of the fourteenth 
than of the sixteenth century, and for its evidence as to the passing of 
a story from romance to exemplum, and from exemplum to drama, it 
has seemed worth while to consider the matter at more length. 

In regard to the author little is known beyond the fact recorded 
in the manuscript that in 1541-49 he was "serjent a verge au Chaste- 
let" and that his plays were produced in Paris from 1536 to 1550. 
Dr. Lohmann seems to have proved that Petit de Julleville 1 was 
wrong in denying the identity of the author of these mysteres with 
the Jean Lou vet "operateur aux fleurs" who was in 1540 one of the 
"Entrepreneurs" of the Actes. des Apostres given by the Parisian 
Confre"rie de la Passion. Beyond this little or nothing is known. 
From the plays themselves, which are obviously written to appeal to 
an audience whose credulity was as great as its humor was rough, we 
may infer that their author was of distinctly bourgeois taste and 

Knowledge of the confrerie for which Louvet wrote these^ mys- 
teres comes largely from the notices heading the individual plays. 

1 Untersuchungen ( = L.), pp. 1-10. Cf. Petit de Julleville, Les Mysteres, II, 608. 
Lohmann's arguments are accepted by Creizenach, Geschichte des neueren Dramas, III, 15. 
181] 53 [ MODERN PHILOLOGY, July, 1915 


Other confreries in France were similarly dedicated to Notre Dame 
de Liesse, 1 but no evidence of any connection between them has so 
far been adduced. In Liesse, a small town northeast of Laon, was the 
famous miracle-working statue of the Virgin which inspired the 
formation of these confreries and the coming of countless pilgrims. 
The Paris confre*rie with which Louvet was connected seems to have 
been small. The largest number of speaking parts in any of his 
plays is eighteen, and it is evident that by doubling the roles a much 
smaller number of actors could handle the play. The incomplete list 
of names at the end of Play III seems to establish the fact that 
women belonged to the confrerie and that at least three of them took 
part in this particular play which was "faiet et compose" in 1538. 
The plays were given annually; the dates for the most part are 
indicated in the manuscript. They were commonly acted in the 
hall of the confrere. Play VIII has: "joue* au siege de ladite con- 
frarie en la salle de Postel rue vielle Tixirranderie, 1543." As Dr. 
Lohmann points out, this was "in unmittelbarer Nahe des Hotel de 
Ville, ebenso wie die Chapelle du Saint Esprit in der die confrerie 
gegrundet war" (cf. Plays IV and IX). The stage properties seem 
to have been of the simplest sort. 2 

As to the plays, Dr. Lohmann divides them into four groups: 
I, Solche Stiicke die ernste romanartige Stoffe enthalten; II, Stticke 
die vermutlich humoristisch gefarbten Legenden ihre Entstehung 
verdanken; III, Stiicke die Lokallegenden von durchweg ernstem 
Charakter nachgedichtet; IV, solche Stiicke die frei erfunden zu 
sein scheinen." The second play Dr. Lohmann rightly classified as 
belonging to the first group but he was at a loss for a more specific 
identification: "Wie man aus der folgenden Inhaltsgabe entnehmen 
kann, finden sich in demselben Anklange an die Sage von Amis et 

1 It., p. 95, quotes from a Histoire de Notre Dame de Liesse, Liesse (no date): "Paris 
avait autrefois une confr6rie sous le nom de Notre Dame de L. Une grand nombre 
d'autres villes de France se sont Sgalement vouees a Notre Dame de L." The confrgrie 
existed until the Revolution; it was re-established in 1793. 

Another confrgrie, similar to that for which Louvet wrote, was the one existing in 
Paris from 1229 to 1426 to which belonged the well-known repertoire of the Cang6 MS, 
ed. by G. Paris and U. Robert, Soc. des anciens Textes frc., 1870. Still others were found 
in Paris, Amiens, Nantes, and Rouen; cf. E. Roy, Etudes sur le Theatre frc. du XIV et du 
XV siede, Paris, 1901, p. 10; E. K. Chambers, Mediaeval Stage, Oxford, 1903, Index, 
"Confrgrie," "Puys." 

3 L., p. 10, gives a list of the few stage directions and the properties noted in the MS. 



Amile, und vielleicht 1st irgend ein auf ihr beruhender Roman die 
Quelle Louvets" (p. 36). 

But there can be no doubt that the ultimate source of the second 
play is the romance of Guy of Warwick. The list of dramatis personae 
with "Guyon, chevalier d'Angleterre," and "Tirius, compagnon de 
Guyon," as its chief personages, is in itself sufficiently suggestive. 
In all the mediaeval versions of Guy, French, 1 English, 2 or even 
Irish, 3 the romance tells the same story as the play: how Guy, the 
pilgrim-warrior, on his return from the Holy Land, fights a duel with 
the persecutor of his old comrade Tirius: how the opponents are 
separated for the night; how Guy, sleeping in the King's care, is 
thrown, bed and all, into the sea by the emissaries of his enemy; 
how he returns next day to accuse and conquer his would-be murderer. 
It is, of course, exactly the same story that is told in the French prose 
version of the romance printed at Paris in 1525 "par Anthoine 
Couteau pour Francoys Regnault, libraire." 4 As Louvet's play is 
dated "Mistere pour Fan mil cinq cens trente sept," there could be 
no special objection to supposing that he might have used this par- 
ticular edition were it not for certain dissimilarities and for the diffi- 
culty of understanding why he should choose this particular series of 
incidents out of the whole long-winded romance. The reason is 
clear only when we return to the direct source of the play, the Guy 
story as it is told in the Gesta Romanorumf 

1 See J. A. Herbert, Romania, XXXV, 69-70; T. A. Jenkins, Mod. Phil., VII, 593, for 
French MSS. They are for the most part inedited. 

2 The English versions are listed by A. Billings, A Guide to English Metrical Romances, 
New York, 1901, p. 31. Cf. Zupitza's edition, Early English Text Society, 1883-91 
(Auch. MS st. 142: Caius 903). 

F. Robinson, Zeitschrift f. Celt. Philologie, VI, 167-81 (1907). 

4 The 1525 edition represents the same version of the Guy story as that in the British 
Museum, MS Royal 15 E VI, fl. 227-72, which was written about 1445. Cf. Ward, 
Catalogue of Romances, I, 488. 

5 Ed. H. Oesterley, Berlin, 1872. In the majority of the continental Latin texts 
the story is given as chap. 172, "De Constantia fldelis anime." In W. Dick's "Die 
Gesta Romanorum nach der Innsbrucker Hds. vom Jahre 1342." Erlanger Beitrdge zu 
Eng. Phil., VII, 1890, it is chap. 194, "De duobus militibus Gidone et Tyrio." It is 
variously numbered in the Anglo-Latin Gesta. In Herbert's Cat. of Romances, III, 209, 
215, it is listed as chap. 70; on p. 219 as chap. 78; on p. 224 as chap. 69 (in these versions 
Guy is called Josias or Rosias); on p. 241 as chap. 72, etc. The connection of the Gesta 
with the romance was pointed out by Warton, Hist. Eng. Poetry, I, 286; by Tanner, Die 
Sage von Guy von Warwick, Untersuchungen Uber ihr Alter u. ihre Geschichte. Diss., Bonn, 



The Gesta version is one of the stock examples for the critic of 
the way in which popular stories, often excerpts from the romances, 
were used as exempla in that amazing "moral" collection. In no 
case, perhaps, is the allegorical explanation tacked on to the end of 
the Gesta tales more naively ridiculous than that which explains 
Guy as Christ; Tirius as man in general; the King's daughter 
into whose care Guy was given as the Virgin Mary; the seven sons 
of the villain as the Seven Deadly Sins; and the fisherman who 
rescued Guy as the Holy Ghost! Difficult as it is to understand the 
ancient popularity of such poor stuff as this and many others of the 
Gesta's moralized tales, the fact of that popularity is not to be ques- 
tioned, nor the influence which it exerted. It would be futile to 
number all the editions of the Gesta which were printed even in the 
one city of Paris in the early sixteenth century, but one may note 
in passing that the British Museum alone has at least ten Paris edi- 
tions dating from 1499 to 1531. 1 Any one of these might have come 
into Louvet's hands, and that he used the Gesta version of Guy is 
shown by the following evidence. 

The Gesta abbreviates Guy's famous history in startling fashion. 
A page or so does for his early life, marriage, and conversion a 
matter of several thousand lines in the Middle English romance; 
five pages describe his meeting with Tirius and his fight with Tirius' 
enemy; two pages do for his return to England and death. The 
emphasis of the Gesta version falls on exactly those incidents which 
reappear in the play and amply explains its choice of material. In 
the Gesta and the play the story is localized in the eastern kingdom 
of Dacia and in the city of Constantinople; in the romance in the 
city of Spires, the present capital of the Rhine Palatinate, Bavaria. 
The latter version motivates the attack of the villain on Tirius by 

1877, p. 39; by Oesterley and Herbert, op. cit.; by Swan, translator of the Gesta, re-ed. 
by Baker, London, 1905, p. 354. 

The fact that the story of Guy and Tirius was of sufficient interest to be singly trans- 
lated is shown by the fifteenth-century German prose text published by P. Mau (Jena, 
1909), under the title Gydo und Thyrus, Ein deutscher Auslaufer des alt franzosich- mitt el- 
englischen Freundschaftsromans " Guy von 'War wick." This translation follows the Latin 
versions of the Gesta tale. It omits the moral. 

1 J. Graesse, Gesta Romanorum, Leipzig, 1905, pp. 306-18, lists some of the early 
editions printed in France, Germany, etc. He notes the French translations printed in 
Paris in the years 1525-29. It is probable that Louvet used the French and not the 
Latin texts. 



making him desirous of revenge on the friend of the man who had 
killed his uncle; in the other two versions it is through jealousy of 
the honors heaped on Tirius by the King. In the play and the Gesta 
the villain's name is Pleb(e)us or Phebus; in the romances he is 
called Besart or Berard. Small as are these differences, the fact that 
Gesta and the play are alike in having them shows their relationship. 
In comparing the two related versions it is seen that they differ 
chiefly in omissions which are clearly due to the need for dramatic 
condensation. Louvet omits the meeting of Guy and Tirius when 
the former returns from his pilgrimage. Guy sees his friend 
approaching the gallows and so learns his situation. In the Gesta, 
as in the romance, he meets Tirius wandering about in misery outside 
the city and learns his story from his own lips. The Gesta has the 
fantastic and dramatically impossible dream episode by which Tirius 
is led to investigate a cave in which he finds the sword destined to 
give Guy victory over his opponent. The play also omits from the 
fights between Guy and Phebus, the incident belonging originally 
to Guy's fight with the Saracen giant Amoraunt, of Guy's courtesy in 
allowing his opponent to drink and refresh himself, a favor which 
Phebus later refused to Guy. Possibly this knightly scene would 
have been beyond the appreciation of Louvet's practical, bourgeois 
audience. Out of regard for the number of his actors, he undoubtedly 
reduced the sons of Phebus from seven to two. He introduced, 
however, these few subordinate characters, a mariner, heathen 
"mamelukes," the executioner, etc., but for such parts not more 
than two actors would have been required. The one important 
addition to the Gesta story which is made in the play is the scene of 
divine intervention which Louvet had necessarily to introduce. It 
was this which gave justification. to the play, just as the tag-end 
moral justified the highly romantic exemplum. Through omitting 
the rescue of Guy by the fisherman and substituting the Virgin as the 
familiar and pleasant dea ex machina who gave help so freely to her 
faithful servants, Louvet simply continued a dramatic tradition long 

since established. 1 

1 Cf. Les Miracles de Notre Dame (Cangfi MS), ed. Paris et Robert, and Petit de 
JulleviUe, Les Mysteres, 1, 120 ff. Lohmann compares the Miracles with Louvet's belated 
Mysteres, pp. 24 ff. 



In estimating the interest of the play it is obvious after reading a 
very few pages that its poetic merit is negligible. The language is 
dull and uninspired and occasionally burdened with strained rhetoric. 
In structure it is more successful. It has more unity of action than 
might be expected. Except for the lapse of time between the scenes 
in which Guy is supposed to have journeyed to the Holy Land, fought 
many battles, and returned to Constantinople, the action of the play 
is singularly quick. After Guy returns, he fights his battle for Tirius 
in the late afternoon, his attempted assassination takes place that 
night, and he achieves victory over his enemy the next morning. 

The simple methods used by the confre*rie in staging its plays 
are evident from the fact that a gallows, a bed, and an exit which 
could be used as a window seem to have been the only necessary 
accessories for this play which has almost no stage directions. It is 
difficult to conjecture any division into scenes, although Dr. Lohmann 
does attempt it, and lists twenty-three scenes with seven "Mansions" 
or changes of scene. 1 But the supposition is needless and improbable. 
Up to the attempted murder scene, where specific allusion to the bed 
and window fix the scene as an interior, there is no necessity for 
supposing that the stage was conceived as other than a field which 
served first as a meeting-place for Guy and Tirius in England, then 
as the field before Constantinople where the action of the play, with 
the exception of this one scene, can be supposed to have taken place. 

A word may be added as to the history of the Guy legend in 
drama. So far as the writer has been able to discover, Louvet's play 
is the first extant dramatization in England or France of any portion 
of the romance. In England, where the story had been so long and so 
widely known, 2 there may well have been earlier versions, but the 
first allusion to a play on the subject is that by John Taylor, the 

* L., p. jd: "Ich habe mit Hulfe der vorhandenen Buhnenanweisungen u. nach dem 
was aus den Texten der Stticke zu entnehmen 1st, mir, die meiner Meinung nach, not- 
wendigen 'Mansions' zusammengestellt. I, Schloss Guyons (Schloss des Tirius?); 
2, Paridles; 3, Konstantinople, Mauer; 4, Palast des Kaisers, Constantinople; 5, Palast 
desPhebus; 6, Palast des Sultans; 7, Wohnung des Henkers." 

*The Anglo-French MSS date from the thirteenth century; most of the Middle 
English ones from the fourteenth. An instance of the popularity of the romance in the 
fifteenth century is found in the version made by John Lydgate (cf . F. Robinson, Harvard 
Studies, V, 194). Cf. "Guy of Warwick, Chap books and Broadsides," Harvard Biblio- 
graphical Contributions, No. 56 (1905). 



Water Poet. In his Pennilesse Pilgrimage, 1618, 1 he records: "At 
Islington .... we had a play of the life and death of Guy of 
Warwicke played by the Right Honourable the Earle of Darbie 
his men." 2 This play was evidently more inclusive than Louvet's 
Mystere and must have belonged in type, not to the Miracles, but 
to the "heroical" plays which for a time afforded so much joy to 
those Elizabethan playgoers satirized in the Knight of the Burning 
Pestle.* A play similarly entitled was entered on the Stationer's 
Registers "for J. Trundle, 1620, Jan. 19," as by John Day and 
Thomas Dekker. Another play on Guy was printed in 166 1. 4 


F. S. Fleay, Chronicle of the English Drama, 1891, I, 136. 

8 This item seems to have escaped J. T. Murray who writes in Eng. Dramatic Com- 
panies, New York, 1910, 1, 293 : "As nothing is heard of an Earl of Derby's company after 
1617, William Stanley's players probably disbanded about this time." 

Ed. by H. S. Murch, Yale Diss., New York, 1908. Dr. Murch gives a thorough- 
going account of the early dramatized romances, the attitude of the common people 
toward them, and the derision in which the old romances were held by the more cultured 


* Fleay, I, 736; II, 370; Ward, Eng. Dramatic Literature, II, 592. 



Dr. Paetow's is the sixth (and the most elaborate) edition 1 of this 
deservedly celebrated poem, four 2 having been put forth by Jubinal 
(1838-39, 1875) and a much better one in 1880 by A. Heron, for the 
Socie*te" rouennaise de Bibliophiles. Jubinal dealt with the poem 
merely as an appendix to his edition of Rustebuef, defender of the 
University of Paris against the Mendicants; Huron's interest was 
primarily that of the local antiquary (for Andeli is supposed to be 
Les Andelys, on the Seine, 23 kilometers northeast of Evreux), and 
Dr. Paetow, whose dissertation, The Arts Course at Medieval Univer- 
sities, 1910, is favorably known, approaches the work of Henri 
d'Andeli from the side of the history of pedagogy. Thus it happens 
that very little serious work has been done upon the text itself since 
G. Paris reviewed Huron's edition, in 1882; on this score, the editor's 
chief service is to have provided admirable facsimiles of the two 
Paris manuscripts. 

Dr. Paetow aimed also to furnish "a faithful, line for line, prose 
reproduction [that is, English translation] of the contents of the 
original." His French text, however, appears to be based upon a 
somewhat capricious and wholly subjective choice of readings; no 
doubt the editor is aware that it deserves the name of "the original" 
only by courtesy. Thanks are expressed to Professors Weeks, 
Hamilton, and Beck for their assistance and Professor Weeks is 
thanked a second time "for much valuable help in editing and trans- 
lating the poem." We imagine, however, that none of these scholars 
reviewed the text or the translation in its entirety, for there is cause 
for a good deal of dissatisfaction on the linguistic side, some of the 
errors made being of a kind easily avoidable by stricter attention to 

1 The Battle of the Seven Arts. A French poem by Henri d'Andeli, Trouv&re of the 
Thirteenth Century, edited and translated, with Introduction and Notes, by Louis John 
Paetow. Memoirs of the University of California, Vol. IV, No. 1. Berkeley: Univer- 
sity of California Press, 1914. 

2 The editor has overlooked the first edition of 1838, a copy of which is in the Uni- 
versity of Chicago Library: La Bataille et le Mariage des VII Arts, pieces inedites du 
xiii 6 siecle en langue romane publiees pour la premiere fois par Achille Jubinal. Parsi 
chez Edouard Pannier. Cette publication n'a ete tiree qu'A un tres-petit nombre d'exemplaires. 
[MODEEN PHILOLOGY, July, 1915 60 [188 


Old French grammar and phraseology. In what follows I have 
attempted not to criticize the French text in detail but to remove 
some of the "dreary and obscure reaches of the poem" of which the 
editor complains, my conviction being that it is not too much to 
hope that some future editor may be able to eliminate them entirely, 
and so justify a better opinion of this witty and extremely interesting 

14-15 are obscured by the division in two of the word porvers (the 
rhyme VERSUS :VERUM being impossible here) so that we should trans- 
late: "But they [the clerks of Orleans] in turn also talk wickedly, in 
that they call Dialectics rubbish." 1 26 As the editor says, Donaet is, 
strictly speaking, the Ars minor. The form is interesting because the 
fall of the intervocalic consonant shows that the compound Donatittus 
(or -etus ?) dates from at least the tenth or eleventh century. 38 I 
imagine the author is here speaking of a pepper-sauce thickened with 
burnt bread, with which curious material the salmon and dace were 
daubed upon the shield. 46 0. Fr. ire is "chagrin," " vexation" 
rather than "wrath." 55 levent has no support; trousserent of B is 
good, especially as troi seuent of A could easily have been corrupted 
from it. 63 The battle took place in the shadow of Montlhe*ry, on 
the plain: why then render soz by "on"? 77 Distrent is mistrans- 
lated : it was these church Fathers who took pains to warn Divinity 
that she should avoid the emptiness and squabbles of the Rhetori- 
cians, and this she proceeds to do. 97-98 I render: "The arts 
students and the grammarians all are now acting exactly contrary to 
the customs of the good old times." 107 Raoul de la Charite" came 
perhaps from the town of that name on the Loire. 

109-10 are mistranslated, nul requiring ne to make a negation. 
Rather: "All these [bold surgeons] would gather to the money- 
making if they saw there [in the coming battle] any prospect of ill- 
nesses [or wounds]." 112 I suspect the correct reading was Cirurgie 
. . . . Se seoit lez un sanglent tastre, that is, "beside a trestle," or 
"butcher's block," the humble ancestor of the operating-table. 

1 Lat. PERVERSUS. Elsewhere, it is true, Henri uses (gent) perverte (1. 93) 
which is the biblical phrase, but the form porvers is also well attested, e.g., Richeut 568 
(Romanic Review, IV, 280, 296). The idiom reoccurs Pel. Charlem. 716: il dist que 
curteis, and often elsewhere. For quiquelique I adopt the explanation offered in Studies 
in Honor of A. Marshall Elliott, I, 79. 



170 The reading of A, entre .ii. os, " between the armies," is excellent; 
that of B, entre irois, is plainly a corruption and unintelligible. The 
editor adopts irois, but then translates quite unaccountably, "be- 
tween the combatants." 210 Propertius in the translation is a slip 
for Prosper. 

244 hoschier in B should not have been overlooked; as it has more 
point, it should have been preferred to hochier. 265 Rather: "For 
she could not be expected to resist everybody at once." 279 nes is 
misdivided: ne les is satisfactory for meaning. 311-12 I understand 
differently. The ladies went into Montlhe*ry (as they had been 
advised to do) and did this, not through fear of the enemy (which 
they never would admit); no, they went in "merely because of the 
love which they were [graciously] willing to bestow upon the castle." 
The dames really were afraid, but for the world would not admit it. 
And the irony continues: 

Et de ce firent els savoir 

Qu'els aiment les choses hautaines, 

Et Gramaire aime les fontaines. 

The editor does not help us on the last of these lines. Evidently 
Dame Grammar loves things not lofty, but what are these disrepu- 
table weaknesses of hers? According to Larousse, 1 fontaine also 
meant grand vase d'orfevrerie qu'on plagait au moyen dge au milieu de 
la table et qui contenait du vin, de I'ypocras et d'autres liqueurs. To 
Villon, boire ypocras a jour et a nuitee was the very acme of the indul- 
gent life, and it may well be that these fontaines are connected with 
the granz gomers mentioned at the beginning (1. 10). I might observe, 
however, that both Du Cange and La Curne register the expression 
faire ses fontaines, c.a.d., se livrer aux divertissements de la mi-car erne. 2 
The day of Laetare, Jerusalem, it appears, was called le Dimanche des 
fontaines: on serendait dune fontaine pour boire des eaux. The happy 
character of the service at mid-Lent is otherwise well known. In the 
service for the day occurs the word sitiens, signifying the person who 
may desire to join the church at Easter: could this be the needed 
link between the idea of rejoicing (gaudete in laetitia) and the custom 

1 1 am indebted to Dr. C. J. Cipriani for noting this. It ought not to be difficult 
to verify Larousse's statement. 

* Cf. also Chesnel, Dictionnaire des superstitions populaires, s.v. "fontaines." 



of a picnic in the woods, with a draught from the spring ? However 
this may be,faire ses fontaines meant undoubtedly "to have a festive 
time " : pour eulx esbatre etfaire leurs fontaines says one text. It may 
well be that while Logic claimed to love lofty things, Grammar was 
scorned as being content with frivolous amusements. Henri himself, 
in a passage (254 ff.) of which much more might have been made, for 
it shows the author very plainly in the r61e of an outsider in the 
quarrel, speaks of the vanites of the Grammar party. 

325 En ressil ou il [Ovide] fu du moins: "in the exile to which Ovid 
was relegated," rather than " where he was in want." The expression 
estre du moins had various meanings, and it is not easy to be certain 
of one's translation here, or at 11. 20, 120; but some help might be 
drawn from Tobler's note, Li Proverbe au Vilain, p. 142. 


Estacez Achilleidos .... 
Menoit par devant soi les hez: 

" The word hez is somewhat troublesome, ' ' says the editor, but the 
reading of B, les ez, might have put him upon the right track. All 
the combatants introduced in this passage, beginning with the leader 
Estacet, have the diminutive termination -et Chatonet, Avionet, 
Panfilet, and Theaudelet: so these were not the "vets" but the 
junior contingent, the cadets, and they followed their leader with 
ich ardor and nimbleness (346 ff.) that they came very near cap- 
iring Dames Logic, Astronomy, and Rhetoric by the feet; 1 but the 
lies were lodged too high (in the tower of Montlhe'ry) to be caught. 
Cf. 416. 355 encressent is a variant of engressent, hence: "they stir 
up their pupils with their whips and their tongues." 357 lasses 
could never mean "tiresome." 358-59 Possibly the original read: 

Logique fiert tant es siuanz 
Qu'ele a mis sa cotele a panz. 

362, 363 are two co-ordinate propositions : " With her arms she makes 
a great pretense, [but] on her body there is no substance," which fits 
the satire perfectly. 391 "Than there are disputes in Logic." 

1 Dr. Paetow's acceptance of Huron's suggestion (les hez, "the stakes") in 3^6 seems 
to lead him into the bizarre translation of par mi les piez by "among the stakes." Perhaps 
he has pieux in mind for this second passage, but one would have to go far afield among 
the dialects for such a variant as piez for pieux. Besides, both his MSS usually have 
( for z, and not z for s. 



392 "Was unable to get thru successfully." 404 Here is mentioned 
a Walter the Englishman, qui lut sur Petit Pont, lut being, I suppose, 
pf. 3 of lire. The editor in both his translation and his note seems 
to refer it to lutter (!). But Dame Grammar here raises her voice to 
protest that ps. 3 of lutter in O.F. was necessarily luite two syllables, 
hence impossible here. 427 ff. are badly mixed in the translation, 
and possibly not satisfactory in the MSS. In 427, rabaces is almost 
certainly modern rabdches, which appears to be a Picard form; cf. 
Aussi nefait ilfors rdbaches, in Adam's Ju de la Feuillie (Anc. Theatre 
frf.j p. 72), while rabasser is noted by Bescherelle as "a former vari- 
ant " of rabdcher. 445 " Have no longer any use for their [hospitable] 
quarters" (which Versifex used to occupy). 450 ff. are the conclud- 
ing reflections of Henri d'Andeli: some of these I understand quite 
differently from the editor. In Brittany and in Germany, it appears, 
you may still study Grammar, but not in the neighborhood of Paris 
nor in Lombardy. "Sirs, the people of this world come and go in 
streaks : after good wheat will come oats (an inferior grain) ; for as 
much as thirty years they will act thus, until a new generation will 
come on the scene who will go back to Grammar, just as they used 
to do when Henri d'Andeli was born, who comes forward to say in 
Grammar's name [de par li] that the smart pupil who cannot con- 
strue his lesson should be destroyed." 

Cognitio duplex, said Erasmus: verborum prior, rerum potior. 



Modern Philology 



The influence of Fenimore Cooper upon the work of Balzac 
is more definite and prominent than has hitherto been supposed. 
Their relationship will be here displayed in three or four aspects. It 
will be well to realize first Cooper's vogue in the France of 1830 and 
to reckon with Balzac's knowledge and criticism of the American 
romancer. Traces of the latter's footprints in various parts of the 
Comedie humaine will be used as corroborative items. But the 
surest and most specific evidence of this ascendency will appear from a 
comparison of Les Chouans (1829) with The Last of the Mohicans 

There are two periods of culminating excellence in Cooper's 
career, tallying with two epochs of his fame in France and in the eyes 
of Balzac. The first covers the time from the earliest translation of 
The Spy (1822) until about 1830. It is the epoch of the more famous 
Leather-Stocking volumes and of the first sea-tales, all of which 
were quickly translated into French. The second period culminates 
in 1840, which is the date of The Pathfinder and of Balzac's chief 
critical study of Cooper, in the Revue Parisienne. As a matter of gen- 
eral vogue and definite influence we are here mainly concerned with 
the first period. 

No less than eighteen titles appear as attributed to Cooper in the 
Journal de la Librairie from 1823 to 1828. These include sh* dupli- 
cates new editions of the more popular novels as well as one 
edition of the complete works up to date, and one title whose 

193] 1 [MODERN PHILOLOGY, August, 1915 


attribution is doubtful. Without copying the bibliographical infor- 
mation of the complete list, 1 I note three editions of The Spy, two of 
The Pioneers, two of The Last of the Mohicans, and two of The Prairie. 
These are the most important for our purpose, though there are also 
represented Precaution, Lionel Lincoln (Legendes des Treize Repu- 
bliques), The Pilot, The Red Rover, and Notions of the Americans 
these nine titles including everything that Cooper had published 
up to 1829. A certain Redwood is likewise listed, though this seems 
to be attributed wrongly to Cooper. The " complete" edition began 
to appear in 1827 and reprinted most of the above stories. The 
publishers of nearly all the translations were exactly the two houses 
with whom Balzac had most to do in his early days Mame et 
Delaunay, and Gosselin. The translator was generallyDefauconpret, 
already known for his version of the Waverley Novels. 

Professor Lounsbury, in his biography of Cooper, 2 observes 
that the French enthusiasm for that author began with The Spy, 
which was translated in the summer of 1822: "In spite of its anony- 
mous character and of some extraordinary blunders in translation, 
it was warmly received in France. From that country its reputation 
in no long space of time spread in every direction; translations fol- 
lowed one after another into all the cultivated tongues of modern 
Europe." The statement that France made the Continental reputa- 
tion of The Spy may be generalized for Cooper's other works. Bal- 
zac himself expresses the truth when he declares: " Cooper a e*te* 
bien compris, il a e*te* surtout appre*cie* par la France." 8 

Concerning the Mohicans especially, it is often considered in 
France as Cooper's masterpiece, and Lounsbury holds that its success 
was even greater in Europe than in America. " Throughout the 
whole civilized world the conception of the Indian character, as 
Cooper drew it in The Last of the Mohicans and still further elabo- 
rated it in the later Leather-Stocking Tales, has taken permanent 
hold of the imaginations of men." This ignores the part played by 
Chateaubriand in establishing the legendary conception of the noble 

1 For this I am indebted to the kindness of my friend, Professor A. Marin La Mesle"e 
of Tulane University. 

2 T. R. Lounsbury, James Fenimore Cooper ("American Men of Letters"), Boston, 
1883, p. 36. 

(Euvrea completes (Michel Levy edition), XXIII, 588. 



Indian. Lounsbury seems right, however, in averring that Cooper 
surpassed even Washington Irving in his Continental and con- 
temporary popularity the greatest ever achieved by an American; 
but it is an exaggeration to consider that this fame abroad "could 
fairly be said to hold its own with that of Sir Walter Scott. " l 

The linking of these names, to which every critic is and was 
impelled, will prove significant in several directions. They had 
both been welcomed in Paris in 1826, when, according to "the 
American Scott," at the Princess Galitzin's, "the Scotch and 
American lions took the field together." It is not impossible that 
Cooper met Balzac during the same period. At any rate it is impor- 
tant to observe how Cooper's long residence in France must have 
forwarded his fame. He was in or near Paris from July, 1826, to 
February, 1828, and again from July, 1830, until some time in the 
year 1833. The first dates would fall very near the epoch of the 
composition of Les Chouans. During that time Cooper wrote 
much of The Prairie and The Red Rover, published respectively at 
Paris, 1827 and 1828. 

He was lionized from within a few weeks after his first arrival at 
the capital. Later, he presided at meetings and banquets, and was 
undoubtedly a figure in the "colony" and among the cultured. It 
is natural to suppose that his residence in Paris would increase the 
interest attached to his books by the author of Les Chouans as well 
as by other Parisians. 

Balzac's opinion of Cooper has been expressed incidentally in a 
number of places, but nowhere with more point and penetration than 
in the set article for the Revue Parisienne of July, 1840. 2 I give a 
short analysis of this, italicizing the points that will have later sig- 

He begins in a tone of general eulogy, warm and enthusiastic. 
He promptly states that Cooper is now the only author worthy of 
being compared with Scott. "II ne Tegalera point, mais il a de son 
genie, et il doit la haute place qu'il occupe dans la litte>ature moderne 
d deux facultes, celle de peindre la mer et les marins, celle d'idealiser 
les magnifiques pay sages d'Amerique." His best works are the 

1 Op. dt., pp. 55-57. The following facts are also mainly from Lounsbury's fourth 

(Euvres, XXIII, 584-92. 



Leather-Stocking series, together with The Pilot, The Red Rover, 
and The Spy a criticism with which the verdict of time well agrees. 
It is hard, continues Balzac, to understand how the same man could 
have written those intervening things by which the Heidenmauer 
and the Homeward Bound group are probably indicated. " Je ne me 
prononce pas le"gerement," declares the reviewer, "fai lu et relu les 
ceuvres du romancier, disons le mot vrai, de Vhistorien ame*ricain." 
Here is already an analogy with Balzac's pretension to be the "his- 
torian" or the "secretary" of his own society. He repeats that he 
shares Scott's admiration for the two aforesaid faculties of Cooper, 
next to which he would place the creation, the grandeur, and the 
originality of Leather-Stocking himself. He observes that "this 
sublime character links together" the four tales already published. 
A main feature of Leather-Stocking, in Balzac's eyes, is then the 
unity, the linking that he gives to the series which bears his name. 
Now come some hyperbolical polysyllables: "Bas-de-Cuir est une 
statue, un magnifique hermaphrodite moral, ne* de I'elat sauvage 
et de la civilisation, qui vivra autant que les litte*ratures." He 
is in the same class with Gurth, and it is especially in the creation 
of this one figure that Cooper has raised himself to the height of 
Walter Scott whom Balzac placed far above Byron. 

Now reaching his special subject, The Pathfinder, which had just 
been translated as Le Lac Ontario, the reviewer declares it to be a 
fine work, worthy of its three predecessors in the series. 1 Its subject 
is the lake itself; and Balzac likes simple subjects, which exhibit 
power of conception. Cooper shows his true greatness in describing 
the Oswego and its banks. This is the real " Cooper of the wood and 
wave," as Stevenson said, mingling, as Balzac says, his descriptions of 
natural objects with the ruses of the savages. Such pictures are inimi- 
table. "II y a de quoi de"sesperer tout romancier a qui 1'envie pren- 
drait de suivre les traces de 1'auteur americain." We shall see that 
this "envie" confessedly seized Balzac himself. "Jamais l'e*criture 
typographic^ (sic) n'a plus empie'te* sur la peinture. La est I'ecole 
ou doivent etudier les paysagistes litteraires, tons les secrets de Vart sont 
Zd." This suggests a desire and perhaps a fulfilment. He continues, 
with equal relevancy, that Cooper's prose not only vividly displays 

1 The Deer slayer was not published until the following year 1841. 



to us each item in the landscape, "mais elle y parvient en dormant d 
la fois les moindres circonstances et I' ensemble." Thereby he makes 
the solitudes interesting, as also by his thrilling disclosures of Indians 
behind the tree-trunks, under the rocks, in the water. After dwelling 
on the moving effect of that solitude and calm, Balzac returns to the 
other effect of the perils "si bien lies aux accidents du terrain, que vous 
examinez attentivement les rochers, les arbres, les chutes d'eau, les 
bateaux d'e"corce, les buissons; vous vous incarnez a la contre"e; 
elle passe en vous ou vous passez en elle, on ne sait comment 
s'accomplit cette metamorphose due au ge"nie; mais il vous est 
impossible de separer le sol, la vegetation, les eaux, leur etendue, leur 
configuration, des inter $ts qui vous agitent." 

The insistence on this procede points to a very personal interest in 
it on the part of Balzac, and I will anticipate by remarking that Les 
Chouans has many such fusions of figures and landscape. Balzac 
thus crystallizes in the above review his opinion of a device which he 
had been using more or less for a dozen years and which he uses 
immediately after this article in Une Tenebreuse Affaire. 

With regard to Cooper's characters, he is less enthusiastic. They 
are somewhat diminished by the grand scenery. And although he 
thanks the author for portraying humble personages, several of 
whom are certainly "natural," yet there are various exceptions; 
the heroine, as usual, together with Cap and Muir are manques. 
Leather-Stocking, however, dominates as always. "Cette figure 
si profondement melancolique y est en quelque sorte expliquee." 
the Cure de village, a year or two previously, Balzac had written of 
ic "melancholy" talent of Cooper, shown in the magnificent poetry 
of The Prairie. 1 The choice of that note seems peculiar and sub- 

The handling of the secondary characters in The Pathfinder, 
Balzac holds, reveals clearly Cooper's weakness, instanced also 
by details in the "preparation du drame." He is particularly 
inferior to Scott in his lack of humor, his ever-unsuccessful desire 
divert you. The means chosen is the unfortunate insistence upon 
&c,a"gag" " une meme plaisanterie sotte . . . un entetemqnt quel- 
conque" laid down at the beginning and reappearing wearisomely 

(Euvres, XIV, 66. 



throughout the book. Hence the "dadas" of Cap, Muir, David 
Gamut, et al. Scott invented the malady, but Cooper has made of 
it a plague. 

We may omit discussion of this artistic point, merely recalling 
to what an extent Balzac himself has used the tic and the dada, 
though to be sure he is generally clever about varying the expression. 
Another discussion to be passed over here is that which American 
critics have raised concerning the value of the foregoing opinion on 
Cooper 's characters. The best view concedes its justice, and it is 
noteworthy that nearly all students of Cooper quote freely from this 
and other Balzacian comments, thus proving the importance and 
insight of the Frenchman's criticisms. Lounsbury goes so far as to 
say that these carry more weight than any other foreign studies of 
Cooper. And Brownell, while differing from the depreciation of 
Cooper's characters, is aware of the fact that in the eyes of the 
generation which followed Chateaubriand the depiction of nature 
was of more importance than psychology. 1 

This is the next antithesis which Balzac sets forth (after some 
exaggerated reprehending of Cooper for his falsely supposed dislike 
of the French), and he sets it forth again by comparison with Scott. 
By the side of the latter, the American novelist has said nothing truly 
philosophical or impressive, when one takes a backward look. Both 
of these writers are cold, having offered up passion as a sacrifice to 
the blue-stockings of their countries a view that Balzac repeats 
elsewhere. But the chief contrast is that Scott deals with humanity 
and Cooper with nature. Even in Le Lac Ontario, "vous ne trou- 
verez pas un portrait qui vous fasse penser, qui vous ramene en 
vous-m^me par une reflexion fine et ingenieuse, qui vous explique les 
faits, les personnes, leurs actions" which, in other words, consists 
of a writer's aside such as I, Balzac, am constantly contributing for 
the greater restlessness of aesthetic critics, and, it must be admitted, 
for the better intelligence of the reader in matters relating to the 
causal linking of topography, costume, physique, character, action, 
and what not. . . . But it is not true that Cooper has no such 

1 Lounsbury, pp. 241, 284, etc.; W. C. Brownell, American Prose Masters, New 
York, 1909, pp. 25-30. See also W. B. Clymer, James Fenimore Cooper, Boston, 1900, 
pp. 120-22, and Edgar Saltus, Balzac, Boston, 1884, passim; also F. Lawton, Balzac, 
London, 1910, pp. 15, 195. 



reflections or asides. On the contrary, in common with most 
novelists of his age, he has a great many, and certain of these will 
offer analogies with the manner of Balzac. 

The latter concludes his general confrontation of Cooper and 
Scott by declaring that they are two colossi all the same. Now, 
a more specific point is the way they both handle battles. The 
principle is laid down that "il est impossible & Part litteraire de 
peindre les faits militaires au del& d'une certaine e*tendue." It is 
stated that neither Scott nor Cooper has tried to depict a campaign; 
they try to give first, by small samples, the spirit of the combatants ; 
then Scott would choose as battlefield a "terrain circonscrit" (the 

Battle of Both well Bridge would be a case in point), and even to get 
this before us long preparations were necessary. Of Cooper's method 
several illustrations will be given in the course of this paper, and from 
Balzac himself an excellent skirmish is to be found at the beginning 
of Les Chouans. As an example of the other and the wrong kind 
of thing, Eugene Sue is cited. Big descriptions of regular battle- 
fields, such as Sue tries, become impossible feats for the reader's 
attention, "quand 1'auteur ne marie pas les evenements et les hommes 
aux accidents de la nature, et ne les explique pas les uns par les autres, 
comme ont fait Cooper et Walter Scott." 

This penetrating article thus ends with an important emphasis. 

Mr. G. D. Morris, in his study on French criticisms of Cooper, 1 
considers that Balzac's article is by all odds the best of these. He 
summarizes the interesting opinions of Ste.-Beuve who also held 
that Cooper's forte was description of G. Sand and others. He 
gives extracts to show that both imitation and criticism of Cooper 
were rife in France of the twenties ; in the thirties he drew less critical 
attention, until his vogue was revived by Balzac's study. This 
impressed Mr. Morris for its enthusiasm, its sureness of taste, and its 
emphasis on the picturesque quality characteristic of romanticism. 
In fact, Balzac evinces here a combination of taste and judgment that 
rare with him and that is best accounted for by the assumption 
(otherwise amply proved) of a deep interest and knowledge of his 
material. His particular esteem for The Pathfinder and QJooper's 

1 Fenimore Cooper et Edgar Poe, d'aprea la critique franyaise du dix-neuvieme siecle. 
ThSse, Paris, 1912. 



landscapes are again evidenced in an anecdote reported by Leon 
Gozlan and too often detailed to bear repeating. 1 Also, in writing 
Le Lys dans la vallee, its author here divulges, he followed Cooper 
in the intention "de faire une part splendide au paysage." 

It may be well to summarize those features which Balzac, 
critically, has thus stressed and of which we may expect to find some 
imitation in his own work. The chief are these: the treatment of 
landscape in detail, with an eye to its causal and sociological con- 
nections; the feature of topographical incidents used in the war- 
maneuvers of a primitive people; the feature of linking a series of 
stories by reappearing characters; the feature of giving in descriptions 
both the details and the ensemble, which may mean an enforcement of 
the main characteristic; the feature of the repeated tic or "gag"; 
finally, the explanatory asides, which Balzac did not find in Cooper, 
but which we find in both. 

The next question is that of dates. How early did the French 
novelist read the American, to what extent, and with what effect ? 
The dates are not very numerous, but their evidence, so far as it goes, 
is clear. 

It should be remembered that The Last of the Mohicans had 
appeared, in English and in French, in 1826. Now in a letter of 1830, 
when Balzac is going by boat from Touraine "au fond de la Bretagne," 
he writes: "Oh, mener une vie de Mohican, courir sur les rochers, 
nager en mer, respirer en plein Fair, le soleil! Oh, que j'ai congu 
le sauvage! Oh, que j'ai admirablement compris les corsaires, les 
aventuriers. ... La vie, c'est du courage, de bonnes carabines, 
Tart de se diriger en pleine mer." 2 

There is in this a possible reference to The Red Rover (Le Corsaire 
rouge, 1828) , 3 and an unmistakable reference to The Last of the 
Mohicans; for The Prairie and The Pioneers have little to do with 
the "vie de Mohican." This view is supported by an allusion in the 
Physiologie du mariage to "un Mohican a 1'opera." 4 And the Physi- 
ologie du mariage appeared in December, 1829, much of it having 

Gozlan, Balzac intime: Balzac en pantoufles, etc., Paris, 1886 (1856), pp. 46-49. 
Of. Morris, pp. 29-30, and Lawton, p. 195. 

z Correspondance, p. 73. Le Breton, in quoting this (p. 79), rightly dwells on the 
"savage" impulse that Balzac received from Cooper. 

1 For other references to piracy see La Femme de trente cms, Gobseck, etc. 

CEuvres, XVII, 313. 



been written during several years before. 1 Again in Gobseck, written 
in 1829-30, there is the following passage concerning the hero: 
"S'il e*tait content de sa journe*e, il se frottait les mains en laissant 
e*chapper par les rides crevasse*es de son visage une fume*e de gaiete*, 
car il est impossible d'exprimer autrement le jeu muet de ses muscles 
ou se peignait une sensation comparable au rire d vide de Bas-de- 
Cuir" 2 (Leather-Stocking). The miser has a "fe*rocite* de sauvage," 
and by way of a repeated tic we find this : " Gobseck se mit a rire, de ce 
rire muet qui lui e*tait particulier. " 3 This last is the very language 
used of Leather-Stocking in the Mohicans, and we may at once class 
Gobseck's laugh as a frank imitation. 

I have collected several dozen other references, mostly from the 
early Scenes de la vie privee (1830-32), either specifically to Cooper's 
works or to Indian life in general. 4 But I reserve these for later 
study, since enough has been said to show that this epoch, from 
about 1828-32, is the time when Balzac underwent his first grande 
passion for Cooper. 

As to whether the Mohicans really counted in Les Chouans, we 
have Balzac's own statement, in a letter of December, 1843: "J'ai 
ne"anmoms corrige Les Chouans pour cette troisieme edition. C'est 
decidement un magnifique pome; je ne Favais jamais lu. Dix ans 
se sont e*coules depuis que je 1'ai corrige* et publie* en deuxie"me 
Edition. ... II y a la tout Cooper et tout Walter Scott, plus une 
>assion et un esprit qui n'est chez aucun d'eux." 5 

If one objects that this is a very loud blast of vanity and par- 
icularly that the phrase "tout Cooper et tout Scott" should be 
taken rather in a flamboyant than a derivative sense, I am willing 

regard it simply as one hint in a cumulative chain. It would 

1 Spoelberch de Lovenjoul, Histoire des CEuvres de Balzac, 1879, p. 207. This is the 
Authority for all such dates. 

2 (Euvres, III, 467. 
Ibid., 512. 

See Adieu, XVI, 164, 196; El Verdugo, XVI, 218; La Vendetta, V, 307. AU of these 
Gobseck as well are of 1830. In the following year appeared the Peau de chagrin 
which there are four such allusions: XV, 17, 30, 37, 233. Of a later period are 
3S from the Cure de village, XIV, 133, 178; Une Tenebreuse Affaire, XII, 361, 367, 
>, 421; and Les Pay sans, XIV, 322, 347, 389 (see also below, p. 12). 

The phrase "a la maniere des sauvages" is frequent. There is recurrent reference 
Cooper. We learn from the Lettres d I'etrangere (II, 17-22, 229, 283) that Balzac at 
time planned to dramatize The Spy. 
6 Lettres d I'etrangere, II, 246. 



indicate that at any rate Balzac knew Cooper at the time of com- 
posing Les Chouans. What exactly was that period? Without 
going into the debate between L. Se'che' 1 and J. Haas, 2 1 think we may 
rely on the opinion of the latter that the story was mainly written 
in the autumn of 1828, after the visit to Fougeres, which took 
place in the late summer of that year. At any rate, the period of 
composition was clearly some time in 1828, and not before " August, 
1827," as Balzac misdated it, wilfully and apres coup. Since we know 
from the preceding quotations that Balzac imitated something of 
Cooper's in Les Chouans and that he was familiar with the Mohicans 
at least by 1829, the supposition that this acquaintanceship began 
a year or so earlier involves no great risk provided a plausible 
relationship between the two volumes can be shown. The proba- 
bility is that Balzac knew most of these romances shortly after their 

Several critics have expressed the opinion that the influence of 
Cooper shows in the Comedie humaine, both broadly in the creation 
of certain types and more incidentally with regard to the effect of the 
Mohicans upon Les Chouans. 9 The latter predication, then, is 
neither new nor surprising; but nowhere have I found detailed 
proof of the influence nor any analysis of similar features in the two 

The other godfathers of Les Chouans have been more closely 
studied. Haas sees mainly reminiscences of Chateaubriand and 
Nodier in several descriptions: that of the Valle"e du Coiiesnon, the 
lake at La Vivetiere, and the vapors that steal over another valley 
scene. 4 Maigron and Le Breton tend to emphasize the dominion 
of Scott; and it would be idle to deny that the book contains a great 
deal of Scott, some Chateaubriand, and perhaps a little Nodier. 
Balzac's more general remarks on Indian life and character, including 
some of those quoted in this paper, may plausibly be traced either 
to Chateaubriand or to such well-known collections of travels as the 

1 "Balzac a Fougeres," Revue Bleue, 1901, II, 357-62. 

2 "Balzac Studien," ZfFSL, XXX, 157-59. 

8 Ste.-Beuve, Portraits contemporains, II, 338; Brownell, p. 24; Le Breton, p. 87. 
This writer deprecates the long stay that Balzac must have made in the "wigwam de 
Chingachgook " and his superfluity " de Mohicans en spencer ou de Hurons en redingote" 
(ibid., pp. 82-83). 

ZfFSL, XXXIII, 128 flf. 



Lettres tdifiantes or the Voyages du Baron de Lahontan. 1 The latter, 
however, deals with the Hurons rather than the Mohicans; this 
race, as seen through Cooper's eyes, still remains the predominant 
analogy for Les Chouans. 

The question of antecedents has its importance, because the book 
is a turning-point in Balzac's career. It is the first acknowledged 
work of his pen, the first-published of the Comedie humaine; Haas, 
Baldensperger, and others now agree that in spite of its romanticism 
we have here a monument marking the beginning of Balzac's true 
method, 2 especially, adds Haas, in what concerns topography and 
documentation. 3 

In noting resemblances, I have used the standard edition of Les 
Chouans* as last revised by its author in 1845. 5 The edition of 1834 
(the second) already differed considerably from the first form, 6 but 
as the latter is unfortunately inaccessible at present, this study aims 
only at establishing the connection between Balzac's standard text 
and The Last of the Mohicans. 

On the other hand, I have been able to use the translation of the 
Mohicans which Balzac pretty certainly knew the version by 
Defauconpret, now published in an "edition courante" by Garnier, 
under the title of Le Dernier des Mohicans: Histoire de mil sept cent 
cinquante-sept. Does not this suggest Le Dernier Chouan ou la 
Bretagne en 1799 (1800) titles of the first and second edition 
respectively ? 7 In spite of Chateaubriand before and Bulwer Lytton 
afterward, the joint use of this "dernier" is another strong hint. 
The Defauconpret translation is by no means despicable. It is free 
on occasion, but in the main trustworthy; and, as several Frenchmen 
have perceived, it imports various literary merits into the original, 
notably in rendering more probable Cooper's stilted dialogue as well 
as in tempering the effect of the monotonous "gags " though it seems 

1 Published in French and in English, 1703; many subsequent editions; alluded to 
by Balzac in La Maison du Chat-qui-pelote, (Euvres, I, 59. 

J I hope to show this in a study of Balzac's realistic method. 

ZfFSL, XXXIII, 101. 

(Euvres, XII, 1-310. 

8 See Correspondence, pp. 418, 425. 

8 Ibid., p.197: "Mais quoi que je fasse, j'ai peur que I'Scolier ne s'y montre toujours 
trop." See also Lettres d Vetrangere, pp. 7, 154, 160. 

1 Lovenjoul, pp. 145-46. 



that enough were left to irritate Balzac. Where it loses, of course, 
is in the flavor of the soil, the autochthonous truth of Hawkeye's 
speeches and personality, and in much that concerns the Indians. 

The several heads under which I shall divide the resemblances 
are, first, racial similarities, then the connection between the char- 
acters, incidents, customs, topography, and warfare. The verbal 
likenesses will generally be found incorporated with the above. 

It seems fairly clear that Balzac desired to present in some detail 
an analogy between the wild Breton peasants and Cooper's Indians 
a comparison to which he returns in Les Paysans. 1 Several passages 
that indicate this intention appear in the first twenty pages of Les 
Chouans, where the word "sauvage" occurs over a dozen times and 
usually with reference to Indians. The first passage alludes to the 
appearance of the bestial and devoted Marche-a-Terre, who is par 
excellence the Cooperesque figure of the collection and who is com- 
pared by the Republican soldiers to an animal browsing in a field and 
"aux sauvages de FAme'rique." 2 On the next page Balzac speaks of 
"la vie sauvage" in Brittany and of a "nombre de sauvages sem- 
blables a celui qui vient de comparaitre dans cette Scene." Imme- 
diately afterward, still describing the nature of the Bretons, he 
emits the general and significant statement that primitive conditions 
tend to make "les habitants de ces campagnes plus pauvres de com- 
binaisons intellect ue) les que ne le sont les Mohicans et les Peaux- 
Rouges de PAme'rique septentrionale, mais aussi grands, aussi ruse's, 
aussi durs qu'eux. La place que la Bretagne occupe au centre de 
P Europe la rend beaucoup plus curieuse a observer que ne Test le 
Canada." The last sentence suggests a conscious rivalry with 
Cooper; as for casually placing his savages in Canada, that would 
be natural from the French standpoint, historically closer to the 
Hurons than to the Mohicans. But a little farther on, in speaking 
of Breton warfare, Balzac returns to the proper American soil. " II y 
avait de la conviction dans ces trahisons. C'etait des sauvages qui 
servaient Dieu et le roi a la maniere dont les Mohicans font la 
guerre." 3 

Apart from the wider racial resemblances, there are in these 
pages several specific allusions to savage customs. Hulot, the 

i (Euvres, XIV, 294, 308. * XII, 13. XII, 16. 



Commandant of the Republicans, while on the alert for an alarm, 
" consulta le sable de la route, a la maniere des sauvages, pour tacher 
de de*couvrir quelques traces de ces invisibles ennemis." 1 Here also 
we may place the later conduct of the romantic heroine, Marie de 
Verneuil, who, "semblable a un sauvage d'Ame*rique, interrogeait 
les fibres du visage de son ennemi Ii6 au poteau, et brandissait le 
casse-tete avec grace. . . . " 2 

But as shown in many places, Marche-a-Terre is pre-eminently 
the "savage." His look is distinguished by "1'ironie sauvage"; 
he, like Cooper's Magua, disappears from the midst of suspicious 
foes, "avec la rapidite* d'un chat sauvage"; he displays a "joie 
sauvage" at finding gold, and a "tendresse sauvage" with his sweet- 
heart. Indeed the adjective is applied to him with almost wearisome 
iteration, and it is also applied to the Chouans in general, though 
with less frequency. Their battle-cries are " sauvages " and the dying 
Chouan, who is tattooed, has a "figure rude et sauvage." There is 
thus a definite likeness between Cooper's Peaux-Rouges and the 
Peaux-de-biques, as the Bretons are called from their costume. In 
his preface, Cooper marks the chief qualities of the Mohican by saying 
that in war he is ruthless, self-denying, and daring; while in peace, he 
is just, hospitable, and superstitious. 3 Balzac points out in the 
Chouan his ferocity, faithfulness, simplicity, and generally the more 
heroic virtues; his superstition and self-devotion in warfare are 
frequently dwelt upon. The Indian, says Cooper, "draws his 
metaphors from the clouds, the seasons, the birds, the beasts, and 
the vegetable world." True; so does Cooper himself, naturally; 
so does Balzac, with more pains, ever seeking figures that are appro- 
priate to the calling, whether of soldier or peasant. Another parallel 
in the language is to be found in the nature of the sounds and voices. 
The Indians in the Mohicans Chingachgook, Uncas, old Tamenund 
usually speak in guttural tones, and this adjective is kept in the 

1 XII, 20. 

2 XII, 121. Balzac italicizes "casse-tte," thus indicating probably that it is his 
own (poor) translation of Defauconpret's more guarded "tomahawk." The above 
quotation suggests Cooper's description of Uncas running the gauntlet. 

3 My references to Cooper are to the "Mohawk" edition of the Complete Works, 
32 vols., New York, Putnam, 1896-. It seems needless from now on to give the page 
references for the shorter quotations. Anyone tolerably familiar with Lea Chouans or 
Cooper can place most of them from the context. 



French translation. We hear in Les Chouans of "les sons rauques 
d'une voix bretonne"; Marche-a-Terre's voice is characterized by 
"sons rauques et gutturaux"; and "guttural" here and elsewhere 
is almost a favorite adjective of Balzac's as it was of Cooper's. 

Other important characteristics of Marche-a-Terre 1 are, first, 
that quality which I shall call animalism the rapprochement between 
a human and various animals of which Balzac is so fond and these 
Indian attributes: his laconic speech; his control of emotion under 
suspicious observation (again like Magua) he is sphinx-like and has 
a "figure impassible" in danger; his agility "d'un animal sauvage"; 
his keen senses which "devaient avoir acquis la finesse de ceux des 
sauvages"; his heavy carabine, so often associated with its owner, 
like that of Hawkey e ("La Longue Carabine"); and the whole 
matter of his detention and escape in the first skirmish, whose cir- 
cumstances foes in the camp, rescue, ambush, surprise, signals 
are much like the first affrays in the Mohicans. 

The stoicism of the Indians, which is imitated even by Hawkeye, 
their keenness and agility, are too often mentioned in the Mohicans 
to require detailing. Still other features of Marche-a-Terre are his 
"cri bestial," his appearance of being "tail!4 comme a coups de 
hache," and his long shining hair, like the hair of his goatskin. Only 
the last is strikingly Indian, and indeed the short squatness of the 
Breton's figure is not to our purpose. But I would call attention to 
the way in which that figure is put together. One characteristic, 
that of size, is insisted on throughout. He is "large des epaules," 
he has the head"presque aussi grosse que celle d'un bceuf," his nostrils 
are thick, his lips are big, and he has "grands et ronds yeux noirs." 
This preference for central, sometimes artificial, unity in a descrip- 
tion is one of the things that has impressed me most in the method 
of Balzac, and, incidentally, good illustrations of that procede form 
the main novelty of Faguet's recent study. 2 Let me recall that 
Balzac pointed out Cooper's skill in the ensemble of a descrip- 
tion. David Gamut, the quaint psalm-singer, is described by 
Cooper from the keynote of "contrariety in his members." 3 A 

i XII, 10 flf. 

J E. Faguet, Balzac ("Grands fScrivains Frangais"), Paris, 1913. 

The Last of the Mohicans, p. 8. 



similar peculiarity of construction and, for another person, a sort of 
squatness which more nearly corresponds with Marche-a-Terre 
are used as keynotes in The Prairie. 1 It would be difficult to prove, 
without a great deal of study in Scott and elsewhere, that Balzac 
derives this favorite practice from Cooper; but once more the 
similarity is striking. The same must be said concerning the device 
of reappearing characters. The French novelist was impressed with 
the American's use of this, and beyond that statement one hesitates 
to go. So little is known about the history of this celebrated Bal- 
zacian procedure that any definite contribution should be welcomed; 
the subject is now being attacked. The pertinent query meantime 
remains : Who more plausibly than Cooper can have given this hint 
to Balzac and possibly to Dumas pere f 

Among the other characters, Hawkeye's inward laugh, already 
seen as used for Gobseck, calls for fresh attention. The trait is men- 
tioned and described early in the English Mohicans, but in the 
French translation for some pages it is reduced to a commonplace 
"souriant" or "baissant la voix." Only in the middle of the book 
do we reach this passage: 2 "Enfin, tous ses traits exprimerent un 
acces de rire, sans produire pour cela le moindre son, expression qui 
lui etait particuliere,* et que 1'habitude des dangers lui avait apprise." 
This tic has perhaps a connection with Hulot's martial " grimace," 
doubtfully taken for a sort of smile by his soldiers. Hawkeye gives 
vent to his silent laughter while he is disguised in a bear's skin a 
disguise which Uncas also assumes and Marche-a-Terre, wearing 
the same thing, is once taken for a bear even by his sweetheart. 
Finally, Hawkeye's glance, like that of all the Indians, is keen and 
roving, "as if in quest of game"; and Balzac's conscripts look 
stealthily at the woods and rocks, also like a dog scenting game. 

We are not through with the keen eyes yet. The villains of 
these stories are respectively Magua and Corentin. The latter's 
eyes are appropriately green, and again restless: "Cet incroyable, 
dont les petits yeux vont incessamment d'un cote du chemin a 1'autre, 
comme s'il y voyait des Chouans." 4 As for Magua, Cooper stresses 

1 Pp. 50 and 62. 9 

2 Defauconpret, p. 265. 

8 The exact phrase used of Gobseck; see above, p. 9. 
XII, 60. 



"the tremulous glances of his organs, which seemed not to rest a 
single instant on any particular object and which at the same time 
could be hardly said to move." When Chingachgook is on the alert, 
"his quick and rapid glances ran incessantly over every object." 
Others of the Indians, even the children, have this quick rolling eye, 
and Corentin's is not the only case where Balzac dwells upon the 
power of the regard, a favorite word with him. A questionable 
allusion to Chingachgook is the phrase concerning immense roots 
that crawl about, "semblables a de gros serpents" a comparison 
repeated later. 

The names, especially the noms de guerre of the characters, have 
in the two stories this similarity, that they are usually symbolic 
and physical. In Cooper, we find (Eil-de-Faucon or La Longue 
Carabine, Le Gros Serpent, and Le Cerf Agile; also Le Renard 
Subtil and La Main Ouverte. In Balzac, there are Beau-Pied and 
La-Clef-des-Cceurs among the soldiers, and among the peasants 
Marche-a-Terre, Galope-Chopine, 1 Pille-Miche, 2 and Mene-a-bien 
the last, being conferred, like Hawkeye, for good conduct in the course 
of the action. Balzac's names have also some historical analogies, 3 
but they still afford interesting parallels with those of Cooper. 

Among the incidents, we will consider first the private execution 
of Galope-Chopine, by the two other Bretons, one of whom is his 
cousin and friend. Le Breton 4 thinks this the capital scene in the 
book and believes that it was suggested by the affair of the Porteous 
mob, in the early chapters of The Heart of Midlothian. But that 
episode, which is virtually a lynching of an officer of the law, is a 
very public deed and has nothing to do with supposed treachery; 
whereas the two Bretons behead Galope-Chopine in his own house, 
because they think he has betrayed their leader. It is almost a 
family affair and to my thinking, if derivative at all, it resembles more 
closely the family judgment-scene in The Prairie, where the squatter 
condemns and prepares to execute his brother-in-law for murdering 
his son. There it is a question of treachery, with the other painful 
element of private feeling warring with the claims of justice. The 

i Mug-Chaser. 2 Bread-Stealer. 

See Balzac's remarks in connection with "le Gars," XII, 37, 53. 

P. 88, footnote. 



situation in El Verdugo, where a brother and son is required to 
execute his whole family, may also be compared. 

.Other incidents in Les Chouans, which have a certain Cooperesque 
quality, are these. Marie de Verneuil is made prisoner by the 
Bretons, as Cora is captured by the Hurons; and as the green veil 
of the latter is made the clue of her identification and pursuit, so the 
veil of Marie, floating outside of her carriage, announces that she 
has made good her escape. Unconsciously imitating the Indians, 
the peasant, Barbette, covers the fire with green genets, in order to 
make the smoke thicker. A countryman undertakes to prove to 
the Commandant that the Chouans are numerous: "II amena 
Hulot a un endroit du plateau ou le sable avait e"te* remue* comme 
avec un rateau; puis, apres le lui avoir fait remarquer, il le conduisit 
assez avant dans un sentier ou ils virent les vestiges du passage 
d'un grand nombre d'hommes. Les feuilles y dtaient empreintes 
dans la terre battue/' 1 In much the same way does Cooper describe 
an "obvious trail" as imprinted in the leaves. When Le Gars 
escapes from Barbette's cottage, he hurls himself through seven 
people, somewhat as Hurry Harry does in The Deerslayer; but the 
fact that for a time he is pursued by the eager Gudin alone, while 
the others watch, reminds one of the way Uncas outstripped his 
comrades in pursuing Magua; and the whole swift and tragic 
denouement, including the death of the heroine, the shooting and 
adventures among rocks, the proposed escapes by disguise, and 
final confrontation of the two funeral biers of the dead hero and 
maiden, is in so far identical in both stories. Other features, of 
mrse, widely differentiate their finish, and in regard to this whole 
latter of incidents it would be unwise to insist on any one as 
lecessarily from Cooper; only taken together they add more plau- 
ibility to a connection already fairly well established. 

Under the head of customs, I claim no more than an analogy, con- 
dous perhaps on the part of Balzac, between the "cri de chouette," 
which is the regular signal of the Chouans, and the "cri du hibou," 
h is used by Hawkeye. Historically, of course, the Chouans 2 
were so named from their call, which allows the Indian signal to 

XII, 29. 

2 See Meyer-Ltibke, s.v. 



remain only as a coincidence between primitive peoples. But 
what shall we say of the dead Chouan who bears on his breast "une 
espece de tatouage de couleur bleuatre qui repre"sentait un cceur en- 
flamme*" ? This sign certainly suggests the totem of the Mohicans, 
the blue tortoise skilfully tattooed on their breasts. The Indian 
council-fire is dwelt upon by Cooper, the debate which is preceded 
by a deliberate, rotatory, and silent smoking of the pipe. Marche-a- 
Terre and his comrades on several occasions substitute the chinchoire 
for the pipe, and the former takes his pinch "en homme qui voulait 
se preparer pour quelque action grave." Is this another conscious 
coincidence on the author's part ? Cooper's Indians, both here and 
in The Prairie, are prone to inflammatory orations in the cause of 
vengeance. There is such a speech of Magua's, constructed very 
similarly to one by the Abbe Gudin, 1 in which either orator makes 
appeal to vengeful feelings, by using the sting of scorn, by dwelling on 
individual losses, with names and circumstances. The detailed 
effect on the audience is given in both cases, and the phrase, "Magua 
had so artfully blended the natural sympathies with the religious 
superstition of the audience," might equally well be applied to the 

The question of topography is more difficult. Let us remember 
how often in criticizing Cooper, Balzac returns to the former's descrip- 
tions of landscape, especially as intimately connected with human 
figures. There are broad descriptive reaches in Les Chouans, some- 
times detailed on plans similar to those of Cooper. The three 
masterpieces of this kind are the valley of the Couesnon as seen by 
the departing soldiers; the castle of La Vivetiere and its environs; 
and the long panorama of the view from Fougeres, together with 
much detail regarding the site itself. 

The second of these particularly contains definite touches in the 
manner of the American. As the travelers are nearing the castle, 
the effect of furtiveness and perhaps the stealthy invasion of human 
figures are prepared for in this sentence: "Le murmure du vent, 
le bruissement. des touffes d'arbres, le bruit des pas mesure*s de 
1'escorte, donnerent a cette scene ce caractere solennel qui accelere 
les battements du cceur." The chateau itself is described as a kind 

XII, 217-18. 



of natural fortress, surrounded by two ponds, which have "berges 
sauvages," with leafless "aquatic" trees. 1 The maid, Francine, 
looking out on these banks at nightfall, becomes suspicious of their 
appearance. "Elle entendit bruire les ronces de la berge et apergut 
au clair de la lune la figure de Marche-a-Terre qui se dressa par- 
dessus la noueuse e*corce d'un vieux saule. II fallait connaitre le 
Chouan pour le distinguer au milieu de cette assemble de truisses 
e"branche*es parmi lesquelles la sienne se confondait si facilement." 
After the interview with Madame du Gua, "le sauvage . . . dis- 
parut dans Pe*corce du saule." A little later there is a repetition of 
this theme with variations. Francine, again looking out on the pond, 
observes the shadows of the willows and notes the uniform bending of 
their branches caused by a slight breeze. "Tout a coup elle crut 
apercevoir une de leurs figures remuant sur le miroir des eaux par 
quelques-uns de ces mouvements irre*guliers et spontanes qui trahis- 
sent la vie." Not being a reader of Cooper, Francine thinks at 
first that this is only some configuration due to the shining of the 
moon through the foliage; but soon she realizes that it is a man. 
Then comes another, and still others, while the little shrubs on the 
bank move violently up and down. The whole hedge is agitated 
"like a large serpent." The girl rushes into the courtyard, pauses 
and listens, but discovers "aucune trace de ce sourd bruissement 
semblable a celui que peuvent produire les pas d'une bte fauve 
dans le silence des forets." 

All the stealthiness of Indian ambush is in these passages. If 
specific instances are desired of that fusion of figure and landscape, 
here are two from the Mohicans: "Immovable as that rock, of 
which each appeared to form a part, they lay, with their eyes roving, 
without intermission, along the dark margin of trees that bounded the 
adjacent shores of the narrow stream." And again: "The naked 
tawny bodies of the crouching urchins blended so nicely, at that 
hour, with the withered herbage." 

The description of the panorama from Fougeres has no general 
analogue in the Mohicans, but there are a few small touches that 
may be mentioned. Balzac refers to the Breton scenery at "cette 
nature dont le principal caractere est une aprete sauvage." More 

1 XII, 137-38. 



important is his device, used several times, of summarizing for 
clearness the main features of the topography. Cooper, since The 
Pioneers, had also adopted this 'practice, though not with such con- 
sistency as Balzac. 

The topography of both authors is closely linked with the nature 
of the warfare, and the necessity of that connection is dwelt upon 
by both to a considerable extent. We have seen the constituents of 
the Republicans' first skirmish with the Chouans, after which the 
latter spread out into the country. This habit of scattering and 
hiding separately behind trees, rushes or broom-plant, and hedges 
is indicated in the verb "s'e*gailler," which is often used. Balzac 
thus generalizes this warfare: "Les eVenements de cette lutte 
intestine contract&rent quelque chose de la sauvage aprete qu'ont 
les mceurs en ces contr6es." And he goes on to detail the elements: 
each flowery hedge might conceal an invisible aggressor, each field 
was a fortress, each tree a trap or a stratagem. When the heroine 
is walking across country, it is stated that "Mile de Verneuil comprit 
alors la guerre des Chouans. En parcourant ces routes elle put 
mieux appre"cier l'e"tat de ces campagnes." They consist of thick 
hedges, roads that are hollow and almost impassable, with the 
pathway by the side, which is called a rote, the echalier, which is a 
tree-trunk used as a cumbersome gate, the isolated fields, which form 
together a chessboard aspect, and always the genets for ambushes. 1 

The Chouans, as appears several times, have the advantage in 
their own country, where the soldiers are novices. One is reminded 
of General Braddock's misfortunes with the Indians, and Cooper, 
commenting on that defeat, intimates that it was caused by English 
carelessness and lack of adaptability. Elsewhere he remarks on the 
" simplicity of the Indian contests" and the usefulness of artillery. 
And Hawkeye, on another occasion, says: "You may here see the 
philosophy of an Indian fight. It consists mainly in a ready hand, 
a quick eye, and a good cover." 

These principles are shortly put into practice, in an affray which 
may be compared with the last skirmish in Les Chouans. The 
approach against the Hurons is made along the bed of a brook, which 
is lined with trees in various stages of decay. These are of course 

i XII, 15-16, 212-13. 



used as cover, and a charge is made by rapidly darting from tree to 
tree. In the Chouan affair, conducted more in the open fields and 
finally among the rocks, similar means of defense are employed. 
Gudin, in particular, saves himself by dodging from one apple tree 
to another, "en saisissant pour courir le moment ou les Chasseurs du 
Roi chargeaient leurs armes." This last detail is also mentioned 
several times by Cooper. 

It would be too tedious to exemplify general traits which are 
common to both authors; they prove nothing except similarity in 
method. Such are the habitual explanatory asides, often inserted 
to point out a sociological connection : an external feature of person 
or landscape "announces" with Balzac; it "denotes" with Cooper. 
Such are also the historical aper$us, based probably on those of Scott, 
leading on to a clearer understanding of situation or character. Since 
it has been necessary once more to mention the name of Scott, it 
will be wise to admit that some of the precedes listed in this paper 
will in the last analysis go back to him; there will probably be Scott 
on his own account and Scott through Cooper. For instance, a 
good amount of theatrical or stilted dialogue and pseudo-romantic 
balderdash in situation characterize all three, and the attribution of 
the original source thereof would not be a matter of pride for anyone 
concerned. I trust, however, that enough strictly Cooperesque 
material has been exhibited to indicate rather strongly that Balzac 
in composing Le Dernier Chouan felt the charm of The Last of the 





The Elizabethan poets and dramatists are renowned for their 
enormous production and their amazing versatility. But the most 
recent discoveries make it more and more certain that they read far 
more voluminously than they wrote, and that the range of their read- 
ing extended from the dryest old Greek compilations to the most 
recent and insignificant tracts that went through the press in England 
or abroad. The time-honored classics of antiquity remained of 
course the universal favorites, together with the new stars of foreign 
literatures: Plutarch and Ovid, Ronsard and Du Bartas, Bandello 
and Ariosto have yielded the most abundant crop to those who are 
interested in knowing what an Elizabethan preferably read and con- 
sciously or unconsciously imitated. But the harvest is by no means 
at an end, and newly arrived gleaners, those even who bring to their 
work an inexperienced hand, are sometimes so well served by cir- 
cumstances that they would almost be deluded into thinking them- 
selves full-sized mowers, if they did not know better. 

Neo-Latin poetry is one of the vantage-grounds which offer 
the richest possibilities to the newcomer. Whoever opens one 
of the Latin works produced between the fourteenth and six- 
teenth centuries, and known to have enjoyed popularity and a 
wide circulation during the Renaissance, is sure of making " finds " 
if he happens to have fresh in his memory the works of an average 
Elizabethan with university training. What the possibilities are 
when the man in question is as inveterate a scholar as Ben Jonson 
or George Chapman can easily be surmised. Professor Castelain, 
for instance, had the courage and, we feel sure, in many cases the 
pleasure of reading Vives, Erasmus, Justus Lipsius, and Daniel 
Heinsius: he found 1 that Ben Jonson had known and partially 
adapted in his works the Epistola Nuncupatoria, the De Consulta- 
tione, the Preface to the Libri de Disciplinis, the De CausiS Cor- 
ruptarum Artium, the De Ratione Dicendi of the Spanish philosopher; 

1 See his edition of Ben Jonson's Discoveries (Paris, Hachette). 
215] 23 [MODERN PHILOLOGY, August, 1915 


Erasmus' Lingua, his Institutio Principis Christiani, his Apophtheg- 
mata, his Hyperaspistes Diatribae adversus Servum Arbitrium, his 
Adagia, his Epistola Apologetica ad Martinum Dorpium Theologum; 
Lipsius' Politicorum sive Civilis Doctrinae Libri 6, and his Epistolica 
Institutio; Heinsius' De Tragoediae Constitutione, and his Ad Horatii 
de Plauto et Terentio Judicium Dissertatio. 

Jonson drew, then, from the prose works of Spanish or Dutch 
scholars. Chapman's taste was apparently different from his 
friend's, for, as far as we can make out, with our incipient knowledge 
of his sources, his preference seems to have gone to Italian neo- 
Latinists, and mostly to their poetical works. His indebtedness to 
Petrarch's De Contemptu Mundi we have already estimated in an 
article in the Revue germanique. 1 We tried at the same time to realize 
how he worked on a Latin text, when he did not publicly set himself 
the task of translating it. The purpose of this article is to study, 
on a somewhat similar plan, Chapman's relation to Angelus Politianus 
and Jovianus Pontanus, two of the greatest and most famous writers 
of Latin verse in fifteenth-century Italy, and to offer some very 
simple conclusions on the process and spirit of the Englishman's 

Angelus Politianus 2 (1454-98), professor of the Greek and Latin 
literatures at the "Studio" of Florence, friend of Lorenzo de' Medici 
and tutor to his children, is too well known to need lengthy introduc- 
tion. His fame as a poet and scholar traveled swiftly all over Europe, 
and was carried to England as early as the end of the fifteenth century 
by such disciples as Grocyn and Linacre. No wonder that Chap- 
man should have known him, for, since 1498, when the first collection 
of his works was printed in aedibus Aldi Romani, one edition after 
another had been published, throughout the sixteenth century, in 
Florence, in Lyons, in Bale, in Paris that is to say, in all. the active 
printing centers of the time. Besides, the latest researches have 
proved that each separate edition had a great many more copies 
than was formerly supposed. Almost every college library at 

1 "Une source nouvelle de Chapman: Francisci Petrarchae de Contemptu mundi," 
Revue germanique, juillet-aout 1913. 

8 We purposely call him by the Latinized instead of the Italian form of his 
name, as we do Jovianus Pontanus too, for we consider them only as Latin verse- writers. 
Besides, Chapman himself writes neither "Politian" nor "Poliziano," but "Politianus." 



Oxford, at the time when Chapman probably was there, must have 
had on its shelves either the three octavo volumes of the Gryph- 
ian edition (1528-50), or the big folio volume of the Bale edition 

It is very likely that Chapman made his first acquaintance with 
Politianus in his college days, although he neither mentions nor 
adapts him till much later in life. It is, between the years 1610 
and 1614, when Chapman was over fifty years old, that he seems to 
have read Politianus most consistently. We can easily imagine why : 
Chapman was then busy completing his translation of Homer, and 
his attention would naturally enough have been called to all those 
who had attempted what he himself triumphantly achieved. Per- 
haps even and no blame to him for that he consulted the earlier 
translations of the "Prince of Poets," and found in them some sug- 
gestions for his own. Now, one of the best known among them, and 
perhaps one of the best, was Angelus Politianus' version of the Iliad 
in Latin hexameters. It was very incomplete, for Angelus started 
with the second book, 1 and did not proceed beyond the fifth; but 
the enterprise was a remarkable one for a youth of sixteen, and 
justified his enviable nickname of "1'Omerico Giovinetto." He 
certainly contributed to arousing the emulation of the English poet, 
and we cannot reasonably wonder that Chapman, wanting to com- 
mend his translation to the public by offering a selection of the most 
enthusiastic and authoritative criticisms of Homer, should have 
appealed to Angelus Politianus among the very first. 

Thus it is that the "Dedication to the Reader" prefixed to the 
Translation of the Iliad contains a fragment translated from Politia- 
nus, and inserted between the praise of Homer due to Silius Italicus 
and that which occurs in Pliny's Natural History. The order 
adopted by Chapman, even if due to inadvertency, is extremely 
interesting, as it proves, better than any long disquisition could 
do, in what relation the Latin humanists of the Renaissance stood 
to the old Latin classics in the estimation of the Elizabethans. 
Indeed they did not make much more difference between classics 
and neo-classics than the Middle Ages did between such writers as 
Dictys Cretensis or Dares Phrygius and Ovid or Virgil. 

1 The first book had been translated by Carlo Marsuppini. 




The passage chosen by Chapman is taken from the Nutricia, 
the last of the four Prolusioni in versi which Politianus wrote as intro- 
ductions to his literary courses and published under the joint title, 
Sylvae. The Nutricia, a long poem of 790 lines, written in 1486, is, 
as its subtitle points out, an argumentum de poetica et poetis; that 
is to say, a learned review of all the great poets of antiquity and the 
Middle Ages. The review culminates in a clever tribute paid to 
Lorenzo's poetical merits. So much does this review resemble a 
mere enumeration, that Homer is dismissed in ten lines, between a 
passing mention of such old epic poets as Philemon or Chrysothemis 
and a cursory praise of Virgil in an even smaller number of feet. 
These ten lines on Homer, which are themselves an adaptation from 
two Greek epigrams, 1 Chapman has adapted in his turn, expanding 
them into the fourteen lines of a regular sonnet. A comparison of the 
English with the Latin will show that the adaptation is skilful enough, 
although a little awkward at the beginning: 2 

Nam Demodoci vivacior aevo 
Fama meletaeis gaudet juvenescere 


Et tua, neritias invito pectine mensas 
Qui celebras. 

Etenim ut stellas f ugere 

undique caelo, 
Aurea cum radios Hyperionis exse- 

ruit fax, 
Cerminus, et tenuem velutevanescere 

Sic veterum illustres flagranti ob- 

scurat honores 
Lampade Maeonides: unum quern, 

dia canentem 
Facta virum et saevas aequantem 

pectine pugnas, 

More living than in old Demodocus, 
Fame glories to wax young in 

Homer's verse. 
And as when bright Hyperion holds 

to us 
His golden torch, we see the stars 

And every way fly heaven, the pallid 

Even almost vanishing before his 

So, with the dazzling beams of 

Homer's sun, 
All other ancient poets lose their 


Whom when Apollo heard, out of his 

i Anthology, I, Ixvii, 1 and 7. 

8 We quote Politianus from Del Lungo's reprint entitled: Prose volgari inedite e 
poesie latine e greche edite e inedite (Florence, 1867). We use the only available edition 
of Chapman's poems, that by Shepherd (London, Chatto & Windus, 1904). 



Obstupuit prorsusque parem con- Singing the godlike acts of hon- 
fessus Apollo est [11. 336 ff.]. our'd men, 

And equalling the actual rage of war, 
With only the divine strains of his 


He stood amazed and freely did con- 

Himself was equalFd in Maeonides 
[p. 241]. 

Similarly, when Chapman prefixed to his translation of the first 
twelve cantos of the Odyssey an "Epistle dedicatory to the most 
worthily honoured, my singular good Lord, Robert, Earl of Somerset, 
Lord Chamberlain, etc.," he thought he could extol Homer no better 
than by letting Politianus speak for him again. The passage chosen 
by Chapman with that purpose is taken from the Ambra, which 
stands third among the Sylvaej and was written in 1485. This poem, 
an easy, graceful eulogy of Homer, is mainly a verse-replica of 
Politianus' earlier prose-work : Oratio in expositionem Homeri, which 
is itself largely adapted from the elaborate Greek essays of Pseudo- 
Plutarch and Pseudo-Herodotus. Chapman's choice fell upon the 
somewhat high-flown periods with which the poem opens. We should 
not wonder at this, however, for the enthusiastic note is as eagerly 
struck by Chapman himself as by his Italian predecessor, perhaps 
not without an afterthought: the sublimer Homer was represented 
to be, the more honor accrued to his translator. 

It seems unnecessary to reprint here the Latin and the English 
texts. Let it suffice to say that the 19 lines which Chapman 
borrowed from Politianus (11. 12-30) were expanded by him into 
nearly twice their original number (exactly 35), partly owing to 
the extreme conciseness of the Latin, hardly to be equaled in 
English, partly owing to a certain long-windedness which is not 
infrequently a blot on Chapman's style. 

Another remark may not be devoid of interest: whereas Chap- 
man elsewhere borrowed freely from Petrarch, Jovianus Pontanus, 
and Angelus Politianus himself without acknowledgment, 'n his 
two dedications he not only did not try to conceal his indebtedness, 
but rather prided himself on being the English interpreter of such a 



divine poet as Angelus. These are the two lines prefixed to the 
Sonnet suggested by the Nutricia: 

Now hear an Angel sing our poet's fame, 
Whom fate, for his divine song, gave that name. 

Similarly, in his dedication to the Translation of the Odyssey, Chap- 
man appends a note to warn the reader that his epistle is partly 
adapted from the Latin; he even takes great care to quote the first 
lines of the original and give the exact reference: 

Cujus de gurgite vivo 

Combibit arcanos vatum omnis turba furores, etc. 
Ex Angeli Politiani Ambra. 12. 

He is as honest and as scrupulous a scholar when he writes in another 
footnote, at the end of the appropriated passage: "Thus far Angel. 
Politianus, for the most part, translated." 

These quotations have their importance, for they prove that 
Chapman, like so many of his contemporaries, like our own Mon- 
taigne, was quite willing to show himself in the light of an imitator, 
when he happened to be in the mood, thus denying to some modern 
source-hunter the malignant joy of hurling at him the accusation of 
larceny. Let us once for all accept the unwritten code of Elizabethan 
imitation. We need not then frown upon Chapman because he 
happens not to have acknowledged publicly the two extensive bor- 
rowings which we are now to consider. 

Sir Sidney Lee is, we think, the only one to have noticed that 
Chapman's Epicede, or, Funerall Song: On the most disastrous Death 
of the High-borne Prince of Men, Henry Prince of Wales is largely an 
adaptation of Politianus' Latin elegy on the death of Albiera Albitia. 
As he was content with stating the fact in a few lines, 1 and as both 
the Latin and the English poems deserve our close attention in more 
than one respect, we purpose to study their relations, with a view to 

1 In The French Renaissance in England, 1910, p. 466, note: "Another instance 
of Chapman's habit of 'imitation' is perhaps more curious. Many of the most moving 
passages in his Epicede or Funerall Song on the most disastrous Death of . . . . Henry 
Prince of Wales (1612) boldly adopt long extracts from Politian's Elegia sive Epicedion 
In Albierae Albitiae immaturum exitum, ad Sismundum Stupham eius sponsum, Opera, 
Lyons, 1546, torn, iii, 259 seq." 



determining Chapman's share of originality and weighing his merits 
as a writer of occasional poetry. 1 

That Chapman, having decided to dedicate a poem to the memory 
of the Prince of Wales, should have been anxious to get his verse 
tribute printed and ready for sale early does not surprise us in the 
least, for he certainly knew that almost every poet of any mark at 
the time, aware of the immense popularity of the prince, would be 
sure to work on the same subject. Of a rather jealous nature, he 
went even so far as to make curious allusions to his poetical rivals 
in his invocation to the Muse: 

What poison'd Asterism may his death accuse, 

Tell thy astonish'd prophet, deathless Muse, 

And make my stars therein, the more adverse, 

The more advance with sacred rage my verse, 

And so adorn my dearest Fautor's hearse, 

That all the wits profane of these bold times 

May fear to spread the spawn of their rank rhymes 

On any touch of him, that should be sung 

To ears divine, and ask an Angel's tongue [11. 325-33]. 

These lines are the more unfair as the "wits profane" who dared 
versify their grief on that occasion were named Campion, Drummond 
of Hawthornden, Hey wood, Tourneur, Webster, Sylvester, Donne, 
Herbert, Wither. 2 

That Chapman, in his hurry to be the first, should have looked for 
some material inspiration in the verse of an older writer, is nothing 
surprising either, for in such cases the Elizabethans did not crave 
to be thought strictly original, as the poetically gifted among us pre- 
tend to be when writing a piece of occasional poetry on a subject as 
novel as birth, marriage, or death. 8 

Further, that the works of Politianus should have been among 
the first which it occurred to Chapman to use in this predicament is 
hardly more astonishing; for we have already mentioned the fact that 

1 Politian's elegy begins on -p. 238 of Del Lungo's edition; and Chapman's poem on 
p. 165 of the edition cited. 

2 John Nichols gives a long list of tracts on the death of Prince Henry in his Progresses 
of King James the First, II, 504 flf. 

8 Examples are numerous: one to the point is that of Ben Jonson incorporating 
passages from the younger Pliny's Panegyric of Trajanus in his Panegyre on the happy 
Entrance of James our Sovereign, etc. See B. Jonson, Discoveries, ed. Castelain, p. 154. 



the Italian humanist seems to have been read a great deal by Chap- 
man about 1612, the year of Prince Henry's death. But we may 
wonder that Chapman should have chosen for his pattern a poem 
seemingly so little fitted for the occasion. He had to bewail the 
death of an eighteen-year-old prince, heir-apparent to the throne of 
England; Politianus had deplored the premature death of Albiera 
degli Albizzi, a Florentine girl of fifteen, soon to become a wife, who 
had been suddenly taken ill after a dance on Midsummer Night, 
1473. Chapman's Epicede was to be dedicated to his " affectionate 
and true friend, Mr. Henry Jones"; Politianus' elegy was written for 
Albiera's fiance, Gismondo della Stufa, and a great deal of its most 
genuine and most tender pathos revolved around the infinite sadness 
of that sweet impending marriage ruthlessly hindered by death. All 
this Chapman had to leave aside; but Politianus' elegy, once shorn 
of all that was inappropriate for the occasion, would obviously have 
been too thin and too impersonal to fill the poet's purpose. That is 
why all the beginning of the English poem exactly the first 353 
lines, out of 657 is Chapman's own; or at least it embodies his 
main preoccupations so well, and develops themes so usual with him, 
that, unless we be very much mistaken, it is needless to look for any 

Perhaps the very first thing which strikes the reader in this 
original half of the poem is its discursiveness and lack of unity. 
The author's thought seems to proceed at random, as if it had no 
other aim than to lead up to the part adapted from Politianus. 
After the religious note has been struck, right at the beginning of 
the dirge, by these lines: 

Ever, ever be 

Admired and fear'd that Triple Majesty 
Whose finger could so easily stick a fate 
'Twixt least felicity and greatest state! [11. 7-10] 

the poet alludes to the mysteriousness of the ways of God, who 


Only to show the world men fit for heaven, 
Then ravish them as if too good for earth. 

When he has duly proposed the fate of the unfortunate Henry as a 
lesson to all the princes of the world, the poet proceeds to rebuke 



Death for its cruelty, and then passes on to the whole-hearted praise 
of his hero. Most characteristic of Chapman's disposition is his 
trick of inveighing against the " enemies of goodness" in proportion 
as he extols the goodness and virtues of his " Prince of men." Thus 
a mention of the latter's abhorrence of flattery has for its immediate 
counterpart an "apostrophe" against flatterers: 

Flatterers are household thieves, traitors by law, 
That rot king's honours and their souls' blood draw 

[11. 213-14]. 

The author's thought becomes then laxer and laxer, although it is 
occasionally relieved by a splendid simile possibly lifted from some 
ancient writer. We are thus brought to the threshold of the second 
half of the poem (11. 354-657), in which Chapman mainly adapts the 
Florentine elegy. 

A careful reading of the Latin text will make it clear that Chap- 
man had selected a fine model, and that in spite of appearances, a 
few suppressions and a limited number of alterations were sufficient 
to make it quite suitable to the occasion. The consolatory lines 
addressed by Politianus to Albiera's unhappy young fiance could 
be equally well applied to Henry's royal father, or to his sister 
Elisabeth, herself betrothed to the Palsgrave. It was not much 
more difficult to do away with the exquisite verse portrait of Albiera 
(11. 25-42), as well as with the short description of the festival soon 
after which she succumbed (11. 59-80). Chapman chose to omit, 
along with these two passages, the more general exordium (11. 1-24) 
and a brief invocation to Sorrow (11. 43-58), so that the imitation 
really begins with 1. 83. The elaborate theme which is intro- 
duced with that line and continued to the end of the elegy is what 
appealed to Chapman, and seemed to him worth putting into English 

Under the joint influence of classical antiquity and the Renais- 
sance taste for allegorical pageants of all sorts, Politianus had imagined 
the following device : he made his Muse narrate all the circumstances 
of Albiera's death and funeral in the style which we presume tcfhave 
been that of the Muses ever since there were Muses at all: a florid 
and figurative style, by means of which everything is personified 



that can be personified, and that means nearly every substantive in 
the language. Thalia accordingly tells the pain-stricken poet how 
Rhamnusia (the Roman Nemesis), jealous of Albiera's accomplish- 
ments, met Fever, daughter to Erebus and Night, as she was flying 
through Heaven on a chariot drawn by Marmarian lions. Then 
follows an enumeration of all the personages who accompany her: 

Luctusque et tenebris Mors adoperta caput, 
Et Gemitus gravis, et Gemitu commixta Querela, 

Singultusque frequens, Anxietasque ferox, 
Et Tremor, et Macies, pavidoque Insania vultu, 

Semper et ardenti pectore anhela Sitis [11. 98 ff.]. 

Rhamnusia then hastens to recommend Albiera to Fever's worst 
attacks. The horrid, blood-thirsty hag readily visits the maid; 
one touch of her torch, and a deadly flame scorches Albiera to the 
marrow. She soon feels her end approaching, takes leave of her dear 
Gismondo in the noblest terms, and breathes her last with no less 
gracefulness than she had lived. The elegy concludes with an ac- 
count of her funeral and a four-line epitaph. 

Such is the poetical fiction which Chapman hastily adopted in 
his Funeral Song. The Christian and moralizing note which he had 
kept striking throughout the former half made it of course difficult 
for him to pass over to the pagan elements and the fantastic my- 
thology which make up the latter part of the poem. A great deal 
of cleverness and a fine sense for transitions might have smoothed the 
way from one to the other; but Chapman never had these gifts to 
any great extent, and he altogether failed to harmonize his own 
invention with that of Politianus. Nothing indeed could be more 
awkward than the two lines which mark the end of the moral lesson 
and announce the "Musae Lachrymae," that fictitious narrative 
which Chapman, along with Politianus, trusts his Muse to relate for 

With this it thunder'd, and a lightning show'd 
Where she sat writing in a sable cloud. 

But the Muse does not seem to be much more skilled than her learned 
disciple, for her exordium is as awkward as can be; and it is at the 




end of an interminable, loosely built period that Chapman tacked on 
the first lines taken over from the Latin: 1 

All other Princes with his parts comparing 

Like all Heaven's petty luminaries faring, 

To radiant Lucifer, the day's first-born [11. 354-56]. 

If we now examine the translation in itself, what chiefly strikes 
us is that the Chapmanian version is much longer than the original: 
Politianus' 200 lines (11. 83-286) have become over 300 in their 
English rendering (11. 354-657). We do find, it is true, a number of 
passages in which the English, closely modeled on the Latin, is almost 
as short. 2 But it is very seldom that Chapman does not lengthen his 
original. In a few cases, he turns one line into two for no other 
reason than that prolixity is one of his pchs mignons. Thus 
Rhamnusia's fierce ejaculation to Fever: 

Aspicis hanc .... puellam .... 

Quae gaudet, fati sortisque ignara futurae ? [11. 131-33] 

ids in English: 

Seest thou this Prince .... 

Who joys securely in all present state, 

Nor dreams what Fortune is, or future Fate? [11. 428-31]. 

half -line : 

Tenebris Mors adoperta caput [1. 98] 

turned into: 

Infernal Death, 
His head hid in a cloud of sensual breath [11. 380-81]. 

Cases such as these, in which Chapman weakens his original by 
the lengthening, are, however, the exception. His imagination seems 
be almost constantly at work on his text, or rather his text is only 

i The Latin has: 

Tamque suas vincit comites, quam Lucifer ore 

Purpureo rutilans astra minora premit [11. 83-84], 

8 The words with which Death threatens the Prince are a good example: 

lae placidam carpis secura mente quietem, 
Et fati et sortis nescia virgo tuae, 
rondum saeva meae sensisti vulnera 

Quae tibi ego et mecum quae tibi fata 


Stat vacua tua Parca colo, moritura puella; 
Ne geme, cum dulce est vivere, dulce mori 
est [11. 155-60]. 

Henry, why takest thou thus thy rest 

Nought doubting what Fortune and Pates 

Thou never yet felt'st my red right hand's 


That I to thee and fate to me prodfeims; 
Thy fate stands idle; spins no more thy 


Die thou must, great Prince, sigh not, .... 
If sweet it be to live, 'tis sweet to die 

[11. 474-81]. 




the canvas on which his powerful imagination fancifully embroiders 
all sorts of images. Some examples are very striking. Politianus 
thus describes the Marmarian Lions who draw Fever's chariot: 

Marmaricique trahunt dominae juga curva leones, 

Ignea queis rabido murmure corda fremunt [11. 105-6]. 

Chapman translates: 

Marmarian Lions, fringed with flaming manes, 
Drew this grim fury and her brood of banes, 
Their hearts of glowing coals murmur'd and roar'd 
To bear her crook'd yokes [11. 392-95]. 

That fine metaphor " fringed with flaming manes" is entirely of 
Chapman's invention. "Ignea corda" has become: " their hearts 
of glowing coals." This last alteration is particularly interesting, for 
it has dozens of analogues in the Funeral Song. Chapman finds the 
Latin too tame, too abstract for him, and substitutes for it a more 
concrete word which is an image by itself. Thus 
Faucibus in salsis tussis acerba sonat [1. 118] 

is rendered: 

And in her salt jaws painful coughs did bark [1. 415]. 

Similarly "Trepidaeque Insomnia mentis" (1. 103) is translated: 
"hare-eyed Unrest" (1. 388), with reference to "the property of the 
Hare that never shuts her eyes sleeping"; and the hexameter: 

Continuo ardentes stimulis citat ilia leones [1. 139] 
reads in English : 

Who stung with goads her roaring lions' thighs. 

Sometimes, it is true, Chapman in his fondness for striking 
poetical utterances lapses into sheer brutality of expression, reaching 
effects of the worst imaginable taste: 

Atque animi interpres liventi lingua The mind's interpreter, her scorched 

veneno tongue, 

Manat .... Flow'd with blue poison; from her 

yawning mouth 
Sputa cadunt rictu croceo contracta Rheums fell like spouts fill'd from 

dolore [11. Ill ff.]. the stormy South [11. 405 ff.]. 

Here is an even more typical example : 

Jam virgo effertur nigro composta Now the gloomy hearse 

feretro [1. 251]. Puts out the Sun [11. 592-93]. 


But the images, mythological or otherwise, which the text has 
suggested to Chapman, are not infrequently felicitous, as this one 
for instance: 

Interea humentem noctis variantia And now Heaven's Smith kindled 

pallam his forge and blew, 

Hesperus in rutilo sparserat astra And through the round Pole thick 

polo [11. 141-42]. the sparkles flew 1 [11. 450-511. 

One or two examples will illustrate the extraordinary way in 
which Chapman's imagination sometimes set to work on one word 
of his original. Politianus, in his description of Fever, has these two 
perfectly intelligible lines: 

Vertice Diva feras ardenti attollit echidnas, 
Quae saniem stygio semper ab ore vomunt [11. 107-8J. 

Chapman apparently glanced at these lines the first time and trans- 
lated rightly: 

A wreath of adders bound her trenched brows [1. 390]. 

Then he read them a second time, but his active mind was already on 
a new track, for they seemed altogether new to him, and, forgetting 
all about his first version, he wrote a second, entirely different: 

Then from Hell's burning whirlpit up she haul'd 
The horrid monster, fierce Echidna call'd; 
That from her Stygian jaws doth vomit ever 
Quitture and venom, yet is empty never [11. 398-401]. 

The reader will have noticed that Chapman, having mistaken vertex 
meaning "head" for vertex meaning "whirlpool," "whirlpit," made 
a contresens, gave to attollit the meaning of "hauled," which it evi- 
dently cannot have, and read into the text an allusion to Echidna, 
the mother of Cerberus, 2 whereas Politianus had only meant the 
vipers which crowned the head of Fever, that younger sister of the 

Nor is this the only case which proves how hurried and unmethod- 
ical Chapman was in his reading, and how ready he was to start on a 

1 Chapman appended an explanatory gloss, as he often did when his verse was 
somewhat abstruse: "The starry evening described by Vulcan's setting to woxk at that 
time, the night being ever chief estly consecrated to the works of the gods ; and out of this 
deity's fires the stars are supposed to fly as sparkles of them." 

2 Chapman probably remembered the passage in Ovid (Met. iv. 501) in which she is 


new imaginative track, on the very slightest provocation. Exactly 
the same thing happened a few lines farther down. Proceeding 
with his description of Fever, Politianus had written: 

Dextera fumiferam praefulgens lampada quassat, 
Sithoniasque gerit frigida laeva nives [11. 121-22]. 

Chapman probably glanced at the distich before reading it carefully; 
his eye caught the two words " fumiferam lampada," which his lively 
imagination immediately identified with the hectic red hand of the 
Monster, and he wrote: 

Her sluttish hand 
She held out reeking like a new-quenched brand [11. 416-17]. 

He then read his text a little less cursorily and translated it with more 

In her left hand a quenchless fire did glow, 

And in her right palm freezed Sithonian snow [11. 420-21], 

allowing his first tentative version to remain as it was, although it 
made the whole passage read as if Fever had three hands. 

Still, all these additions do not account for the 100 extra lines of 
Chapman's rendering. In a number of cases he tacked on to his 
text images devised entirely by himself : these are mostly remarkable 
for their heterogeneousness. He has for instance an elaborate com- 
parison of the " Kingdom's plight" after the Prince's death with "the 
state of Sir Th. Gates's ship and men" when "the tempest cast them 
on the Bermudas." 1 

Such imagery is, however, exceptional: he more often intro- 
duces a shorter simile drawn from mythology, as: 

Now weeps his Princely Brother; now, alas, 
His Cynthian Sister, our sole earthly Grace, 
Like Hebe's fount still overflows her bounds [11. 573-75]; 

And see how the Promethean liver grows 
As vulture Grief devours it [11. 579-80]. 

Sir Thomas Gates had been at the head of an important expedition to colonize 
Virginia. He sailed at the end of May, 1609, with nine ships. Only seven arrived. 
The flagship " Sea- Venture " was separated from the rest of the fleet by a terrific hurri- 
cane, and stranded on the rocks of Bermuda. This disaster aroused keen interest at 
the time, and was the subject of several tracts. 



Once he even devises a new theme, or rather introduces a 
worn-out motif, by making Venus one of the Prince's mourners, and 
depicting her 

As much confused as when the Calidon Boar 
The thigh of her divine Adonis tore [11. 628-29]. 

The catalogue of these additions will be about complete when we 
have mentioned a few allusions to the visitors at the Prince's death- 
bed: the archbishop of Canterbury and Sir Edward Phillips, Master 
of the Rolls; and when we have quoted these beautiful lines of moral 
satire, so characteristic of Chapman's most original manner: 

This death all men to the marrow wears, 
All that are men; the rest, those drudging beasts 
That only bear of men the coats and crests, 
And for their slave, sick, that can earn them pence, 
More mourn, Monsters, than for such a Prince; 
Whose souls do ebb and flow still with their gain, 
Whom nothing moves but pelf and their own pain; 
Let such, great Heaven, be only born to bear 
All that can follow this mere massacre [11. 508-16]. 

From all that precedes, we can conclude that Chapman freely 
adapted and enlarged his original, and that his translation is never 
very literal. In other words, his imitation is no slavery, his riotous 
imagination remains unshackled, and he never denies admission to the 
metaphors, similes, or satirical outbursts which his subject-matter or 
his own invention suggests to him. 

But enrichment does not necessarily mean improvement. On 
the contrary, we miss in the Chapman poem the very quality which 
raises the Latin elegy to a high artistic level unity. No doubt 
Politianus' elegy is, like all his poetry, a mosaic of many classical 
reminiscences, but the Italian succeeded in fusing them together 
and turning out a graceful, well-proportioned poem of singular 
beauty, whereas the Englishman does not even seem to have felt the 
necessity of harmonizing the historical reality of his subject with the 
fantastic mythology which he adopted for its poetical setting. A 
few examples will make this plain. The inspiration and allegorical 
imagery of the Politianesque threne are entirely pagan, with the 



exception of an allusion to the Christian burial of Albiera (11. 275-80). 
However, the taste of the poet is so exquisite and his workmanship 
so perfect that nobody notices this, or, at least, nobody who does can 
think for a moment that it detracts from the artistic value of the 
whole. The same thing cannot be said of Chapman's poem. One 
can hardly fail, for instance, to resent the mythological paraphernalia 
at the end: 

Behold in Heaven Love with his broken bow, 
His quiver downwards turn'd, his brands put out, 
Hanging his wings with sighs all black about [11. 623-25], 

so little congruous to the Christian prayer at the beginning : 

Ever, ever be 
Admired and fear'd that triple Majesty .... [11. 7-8]. 

But this is not the only capital sin of the Chapman elegy; it 
lacks to a degree the emotional unity which is the greatest charm of 
the Latin poem. The last words of Albiera to Gismondo (11. 191-220) 
are a masterpiece of sincere and tender pathos. The Prince's fare- 
well to his royal father is dry and stilted, and passes altogether 
unnoticed in the poem. It is noteworthy that Chapman, conscious 
of his lack of lyrical ability, cut down Albiera's dying speech to one- 
third of its original length, and did not even try to be pathetic. 
Whatever unity his elegy may have springs less from the disinterested 
feelings raised in him by the death of a young prince full of promise, 
than from the moral satire which is to be found on every page. No 
doubt the poet grieves, but we have somehow the feeling that he 
grieves because he had looked up to Prince Henry as to a bountiful 
literary patron, whose disappearance might mean the baffling of all 
his hopes of preferment at court. Three passages seem to us pretty 
conclusive in this regard. The first, which is in the Dedication, 
strikes a note of genuine, although selfish, grief: 

The most unvaluable and dismayful loss of my most dear and heroical 
Patron, Prince Henry, hath so stricken all my spirits to the earth, that I will 
never more dare to look up to any greatness; but resolving the little rest of 
my poor life to obscurity and the shadow of his death, prepare ever hereafter 
for the light of Heaven. 



But the second and third passages, taken from the sonnet and epi- 
gram appended at the end, cannot be misinterpreted : 

Not thy thrice-sacred will, 
Sign'd with thy death, moves any to fulfil 
Thy just bequests to me. Thou dead, then I 
Live dead, for giving thee eternity. 

Ad Famam. 

To all times future this time's mark extend: 
Homer no patron found, nor Chapman friend. 

The Prince of Wales had been buried hardly three weeks when 
another courtly event a merry one this time stimulated the Muse 
of all the poets more or less closely connected with the royal family : 
Frederic, Count Palatine and Elector, who had for some time "so 
addressed himself and applied to the Lady Elisabeth [the late prince's 
sister], that he seemed to take delight in nothing but her company and 
conversation/' 1 was "affianced and contracted" to her "on S. John's 
day, the twenty-seventh of December 1612." The marriage took 
place on the following Shrove Sunday, February 14, 1612/13, and was 
the occasion of extraordinary public rejoicings. Indeed the general 
mirth seems to have been as measureless as the grief of the nation 
had been deep and sincere throughout the gloomy months of Novem- 
ber and December, 1612. A folio volume could scarcely contain 
all the epithalamia and tracts of various sorts published on this 
occasion: John Taylor, the "water-poet," Thomas Heywood, 
George Wither, and John Donne all contributed "triumphal encomi- 
asticke verses." Three of the best poets of the time, Campion, our 
own Chapman, and Francis Beaumont, wrote every one his masque. 
These were respectively performed on February 14, 15, and 20 in the 
banqueting-house at Whitehall. Chapman's masque does not con- 
cern us directly, but it was followed by a Hymn to Hymen, 2 and this 
hymn a short one, for it has only 84 lines is the next poem which 

1 Letter of Mr. Chamberlain to Sir Dudley Carleton, November 3, 1612, quoted 
by Nichols in his Progresses of King James I, II, 467. 

2 Chapman's Poems, ed. cit., p. 176. 



we intend to examine carefully as evincing once more Chapman's 
familiarity with Italian neo-Latinist poetry. 

It is a new name we have to add to the long list of authors 
whom our poet is known to have laid under contribution : that 
of "II preclaro poeta Messer Giovan Pontano, de scientia e virtu 
famosissimo," Jovianus Pontanus, as he named himself in Latin. 
Chapman's hymn to Elisabeth is nothing more than a "contami- 
nation" of two poems of Pontanus, the third and fourth pieces in 
the third book of the De Amore Conjugali. 1 Was Chapman again 
in a hurry, or was he simply conscious of his limitations as a writer 
of occasional poetry, and distrustful of his own powers of invention ? 
Whatever be the answer to these questions, he again resorted to 
foreign help; and we must own as in the cases in which he imitated 
Petrarch and Politianus that his choice could hardly have gone to 
a better and more inspiring model. 

The De Amore Conjugali is full of the most charming poetry that 
fifteenth-century Italy produced. It is chiefly remarkable for 
expressing with renewed sincerity, in the simplest, easiest, and most 
graceful style, the very same human feelings which centuries of elegiac 
poetry seemed to have worn threadbare: as, for instance, love, the 
grief of separation, the happiness of being home again after a war, 
exultation at the birth of a son. All these feelings, intimately asso- 
ciated with the delightful rustic scenery of which Pontanus was such a 
sensuous lover, harmoniously combine a certain idyllic charm with 
the most vigorous freshness and reality. This half-personal, half- 
bucolic element is perhaps nowhere more noticeable than in the two 
nuptial hymns in which Pontanus celebrated the marriage of his 
daughters, Aurelia and Eugenia (1483). These two epithalamia, 
which Chapman, as we have said, condensed into one, have a most 
definite plan of action, as if they were small dramas, or dramatic 
idylls, as Browning would have said. It is to no other abode than to 
the poet's villa of Antignano, on St. Elmo Hill, not far from Naples, 
that the god Hymen is summoned at the very beginning of both, 
and it is again on a rustic note that the Epithalamium in nuptiis 
Aureliae filiae closes. 

1 Chapman knew perhaps the widely diffused edition published at Bale in 1556: 
Joannis Joviani Pontani Opera in quatuor tomos digesta. 



Pontanus made his local coloring even more striking by intro- 
ducing in persona propria several ideal characters, intimately con- 
nected with Antignano, all of whom bear an important part in the 
celebration of the nuptial ceremony. The most pathetic of them all 
is Pontanus' own deceased wife, Adriana Sassone, whom the poet had 
rechristened Ariadna, and endowed with the supernatural qualities 
of a nymph, without allowing her to forego the purely human sweet- 
ness of the flesh-and-blood woman she had been. Nothing could 
be of a more delicate feeling than to raise her up from the realm of 
the Departed and invite her to give her blessing to the brides dearest 
to her motherly heart. Hardly less felicitous is the appearance of 
that other favorite nymph of Pontanus, Antiniana, in whom he likes 
to personify his own dear villa. She it is whose voice urges Hymen 
to lavish all his treasures of joy and happiness upon Aurelia; she it is 
who gives her last advice to Eugenia on the bridal eve. Other per- 
sonages in the latter epithalamium are a choir of country girls, 
puellae, who sing their sweetest song to entice Hymen to come, and a 
peasant, agricola, who exalts the ineffable joys of married life, thus 
persuading Eugenia to leave her father's house and follow her hus- 
band with a confident heart. 

Nor are these the only intimations of country life in the two 
hymns : the poet's imagination was so richly fed with country sights 
that all his imagery is derived from nature. How charming that 
imagery is, Chapman probably felt, for all that he borrowed from the 
former epithalamium is two of its most splendid similes. And here 
we recognize the Chapman we know, the Chapman of the trage- 
dies and of the Iliad, the lover of full-blooded epic comparisons. 
These are the two passages in Pontanus, along with Chapman's 
English version: 

Ut flos, aestivo sitiens cum terra And as a flower, half scorch'd with 

calore, day's long heat, 

Nocturno refici lassus ab himbre Thirsts for refreshing with night's 

cupit, cooling sweat, 

Non ilium Zephyrique valent aurae- The wings of Zephyr fanning still 

que recentes her face 

Mulcere aut densa nexilis umbra No cheer can add to her heart thirsty 
coma, grace, 



Sola illi est in rore salus, spes omnis Yet wears she 'gainst those fires 

in himbri, that make her fade, 

Languet honos, cecidit languida Her thick hairs proof, all hid in mid- 
sole coma; night's shade; 
Sic tacitos in corde f ovens nova Her health is all in dews, hope all in 

nupta calores, showers, 

Optato refici coniugis ore petit, Whose want bewaiFd, she pines in all 
Non illam patris amplexus, non her powers: 

oscula matris So love-scorch'd virgins nourish 

Aut iuvat artifici purpura picta quenchless fires; 

manu; The father's cares, the mother's kind 

Suspirat tantum amplexus, tantum desires, 

ora mariti, Their gold and garments of the new- 

Moeret, abestque illi qui fuit ante est guise 

decor [11. 69 ff.]. 1 Can nothing comfort their scorch'd 

But, taken ravish'd up in Hymen's 


His circle holds for all their anguish 
charms [11. 9 ff.]. 

Ut flos in verno laetatus sole nitescit Then, as a glad graft in the spring 
Fulgidus, et gaudet purpura sun shines, 

honore suo, That all the helps of earth and 
Mane tepor, sub solem aurae, ros heaven combines 

noctis in umbra In her sweet growth, puts in the 
Mulcet, et ipse suas iactat honestus morning on 

opes; Her cheerful airs, the sun's rich fires 
In molli sic virgo toro complexa at noon, 

maritum At even the sweet dews, and at night 
Nuda nitet, caro ludit amata with stars 

sinu, In all their virtuous influences shares ; 

Mane sopor, sub sole viri suspiria So in the bridegroom's sweet em- 

mulcent, brace, the bride 

Nocte iterata venus, saepe recep- All varied joys tastes in their naked 

tus hymen, pride, 

Dulcis Hymen, Hymenaeus, Hymen To which the richest weeds are weeds 
[11. 85 ff.]. to flowers. 

Come Hymen, then [11. 23 ff.]. 

1 We quote from the excellent edition of Benedetto Soldati: loannis loviani Pontani 
Carmina (Florence, 1902), Vol. II. 



In the second epithalamium, Chapman was also tempted by 
an image hardly less beautiful than those which we have just quoted 
from the first: 1 

Ut tener aprico crescens hyacinthus 

in horto 
Ipse manu colitur, ipse regatur 

Ilium aurae tepidique fovent sub 

sole calores 
Guttaque, nocturne quae vaga 

rore cadit; 
At postquam culto nituit spectatus 

Ipse tener domini carpitur ungue 

Sic tenera in molli crescit quae nata 


Ipsa sinu matris, ipsa fovetur ope; 
Hanc et munditiae thalami comp- 

tusque decentes, 
Hanc iuvat artifici purpura texta 

Sed postquam incaluitque toro cupiit- 

que hymenaeos, 
Hanc vir ab iniecta vendicat ipse 

Asserit et sibi hire suam [11. 115 ff.]. 

And as the tender hyacinth, that 

Where Phoebus most his golden 
beams bestows, 

Is propt with care, is water'd every 

The sweet winds adding their increas- 
ing power, 

The scatter'd drops of night's refresh- 
ing dew 

Hasting the full grace of his glorious 

Which once disclosing must be 
gathered straight, 

Or hue and odour both will lose their 

So, of a virgin high and richly kept 

The grace and sweetness full grown 
must be reap'd, 

Or forth her spirits fly in empty air, 

The sooner fading, the more sweet 
and fair [11. 57 ff J. 

As the reader may have noticed, Chapman slightly altered the 
end of his last simile: whereas Pontanus simply meant to say: 
"A maid is taken by her husband as a flower is plucked in the fields," 

1 Pontanus is, however, not entitled to unalloyed praise, as he took his idea from the 
two following passages of Catullus: 

Talis in vario solet 
Divitis domini hortulo 
Stare flos hyacinthinus 

[Ixi, 87 ff.]. 

Ut flos in septis secretus nascitur hortis, 

Ignatus pecori, nullo contusus aratro, 

Quern mulcent aurae, ftrmat sol, educat imber, 

Multi ilium pueri, multae optavere puellae: 

Idem cum tenui carptus defloruit ungui, 

Nulli ilium pueri, nullae optavere puellae: 

Sic virgo, dum intacta manet, dum cara suis ; sed 

Cum castum amisit polluto corpore florem, 

Nee pueris iucunda manet, nee cara puellis [Ixii, 39 ff.]. 

The latter passage was a favorite one with the French Renaissance poets. It was 
paraphrased with much skill by Jacques Gohorry (Becq de Fouqui&res, p. 314) and 
Du Bellay (Olive, xcvii). 



Chapman went one step farther and developed the well-known erotic 
theme, so often treated by Elizabethan sonneteers: 

Fair flowers that are not gathered in their prime 
Rot and consume themselves in little time. 

Chapman was here led astray by the prevalent taste, for this favorite 
argument of " unthrifty loveliness," so well adapted to a love-sonnet 
in which a suitor tries and persuades his mistress to surrender, is 
quite out of place in an epithalamium addressed to a consenting 

The invocation to Hymen, which nearly fills all the latter part 
of Chapman's hymn, is similarly taken from Pontanus' Epithalamium 
in nuptiis Eugeniae filiae, although the imitation is of a less obvious 
and more fragmentary character than usual: 

Quid cessas, Hymenaee ? Tibi sua Come Hymen, then. 

basia quaeque, 

Amplexusque suos quaeque puella Each virgin keeps 

parat; Her odorous kisses for thee. 

En tibi tractandas damus has sine 

labe papillas, Why stayest thou ? see each virgin 

doth prepare 

Mollis Hymen, Hymenaee, Hymen, Embraces for thee, her white breasts 

Hymenaee, venito; lays bare 

To tempt thy soft hand; lets such 

Ilia, vides, ut blanda oculis utque glances fly 

innuit ore, As make stars shoot, to imitate her 


Ilia, vides, quos docta modos, quae 

carmina cantet, Sings, dances. 

Haec choreis tete in mediis suspirat, Sighs in her songs and dances, kisseth 


Haec tibi lacteolas, atque haec, 

atque ilia, papillas 
Nudat, et: Has, inquit, nudo, 

Hymenaee, tibi, 
Has et delicias, haec oscula prima 

Amplexus servo gaudia et ilia 




Dicite io, domus omnis io, ager omnis The whole court 16 sings ; 16, the air ; 

et aer 16, the floods and fields: 16, most 
Dicat io, resonet longe Hymenaeus fair, 

io, Most sweet, most happy Hymen, 
Faustus Hymen, formosus Hymen, come. 

felix Hymenaeus 

Laeta canant, felix et sine lite 

Educit teneros foetus, fovet anxia Birds bill, build and breed 

nidum To teach thee thy kind. 
Mitis avis, fesso comparat ore 


Ne saevi, generose; tua est sine lite Gentle, O gentle Hymen, be not 

puella, then 

Ilia tibi placido est tota fovenda Cruel, that kindest art to maids and 
sinu; men; 

These two one twin are, and their 

mutual bliss 

Not in thy beams, but in thy bosom 

Sit pax, sed sine lite tamen sint Let there be peace, yet murmur, and 

murmura; that noise 

Beget of peace the nuptial battle's 

Ludite; sed medio in lusu pax joys. 

saeviat, ut pax 

Rixa sit, ut rixae pax eat ipsa Hark, hark, now the sweet twin 

comes. murmur sounds; 

lam ludunt, geminata sonant iam Hymen is come and all his heat 

murmura; postes abounds; 

Claudite; adesto tuis, sancte Shut all doors; none but Hymen's 

Hymenaee, focis [11. 11 ff.] lights advance [11. 32 ft.]. 

Should now a total estimate of Chapman's indebtedness to 
Pontanus be wanted, this is what it would be. The first 31 lines of 
the hymn with the exception of the opening 8, which are chiefly 
original are a free translation of the epithalamium of Aurelia. 
The last 53 lines are borrowed from the epithalamium of Eugenia, 
with an original line here and there: among these we find file last 
two lines of the poem, which are a repetition of the burden with which 
the poem opens: 



Sing, sing a rapture to all nuptial ears, 

Bright Hymen's torch has drunk up Parcae's tears; 

and another line which is only the elaboration of a well-known Latin 


Thrice given are free and timely granted suits. 

Altogether, this hymn is an unmistakable failure. It has three 
fine nature-similes, but, for one thing, they are drawn from Pontanus, 
and, for another, they lose a great deal of their native charm by being 
torn away from their idyllic, familiar context, and transplanted among 
the dry, uncongenial surroundings of Chapman's hymn. The burden 
of erudition lay heavy upon the " Translator of Homer" and he 
had none of the gracefulness and ease which were characteristic of 
Pontanus' verse. It is only fortunate that he did not keep the 
nymphs and country lasses of the Italian poet, for the poor creatures 
would certainly have lost their Neapolitan sprightliness together with 
their refined Arcadian manners. 

In fact, Chapman's Muse was neither bucolic nor elegiac. The 
native bent of his genius evidently did not prepare him to interpret 
the polizianesca soavitd and the pontanesca tenerezza to Jacobite 
England. There was no consonance between his own poetical 
temperament and that of the quattrocentist songsters. The curious 
thing is that, of all Renaissance humanists, he should have chosen for 
his models precisely those whose attitude toward classical myth- 
ology, nature, and life was the most antagonistic to his own. 1 


[The proof of this article was not sent to Lieutenant Schoell, who is a 
wounded prisoner in Germany. EDITORS.] 

1 Chapman knew also the works of another Italian humanist, a friend and disciple 
of Pontanus, the Ferrarese Giglio Gregorio Giraldi, alias Lilius Gregorius Gyraldus 
(1479-1552). Gyraldus is the author of several compilations, mythological and literary, 
one of which, the De deis gentium, was widely read in England and Prance in the sixteenth 
century: Marlowe and Peele knew it, and its author was held in high estimation by 
Montaigne, who names him as one of the two "tres excellents personnages en sgavoir' 
qui "sont morts en estat de n'avoir pas leur saoul a manger." Chapman drew part of 
his mythological lore from the De deis gentium, as is proved by a gloss to the Shadow of 
Night (Poems, p. 17, gloss 8). The gloss runs thus: "This is expounded as followeth by 
Gyraldus Lilius [in the fourth Syntagma of the De deis gentium]. The application [i.e., 
the simile] most fitly made by this author" [i.e., Chapman]. It would be beyond the 
scope of this article to give further evidence of Chapman's acquaintance with Gyraldus, 
as it is not our purpose to find out what particular compilations Chapman used to con- 
sult, but rather what kind of neo-Latin verse he read, liked, and imitated. 



Professor Ernest Weekley recently referred to gun as "an exas- 
perating word/' 1 thus reflecting the general dissatisfaction with the 
etymons hitherto proposed. The word is probably a soldier's tech- 
nical term which made its way into literary use long after it had 
begun to be current at siege and in battle. 

O. Fr. engin <^ INGENIUM, which continued in Eng. as gynne, now 
gin, had other forms: engeng (Roman de Thebes), which is the regular 
form outside of the e+i^i territory; also engien, which appears to 
answer to a pronunciation *INGNUM, cf. giens( GENUS. Correspond- 
ing closely in meaning with these, but more restricted in territory, we 
find further engan, with a verb enganer which Meyer-Ltibke (4416) 
refers to *INGANNARE, this of unknown origin. The territory where 
engan was known and used included the west and northwest of 
France, extending from Poitou through Normandy northeast to 
Arras and Hainault. 2 To illustrate the intermingling of engin and 
engan one might cite Horn, ed. Michel, 3324 : Qui fu plains d'engins 
et d'enganz. 

In English it is not apparent which form, whether gunne or gonne, 
is the older: probably they were equivalent spellings. The two 
passages in Chaucer have gonne (both in rhyme), and Roger Ascham 
would have his Courtlie lentlemen "to shote faire in bow, or surelie 
in gon." It was with these and other facts in mind that I ran across 
the following entry in Gachet's Glossaire roman, s.v. "enganer": "Le 
hainuyer a garde engonner; le picard et le bas-normand, enganer. 
.... A Mons on dit encore un engon." If I mistake not, here is 
the needed intermediary between engin engan and Eng. gun, and 
if the statement of a modern cyclopedia that Edward III in 1327 
employed some Hainaulters who used cannon against the Scotch 
can be verified, we have perhaps hit upon, if not the very soldiers, 

1 Transactions of the English Philological Society, XXXIII, 327. 9 

2 From the literary texts may be cited: Roman de Thebes 7961 (in rhyme); Philippe 
de Thaon, Best., 529, Denis Piramus; Gamier de Pont-Ste-Maxence; Gautier d' Arras, 
Herak., 6587; Jean Bodel; Jean de Cond6, and others. 

239] 47 [MODERN PHILOLOGY, August, 1915 


at least the sort of agents by which the word, in its dialectic form, 
was brought into England. But I must leave the justification of the 
local engon for engan, 1 as well as the filling in of this general outline, 
to a second series of " French Etymologies" now in preparation. 2 


1 One might compare Jaon, like Eng. John, for Jehan, and other forms, noted by 
Herzog, NeufranzGsische Dialekttexte, 124. 
* Of. Modern Philology, X, 439 ff. 


Modern Philology 



The authorship of the early Elizabethan comedy Fidele and 
Fortunio, the Two Italian Gentlemen, long ascribed to Anthony 
Munday, has recently been called in question and an attempt has 
been made to assign the play to George Chapman. It is not, perhaps, 
a matter of supreme importance which of these authors is responsible 
for this play. It is not an original work 1 and has little intrinsic 
value. As the latest editor of Chapman, however, I feel bound 
to give my reasons for the exclusion of this play from the recently 
published edition of his comedies, and to explain why it will not 
appear in the supplementary volume of Chapman's Plays and Poems, 
where, if there were any sufficient reason for attaching it to his name, 
the student of Chapman might reasonably expect to find it. I 
wish therefore to make a somewhat more detailed examination than 
has yet appeared of the history of this play and of the reasons for 
ascribing it to Munday or Chapman. 

The Stationers' Register for November 12, 1584, contains the 
following entry: 

A booke entituled fedele et fortuna. The deceiptes in lave Discoursed in a 
Commedia of ii Italyan gent, and translated into English. 

Apart from a reference to one of the characters, Crackstone, and 
his "cannibal words" by Nash ("Have with you to Saffron Walden," 
Works, HI, 102) there is, so far as I know, no contemporary allusion 

1 The play is an adaptation of Luigi Pasqualigo's II Fedele, 1576. A Latin version 
of this play by Abraham Fraunce, dating ca. 1582-83, has been edited by Professor Moore 
Smith in the Materialien zur Kunde. Fraunce's work follows the original much more 
closely than the English play does. See Modern Language Review, III, 178. 
65] 241 [MODERN PHILOLOGY, September, 1915 


to this play, and apart from certain inaccurate references in Lang- 
baine and the old play lists, it was apparently lost to sight till redis- 
covered by Collier, who gave a short account of it in his History of 
English Dramatic Poetry (ed. 1831, p. 241). Halliwell printed some 
extracts in his Literature of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, and 
recently, a copy of the original Q having turned up in the Duke of 
Devonshire's library, it has been reprinted by the Malone Society 

Collier in a note (p. 241) stated that "not more than two copies 
of this piece are known to exist, one without the title-page, the other 
wanting also the dedication." The Devonshire copy, apparently 
one of those known to Collier, lacks both title-page and dedication, 
and no other copy is at present known to exist. It has been sug- 
gested therefore (Malone Society Collections, I, 3, pp. 219 ff.) that 
Collier's copy containing the dedication signed A.M. may never have 
existed and that the dedication may be the composition of Collier 
himself. After my discovery of Collier's forgery of the dedication 
to All Fools no one can be more likely than myself to suspect an 
unsupported statement of Collier's, but in this case there seems to be 
another witness to the existence of the copy containing the Dedica- 
tion. Hazlitt (Handbook to English Literature, p. 406) has the fol- 
lowing statement: 

Only two copies are known, neither of which has the title-page 

Dedicated to John Heardston, Esq., by A.M.; on the reverse of this dedica- 
tion is a Prologue spoken before the Queen, consisting of two six-line stanzas. 
The dedication is printed in Collier's H.E.D.P.; it is only in one of the two 
known copies. 

An attempt has been made by Mr. Greg, the editor of the Malone 
Society Collection (I, 3, p. 220), to discredit this corroboration on the 
ground that Hazlitt mentions a Prologue to the Queen which Collier 
does not, although such a prologue would naturally have caught his 
attention. He then goes on to suggest that Collier's citation 
(H.E.D.P., p. 243) of two six-line stanzas is responsible for Hazlitt's 
statement, and concludes: "It would be unsafe to regard Hazlitt's 
note as anything but a confused and inaccurate summary of Collier's 
description." This conclusion seems to me, I confess, quite too severe. 
Since Collier does not mention a Prologue before the Queen he 



states in fact that we do not know whether the play was ever acted 
Hazlitt cannot by any process of reasoning however confused have 
got the idea of such a prologue from Collier. The stanzas quoted 
by Collier 1 are a love-song and cannot possibly be taken as a prologue 
of any sort and, a point which Mr. Greg fails to note, Hazlitt makes 
the explicit statement that they occur on "the reverse of the Dedica- 
tion," whereas Collier's citation is taken from the body of the play 
(B, Hi, verso). I think one of two things is clear: either Hazlitt saw 
a copy of Q containing both Dedication and Prologue, or he delib- 
erately invented the latter. In the first case we have a corrobora- 
tion of Collier's statement as to the Dedication; in the latter a false 
statement as discreditable to Hazlitt as the suggested forgery of the 
ication would be to Collier. I cannot help feeling that the first 
these alternatives is the more credible. 

Further, Mr. Greg attempts to challenge the authenticity of the 
lication 2 printed by Collier on stylistic grounds: 

There are two passages [he says] which seem slightly suspicious; . . . 
connection with the phrase "impeach me of presumption" it should be 
jrved that while "to impeach of an act" is a common construction, 
seems no authority for "to impeach of a quality." Again the phrase 
'the delicate conveyance" seems to mean the delicate manner in which the 
is communicated, but the earliest instance of conveyance in the sense 
communication cited by the N.E.D. is dated 1662, though it seems indeed 
have been used by Nash as early as 1594 (Unfortunate Traveller, ep. ded.). 

In regard to the first of these I may say that while I cannot 
find an exact parallel to the phrase of the dedication, the N.E.D. 

i If love be like the flower that in the night, 

When darkness drowns the glory of the skies, 

Smells sweet and glitters in the gazer's sight; 
But when the gladsome sun begins to rise, 

And he that views it would the same embrace, 

It withereth and loseth all his grace, 

Why do I love, and like the cursed tree, 

Whose buds appear, but fruit will not be seen ? 

Why do I languish for the flower I see, 

Whose root is rot when all the leaves are green ? 

In such a case, it is a point of skill 

To follow chance, and love against my will. 

2 1 reprint here the significant portions of the dedication: 
"To the worship/nil and very courteous Gentleman, Maister John Heardson, Esquier, A.M. 

commendeth this pleasant and fine conceited Comoedie. 

" Woorshipful sir, my acquaintaunce with you is very little, which may impeach me 
of presumption in this mine attempt: but the good report of your affable nature to every 
one, giveth me hope to be entertained amongst them. I commende to your freendly viewe 
this prettie conceit, as well for the invention, as the delicate conveiance thereof." 



(s.v. "impeach," 4) has "impeach me with error" under the date of 
1590, and "impeach" as a substantive occurs in a very similar 
phrase, 1 "no impeach of valor," in 3 K.H. VI, i. 4. 60. As to "con- 
veyance," Nash's phrase "some reasonable conveyance of history" 
seems to me a very close parallel to the use of this word in the dedi- 
cation. In both "conveyance" means " treatment, ' ' "form of 
expression," as opposed to "invention" i.e., originality. The N.E.D. 
(s.v. "conveyance," 9) gives several examples of this use of the 
word. One of these from Robinson's translation of Utopia (1551) 
has the same collocation of words as the epistle, i.e., "witty invention 
and fine conveyance." These are, indeed, as Mr. Greg himself 
admits, "slender grounds for pronouncing the epistle a forgery." 
I think in fact that even on stylistic grounds a stronger proof than 
this can be cited to show that it is really the work of Anthony Munday 
and not a forgery by Collier. This is the use of the adjective "deli- 
cate" in reference to style, which appears to have been a favorite 
word of Munday 's. The title-page of Zelauto (1580) speaks of that 
book as containing a "delicate disputation"; and that of the Ban- 
quet of Dainty Conceits (1584) has the phrase "delicate and choice 
inventions." Another piece of evidence testifying to Munday 's 
authorship of the play, and therefore presumably of the dedication, 
may be found in a parallel which occurs between the entry, cited 
above, in S.R. of Fidele and Fortunio, which no doubt represents the 
lost title-page of this play, and the title-page of Zelauto; the first 
contains the words "deceiptes in love discoursed in a Commedia of 
ii Italyan gent."; the second, "a disputation gallantly discoursed 
between two noble gentlemen of Italye." 

After this attempt, hardly successful it seems to me, to disprove 
the hitherto accepted authorship, the editor goes on to introduce 
the new claimant. This he does on the basis of the interesting 
discovery made by Mr. Charles Crawford that two couplets of this 
play (11. 661-62 and 655-56) are quoted under the heading "Woman" 
in England's Parnassus (1600) and are ascribed by the editor of that 
work to George Chapman. In his recent edition of England's Par- 
nassus, where the lines in question appear on p. 231, Mr. Crawford 

1 Cf. also "appeach of ungentlenesse," and "appeach of treason" in Faerie Queene, 
III, x, 6, 8; and V, v, 37, 3. 



repeats the statement over and over that this assignment proves 
Chapman's authorship (see pp. xrx, xx, xxi, xxiv, 494-95 and 537). 
I yield to no man in my admiration of Mr. Crawford's tireless indus- 
try and wide reading in the field of Elizabethan literature, but I 
cannot but feel that he has been rash in accepting this ascription as 
proof positive of Chapman's authorship. The value of such an 
ascription depends wholly upon the character of the ascriber. What 
was Allot's character as a connoisseur of contemporary literature? 
I will let Mr. Crawford answer: "his range of reading is not a very 
wide one" (p. xxv), he had a "bad judgement and a treacherous 
memory." His method of work described by Mr. Crawford (pp. 
xxv-xxvi and 449) was absolutely certain to lead to errors, and, as a 
matter of fact, 130 of the 2,350 quotations in the work Mr. Crawford 
shows to be wrongly ascribed (pp. xxv and 542-44). Thus, for 
example, immediately after the lines from Two Italian Gentlemen 
which Allot ascribes to Chapman come three lines with the signature 
Idem (i.e., Chapman), which, as Crawford points out, occur in 
Tottel's Miscellany. Further, three passages from Chapman's known 
works (Nos. 1536, 1715, and 2098) are ascribed to Spenser. Mr. 
Crawford himself makes light of Allot's authority when it con- 
flicts with his own opinions, as in the case of the anonymous 
play Selimus which Allot assigns to Greene and Crawford holds to 
be Marlowe's. 

It is plain, I think, that an ascription by such an editor as Allot 
cannot be regarded as possessing any positive authority. It is 
useful only as furnishing a clue, a hypothesis of authorship, to be 
confirmed or disproved by further research. Mr. Crawford recog- 
nizes this, for he goes on to confirm Allot's ascription of this play to 
Chapman by arguments which deserve our consideration. 

In the first place, he holds that Allot was on terms of intimacy 
with Chapman (p. 495), who told him that "Two Italian Gentlemen 
was his work" (p. xxx). For this intimacy Mr. Crawford adduces 
the following reasons: Two of Allot's quotations from Chapman's 
continuation of Hero and Leander show variant readings, "obviously 
designed by Chapman himself." The first of these (No f 258 in 
Crawford's England's Parnassus) does in fact appear to be a better 
reading than that of the printed text. The second (No. 1590) is 



a palpable misprint, "audacious" for the authentic "and actions." 
Mr. Crawford in his note on this passage (p. 483) goes so far as to say 
that there is "sound sense in his reading which happens to repeat 
a sentiment that occurs frequently in Chapman." If he had care- 
fully examined the passage (H. and L., Ill, 60-64) from which this 
quotation is taken, he would have seen that in it Chapman is rebuking 
the rash audacity of Leander in enjoying Hero. Time, he says, and 
ceremony would have banished all offense. To read "audacious" 
in 1. 63 is to declare that time makes legitimate every birth (i.e., 
deed) of audacious men, which is the exact opposite of what Chapman 
has just been saying. I am quite ready to admit that the first of 
this pair of quotations shows that Allot may have printed from a 
manuscript copy of Hero and Leander (not necessarily in Chapman's 
own possession) in which the true reading occurred, but the second 
proves less than nothing, being in fact a blunder due either to Allot 
himself or his printer. 

Again, Mr. Crawford holds that the quotation (No. 2240) assigned 
to Marlowe, but appearing nowhere else than in this collection, must 
have come into Allot's hands through Chapman, who "had access 
to Marlowe's papers" after that poet's death (p. xxix). This seems 
to me a chain of hypotheses. In the first place it assumes that the 
passage is from an unknown poem by Marlowe, 1 in the second, that 
Chapman had access to Marlowe's papers, in the third, that Allot 
could have seen the poem from which this quotation is taken only 
through Chapman. Not one of these, I venture to say, is an estab- 
lished fact, though all are possible. One cannot establish an intimacy 
between Allot and Chapman on such grounds as these. Neither 
does the fact that Allot assigns four quotations (Nos. 777, 1842, 
2054, and 2055) to Chapman which have not yet been traced to his 
published work prove, as Mr. Crawford seems to assume (pp. xxx 
and 495), that Allot enjoyed special privileges with Chapman. 
These quotations may all come from Chapman's works, but when we 
remember the practice of Elizabethan poets of allowing their works 
to circulate in manuscript before publication, this would only show 

1 1 have not the time or space to discuss here the question of Marlowe's authorship 
of the interesting fragment in England's Parnassus. I can only say that the verse-form, 
a stanza rhyming abababcc does not appear in any of his known work, which seems to me 
a primn facie argument against it. 



that Allot found these quotations in manuscript poems of Chap- 
man's by no means that Chapman showed them to him in manu- 
script (p. 495). There are five authors represented in England's 
Parnassus to whom more untraced quotations are assigned by Allot 
than the four he gives Chapman. Are we to hold that he lived on 
still greater terms of intimacy with these writers ? 

Further, on pages xxxix and 495 Mr. Crawford gives a slight 
summary of other arguments which he holds point to Chapman's 
authorship. In the first place, the play was composed about 1584, 
when Chapman was twenty-five years old. This of course is only 
an argument for the possibility of his having written it. As a matter 
of fact, it seems to me that the early date tells rather heavily against 
Chapman's authorship. Nothing is known of Chapman between his 
entrance to one of the universities in 1574 (Athenae Oxonienses, 
II, col. 575) and the publication of his Shadow of Night in 1594. 
I can hardly believe that Chapman could have composed this play 
in 1584. Collier seems uncertain whether this play was ever per- 
formed, but the elaborate stage directions (see those after 11. 75, 
191, 270, 384, and 433 in the Malone Society reprint) show plainly 
that the Q was printed from a stage copy. We may therefore assume 
a production of this play and Nash's reference (see above p. 65) 
would seem to show that one of its characters, Crackstone, 1 had 
become well known. This implies a certain amount of success 
and it seems to me unlikely, to say the least, that Chapman, if he 
were the author, should have relapsed into non-production and 
obscurity for another ten years. 

The internal evidence which Mr. Crawford brings forward as 
corroboration (p. xxxiv) is as follows: it agrees with known work 
of the poet in displaying a peculiar kind of humor and fondness 
for practical joking, its comic characters are inveterate punsters, 
they invent "cannibal words/' and make a point of putting the cart 
before the horse, Crackstone in this respect being a worthy precursor 
of Poggio in The Gentleman Usher. Even if we were to grant all this, 
it does not seem to me very convincing. Mr. Greg, who accepts Allot's 
ascription of the play to Chapman, remarks that Mr. Crawford's 

1 Nash couples Crackstone with the well-known figure of Basih'sco in Soliman and 



opinion as to the resemblance of the humor of the play to that 
of Chapman is "necessarily of too personal a character to add much 
to the weight of the external evidence" (Mai. Soc. Col, I, 3, p. 222). 
Chapman's known work bears everywhere the sign manual of his 
authorship, and it has not been a matter of great difficulty to reclaim 
his unsigned plays Sir Giles Goosecap and Charlemagne (published 
by Bullen as The Distracted Emperor) or to detect his share in the 
collaborated plays Cabot and Eastward Hot But a careful study of 
the Two Italian Gentlemen has not revealed to me a single trace of 
Chapman's well-known style. The shambling, irregular meter 
and the stanzaic forms inserted in the dialogue (see for instance 
11. 412-17) are quite unlike anything in Chapman. Puns and prac- 
tical joking occur, of course, in all early Elizabethan comedy and 
prove nothing as to authorship. The one positive similarity that 
Mr. Crawford finds is between Crackstone and Poggio, and even here 
I must take issue with him. Crackstone is a translation of the stock 
figure of Italian comedy, the Miles Gloriosus, into English. Like 
his original he is a boaster and a coward; but the translator has 
equipped him with a "humour" of malapropisms and "cannibal 
words." He says "chaplen" for "champion" (1. 1073); "infancie" 
for "infamy" (1. 1349); "liberalitie" for "liberty" (1. 1655); he 
misuses proper names: "Juniper" for "Jupiter" (1. 836), "Sampier" 
for "Sampson" (1. 1397), "Pedantonie" for "Pedante" (1. 1524). 
He uses such words as " magnaniminstrelsie " (1. 129), "terrebin- 
thinall" (1. 844), " perplexionablest " (1. 1453), and "conswapted" 
(1. 1579). Poggio is quite another type. Like his predecessor, Sir 
Giles Goosecap, he is a well-born but half-imbecile gentleman whose 
muddled thought cannot distinguish reality from imagination and 
expresses itself in muddled language. "He speaks muddles still" 
(Gentleman Usher, III, iii, 218). Thus Poggio beats a smith in his 
sleep, runs out "with his heels about his hose" (G.U., I, i, 47-48), 
and gives an account of the wounding of Vincentio (V, ii, 71-75) 
which is a perfect masterpiece of bad reporting. I do not find any- 
where in Poggio's speech the deliberate malapropisms and "cannibal 
words" of Crackstone, and vice versa I find only once or twice in 
Crackstone the trick of putting the cart before the horse in speech 
(1. 71, "with a fresh hed in my toy"; 1. 1538 "fair fooles makes 



words .... fain") 1 which earns Poggio his nickname of "Cousin 
Hysteron Proteron." In Modern Philology, XIII, 215, M. Schoell 
has pointed out that both Poggio and Sir Giles derive from Le 
Sieur Gaulard of Estienne Tabourot's Les apopthegmes du Sieur 
Gaulard, a silly country gentleman who was continually doing and 
saying foolish things. M. Schoell's accumulation of parallels proves 
conclusively that Chapman drew upon this work for the character 
of Goosecap and in a less degree for that of Poggio. 

Crackstone and Poggio, then, have a different ancestry, repre- 
sent different "humours," and have only the superficial resemblance 
that both entertain the audience by a misuse different in each 
case of their mother-tongue. I do not think this goes to prove a 
common authorship. 

Such then are the proofs that have been alleged for Chapman's 
authorship of Two Italian Gentlemen. I cannot believe that they 
have any validity, and it might seem that they were hardly worth 
refuting. But an assertion made as positively and repeatedly as 
Mr. Crawford has made that of Chapman's authorship has a way of 
getting itself repeated and tacitly accepted. I think, however, that 
no careful student of Chapman can ever believe that he wrote this 
play. In Mr. Crawford's own words (p. 495), "nobody would have 
thought of associating him with such a crude effort if the compiler 
of England's Parnassus had not assigned the play to him." And I 
think that henceforth no one will do so, unless he accepts Mr. Craw- 
ford's conclusion that in this case though not elsewhere Allot's 
ascription possesses final authority. 

I hold no brief for Munday's authorship of this play. But in 
closing I would like to call attention to certain facts which seem to 
me to point very clearly to Munday as the author. 

In the first place the dedication printed by Collier is signed with 
his initials, A. M. Under the circumstances I do not attach great 
weight to this dedication, but until it has been proved a forgery 
it establishes at least a presumption for Munday. 

Secondly, the date 1584 suits Munday far better than it does 
Chapman. Munday had been in Italy in 1578-79, during whicl time 

1 Of. a similar trick by Pedante Q. 1486). In all three cases the trick is used to make 
a comic rhyme. It is not a "humour" of the character. 



he might have read or seen II Fedele. In 1580 he was back in London, 
working and apparently acting. He found a patron in the Italianate 
Earl of Oxford to whom he dedicated several works. He signs him- 
self repeatedly Oxford's "servant/' and this may mean that he was 
a member of Oxford's company of actors. No doubt a version for 
them of a new and popular Italian comedy would have pleased the Earl. 
It is certain, at least, that the date of this play before 1584 comes at a 
time when Munday was in the very heyday of his productivity, writ- 
ing poems, ballads, pamphlets, romances, and perhaps one other play. 1 

Thirdly, there is the interesting fact that a passage of this play 
(11. 224-40) containing three six-line stanzas appears with a few 
trifling variations in England's Helicon over the signature Shepherd 
Tony. Mr. Crawford, it is true, altogether rejects (p. 518) the usual 
identification of this author with Anthony Munday. I have not 
time to debate this matter at length, but would call attention to two 
facts: first, that this stanza with the rhyme-scheme ababcc is not 
uncommon in Munday's work. I note instances in The Weakest 
Goeth to the Wall (Webster's Works, IV, 250), in the two Robin Hood 
plays (see Hazlitt's Dodsley, VIII, 158, 159, 198), in John a Kent 
(I, iii), and in his Sundry Examples (1580). Moreover in 1583 
Munday published a volume now lost called The Sweet Sobs and 
Amourous Complaints of Shepherds and Nymphs. This seems to have 
attracted considerable attention. Webster in his Discourse of 
English Poetry, 1586, praises Munday's work, especially upon the 
subject of nymphs and shepherds. This would seem a good reason 
for the title of "Shepherd Tony," a signature attached to seven 
poems in England's Helicon. Lastly, and this seems to me a clinch- 
ing argument, another of the poems ascribed in England's Helicon 
to Shepherd Tony appears in Munday's romance Primaleon (1609). 
This work was translated from the French version of Chappuis, 
but the verse does not appear in the original (see Bullen's edition of 
England's Helicon, p. viii). 

There are, moreover, a number of interesting resemblances 
between Two Italian Gentlemen and the plays in which Munday is 

Fleay holds that Munday wrote the play The Weakest Goeth to the Wall about 1584 
for Oxford's company. This may be true, but if so the play has been carefully revised. 
Murray (English Dramatic Companies) admits the possibility of this ascription, but a 
later date (co. 1600) is suggested in the Malone Society reprint, 1912. 



known to have had a hand. No very close parallels can be expected, 
for a considerable period of time intervenes between this play and 
the earliest of the others (John a Kent is supposed to date about 
1595) during which time a great development in the drama had taken 
place, including among other things the substitution of blank verse 
for the " jigging veins of rhyming mother wits." Moreover, Two 
Italian Gentlemen is not an original play, but an adaptation of an 
Italian comedy. I note, however, in John d Kent a comic misuse 
of words like that of Crackstone, "retoritie" for "authority," "acces- 
sary" for "necessary" (I, 3), etc.; such "cannibal words" as "min- 
istrically," " prerogastride " (II, 2); mock Latin (I, 3) such as 
Crackstone uses (11. 398-406), the word Pediculus (II, 2) applied to 
a schoolmaster as Crackstone uses it (1. 1459), and an occasional 
use of the six-line stanza already referred to. In the Downfall of 
Robin Hood (pp. 135, 139) we have a number of comic "malaprop- 
isms" not unlike some of Crackstone's, and a variety of meters 
which reminds one, somewhat of the varying metrical form of Two 
Italian Gentlemen. Although by the time of the Robin Hood plays 
(1598) blank verse was established as the recognized form of dramatic 
verse, I find in these plays not only blank verse but Skeltonic verse, 
rhymed couplets, alternate rhymes, Munday's favorite six-line 
stanza, and a frequent use of four-foot verse. I doubt whether with 
our present knowledge of Munday's dramatic work it would be pos- 
sible to establish on internal evidence a convincing argument for 
his authorship of any anonymous play; but the facts that I have 
mentioned seem to me to point directly to him. 

External and internal evidence alike, then, make it probable 
that Munday was the translator of this work; and, as every student 
of our early drama knows, a fair degree of probability is, as a rule, 
all that we can expect to obtain in questions such as this. Certainly, 
if I am any judge of the facts, the claim set up for Chapman weighs 
as nothing in the balance of probabilities against the traditional 
assignment of the play to Antony Munday. 




An article by Professor C. E. Andrews in Modern Language 
Notes of June, 1913, 1 brings up for renewed consideration the question 
of the authorship, and incidentally the date, of Heywood and Brome's 
play, The Late Lancashire Witches. In A History of Witchcraft in 
England from 1558 to 17 18 2 Professor Wallace Notestein has taken 
issue with historians of the drama as to the history of this play. 
It is well known that it was put upon the stage in 1634 to take advan- 
tage of the excitement caused in London by the bringing to the city 
of certain women from Lancashire who had been tried for witch- 
craft in 1633, and that a considerable portion of the play is based upon 
the depositions of witnesses and defendants in the case. In chapter 
vii of his scholarly and extremely interesting book Notestein gives 
the history of the affair. He had, in the preceding chapter, given an 
account of another Lancashire witchcraft delusion taking place in 
1612, as a result of which eleven persons had been condemned to 
death. Of this trial we possess a contemporary account, The Wonder- 
full Discoverie of Witches in the Countie of Lancaster, by Thomas Potts. 3 
The later disturbance was directly connected with the earlier, both 
occurring in the Forest of Pendle. Early in 1633 charges of witch- 
raft were brought against a group of women who were tried at the 
icaster assizes, the principal witness against them being an eleven- 
r-old boy, Edmund Robinson. Of the accused a large number 
rere found guilty. The judges apparently suspected a miscarriage 
of justice, for they reported the case to the Privy Council. Dr. 
Bridgman, Bishop of Chester, was deputed to investigate the case, and 
as a result of his work four of the women were, in June, 1634, sent 
up to London for examination by the king's surgeons and a com- 
mittee of midwives. The boy Edmund Robinson and his father 
were likewise summoned to London, and presently confessed that 

1 Reprinted in Andrews, "Richard Brome: A Study of His Life and Works," Yale 
Studies in English, XLVI (1913), 48-53. * 

'Prize Essay of the American Historical Association, 1909. Published by the 
Association, Washington, 1911. 

Ed. by James Crossley in Chetham Soc. Publ., VI (1845). 
77] 253 [MODEKN PHILOLOGY, September, 1915 


the witchcraft charge was an imposture pure and simple. Notestein 
goes on to say: 

Before final judgment had been given on the Lancashire women Thomas 
Heywood and Richard Brome, well-known dramatists, had written a play 
on the subject which was at once published and "acted at the Globe on the 
Bankside by His Majesty's Actors." By some it has been supposed that this 
play was an older play founded on the Lancashire affair of 1612 and warmed 
over in 1634; but the main incidents and the characters of the play are so 
fully copied from the depositions of the young Robinson and from the charges 
preferred against Mary Spencer, Frances Dickonson, and Margaret Johnson 
that a layman would at once pronounce it a play written entirely to order 
from the affair of 1634. 1 

For the theory that the present play is a reworking by Brome, 
or by Heywood and Brome, of an earlier play by Heywood, Fleay 
is responsible. His opinion may be summarized as follows. The 
story of Mrs. Generous, I, i; II, ii, v; III, ii; IV, ii, iv, v; V, ii, iii, iv, 
v (part), is Heywood's, "considerably accommodated by Brome," 
and "is founded on The Witches of Lancaster by T. Potts, 1613." 
Brome contributes the Seely story, I, ii; III, i, iii; IV, iii; V, i, v 
(part). The witch scenes, II, i, iiia, iv; IV, i, are Heywood's, with 
alterations by Brome. In brief, then, this is an old play of Hey- 
wood's, from which a very considerable portion was excised and 
replaced by Brome's story of the troubles of the Seely family, while 
the rest was subjected to revision by Brome. 

This opinion is echoed by Ward in his English Dramatic Litera- 
ture 2 and in his chapter on Heywood in the Cambridge History of 
English Literature, where he says : 

The Late Lancashire Witches was printed in 1634 as the joint work of 
Thomas Heywood and Richard Brome. But the story of the play was based, 
in part, upon an account, published in 1613, of the doings of certain Lan- 
cashire women, of whom twelve had suffered death as witches in the previous 
year; and it is possible that Heywood was the author of a play much earlier 
than that put upon the stage in 1634. 3 

Schelling does not mention the theory of an older play, finds the 
source in "the notorious trials for witchcraft of 1633," adds that "the 
composition of the play must have followed so close on the events that 
its influence in forestalling the judgment of the courts which tried 

i Pp. 158-59. Ed. of 1899, II, 575. VI, 118. 



these unfortunate creatures can scarcely be considered as negligible," 1 
and then misdates the play 1633. Andrews brings forward additional 
evidence for the revision theory, but takes from Brome a large portion 
of the play which has heretofore been credited to him. That Note- 
stein is right in his assumption that The Late Lancashire Witches 
was an entirely new play, the product of the joint authorship, of 
Heywood and Brome, written in 1634, it is the purpose of this paper 
to show. 

Deferring for the present any discussion of authorship, let us 
consider the question of source. Is there any use of material older 
than 1633 which would give ground for assuming that we have a 1634 
revision of an older play? The account of the play in the Bio- 
graphical Chronicle of the English Drama 2 presents some sound 
reasoning by Fleay, but is marred by an unusual number of Fleavian 
errors, inconsistencies, and contradictions. Fleay, followed by 
Ward, asserts that the story of Mrs. Generous is founded upon 
Potts's account of the 1612 affair. So far from being accurate is this 
statement that there can be found but two points of similarity be- 
tween the play and Potts's narrative, (a) In each case a woman of 
good birth and social standing is found guilty of witchcraft; other- 
wise Mrs. Generous has no points of resemblance to unfortunate 
Alice Nutter. (6) In IV, ii, after Mrs. Generous has confessed that 
she has made a contract with the devil, occur these lines : 

Gen. Resolve me, how f arre doth that contract stretch ? 
Mrs. What interest in this Soule, my selfe coo'd claime 

I freely gave him, but his part that made it 

I still reserve, not being mine to give. 

Gen. cunning Divell, foolish woman know 

Where he can clayme but the least little part, 

He will usurpe the whole; th'art a lost woman. 3 

In the examination of James Device, one of the accused in the trial 
of 1612, he deposed that there appeared to him 
a thing like a browne Dogge, who asked this Examinate to giue him his 
Soule, and he should be reuenged of any whom hee would: whereunto this 
Examinate answered, that his Soule was not his to giue, but was his Sauiour 
lesus Christ's, but as much as was in him this Examinate to giue, he VJES con- 
tented he should haue it. 4 

* Elizabethan Drama, I, 363. 3 L. L. W.. p. 227. 

1 1, 301-3. Crossley, op. cit., sig. H3 verso. 



Again in his confession: 

that the said Spirit did appeare vnto him after sundrie times, in the likenesse 
of a Dogge, and at euery time most earnestly perswaded him to giue him his 
Soule absolutely: who answered as before, that he would giue him his owne 
part and no further. And hee saith, that at the last time that the said 
Spirit was with him, which was the Tuesday next before his apprehension; 
when as hee could not preuaile with him to haue his Soule absolutely granted 
vnto him, as aforesaid; the said Spirit departed from him, then giuing a 
most feareful crie and yell, etc. 1 

The verbal likeness is not so close as to be striking, and the parallel 
loses most of its force when we remember that the belief voiced by 
James Device was common at the time, and may be found in various 
contemporary treatises on witchcraft. 2 For the delusion that the 
play is "founded on" Potts, Crossley, the editor of Potts's narrative, 
may be inadvertently responsible. In his notes he says: "Alice 
Nutter was doubtless the original of the story of which Heywood 
availed himself .... which is frequently noticed by the writers 
of the 17th century that the wife of a Lancashire gentleman had 
been detected in practising witchcraft and unlawful acts, and con- 
demned and executed." 3 Now note that Crossley does not state 
that Heywood used Potts, but only a story frequently referred to, 
one version of which may be found in Potts's account. The plain 
fact is, of course, that so much of the play as can be traced to any 
recognizable source is not based upon Potts's narrative at all, but upon 
the depositions, etc., quoted by Crossley in his introduction. The 
characters of the play who were taken from real life are the witches 
Moll Spencer, Mawd (Hargrave), Meg or Peg (Johnson), Gill (Dicki- 
son), and the boy, evidently the young rascal Edmund Robinson, 
who caused all the trouble. The incidents borrowed are those of the 
boy and the greyhounds (II, iii, iv), the boy's ride through the air with 
Goody Dickison (II, iv), the milk pail which obeys Moll's summons 4 

1 Crossley, op. cit., sig. K. 

2 E.g., Reginald Scot, Discovery of Witchcraft, Book III, chap. x. 
Op. cit., pp. 35-36. 

This incident does not appear in the depositions quoted by Crossley. Its origin 
may be found in the report of the examination of Mary Spencer by Dr. Bridgman, as 
given in the Calendar of State Papers (Dom. Ser., 1634-35, June 15, 1634): "Cunliffe 
accused her [Mary Spencer] to call a collock, or peal [pail], which came running to her of 

its own accord When she was a young girl and went to the well for water, she 

used to tumble or trundle the collock, or peal, down the hill, and she would run along 
after it to overtake it, and did overhye it sometimes, and then might call it to come to her, 
but utterly denies that she could ever make it come to her by any witchcraft." 



(II, vi), the witches' feast (IV, i), the boy's story of his fight with 
a devil (V, i), Peg's confession (V, v). In these incidents the 
authors, as has been noted by all critics, kept very close to the 
terms of the depositions. 

There is, then, nothing in the source material which would suggest 
a date earlier than 1633. Fleay 1 brought forward as a bit of external 
evidence confirming the existence of an early play a reference in 
Field's A Woman Is a Weathercock, 1612, to Lawrence of Lancashire. 2 
Now Lawrence, according to Fleay's own theory, is one of Brome's 
characters, appears only in those scenes of the play ascribed to Brome, 
and must therefore belong to the 1634 revision; how, then, can Field 
have been referring to a character who made his first entrance upon 
the stage twenty-two years after Field's play was written? As a 
matter of fact, the name seems to have been proverbially applied to 
a man of vigorous physique, " Lusty Lawrence" being the more com- 
mon variant. 8 It may be found in Beaumont and Fletcher's The 

Captain (IV, iii) : 

Lusty Lawrence, 
See what a gentlewoman you have saluted; 

and its origin is thus explained by Dyce: "This expression occurs 
again in Woman's Prize, I, iii, and is found in other early dramas. 
It is explained by the following passage of a rare tract: This late 
Lusty Lawrence, that Lancashire Lad, who had 17 bastards in one 
year, if we believe his Ballad, &c.' A Brown Dozen of Drunkards, 
&c, 1648, sig. C." 4 Thus the use of the name by Field in 1612, 
instead of glancing at an old play of Heywood's, looks the other way: 
to the probability that Brome chose the name of a rather well-known 
local hero in order to give more point to the vulgar situation of which 
Parnell complains so bitterly. 

The play was entered in the Stationer's Register October 28, 
1634, and was brought to its present form in the summer of that 

1 Biog. Chron., I, J85. a Hazlitt, Dodsley, XI, 85. 

*Cf. L.L.W., p. 231, and Hazlitt, English Proverbs. 

* Dyce's Beaumont and Fletcher, III, 295. Besides being used in the four plays men- 
tioned L. L.W., A Woman Is a Weather cock, The Captain, Woman's Prize the expression 
occurs in the fifth satire of Marston's Pygmalion and Satires (Bullen's ed., 111,^89), and 
Bullen in a footnote refers to a ballad on the subject; this ballad, according to Hazlitt 
(op. cit.), was licensed in 1594. I have run across the phrase in Burton's Anatomy of 
Melancholy, but am unable to supply the exact reference. 



year. In the prologue there is a reference to the arrival for examina- 
tion in London of the women charged with witchcraft: 

The Project unto many here well knowne; 
Those Witches the fat laylor brought to Towne. 

From the Calendar of State Papers 1 we learn that they were brought 
to town some time between June 15, when the Bishop of Chester sent 
on the results of his examination of Margaret Johnson, Mary Spencer, 
and Frances Dickonson, and June 29, when the Privy Council passed 
an order for midwives to " inspect and search the bodies of those 
women lately brought up by the Sheriff of Co. Lancaster" (the fat 
jailer) ; from the same order we learn that the women were lodged at 
the Ship Tavern in Greenwich. There are two or three pieces of 
corroborative internal evidence. Fleay noted the allusion to Prynne's 
punishment. Whetstone says to Bantam, "if thou, Bantam, dost 
not heare of this with both thine eares, if thou hast them still, and 

not lost them by scribbling " 2 Prynne was sentenced on 

February 17, 1634, to lose his ears and be pilloried, and the sentence 
was carried into effect on May 7 and 10. 

There are two references to a recent issue of farthing coins, which 
apparently was making some stir in London: "no longer agoe than 
last holiday evening he gam'd away eight double ringed tokens on 
a rubbers at bowles . ..." (I, ii); 3 "from the last Farthings with 
the double rings, to the late Coy'ned peeces which they say are all 
counterfeit" (II, iv). 4 Legal farthings of copper were first coined in 
1613, and the lead farthing tokens up to that time issued by merchants 
and tradesmen were declared illegal. The authorities had great 
difficulty in getting the new coins into circulation and protecting them 
from counterfeiting. We find frequent references to the matter in 
the state papers during the remainder of the reign of James and that 
of Charles I. 6 Finally to defeat the counterfeiters a new coinage 
was issued. 

In 1634, at a time when Lord Maltravers had a share in the patent, the 
patentees were allowed to decry all the old farthings, and a new farthing of 

i Dom. Ser., 1634-35. * Ibid., p. 182. 

L.L. W., p. 198. 4 Ibid., p. 197. 

5 Of. Thomas Snelling, A View of the Copper Coin and Coinage of England, 1766; 
R. Ruding, Annals of the Coinage of Great Britain, 3d ed., 1840; H. Montagu, The Copper 
Tin and Bronze Coinage of England from Elizabeth to Victoria, 2d ed., 1893. 



better make was introduced, distinguishable by an inner beaded circle, the 
so-called double-rings. 1 

So serious had the counterfeiting of the farthing tokens become, that the 
patentees were allowed to introduce a token slightly different in design. 
The general design continued in accordance with the terms of the original 
patent, but all the details were altered, and as a mark to distinguish the new 
issue, a second beaded circle was placed on the obverse and reverse, whence 
the farthings were known as "double rings." 2 

There is, finally, one other passage which seems to carry on its 
face evidence of having been written in the summer of 1634. This 
is in the speech of Generous in IV, ii, a scene surely from the hand 
of Heywood. Generous is speaking of his wife, whom he is beginning 
to suspect of some criminal practice, though the idea of witchcraft 
has not yet occurred to him. 

The Gentile fashion sometimes we observe 

To sunder beds; but most in these hot monthes 

lune, luly, August 

The specific mention of present time seems to me to possess some 
corroborative value; at any rate, I set it down for what it may 
be worth. To sum up, common-sense would point to a date of 
composition in July or August, while the excitement over the 
near presence of the supposed witches would be at its height, and 
all the time indications that we have are in agreement with that 

In proof of the revision theory Andrews in his article presents 
three pieces of internal evidence: "the obvious interpolation of an 
episode, and an omission of one or two incidents that we are led to 
expect, and a mention in two places of names of witches or spirits 
inconsistent with the names in the rest of the play." 

The episode which Andrews considers to be interpolated is that 
of the boy and the greyhounds on pp. 196-97, 199-201. The boy 
comes upon a brace of greyhounds, which he takes to have strayed 
from their owner, to whom he decides to restore them in hope of 
reward. On the way the dogs start a hare, but refuse to give chase. 

1 British Numismatic Journal, 1906, First ser. t III, 190. 

1 Ibid., p. 200. Illustrations of the "double rings" are given in Plate I, Nos. 29, 30, 
31, opp. p. 191. The royal proclamation, authorizing the new issue, was dated February 
23, 1634 (Patent Rolls, 11 Chas. I, Part V, No. 30). 



The boy, angered by their apparent laziness, beats them, whereupon 
one of the dogs turns into Goody Dickison and the other into a 
boy. Mrs. Dickison changes the second boy into a horse, catches 
the first boy up in her arms, and they ride off on the horse. Andrews 
asserts that this episode has no connection with any of the threads 
of interest. On the contrary, ample preparation has been made for 
it. In the first scene of Act II (pp. 187-89) the witches are gathered 
to discuss what new deviltry they will play in order to throw their 
neighbors into confusion. They refer to the hunting party that is 
in progress, and Meg proposes to change herself into a hare to lead 
the dogs astray, while Gill says : 

I and my puckling will a brace 
Of Greyhounds be, fit for the race; 
And linger where we may be tane 
Up for the course in the by-lane. 

The boy's experience is the obvious sequel of these plans; the dogs 
are Gill and her Puckling, and the hare is Meg. The boy next 
appears at the witches' feast, IV, i (pp. 220-21), whither he has been 
carried by Gill, and whence he escapes, to appear again in the final 
scene to give his evidence against the witches. The episode then, 
far from being interpolated, has a very definite connection with what 
precedes and what follows, and its dramatic purpose is plain to 
show the witches in action. The part played by the boy Edmund 
Robinson in the actual Lancashire delusion was well known in London, 
he had been brought up to London for examination, and to omit him 
from the play would have been well-nigh impossible. 

Andrews' second point, the omission of one or two incidents which 
we might expect, has some basis. It is true that the connection be- 
tween the mortgage transaction (p. 178) and the incident of the receipt 
(p. 210) is not clear, and the business of the mortgage is dropped 
rather unceremoniously after the last reference to it (p. 182). It is 
to be noted, however, that the mortgage affair has served its dramatic 
purpose of bringing Generous and Arthur together, and thus furnish- 
ing a bond of connection between the plots. The reason for Arthur's 
appeal to Generous is the refusal of Arthur's uncle Seely to assist 
him with a loan, and the refusal, in turn, is occasioned by the con- 
fusion wrought by the witches in the Seely household. Such a 



knitting-together of plots is considerably closer than is the case in 
several others of Hey wood's plays, e.g., Woman Killed with Kind- 
ness and English Traveller. Moreover, the granting of the loan has 
characterized Generous, and Robin's presentation of the receipt 
proves to Generous that Robin has actually been in London, as he 
alleges. The failure to connect the two incidents more clearly and 
to refer again to the mortgage does not necessarily point to revision. 
It should be remembered that the play was composed, probably in 
some haste, to take advantage of a passing excitement, and any fail- 
ure on the part of the authors to bring to a logical conclusion all the 
minor interests of the play may be laid more readily to haste of com- 
position than to a supposed revision. This is particularly true since 
we have to deal with Thomas Heywood and Richard Brome, both of 
whom were somewhat rough-and-ready workmen, not distinguished 
for the careful finish of their plays. 1 

For the other so-called revision Andrews points to the abrupt 
ending of II, iv (p. 199), where a betting scene terminates "without 
the interference of witchcraft which we are led to expect." The 
scene ends with a reference to a hare which has just been started. 
At the opening of the next scene the boy enters with the greyhounds, 
crying, "A Hare, a Hare, halloe, halloe!" and beats the dogs for not 
giving chase, whereupon the dogs are transformed into Gill and a 
boy. This, surely, is a display of the expected witchcraft, although 
the hunters are not present to witness the transformation. The 
betting scene, however, like the mortgage episode, has served its 
Iramatic purpose. The main interest of the scene is not in the 
betting, but in the foolish behavior of Whetstone, and when he makes 
his exit we are interested more in his threatened revenge for the 
baiting to which he has been subjected than in the comparative speed 
>f the brown dog and the pied. The failure to provide a logical ter- 
mination for the betting episode may again, I think, be laid to hasty 
composition, especially since the following scene does provide a dis- 
play of witchcraft which accounts for the hare mentioned at the end 
of scene iv. 

1 Ward holds haste of composition responsible to some degree for the bad structure of 
the play: "The process of composition was evidently too hurried to allow of more being 
attempted than a succession of scenes hah* realistic, half grotesque, etc." (Engl. Dram. 
Lit., II, 578). 



Andrews' third evidence of revision is the one suggested by Fleay, 
that in two instances there seems to be a confusion in the naming 
of the witches. Thus, at the end of Act IV, Mrs. Generous, calling 
a convocation of witches at the mill, says: 

Call Meg, and Doll, Tib, Nab, and Jug, 
Let none appeare without her Pug, 

while Moll, Nab, Jug, and Peg are named in V, ii (p. 244). There is 
a tendency toward looseness in the names of the witches, anyway; 
thus Mrs. Johnson is called Meg or Peg indiscriminately (cf. p. 189, 
and V, v, where she is called Peg throughout). In IV, v, Mrs. Gener- 
ous says: " Summon the Sisterhood together"; that is, she is giving 
directions for a general convocation. May not the sisterhood have 
comprised more than the four who are brought upon the stage, as it 
did in real life ? Fleay thinks that before alteration V, ii, must have 
been Doll, Nab, Jug, and Tib. Why must we discard Moll and Peg, 
whom we know, because we have Nab and Jug whom we do not 
know ? Fleay and Andrews want the names to be perfectly consist, 
ent; I think that they are loosely and carelessly used, and that the 
inconsistency is evidence only of haste of composition. 

Having thus accounted for the evidence presented in behalf of 
the revision theory, let us consider the respective shares of Heywood 
and Brome. Andrews argues against collaboration in revision (and 
hence, inferentially, in actual composition) because "Heywood was 
writing for the Queen's Company in 1633 and the Lancashire Witches 
was brought out by the King's Men, the company for which Brome 
was writing in 1633 and 1634." Supposing for the moment that Hey- 
wood was writing for the Queen's Men at the time The Late Lan- 
cashire Witches was produced has it been proved that a playwright 
in the employ of one company never did any work for another com- 
pany? In fact, Andrews refutes his own argument when he states 
that Brome was connected in 1634 with both the King's Men and the 
Red Bull Company, and that while he was under contract to the King's 
Revels Company at Salisbury Court he had written a play or two for 
the Cockpit. 1 Such general argument, however, is in this case not 
necessary to meet Andrews' objection. The Late Lancashire Witches 
was written in 1634, not in 1633, and Fleay on the basis of our play 

Richard Brome, p. 14. 



infers that at some time between the date of Love's Mistress, pro- 
duced at court by the Queen's Men in 1633 and The Late Lancashire 
Witches Heywood transferred his services to the King's Men. 
Andrews cites the 1634 title-page of Maidenhead Well Lost, date of 
composition being probably 1633, but what would he say of the 1636 
title-page of Challenge for Beauty, a play performed in 1635 by the 
King's Men, which, therefore, supports Fleay's theory? 

Andrews accepts Fleay's assignment of the main plot the Gener- 
ous story to Heywood. The first of his reasons, that the story is 
based upon the 1612 trial, is untenable. The second, that the general 
handling of the story, particularly in the treatment of the erring wife 
by her husband, is in Heywood's manner, is sufficient. The hunting 
scenes, also, may be compared with the first scene of Woman Killed 
with Kindness. 

The attribution to Brome of the Seely story Andrews rejects 
because he can find no good reason for the assignment. Yet Andrews, 
when he accepts the Generous story as Heywood's because of its 
likeness to the Frankford story of Woman Killed with Kindness, 
has used precisely the kind of reasoning that Fleay did when he gave 
the Seely story to Brome because of its general resemblance to the 
inverted situation in Antipodes. Why the distinction? 

That part of the story of the Seely household which concerns 
the servants Lawrence and Parnell is given by Andrews to Heywood 
because, as he says, "it is so involved with all the different interests 
that I have mentioned that I cannot see any possibility of a separate 
authorship for it." Truly, the best reason for assigning the Lawrence- 
Parnell story to the same hand that wrote the Seely story is that the 
former is an integral and essential part of the latter. But the hand 
is Brome's, not Heywood's. The mere fact that certain characters 
of the main plot, Heywood's, e.g., Bantam, Shakstone, Whetstone, 
are present at the Parnell-Lawrence wedding is very slender evidence 
upon which to assign the wedding scenes to Heywood. The union 
of the two plots through Moll Spencer, who gives Lawrence a be- 
witched cod-piece point while she is carrying on an intrigue with 
Robin, is not so ingeniously close that it must point to # single 
authorship for both plots; it is just the sort of connection that 
might readily be arranged by two collaborators. The argument 


that Lawrence belongs to Heywood because of an allusion in Field's 
play of 1612 has already been disposed of. Finally Andrews refuses 
to accept Fleay's attribution of the Lawrence-Parnell scenes to 
Brome on the basis of the dialect, which Fleay compared with that 
in Brome's Northern Lass. Andrews asserts that the dialect of The 
Late Lancashire Witches differs from that of Northern Lass, and points 
out that Heywood also used a northern dialect in Edward IV, with- 
out, however, clinching his point by proving that the dialect usages of 
The Late Lancashire Witches and Edward IV are identical. To base 
any argument on dialect forms and spellings that have been subjected 
to the tender mercies of printers of playbook quartos seems a rather 
risky business. But since Andrews has introduced argument of this 
sort I have acted upon the suggestion made by him in a note, and 
have made comparison of the words listed by Eckhardt in his Die 
Dialekt- und Ausldndertypen des alter en Englischen Dramas 1 with the 
following results : 

Forms 2 found in all three plays E.IV, L.L.W., N.L 4 

" " E.IV and L.L.W., not in N.L 6 

" " E.IV and N.L., not in L.L.W 6 

" " L.L.W. and ALL., not in E.IV 18 

Now such a table proves nothing, beyond the fact that both Heywood 
and Brome were acquainted with north country dialects and used 
them freely on occasion, but if any inference were to be drawn as to 
authorship it looks as though Andrews' remark that "Fleay's argu- 
ment is useless" were something of a boomerang. 3 As positive evi- 
dence of Brome's authorship of the Lawrence-Parnell scenes it may 
be noted that Parnell's "Whaw, whaw, whaw, whaw!" (p. 186) is 
also used by Randal in A Jovial Crew* and that the inelegant expres- 
sion "piss and paddle in't" (p. 185) is found in the same play. 5 

Andrews would restrict Brome's part in the play to those scenes 
which are based directly on the depositions in the 1633 trial, some 

i Bang, Materialien, XXVII, 81-83, 86-91. 

I have confined this list to words actually used in more than one of the three plays, 
including variant spellings such as deaft, deft = pretty, sic, sick, sike =such. 

Cf. also Andrews' comment on Brome's use of dialect in N.L. and elsewhere: "The 
Lancashire Witches [contains] considerable fairly accurate Lancashire" (Richard Brome, 
p. 66, note). This certainly seems to imply that Brome wrote the scenes in which the 
Lancashire dialect is employed. 

Brome, Works, III, 439. Ibid., Ill, 374. 



"nine pages in all, out of a play of eighty-nine." 1 Most of this 
material Fleay assigns to Hey wood. It seems to me impossible 
to ascribe the witch scenes to either author with any degree of confi- 
dence. But for the broad general division of the play into main 
plot and subplot, the first to Heywood, the second to Brome, I should 
agree with Fleay, dissenting from Fleay's opinion that the main plot 
shows "accommodation" by Brome. In short, I regard the play as 
a straight piece of collaboration by the two men, done in the summer 
of 1634. 2 


1 Prom this list are omitted two episodes that should be in it: Moll's calling of the 
pail (p. 202), and Peg's confession (pp. 258-59). 

1 As an example of Fleay's curious processes of reasoning it may be worth while to 
place side by side three of his statements regarding date and authorship. (1) "Hey- 
wood's part is founded on The Witches of Lancashire by T. Potts, 1613." (2) "The 
story of Mrs. Generous .... is Hey wood's, but considerably accommodated by 
Brome." I.e., the story of Mrs. Generous is the part founded on Potts. If so, it must 
have been written early and formed part of the early play. (3) " The turning Rob in into 
a horse (and therefore the Mrs. Generous story) dates 1634." The parenthesis is Fleay's. 
How may this be reconciled with the previous statements ? According to Fleay, more- 
over, Brome's part, consisting of the Seely story, must have been written to take the place 
of some other scenes in Heywood's early play, and dates, of course, 1634. This leaves 
only the witch scenes for the early play. But the witches are all 1633 people, and their 
deeds are based on the 1633 depositions. By the application of Fleay's own reasoning 
all of the early play disappears, and we have an altogether new one. 

Since completing this article I have discovered that the views expressed in it are in 
agreement with those of Professor Ph. Aronstein of Berlin, in his article entitled "Thomas 
Heywood," in Anglia, June, 1913. 



The interludes which bear the name of John Heywood are inter- 
esting beyond any other group of the sixteenth century for their 
age, for their merit, but particularly for the great diversity of matter 
and treatment they show. The plays which will be discussed in this 
paper are Love, Weather, Pardoner and Friar, The Four PP, and John 
the Husband, Tyb the Wife, and Sir John the Priest, leaving out of con- 
sideration Wit and Witless, which is too undramatic to be of service. 
The reader of these plays will retain a vivid impression of the diversity 
I refer to, will have censured Love and Weather as dull and undramatic 
dialogues in the manner of the debat, and approved the other three as 
popular farces of uncommon freshness and vigor. This difference 
is the more striking because we are not accustomed to look for 
"styles," "periods," and "influences" in the rude work of the early 
sixteenth-century playwrights, but rather expect to find the product 
of each man marked by a definite and limited sameness. 

It would be extraordinary if these differences should have passed 
unnoticed, as in fact they have not. It was even to be expected that 
eventually someone would challenge Heywood's right to certain of 
the plays. And this, too, has been done, in no uncertain terms, by 
Professor C. W. Wallace, who denies that Heywood wrote, or even 
could have written, the three popular plays of The Pardoner, The 
Four PP, and John the Husband. 1 His opinion is less significant as a 
piece of argument (for it is built upon the slimmest of evidence) than 
as an indication of justifiable skepticism. The question he raises has 
never been squarely faced, and it is worth while : Did John Heywood 
write both sets of interludes which are ascribed to him, and which are 
apparently so different in conception and handling ? 

The case against Heywood depends on two sources of evidence: 
the texts of the plays themselves 2 and the conditions under which they 

1 Evolution of the English Drama up to Shakespeare (Berlin: Georg Reime* 1912), 
PP. 50 fl. 

8 All references to the texts of the plays in this article relate to the Tudor Facsimile 
Texts, ed. John S. Farmer. 
267] 91 [MODBBN PHILOLOGY, September, 1915 


were printed. For the sake of disposing of the smaller matter first, 
let us review now these questions of bibliography. Three of the 
five interludes were printed with Heywood's name on the title-page 
The Play of the Wether and A Play of loue, both published by William 
Rastell in 1533, and The Four PP } published without date (but con- 
jecturally in 1545) 1 by William Middleton. The other two were 
printed by William Rastell in 1533, without the author's name. 
These omissions, according to Professor Wallace, ought to be very 
significant; it is inconceivable, in his opinion, that the Rastells, rela- 
tives of Hey wood, should print in 1533 two of his interludes with his 
name and two more without. 

The argument is not strong. We may indeed wonder that the 
Rastells should have done as they did, but there is nothing incredible 
in it. We might even be satisfied merely with laying the blame 
upon the vagaries of sixteenth-century publishers, but there is a 
better reason observable from the texts themselves. The two plays 
which bear Heywood's name have title-pages and lists of characters ; 
the two without have no title-pages, only head titles. Hence we 
are given a simple and reasonable explanation of why certain of 
Heywood's plays appeared without his name: in the form in which 
they were printed there was no room for it. To explain, of course, is 
not necessarily to prove; yet the burden of proof rests on the skeptics, 
who in this case have only raised a reasonable doubt. If other good 
arguments are established, then the bibliographical evidence lends 
helpful corroboration; but if, as I hope to prove, all other evidence 
against Heywood is weak, then nothing can be proved from the 
absence of a name or title-page. 

The fact that one of the doubtful plays (The Four PP) was pub- 
lished with Heywood ; s name on the title-page is a serious stumbling- 
block to the skeptics, both because it is a piece of direct evidence 
against them, and because if that play is admitted into the Heywood 
canon there is then no reason why the others should be omitted. This 
dilemma has been solved by Mr. Wallace in somewhat too hasty a 
fashion: the piece was " attributed to Heywood by his publisher 
Middleton .... and by everyone since." But we cannot dismiss 
evidence so summarily; and despite the known laxity of early 

Ward, Eng. Dram. Lit., 1899, p. 244. 



printers, we must accept the names they place on title-pages until 
strong evidence arises to the contrary. Since we cannot discredit 
Middleton in this instance, we must believe him, and thus admit 
a strong link between the two groups of plays we have to consider. 

But the case against Heywood does not rest simply on biblio- 
graphical evidence, and we have yet to consider a problem of far 
greater importance the singular difference between the debat plays 
and the popular farces. It will be well to bear in mind that to Mr. 
Wallace and such others as object to crediting Heywood with the 
popular plays, the Heywood canon resolves itself into the allegorical 
Spider and the Fly, the dialogue of Wit and Witless, the proverbs, 
and the plays of Love and Weather all works of a definite cast. The 
argument against Heywood has been conveniently expressed by Mr. 
Wallace: "These three plays [The Four PP, The Pardoner, John the 
Husband] differ in dramatic conception, in characterization, and in 
acquaintance with men and events from the unquestioned literary 
product of .... John Heywood. And unlike his, they have no 
didactic purpose." 1 

This is a very autocratic dictum, and one which, as I hope to 
prove, is based upon generalizations that will not hold. An obvious 
objection can be made at once: that the critic does not allow for the 
effect of influences or even for the natural development of the 
dramatist's genius. According to the reasoning he tacitly avows, we 
should reject the theory that Shakespeare wrote both Love's Labor's 
Lost and Twelfth Night because they are so different in "dramatic 
conception and in characterization." And yet as much time may 
have elapsed between the writing of The Play of Love and The Four 
PP as between Shakespeare's plays. But let us leave these minor 
aspects for the time and devote ourselves to what is really the main 
problem whether Heywood could have written all the plays attrib- 
uted to him. We shall find, I think, that he could and did, with the 
possible exception of John the Husband. 

The constant mistake has been to overemphasize the differences 
between the two groups of plays the dulness of the one and the 
liveliness of the other. This has been the tendency even of nun who 
have not had a case to prove. As a matter of fact the difference is 
by no means so great as it has been made out. 

1 Evolution, p. 52. 269 


In the lowest order of the five plays, as regards dramatic interest, 
is the Play of Love; it is the closest to the old debat form. It is 
wearisome in its perpetual coil over nothing, its hairsplitting and 
strife between contrasted pairs of men; yet it has passages which 
would not shame the writer of The Four PP. The entrance of No 
Lover nor Loved with the burning squibs and the resulting trick 
played on Lover Loved make good, lively drama, which is no whit 
below the level of rough humor shown in The Four PP and John the 
Husband. Then the long monologue of No Lover nor Loved is quite 
as good in its coarse humor and lively satire as the narratives of the 
Pardoner and the Palmer in The Four PP. In these two respects the 
Play of Love belies its reputation for dulness and gives us a glimpse of 
powers that might easily become capable of producing John the 

The Play of Wether is a distinct advance in dramatic interest. It 
may even be called more dramatic than any except John the Husband. 
In The Four PP there are only four characters, who do nothing but 
sit and talk; in The Pardoner and the Friar, until the very end, there 
are but two contrasted figures who backbite and preach tediously; 
The Play of Love is out of the question. But in Weather there are ten 
characters, who are constantly entering and going off, so that there 
is more actual motion on the stage than in all the other three plays 
put together. Furthermore, both the author's dramatic sense and 
his feeling for character are displayed in the choice of applicants to 
Jupiter for weather, particularly in bringing in at the end the boy, 
"the least that can playe" (who must have made a great hit, as he 
would even now), and in the skill with which the various types are 
sketched in and opposed to one another. The general course of the 
play is heightened by the quarreling of the two Millers tedious now, 
but not then and of the Lady and the Laundress, amusing enough 
still. The humor and truth to nature of these speeches are capital, 1 
and the part of Little Dick is masterly; it is the boy to the life, set 

1 The entering speeches of the characters are particularly good, both because they 
come so patly in the dialogue, and because they are so well in character. For example, 
the Ranger enters: 

Ranger. God be here, now Cryst kepe thys company 

M ery report. In fayth ye be welcome euin very skantely. 

Syr for your comyng what is the mater. 
Ranger. I wolde fayne speke with the god lupyter. 



forth with an economy of deft touches that would please the most 
rigid of classicists. Altogether, "in dramatic conception, in char- 
acterization, and in acquaintance with men and events/ ' Weather 
is a play of marked craftsmanship and is not for a moment to be 
compared in these respects with Love. 

Just as I have shown that these two plays, and particularly one 
of them, are by no means the dull dialogues 1 they have been called, 
so it is possible to show that two of the other three plays are not 
quite so much farther advanced in dramatic art as critics have usually 
said. The Pardoner, as I have noted, is for the most part a mixture 
of harangues and recriminations on the part of a Pardoner and a 
Friar, who are delivering their sermons in the same church and to 
the same congregation. It is dull reading duller probably to the 
general taste than any save Love although it is easy to see that much 
fun could be got out of the parts by good low comedians. A fine bit 
of farce comes in at the very end, when the Curate and Constable 
Pratt try to eject the obstreperous pair. The Four PP is long 
drawn out, although the character delineation is excellent and the 
satire keen. And there is not the least bit of action. John the 
Husband is easily the most dramatic of the five, the play in which 

M ery report. That wyll not be but ye may do thys 

Tell me your mynde I am an officer of hys. 
Ranger. Be ye so, mary I cry you marcy 

Your maystershipp may say I am homely 

But syns your mynde is to haue reportyd 

The cause wherefore I am now resortyd 

Pleasyth it your maystershypp, etc. 

Or the Water Miller: 

What y deuyll shold skyl though all y e world were dum 
Syns in all our spekyng we neuer be hard, etc. 

And the Wind Miller (I have introduced punctuation here) : 
How! is all the wether gone or I come ? 
For the passyon of god help me to some! 

Thus the Gentlewoman: 

Now good god what a foly is this 

What sholde I do where so mych people is 

I know not how to passe in to god now. 

And best of all the boy, who perceives Merry Report first: 
This same is euen he by allycklyhod 
Syr I pray you be not you master god. 

1 If we are only to allow that Heywood wrote such debates as Lote, Wit and Folly, 
and even Weather, how are we to understand Hey wood's own epigram on himself ? "Art 
thou Heywood with the mad merry wit?" he asks, and "Art thou Heywood t&at hath 
made many mad plaies?" As fond as our Tudor forefathers were of debats, their ideas 
of humor were not so far different from ours that they would call Love or even Weather a 
"mad plaie," or describe its wit as mad and merry. Such epithets are exactly appropriate 
to the realistic interludes of The Pardoner, The Four PP, and John the Husband. 



there is most going on and which comes nearest to real farce in our 
sense of the word. But the man who could have written The Four PP 
could also have written John the Husband; that Mr. Wallace himself 
maintains. And the same skill in character and situation which 
shows in The Four PP is evident to the most casual reader in many 
parts of Weather, and even in two places in Love. There is in reality 
nothing whatever against the theory of single authorship of these 
plays, from the point of view of " dramatic conception, characteriza- 
tion, and acquaintance with men and events/' if we allow, as we 
logically must, for the natural processes of development. If we 
place Love as the earliest play and John the Husband as the latest, 
there is observable a development away from plays on words and 
finicky arguments toward real comic incident which is similar to 
Lyly's progress from Campaspe to Mother Bomby, and to Shake- 
speare's from Love's Labor's Lost to Twelfth Night. And the periods 
limited by the plays cited were about equal i.e., ten years. 

It may be objected that dividing the interludes into earlier and 
later "periods," while it may explain many differences, will not solve 
the problem of subject-matter, of why one group is concerned with 
disputes upon abstractions and the other with picturing the life of 
the times. As a matter of fact, a thoroughly plausible explanation 
of the phenomenon has been adduced. 1 Weather and Love are didactic, 
after the manner of the mediaeval debats; they are not concerned with 
religious satire or contemporary life. The other three, while possibly 
didactic and argumentative in parts, are much more satirical of 
church abuses after the manner of contemporary French farce, and 
are little comedies o*f realism. Analogues, if not sources, for John the 
Husband and The Pardoner 2 have actually been found. The sharp 
difference in the matter of the interludes may thus be explained by 
the appearance of a new and powerful influence. There were plenty 

1 Cf. K. Young, "Influences of the French Farce on the Plays of John Heywood," 
Mod. Philol., June, 1904. 

* For The Pardoner, the farce d'un pardoneur, d'un triacleur, et d'une taverniere; for 
John the Husband, the farce of Fernet qui va au vin. The resemblances between the 
French and the English are too pronounced to permit doubt of interrelation. I cannot 
accept Mr. Wallace's suggestion (Evolution, p. 51) that the French may "equally well, 
even more probably, have borrowed " from England. When we find two nations develop- 
ing the same kind of literature, we may feel sure that the lending, if any existed, was 
done by the nation which possessed the literature first. France had had the farce since 
the time of Maltre Patelin. 



of opportunities, in the hobnobbings of England and France during 
the second and third decades of the century, for the English to see 
French farces. It is worth noting that the Field of the Cloth of Gold 
took place in 1520, close to the time when the interludes are supposed 
to have been written. 

We may safely conclude, then, that there is nothing in the natures 
of the plays themselves which invalidates the theory that one man 
wrote them; a conclusion which is strengthened by the fact that one 
of the doubtful plays is ascribed to Heywood by authority which we 
have no right to dispute. Yet while, on the strength of that author- 
ity, and on general questions of style, we must admit The Four PP 
to the Heywood canon, the problem of the other two plays is not so 
easily settled. To prove that there is no reason why they may not 
have been written by Heywood is not to prove that they were. 
Yet by a more careful examination of the two questionable plays, we 
can, I think, establish for one of them a greater likelihood of Hey- 
wood's authorship than of any other man's, and thus corroborate 
by one-half accepted tradition. 

It will be well to glance briefly over the steps by which this 
tradition has attained growth and a very hollow tradition it is. 
Bale, 1 our first and greatest authority, and Pits, 2 who follows Bale 
closely, give as Heywood's dramatic writings only The Four PP, Love, 
and Weather. To Anthony a Wood, in Athenae Oxonienses, seems to 
be due the honor of adding to the list The Pardoner and John the 
Husband, but where his authority came from I cannot discover. 

1 In his Scriptorum Illustrium Majoris Bryttannie .... Catologus .... Basiliae 
(1557). This is the second, revised edition of his work, and hence is more authoritative 
than the earlier. This is what Bale says of Heywood (Posterior Pars, p. 110) : " loannes 
Heyuode, ciuis Londinensis, musices ac rhythmicae artis in sua lingua studiosus, & sine 
doctrina ingeniosus, pro choreis post comessationes & epulas hilariter ducendis, spec- 
taculis, ludis, aut personatis ludicris exhibendis, aliisque uanitatibus fouendis, multum 
laborabat, ediditque 

De aura comoediam Lib. 

De amore tragoediam [sic] Lib. 

De quadruplici P, Lib. 

Centum epigrammata Lib. 

Ducenta alia epigrammata Lib. 

Epigrammata proverbialia Lib. 

Sed in promouenda veritate nihil egit, ueritatis fastiditor. Vixit ille anno DonAii 1556." 

1 loannis Pitsei .... Relationum Historicarum de Rebus Anglicis Tomus Primus 
.... Parisiis .... M.D.C.XIX. Pits adds to the bibliographical note De aranea & 
musca versus Anglicos, Librum vnum, and Rithmos alias Anglicos, Librum vnum. 



Everyone since his day appears to have accepted his word without 
question. It is " generally accepted." 

With this verdict as regards one of the plays I have no inclination 
to quarrel. I believe The Pardoner and the Friar offers strong 
internal evidence that it is by the same hand which wrote The Four 
PP. The point has frequently been urged before. Not only are the 
Pardoners in the two interludes strikingly similar, in their knavish 
parade of insincere piety and in their display of fraudulent relics, but 
the relics themselves are in two cases the same, the likeness extending 
even to the texts themselves. 

The Pardoner (Sig. A 2 verso) : 

And another holy ralyke here may ye see 

The great too of the holy trynyte. 

And who so euer ones dothe it in his mouthe take 

He shall neuer be dysseasyd with the tothe ake, etc. 

The Four PP (Sig. C 1 verso) : 

Nay syrs beholde here may ye se 
The great toe of the trinite 
Who to this toe any money voweth 
And ones may role it in his moueth 
All his Lyfe after I vndertake 
He shall be ryd of the toth ake. 

The Pardoner (same page) : 

Here is another relyke eke a precyous one 
Of all Hallows the blessyd Jaw bone. 

The Four PP (Sig. C 1): 

Frendes here shall ye see euyn anone 
Of all Hallows the blessyd iaw bone 
Kys it hardely with god deuocion. 

It is easy to see why these two relics should turn up in both places. 
They are the most grotesque and striking of the whole scandalous 
list in The Pardoner, and when the author was tempted to repeat the 
success of this burlesque in another interlude, he took over bodily 
the two choicest bits. It may be objected that someone else may 
have pillaged Hey wood, or vice versa; but I believe that we must be 
careful how we make charges of plagiarism in a period when the 
dramatic writing of this class was confined to a limited circle at court, 



in which each man knew his own and his fellow's work too well. 
Furthermore, we do not find one dramatist pillaging another as a 
practice; they went to the classics or to French farce when they 
lacked inspiration. The parallelisms in The Four PP and The 
Pardoner are much more likely to show Heywood borrowing from 
Heywood than from anyone else. A direct chain of evidence, then, 
connects The Pardoner with the didactic plays of Love and Weather: 
printer's authority binds The Four PP to them, and verbal similarities 
bind The Pardoner and The Four PP. 

There remains, then, only John the Husband unaccounted for, 
and I confess that I cannot definitely associate it with Heywood. 
It may well be his but may it not as well be another's ? Until we 
know something more of the authors of Tom Tiler and Thersites, 
until we find undoubted specimens of the work of Cornish, Crane, and 
even the youthful Sir Thomas More, we cannot with much show 
of evidence say that the style is Heywood's. The fact of its publica- 
tion in 1533 by William Rastell lends a faint support to Heywood's 
claim. Mr. Wallace has put in a strong plea for William Cornish, 
the master of the Chapel Royal, as the author of the three questioned 
plays, on the simple basis of Cornish's great activity in preparing 
the revels at court in the first fourteen years of Henry VIII. But 
Cornish was not the only man writing interludes before 1533, nor 
have we any evidence that his work was more like these interludes 
than the early plays of Heywood himself. Our entire information 
as to what Cornish was capable of writing, aside from songs and 
pageants, consists in the knowledge that in 1515 he produced a 
dramatic arrangement of Chaucer's Troilus and Cressida and shortly 
after an interlude in which the actors took the parts of Sun, Moon, 
Wind, Rain, and other natural phenomena. Surely there is nothing 
here which suggests either the substance or the manner of The Four 
PP. Nor was Heywood the " dramatic successor" of Cornish, as 
Mr. Wallace has called him. 1 Cornish died in 1523, and his successor 
in office and as director of the Chapel children when they played 
at court was William Crane. When the payee for plays by the 
Chapel is named, it is always he, never Heywood. So liitil we 
know more of Crane, we must be careful of what we say about the 
relations of Cornish and Heywood. 

1 Evolution, p. 53. 275 


Various attempts have been made to deduce the chronology of the 
plays, without much success, because there is so little to get hold of. 
Swoboda started it in his dissertation on "John Hey wood als Dra- 
matiker," 1 in which he placed The Pardoner first because of the refer- 
ence in it to Leo X, who died in 1521, 2 and because of the general 
youthfulness of it; and The Four PP last, because it was printed 
last and seemed older. Brandl 3 planned his chronology according 
to the religious satire in the plays; he too put The Pardoner early 
and The Four PP later. With this relationship I am in agreement, 
for it seems clear from all indications that The Four PP is younger 
than The Pardoner. It is more varied in character, not so bound to 
the device of antiphonal dialogue, fuller of matter, more carefully 
written. And the treatment of the repeated bogus relics in The 
Four PP is precisely what one would expect in a later writing; not 
that the list is longer, as Swoboda observes, which really proves 
nothing (as Pollard 4 remarks), but that the treatment is more 
dramatic, more elaborated for the fun to be derived. In The Pardoner 
the relics are recited in a monologue; in The Four PP the recital of 
the Pardoner is broken in upon by the comments of his listeners, so as 
to bring out the full richness of humor of these brilliant absurdities. 
In The Pardoner there is plain statement in soliloquy; in The Four PP 
there are character reaction and interplay, excellently worked out. 
The first is the original, the second the developed form. It could not 
be otherwise. 

While I agree with Swoboda in the relative position of the two 
plays, I cannot believe that they were so far apart as he would 
place them. The reference to Leo X may mean that The Pardoner 
was written before his death, but not necessarily. At any rate, 
it could be dated as late as 1521, which must bring it after the Field 
of the Cloth of Gold. Swoboda limits the date of The Four PP 
to 1535 at the latest, on the dubious assumption that the passage in 
Thersites (produced in 1537 and possibly in 1536) in which Thersites 

1 In Wiener Beitr&ge, III, 1888. 

2 Sig. A 3: 

Worshypfull maysters, ye shall vnderstand 

That pope Leo the .x. hath graunted with his hand 

And by his bulles, confyrmecl vnder sede 

To all maner people, bothe quycke and dede .... etc. 

1 "Quellen des weltlichen Dramas," Quellen und Forschungen, LXXX. 
4 In Gayley, Representative Eng. Comedies. 



boasts of going down to harrow hell, goes back to the Pardoner's tale 
of the rescue of Margery Coorson. The parallelism is too slight to 
build on; and I cannot believe that two plays which are so closely 
bound together by the characters of the Pardoners and so clearly, in 
those characters, actuated by the same inspiration should be composed 
so far apart. It is a question of psychological probability, based upon 
plain common-sense, to which purely theoretic arguments must yield. 
For this reason I would place The Four PP after The Pardoner, 
but nearer it say 1524-27. The Play of Love has every evidence of 
being the earliest of them all. It is the kind of thing a very young 
man would do; it is nearly always the young men who write the 
hairsplitting debats on love and find delight in playing with words. 
Lyly's Euphues came at the outset of his career; Ford published his 
idealistic dissertations on love and honor in his youth. Love's Labor's 
Lost and The Two Gentlemen of Verona came before Twelfth Night 
and As You Like It, and Venus and Adonis before the Sonnets. 
Weather seems to me to be connected with Love by certain tricks of 
style by plays on words, by extensive use of alliteration, by pas- 
sages composed of lists of nouns, sometimes in burlesque allitera- 
tion 1 and by the didactic feeling which relates them both to the 

1 Some examples of such word play are the following : 
Weather, Sig. A (4) (Rastell edition) : 

For all weathers I am so indifferent 

Sunne lyght, mone light, ster light, twy light, torch light, 
Cold, hete, moyst dry haile raine frost snow lightning thunder 
Cloudy, misty, wyndy, fay re, fowle abpue head or vnder 
Temperate or distemperate what euer it be 

Of. also the alliterative list of towns on Sig. A 4, verso: 
At Louin, at London, and at Lumbardy, 
At Baldocke, at Barfold, and at Barbary, 
At Canterbury, at Couentry, and at Colchester 
At Wansworth, at Welbecke, and at Westchester, etc. 

Such compilations as these, and especially the second set, recall at once similar lists in 
Love, as for example the following (Sig. B 2) : 

The smothest the smyrkest the smallest 

The trewest, the trymest, the tallest, 

The wysest, the wylyest, the wyldest, 

The meryest, the manerlyest, the myldest, etc. 

More in the nature of plays on words are these lines, Weather, Sig. A 3: 

Jupyter. Why, what arte thou that approchyst so ny ? 

Mery report. Forsothe and please your lordshyppe it is I. 
Jupyter. All that we knowe very well, but what is I ? 

Mery report. What I ? some say I am I perse I 
But what maner I so euer be I 
I assure your good lorshypp I am I. 
And this (Sig. D 2) : 

The more ye byb the more ye babyll 

The more ye babyll the more ye f abyll 
The more ye Fabyll the more vnstabyll 
The more vnstabyll the more vnabyll, etc. 
(Continued on p. 102) 



debats. That it is the younger is proved by the advance in dramatic 
skill which has already been pointed out. 

As to the place of John the Husband I am in doubt. From the 
point of view of variety of incident it would seem to come as a cul- 
mination in growth, but I am not sure that we can rely on that 
argument. While there is more incident than in The Four PP, there 
is no whit better characterization, and growth in characterization is 
more significant than any fluctuation in amount of incident; for the 
latter may follow a fashion, while the former comes from the drama- 
tist himself, grows with him, and is dependent on no influences but 
the dramatist's own development. 1 It is probable, moreover, that 
the two plays which show French influence most The Pardoner 
and John the Husband would not stand far apart. But after all, 
did Hey wood write John the Husband ? 

My conclusion as to the order of the plays is this: Love, ca. 1518, 
when Hey wood was near twenty; Weather; The Pardoner, ca. 1521; 
The Four PP, ca. 1525 or even earlier; and John the Husband, later or 
earlier according to the prejudice of the reader. This arrangement is 
in the greatest degree provisional and uncertain, although I regard 
it as satisfactory enough in our present state of ignorance; there are, 
for instance, complicating circumstances which are too vague to 
argue upon, yet too likely to leave out of consideration. In the first 
place, it is not reasonable to assume that after the entry of the French 
influence Heywood never returned in his plays to his earlier didactic 
manner, either from choice or to please someone, like the Princess 
Mary, to whom the satirical pieces might not be aggreeable; hence 
there may be excuse for dating Weather later than I have. In the 
second place, The Pardoner, which seems a less skilful piece of drama 
than The Four PP or John the Husband, may owe its defects, not to 

Compare these with the following representative extracts from Love (Sig. B (3) verso) : 

Anone there was I loue you and I loue you 

Louely we louers loue each other 

I loue you and I for loue loue you 

My louely louyng loued brother 

Loue me, loue the, loue we, loue he, loue she, 

Depper loue apparent in no twayne can be. etc. 

There is much more of this primitive euphuism in Love than in Weather, as might be 
expected from its earlier composition and the nature of the subject. 

1 It is worth adding that The Four PP was much more popular and lasted longer on 
the common stage than did the other interludes. In the play of Sir Thomas More, 
written in Elizabeth's reign, the troupe which is going to present a play before the banquet 
offers for consideration a number of pieces, among which is The Four PP. 



extreme youth, but to the author's attempting for the first time a 
new kind of drama. Finally, whatever the precise dates of the plays, 
which I regard as of slight account, I would put them all before the 
Protestant Reformation; for I cannot conceive a devout Catholic, 
such as Heywood proved himself to be, who might satirize the abuses 
in his church when it was strong and well, carrying on the satire so 
blithely and with so much unforced enjoyment while it was in bitter 
need. Perhaps the appearance of so many of Heywood's plays in 
1533 meant that the Reformation had, temporarily at least, put an 
end to his writing. 

While we are occupied with Heywood, it may be worth while to 
consider one more point, which likewise has never received adequate 
attention: how and by whom his plays were presented. It has 
been generally reported that they were written for the children of 
the Chapel Royal, but this is by no means certain. The assumption 
arose, so far as I can discover, from the facts that Heywood on one 
occasion (in 1538) played before the Princess Mary with a company 
of children, 1 and that in one of his plays a child is called for. But we 
must bear in mind, first, that the company directed by him in 1538 is 
not said in the record of payment to be the Chapel boys; and sec- 
ondly, that in only one of the five plays is a child obviously demanded, 
and then it is only one boy. Little Dick in Weather is described as a 
boy "the least that can playe," but there is no evidence that the 
other characters were children, and Merry Report, at least, was an 
adult, as is shown by his attitude of teasing encouragement to Dick. 
It is usually said that the plays were written for children; yet except 
for this one character I have failed to find in any part of them evi- 
dence supporting such an assumption. 

Of course the possibility still remains that they were given in 
part or in whole by children; yet the meager array of evidence we 
have hardly justifies that conclusion. We fall upon greater difficul- 
ties if we suppose that the Chapel boys were the actors. We are 
at once puzzled to account for the circumstance of their being directed 
by a man who was in no way connected with the Chapel.^ True, 
Heywood may have been a boy there at one time, but during the 

1 The occasion is frequently referred to in histories of the stage. See, for instance, 
Wallace, Evolution, p. 84. 



period in which the plays were written he was official player of the 
virginals and was enrolled among the musicians. All this time, 
moreover, the Chapel boys were playing under their regular masters, 
Cornish and Crane. 

Taking all this into consideration, it seems impossible to assign 
Heywood's plays definitely to the Chapel Royal. There were other 
means of presenting them: perhaps by the regular troupe of interlude 
players (John English and his three companions), perhaps by the 
gentlemen of the Chapel, who were accustomed frequently to play 
in the court. We may wonder who were the boys with whom Hey- 
wood entertained the princess in 1538, and for lack of better knowl- 
edge suppose that they were of the Chapel Royal. But there was 
another body of children at court with whom Heywood must have 
come into closer contact they were the six singing boys who formed 
part of the minstrels, and whose existence has heretofore been over- 
looked. 1 Since Heywood was himself one of the minstrels, or 
musicians, his relations to these lads must have been closer than to 
the Chapel. To be sure, it is not known that they ever acted; yet 
they were ready at hand, and may very possibly have been drilled for 
the stage by Heywood. I submit the hypothesis for what it is worth. 

The investigator who is trying to establish the Heywood canon 
and who has gathered together the known facts which will help 
him is astonished to find how blank is our ignorance in many direc- 
tions and how much unsubstantiated theorizing has passed current 
for fact. Yet there is enough reliable evidence to vindicate the 
traditional canon in regard to all but one of the plays. There is 
nothing to prove that John the Husband is by Heywood ; but there is 
nothing to prove that it is not. It is perfectly possible that the man 
who wrote The Four PP and The Pardoner could have written this 
play; and I for one shall be glad to go on calling it Hey wood's until 
some really worthy claimant appears. 


1 These singing boys, called Children of the Privy Chamber and put in the charge 
of one of the luters, are met with in the court accounts of Mary and Elizabeth, and are 
known to have existed as early as 1465. In that year certain men were directed to gather 
by impressment "quosdam Pueros, Membris Naturalibus Elegantes, in Arte Minis- 
trollatus instructos" wherever they could be found. See Rymer's Foedera, XI, 375. 



The extraordinary vogue of Gibber's The Non-Juror may be 
explained in part by the excellence of the original, le Tartuffe, from 
which it was indirectly adapted. That excellence accounts for its 
long stage history: not only was it frequently revived, 1 but in the 
slightly altered form of The Hypocrite it continued before the public 
from 1768 2 to 1823 ; 3 and when cut down to a three-act comedy was 
still on the boards in 1889. 4 But its unprecedented original run must 
be explained on somewhat different grounds by its political satire. 

Gibber's own account of the inception of the play is character- 
istically indefinite. He says: 

About this Time Jacobitism had lately exerted itself by the most unpro- 
voked Rebellion that our Histories have handed down to us since the Norman 
Conquest: I therefore thought that to set the Authors and Principles of that 
desperate Folly in a fair Light, by allowing the mistaken Consciences of 
some their best Excuse, and by making the artful Pretenders to Conscience 
as ridiculous as they were ungratefully wicked, was a Subject fit for the honest 
Satire of Comedy, and what might, if it succeeded, do Honour to the Stage 
by shewing the valuable Use of it. And considering what Numbers at that 
time might come to it as prejudic'd Spectators, it may be allow'd that the 
Undertaking was not less hazardous than laudable. 5 

The rebellion to which Gibber with such loyal indignation refers 
is the short-lived and half-hearted rising in favor of the Old Pretender 
in 1715. Scarcely a month elapsed after the Earl of Mar unfurled 
the Pretender's flag at Braemar on September 6 before the cause 
collapsed irretrievably; on November 13 seven peers and 1,489 
men were captured at Preston by the royal troops and at once 
scattered about the kingdom in jails. To be sure, the Pretender 

1 October 18, 1745, at Oovent Garden for eight nights (Genest, Some Account, IV, 
188); October 22, 1745, at Drury Lane for thirteen nights (ibid., IV, 173); January 4, 
1750, at Covent Garden (ibid., IV, 304); February 6, 1753, immensely successful revival 
at Drury Lane (ibid., IV, 359); October 22, 1754, very successful revival at Covent 
Garden (ibid., IV, 414). 

Ibid., V, 218. * 

8 Ibid., IX, 188. 

Gibber, Apology, ed. Lowe, 1889, II, 288. 

8 Cibber, op. cit., II, 185 f. 
281] 105 [MODERN PHILOLOGY, September, 1915 


himself landed in Scotland on January 2 of 1716, but he found con- 
ditions so unpromising that on February 4 he embarked for France. 
By April not only were the Highlands of Scotland tranquil, but the 
Pretender was forced to leave French soil for the territory of the Pope 
at Avignon. 

This bare recital of events raises a question: Why did Gibber 
bring out his play on December 6, 1717, instead of during the spring 
or at least the fall of the preceding year ? The rising was crushed 
by April, 1716. By the historian of a later date the danger is seen 
to have been over about six months earlier. Why the delay ? To 
answer we shall have to discover how the matter seemed to the public 
for whom the play was written. We shall have to see how popular 
opinion concerning the rebellion was reflected in the newspapers 
of the time. 

The examination shows that politics in those days was a turbulent 
game. Popular tumults were frequent whenever any anniversary 
gave occasion for crowds to gather. On the anniversary of the 
Restoration in 1716 mobs "wearing in their Hats, Oak Branches 
for Badges of Sedition and Rebellion in a riotous and tumultuous 
Manner, went about Town to insult all his Majesty's loyal Sub- 
jects/' annoying them among other ways by breaking their windows. 1 
On August 6 "Two Soldiers [were] whipped almost to Death in 
Hyde-Park, and turned out of the Service, for wearing Oak-Boughs 
in their Hats the 29th of May." 2 Similar riots occurred on June 10, 
the birthday of the Pretender. 

The next year the demonstrations were, if possible, even more 
brutal, or the newspapers more outspoken in their reporting. 

Wednesday [May 29] being the Anniversary of the Restoration of King 
Charles the Second, . . , . the same Spirit of Faction seem'd to incite some 
of the High-Church Mob to wear Oak-Leaves, and the other Distinctions of 
Rebellion, for which some of 'em were sent to several Prisons, and some 
bound over, whilst others were severely treated by the loyal Party wherever 
they met them. 3 

Last Monday being suppos'd to be the Birth-Day of the Sovereign of 
the White-Rose .... a sort of shabby-genteel Gentlewoman (we suppose 

Read's Weekly Journal, June 2, 1716. 
* Salmon's Chronological Historian, 1747. 
Read's Weekly Journal, June 1. 1717. 



her to be some Manteau-maker, or worse) walking along Cheapside, with a 
rebellious Badge of White-Roses in her Bosom, a Gentleman stepping out 
of his Coach, corrected her Impudence by soundly flauging her, and then 
sticking the Pretender's white Badge in her blind Cheeks, she was most 
strangely teaz'd and insulted by all loyal People till she got home. The same 
Day two Scotch Soldiers near Rothehith were assaulted by a parcel of 
Fellows, who presum'd to thrust their White-Roses into their Faces, which 
were soon died in Blood, by one of the Soldiers cutting almost off one of the 
Jacks Hands, which made the rest run away for Fear of worse Punishment. 
The same Day one Mollut a Soldier in the second Regiment of Foot Guards, 
walking in Tuttle Fields with his Wife was assaulted by 6 Villains, who spoke 
disrespectfully of the King, and said, That King James (meaning the Pre- 
tender) was the rightful King. Hereupon the Soldier engag'd them, and only 
by the Assistance of 2 other Persons took 2 of the Gang who are now in 
the Hold, which made the other Cowards of the White-Rose Society run 
away. 1 

Now Gibber was no fool. He did not let slip such opportunities 
as these disturbances furnished for a Whig attack on the enemies of 
the government. But he did use anything but a subtle method of 
introducing the allusions. He merely gathered them together in the 
account of expenses which Sir John conveniently drops for his son 
to pick up and read to the audiences: 

Laid out at several times for the Secret Service of His M 

I. s. d. 

May the 28th, For six Baskets of Rue and Tune, 00 18 00 

The 29th, ditto, Two Cart-Loads of Oaken-Boughs, 02 00 00 

June the 10th, For ten Bushels of White Roses, 01 10 00 

Ditto, Given to the Bell-ringers of several 

Parishes, 10 15 00 

Ditto, To Simon Chaunter, Parish-Clerk, for his 

Selecting proper Staves adapted to the Day, 05 07 06 

Ditto, For Lemons and Arrack sent into New- 
gate, 09 05 00 

.... Allow'd to Patrick Mac-Rogue, of the 
Foot-Guards, for prevailing with his Com- 
rade to desert, 04 06 06 

Given as Smart-Money to Humphrey Stanch, 
Cobler, lately whipt for speaking his Mind 
of the Government, 03 04 06 2 

It needs little imagination to hear the applause that greeted the 
successive items in the bill. 

1 Ibid., June 15, 1717. * The Non-Juror, 1753, pp. 33 f. 



To return to the newspapers. These disturbances alarmed not 
alone the people. That the government considered its position 
insecure is clear from the prosecutions in which it engaged. There 
was great dissatisfaction at the acquittal of one Townley, the evidence 
against whom was in fact very damaging. Not only did Read's 
Journal, the Whig organ, give a particular account of the pleadings, 1 
but the Flying Post printed the following letter : 

I know it has been given out very Industriously, that the Evidence 
against Mr. Townley of Townley, and Mr. Tildlesly of the Lodge, who were 
try'd on Tuesday last [May 15] at the Marshalsea for High-Treason was not 
full, and upon that Account the Jury acquitted them, but I can assure you on 
the contrary, that the Evidence against them was very strong and particular, 
and so Satisfactory to the Judges, and by them so faithfully and well SumnVd 
up, that it was a very great Surprize to every one present, that those Gentle- 
men shou'd be acquitted. And the Judges were so dissatisfy'd with those 
Two Verdicts, and with some others given by that Jury, that on Thursday 
last the said Jury was discharged, and the Sheriff order'd to impanel a new 
one, to Try the rest of the Prisoners in the Marshalsea. 2 

Indeed, the event left so deep an impression on the public mind that 
Gibber's reference eighteen months later to the trial of a Sir Harry 
Foxhound 3 was at once identified by two pamphleteers who retailed 
the gossip of the coffee-houses as a hit at Townley. 4 

i Op. cit., May 19, 1716. 

The Flying-Post: or, The Post-Master, May 19, 1716. 

The N on- Juror, p. 39. Dr. Wolf directs his servant: "O! and here step yourself 
this Afternoon to Mr. Defeazance of Gray's-Inn, and give him this Thirty Pound Bill 
from Sir Harry Foxhound, beg him to sit up Night and Day till the Writings are flnish'd: 
For his Trial certainly comes on this Week, he knows we can't always be sure of a Jury, 
and a Moment's delay may make the Commissioners lay hold of his Estate." In Dr. 
Wolf's list of expenses (The N on- Juror, p. 34) appears a similar reference: "Paid to 
Henry Conscience, Juryman, for his extraordinary Trouble in acquitting Sir Preston 
Rebel of his Indictment, 531. 15s. OOd." 

* In The Comedy call'd the Non-Juror. Shewing the particular Scenes wherein that 
Hypocrite is concerned. With Remarks, and a Key, Explaining The Characters of that 
Excellent Play, p. 24, we read: " Henry Conscience. The honest Foreman of the Jury, who 
gave in the Verdict upon Townley, when try'd at the Marshalsea, Not Guilty. Mr. Defea- 
zance. Mr. Hornsby, a Gentleman of Grays-Inn, committed some time since to Newgate, 
for irregular Practices acted against the Government. 

"Sir Harry Foxhound. Is one Townly of Townly in Lancashire, who with others 
meeting 'Squire Foster in Northumberland, under the Pretence of hunting the Fox, they 
there rose in Rebellion, but the Rebels being routed at Preston, the abovesaid Townly was 
brought up to the Marshalsea Prison in Southwark; but upon his Tryal there, had the too 
good Luck to be acquitted." 

In Joseph Gay's [i.e., John Durant Breval] A Compleat Key to the Non-Juror. Ex- 
plaining The Characters in that Play, with Observations thereon, 3d ed., p. 25, we read : 



The eagerness of the Whigs to deal with all those implicated in 
the rebellion was shown in the baselessness of some of the prosecu- 
tions. Such were the indictments found against Sir William Wind- 
ham and a Mr. Harvey of Combe on May 25, 1716. 1 Harvey had 
to be discharged on November 28, 17 16, 2 and Sir William on February 
12, 1717. According to a contemporary authority, Gibber made use 
of this popular interest in Mr. Harvey by depicting him as the gullible 
Orgon of his play, 3 though the " Non-Juror" indignantly denied this 
identification. 4 There can at any rate be little doubt that many in 
the audiences made that identification as one more point in the 
political satire of the play. 

Equally famous was the trial of a French Jew, born at Bordeaux 
and never naturalized, whose cipher communications in a lawsuit 
got him into no end of trouble. He was arraigned at the Old Bailey 
for high treason on June 14, 1716. His acquittal on January 22, 
1717, was a matter of great disappointment to the Whigs, a disap- 
pointment reflected in the following account: 

On Tuesday last [January 22] came on the Tryal of Francia the Jew, 
which lasted from 10 in the Morning to 11 at Night, before the Lord Chief 

Baron Bury, Mr. Justice Tracy, and Mr. Justice Prat The Charge 

against him laid in the Indictment, was for compassing and imagining the 

"Mr. Defeazance of Grays-Inn, Mr. Hd .... Sir Harry Foxhound Mr. Townley. 
Henry Conscience The Foreman of his Jury." 

That these pamphlets summed up the gossip among the political factions may be 
inferred from their late appearance, January 6, 1718, when the piece a cJe/had already been 
presented seventeen times. It is possible that Gay's identification of Sir Harry was taken 
from The Comedy call'd, as it first appeared in his third edition, issued some time after 
January 8, when, according to the advertisement in The Daily Courant, the second edition 
appeared. The popularity of these identifications, among the others that were probably 
made in the various cliques of that day, is attested by the repeated editions, and by the 
angry protest of the "Non-Juror's" The Theatre-Royal Turn'd into a Mountebank's Stage. 
In Some Remarks upon Mr. Gibber's Quack-Dramatical Performance, called the Non- 
Juror, on January 11. 

1 " Yesterday [May 25] the Grand Jury of Middlesex found Bills of Indictment against 
Sir Will. Windham and Mr. Harvey of Comb" (Read's Weekly Journal, May 26, 1716). 

2 "Wednesday [November 28] being the last Day of the Term, Sir Will. Windham, 
and Mr. Harvey of Comb, appeared at the King's-Bench-Bar at Westminster, upon their 
Recognizances; the latter was discharg'd with his Bail, but the former was continued 
upon Recognizance, the Attorney-General declaring to the Court, That there appeared 
Matter of Misprision of Treason against him, and that he had receiv'd Orders to proceed 
against him on that Head" (Read's WeeRly Journal, December 1, 1716). 

8 Gay, p. 25: "Sir John Woodvil is generally attributed to Mr. H y of C &." 
4 Theatre-Royal Turn'd, p. 33: "For what reason also he calls his imaginary Key a 
compleat one, might not be out of the Question, since Sir John Woodvil's Character, and 
Mr. H y of C b, are as different from each other as Light from Darkness." 



Death of the King, and raising Rebellion and levying War against His 
Majesty, by writing Letters, and sending into France for Men, Money, and 
Arms, to aid the Pretender, and set him upon the Throne of these Realms. 
The Jury being call'd upon the Pannel, he challeng'd several peremptorily, 
and 12 being sworn and charg'd, the Court then proceeded to his Trial. 
.... The Tryal being over, the Judges concur'd in their Opinion, that the 
Treason was fully and Plainly prov'd, but the Jury brought him in not 
guilty. 1 

To this celebrated case Gibber was careful to introduce a trans- 
parent reference : 

Doct So Charles, hast thou finished those Letters? 

Charles. I have brought them, Sir. 

Doct. 'Tis very well, let them be seal'd without a Direction, and give 
them to Aaron Sham the Jew, when he calls for them. 2 

This was easily identified by the pamphleteers, 3 and as stoutly 
denied by the "Non- Juror." 4 

From these various identifications with some of the famous cases 
growing out of the Rising of 1715 it is clear that Gibber was directing 
part of the satire in his belated comedy at the Jacobite enemies of 
the Whig government, perturbation concerning whom was still felt 
in the first months of 1717. The return of quiet was further delayed 
by a new panic that stirred the nation in the same winter. To go 
back to beginnings, it should be remembered that some two months 
before his accession to the throne of England George, as Elector of 
Hanover, had acquired from Denmark the captured Swedish duchies 
of Bremen and Verden. On October 15, 1715, Charles XII of Sweden 
declared war on Hanover, but he did little for many months. On 
January 29, 1717, however, Count Gyllenborg, an adviser of Charles 
who had been sent as Swedish envoy to the Court of Saint James, 

1 Read's Weekly Journal, January 26, 1717. 

2 The Non- Juror, pp. 38 f . 

1 "Aaron Sham. Is Francia the Jew, try'd after a long Confinement in Newgate, at 
Justice-Hall in the Old-Baily, for holding a secret Correspondence, by Letters, with his 
Majesty's Enemies at home and abroad and his since withdrawn himself to France" (Comedy 
call'd, p. 24). " A ar on-Sham the Jew, Mr. Francia, try'd for High-Treason, and 
acquitted" (Gay, p. 25). 

4 ". . . . there are no .... Grounds to imagine, that because the Doctor bids 
his Servant deliver such and such Letters to Aoran Sham the Jew, he must thereby mean 
Mr. Francia" (Theatre-Royal Turn'd, pp. 33 f.). 



was arrested and his papers seized because he was thought to be 
carrying on treasonable designs against the government. At the 
same time Baron Gorz, the Swedish minister in Holland, was arrested 
on his way to London. It was discovered that these two, with 
Sparre, the representative at Paris, were concerting with the Jacobites 
for a fresh insurrection to be supported by twelve thousand Swedish 
troops. 1 

When these matters were made public in March, the Whig organ 
devoted five folio columns to the account, filling two additional 
columns with the action of Parliament. 2 As news in general was 
given in short paragraphs, we can understand the extraordinary 
excitement of these events. The fear of coalition made the Whigs 
more active than ever. Thanks to the Septennial Act of May 7, 
1716, the prestige of the government abroad had risen to the point 
where it could enforce its wishes. On February 6, 1717, the Regent 
of France accordingly found it advisable to redeem a promise of 
the preceding summer by compelling the Pretender to leave Avignon, 
whereupon that prince removed beyond the Alps. 

In the summer another trouble of long standing was settled. By 
the Treaty of Utrecht the fortifications of Dunkirk were to be razed 
and the harbor filled up. But in September, 1714, England learned 
that a fresh harbor was being made at Mardyck, connected by canal 
with the town of Dunkirk and capable of sheltering ships in greater 
number and of larger tonnage than the harbor of Dunkirk itself. 
Early in 1715 Louis XIV gave a voluntary pledge not to make any 
work of fortification on the new canal. On August 10, 1717, it was 
reported that "Letters from Mardyke say, that they Continue to 
work diligently on Demolishing the Works there." 3 The same 
month Count Gyllenborg was sent home, the troops reduced, and a 
treaty of accommodation with Sweden was arranged. 

1 Cibber has a reference to this design: " Doct. No matter, let them [the French] 
go we have made a good Exchange, our New Ally is yet better, as he is less suspected" 
(The Non- Juror, p. 37). 

2 "A full Discovery of the Design of raising a Rebellion in his Majesty's Dominions, 
to be supported by a Force from Sweden; as carried on by Count Gyllenborg the Swedish 
Ambassador here, Baron Gortz the Swedish Ambassador in Holland, and Baroif Sparre, 
the Swedish Ambassador in France" (seven columns in Read's Weekly Journal, March 2, 

3 Read's Weekly Journal, August 10, 1717. 



To both of these reassuring events, the removal of the Pretender 
and the work of Mardyck, Gibber was careful to make reference, 1 
but more essential to his plot was another act of the summer of 1717, 
the most direct evidence of the government's mastery of the situation 
and confidence in itself. The unimpeachably whiggish Read in- 
formed the public that 

Last Monday [July 15] his Majesty went about 6 a Clock in the Evening 
to the Parliament House, where being seated in his Royal Robes on the 
Throne, he was pleased to give the Royal Assent to .... the King's most 
gracious and free Pardon, .... after which his Majesty made the following 

most gracious Speech My Lords and Gentlemen, It is with great 

Pleasure that I see the Tranquillity of the Nation so well Establisht as to 
admit of an Act of Grace, which I have long desired a fit Opportunity to 
Grant. 2 

On Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday the prisoners in messenger's 
hands, also those in Newgate and Marshalsea, were discharged on 
"pleading his Majesty's most gracious Pardon." 3 On August 10 
the public learned that "All the State Prisoners, who were brought 
hither in the late Rebellion, from Liverpool, Chester, and Preston, 
were discharged last Week." 4 This confidence and tranquillity was 
not unaccompanied by loyal gloating over the new-found freedom 
from alarm. A contemporary account runs: 

Upon the passing the Act of Grace, the Remainder of the Preston Prisoners 
were discharged, and particularly 200 from the Castle of Chester; but they 
had undergone such Hardships in Prison, that many of them reaped little 
Benefit by it, being so disabled, that they could not stand when they were 
dismissed to their respective Homes, where they had Leisure to lament the 
rash Undertaking; And, no doubt, their Sufferings will deter others from 
disturbing the Government for the future. 6 

The most conspicuous instance of the royal clemency was a son 
of that Duke of Atholl whose adherence to the crown had meant so 

1 " Doct the Court's extremely throng'd never was there such a concourse 

of Warlike Exiles: though they talk, this sharp Season, of removing farther into Italy, 
for the benefit of milder Air" (The Non- Juror, p. 35). " Sir John. 'Tis true, but still I 
am amaz'd, that France so totally should have left us Mardyke, they say, will certainly 
be demolish'd" (ibid., p. 37). 

* Read's Weekly Journal, July 20, 1717. 

* Ibid. 

* Ibid., August 10, 1717. 

* Salmon, Chronological Historian, July 15, 1717. 



much to the government in the early days of the rebellion. This 
young man, 

Lord Charles Murray, fought at Preston, where he distinguished himself 
by his conspicuous courage, and after the surrender of that town on 14 
November was made prisoner, and on 28 November 1715, with five other 
officers (four of whom were shot on 2 December) was tried as a deserter, 
he having been a cornet in the Fifth Dragoons. Lord Charles was sentenced 
to death, but pleading that he had placed his commission in the hands of a 
relative before joining the rebellion, and great efforts being made by his 
family, he was reprieved, and, in August 1717, set at liberty. 1 

Popular interest in the affair is shown by the frequent notice 
taken of it in the papers. On August 24, for instance, the public 
learned that 

The Lord Charles Murry, youngest Son to the Duke of Athol, who was 
sentence'd by a Court-Martial at Preston, and on Account of the Interest 
of his Noble Family, respited from Execution, but exoepted by the Act 
of Grace, is to be sent to the Isle of Wight, to remain a Prisoner there 
during the King's Pleasure. 2 

On September 14 it was noted that 

A Pardon hath pass'd the Seals for the Lord Charles Murray, Youngest 
Son to the Duke of Athol, who was Sentenced to be Shot to Death at Preston, 
for Deserting His Majesty's Service, and joyning the Rebels. 3 

The act of grace was indispensable to Gibber's plot. In the 
play he foils the schemes of the villain, Dr. Wolf, by the devotion of 
Charles to Maria and the rest of Sir John WoodviPs family. To be 
able to foil the villain, Charles had to be made a former pupil of Dr. 
Wolf and a Preston rebel, in order that he might be familiar with the 
hypocrite's part in the rebellion. After these signal services, the 
audience of course would demand that he be saved, yet this could 
be accomplished only by an act of royal clemency. Furthermore, 
Charles had to serve as Dr. Wolf's servant in Sir John's family, and 
consequently had to be made to escape detection at Preston and in 
that way keep out of prison. This circumstance, however, evidently 
did not keep the public from recognizing him as Lord Charles 

1 Sir Robert Douglas, The Scots Peerage, 1904. 

2 Read's Weekly Journal, August 24, 1717. 
* Ibid., September 14, 1717. 



Murray. 1 Considering the conspicuousness of the latter's pardon 
and the importance of Charles's pardon in the play, the identifica- 
tion was rather obvious. It is just possible that the lengthy descrip- 
tion of the reconciliation between father and son in Act IV 2 was 
taken by many as a transcript of the actual reconciliation of the 
preceding September. 

It will thus be seen that the successive agitations in the state 
the riotous celebrations of anniversaries, the numerous trials of 
alleged traitors, the fresh panic of the Swedish coalition, the unsatis- 
factory relations with France concerning the Pretender and the 
harbor at Mardyck that these perturbations would have deterred 
any manager, no matter how venturesome, from presenting on the 
stage before the fall of 1717 an attack on the Jacobites. There was 
too much uncertainty concerning Jacobite machinations, there was 
too little confidence in the impregnable position of the Whig govern- 
ment, to warrant such a bold satire of its enemies. It will be 
equally clear that from August on, such a satire not only would be 
possible but would be likely to meet with unbounded applause from 
the intrenched supporters of the government. Moreover, we have 
seen that the inception of Gibber's plot must be dated from the late 
summer or the fall of 1717. 

But the satire of The N on- juror was ostensibly directed against 
the sect that gave the play its name. A consideration of this feature 
of the plot will make still clearer why the play was not written till 
the late summer or the fall of 1717. 

The Nonjurors had of course long been obnoxious to the Whig 
element in England. That was inevitable from the circumstances 
of their origin. It will be recalled that on the accession of William 
and Mary an oath of allegiance was required of all the clergy of the 
Church of England. Four hundred of the number, among them the 
archbishop of Canterbury and several bishops, refused to take it 
because they regarded their oath to James II as still binding. From 
this refusal they were known as Nonjurors. They were in a few 
months deprived of their livings and sees, and the sees were filled 
by an act of Parliament. On the death of James in 1701 an act of 

1 "Charles is suppos'd to be a young Nobleman, Son to the Duke of A 1" (Gay 
p. 25). 

2 The Non-Juror, pp. 71 f. 



Parliament (1702) required every beneficed clergyman to abjure 
the pretended Prince of Wales as lawful heir to the throne and to 
acknowledge William III and each of his successors according to 
the Act of Settlement as rightful and lawful king. In 1714 Parlia- 
ment passed a law requiring everyone holding an office worth more 
than five pounds a year to swear that George I was rightful and lawful 
king, and that the person pretending to be the Prince of Wales had 
not any right or title whatsoever. The last two oaths probably 
brought few additions to the sect, but may have kept some of the 
original seceders out of the Established Church. 

The tenets of the Nonjurors in particular aroused the wrath of 
the Whigs. One of their strongest beliefs was that, in its purely 
spiritual functions, the church was independent of the state. They 
could not regard the ejection of the nonjuring bishops by an act of 
Parliament as lawful in any sense. The body held that the ejected 
bishops, not the new ones put into their sees by civil power, were 
the true officers of the Church of England. In order that this true 
church might continue (for they were of opinion that there would be 
no church were there no officers to represent it), they decided in 1693 
to consecrate new bishops to take the place of the nonjuring ones 
when the latter died. What seemed to them at the time the only 
practicable way of accomplishing this was to ordain suffragan bishops 
according to a statute of Henry VIII. George Hicks was accordingly 
dispatched to the Pretender at St. Germain to secure the necessary 
conge d'elire. When the bishops were chosen, the two who were 
consecrated as suffragans under Henry's act were given the sees of 
Thetford and Ipswich, because both were in the diocese of Norwich, 
over which Lloyd, one of the original Nonjurors, claimed jurisdiction. 
George Hicks, who was made incumbent of Thetford, died in 1715. 
Some of his papers were later made public, so that the whole affair, 
as we shall see, was once more the subject of discussion. 

The cup of bitterness for the Nonjurors was filled by the Rising of 
1715. Their very natural participation in that ill-starred undertak- 
ing raised them to a bad eminence from which it was impossible to 
descend. So conspicuous was the conduct of even the in^bnspicu- 
ous members that it was long remembered. Rev. William Newton, 
writing in 1730, declared: 



The Controversy of the new Schism made a much greater Noise upon the 
late Tumults and Rebellion than it had ever done since the Filling of the 
depriv'd Sees by K. William; and the Jacobite Conventicles were more 
frequented in the Cities of London and Westminster; and Priests of that 
Way were sent down to gather the like Congregations in Country Towns: 
And many of the high Folk, especially the Women, seem'd to come to the 
parochial Churches in and about London, for the Sake of their Pews, and their 
Cloaths, rather than for Conformity to the publick Worship. For they wou'd 
not join in any Part of the Prayers for King George, and his Royal Family, 
but at the Mention of those Names, they wou'd rise up, or sit down, or, at 
least, express their Dissent in some visible Manner. 1 

On July 13, 1716, two of the Nonjurors out of two dozen Jacobites 
that had been sentenced suffered the penalty for their mistaken 
loyalty. The contemporary account by the curious but even- 
tempered Calamy notes: "Parson Paul and Justice Hall were 
"executed at Tyburn, and left most impudent papers behind them, 

which were published 2 The two speeches .... revived 

a debate that had lain for some time asleep in the Church of 
England." 3 

Fuel was added to the rekindled blaze by Lawrence Howell, who 
brought more conspicuously before the public the peculiar tenets 
of the sect. The first announcement of his writings consisted merely 
of this sentence: "On Wednesday last [September 5, 1716] Mr. 
Howel, a Non-juring Clergy-man, was committed to Newgate, for 

1 William Newton, Life of the Right Reverend Dr. White Kennett, p. 161. 

2 The nature of these execrated beliefs is plainly set forth in these two excerpts: 
"You see, my Countrymen, by my Habit, that I die a Son, tho a very unworthy one, of 
the Church of England: but I would not have you think that I am a Member of the 
Schismatical Church, whose Bishops set themselves up in opposition to those Orthodox 
Fathers, who were unlawfully and invalidly depriv'd by the Prince of Orange. I declare 
that I renounce that Communion, and that I die a Dutiful and Faithful Member of the 
Nonjuring Church; which has kept it self free from Rebellion and Schism, and has pre- 
serv'd and maintain'd true Orthodox Principles, both as to Church and State. And I 
desire the Clergy, and all Members of the Revolution-Church, to consider what Bottom 
they stand upon, when their Succession is grounded upon an Unlawful and Invalid 
Deprivation of Catholick Bishops; the only Foundation of which Deprivation, is a 
pretended Act of Parliament" (Remarks on the Speeches of William Paul Clerk, and John 
Hall of Otterburn, Esq., Executed at Tyburn for Rebellion, the 13th of July, 1716, p. 8). 

"I declare that I die a true and sincere Member of the Church of England; but not 
of the Revolution Schismatical Church, whose Bishops have so rebelliously abandon'd 
the King, and so shamefully given up the Rights of the Church, by submitting to the 
Unlawful, Invalid, Lay- Deprivations of the Prince of Orange. The Communion I die in 
is that of the True Catholick Nonjuring Church of England ; and I pray God to prosper 
and increase it, and to grant, if it be his good pleasure, that it may rise again and flourish" 
(ibid., p. 31). 

Edmund Calamy, An Historical Account of my Own Life, II, 357 f. 


being concerned in a treasonable Pamphlet, entitled, The present 
State of Schism in the Church of England considered." 1 The follow- 
ing Monday, September 10, The Daily Courant, totally contrary 
to its policy, gave the following domestic news: 

Upon Information that a Treasonable Pamphlet newly printed was 
lodged in the House of Mr. Lawrence Howell, a Nonjuror, in Bull-head- 
Court in Jervin-Street, Search was made, and a large Impression of the said 
Pamphlet, part of them Sticht, the rest in Sheets, was seized. His papers 
were also secured, and he himself taken into Custody: And after he had been 
Examined by a Committee of Lords of the Council at the Cockpit, he was 
last Week committed to Newgate. The said Pamphlet is Intituled, The 
Case of Schism in the Church of England truly stated. It appears to have 
been intended to be dispersed or sold privately; those which were found 
sticht up, as well as the others, having no Title Page with the Name of any 
Author, Printer or Publisher. 

Then followed over a column of quotations. 

Among the said Mr. Howell's Papers were found, an Original Instrument, 
by which it appears that he was ordained and instituted into Priest's Orders 
hi 1712 by the late Dr. Hickes: And also the Form of Absolution and Recep- 
tion of Converts to Jacobitism. Both which Pieces are as follows. 

They filled nearly two columns. 2 

On Friday the same paper opened with: 

A Letter to the Writer of the Courant, Sept. 13. "The Whole of what 
I have seen of the Non-jurors late Writings, as it is manifestly in direct 
Opposition and Defiance to all Authority in this Nation, so 'tis very agreeable 
to the Principles and Doctrines, taught and published in the Two last 
Reigns by Dr. Hickes, Mr. Collier," 

and so on. Read's Journal the next day, September 15, filled three 
columns with the same matter, adding a final paragraph of coarse 
vituperation to show its more vehement Whig principles. On Mon- 
day, September 17, The Daily Courant, almost without fail a single 
sheet, printed on both sides, now used three sheets, making five 
pages. The reason for this expansion was thus given: 

There being still such a Demand for the Courant of the 10th Instant, 
that 'tis necessary to reprint it; we shall at the same time subjoyn to it, 
a Letter inserted in the Courant of Sept. 14; and also some Quaeries never 
published before. 

1 Read's Weekly Journal, September 8, 1716. f 

2 Cibber alluded to such manuals in the first words Dr. Wolf utters in the play : 
"Charles. Step up into my Study, and bring down half a Dozen more of those Manual 
Devotions that I compos'd for the Use of our Friends in Prison" (The N on- Juror, p. 21). 



The addition was entitled, "Quaeries concerning the Schism charged 
by the Non-jurors upon the present Church of England," and filled 
two columns and a half. Read's Journal of the following Saturday, 
September 22, copied these queries, with some errors, and added this 
piece of news: 

On Tuesday last [September 18], Mr. Wilcox, one of His Majesty's 
Messengers, seiz'd at the House of one Alexander a Sawyer in Labor-in-vain- 
Alley near Fish-street, a very large Impression of Mr. Howell's New Ecclesi- 
astical Farce, calTd, The Case of Schism in the Church of England truly stated; 
together with one Montgomery, a Non-juring Parson. 

The popular excitement, tremendous as it was, was more than 
equalled by the theological ire. The very directness of HowelPs 
statement of the Nonjurors' position 1 in his little pamphlet of thirty- 
six pages was a challenge to the upholders of the Establishment that 
at once drew replies in the public prints, 2 and more vehement attacks 
in a pamphlet warfare. 3 Anger was extended to rage by an announce- 

1 "Intending Brevity in this Discourse, I shall say this in general, before I descend 
to particulars; That the odious Name of Separatist belongs to those, who departed from 
the Church's true Communion in the Year 1688, and since; and not to the Chast Few, 
who for the Preservation of a good Conscience quitted their then present Support, and 
Prospect of further Promotion. These are still as much Friends of the Church, and 
Enemies of Schism, as ever: But by the Church, they understand the True Old Church 
of England, with all her venerable Doctrines of Faith, Justice and moral Honesty, and 

ail her strict Decrees against the resisting, deposing, and forfeiting Doctrines This 

pure Virgin-Church, which may be said once more to be driven into the Wilderness, and 
chiefly (O horrid!) by her unnatural Ranegado Sons, the Non-jurors say is the Church to 
which they adhere, and from which the Comply ers have separated, by departing from her 
ancient Doctrine and Practice, notwithstanding they keep Possession of the loyal 
Churches, from which the Non-jurors were illegally ejected. 

"This began a spiritual War, which on the Non-jurors side was purely Defensive; 
because they were driven from the Publick, and therefore were forc'd to set up separate 
Oratories or Chapels, in which they think and are satisfied, that the pure Church of 
England, with her pure Worship may be seen and heard like the Church at Jerusalem, in 

the first Persecution of Christianity in the upper Rooms The Authority of the 

Church of England and consequently the Church of England it self was with the depriv'd 
Bishops and Clergy, and remains still with their Successors, who alone have immutably 
adher'd to her true Constitutions and Principles .... " (The Case of Schism in the 
Church of England truly stated, pp. 1 ff.). 

* " From the Mountains of Wales, Sept. 26, 1716. The Heads of an expostulatory 
Letter to the Gentleman who lately made Remarks on Mr. Howel's treasonable and schis- 
matical Pamphlet" (Read's Weekly Journal, October 6, 1716). "Having given you in 
our last the Substance of the Nonjurors Charge of Schism upon the Church of England; 
we have thought fit to insert in this an Answer thereto, written by an eminent Clergyman 
of the Church of England" (ibid., October 27, 1716, four columns, signed "John Knox)." 

Thomas Bennet, The Nonjurors Separation from the Public Assemblys of the Church 
of England, Examin'd And prov'd to be Schismatical upon their own Principles (from adver- 
tisements in Daily Courant we learn that the first edition appeared October 4, second 



ment in The Daily C our ant for October 15, to which four full pages 
and a half-column on the fifth page were devoted : 

Last Week was seized by one of His Majesty's Messengers, at Mr. 
William Redmayne's Printing House in Jervin-Street, one Copy (the rest 
of the Impression having before been conveighed out of the House,) of a Book 
Intituled, The Constitution of the Catholick Church, and the Nature and Con- 
sequences of Schism, set forth in a Collection of Papers, written by the late 
R. Reverend George Hickes, D.D. 

Bishop White Kennett led off with a refutation 1 so valuable that The 
Daily Courant gave four pages and a half-column of excerpts from it. 2 
Other pamphlets followed, 3 of which by far the most famous was 

edition October 6, 1716; J. Pierce published two answers to it); Anonymous, The 
Establish'd Church of England Vindicated From the Imputation of Schism; In a Serious 
Address to all the Members of Her Communion; In which is Shewn From the constant 
Doctrines and Principles which the Church has always Taught, that the Nonjurors Separation 
is really Schismatical (appeared October 13, 1716). A. A. Sykes: An Answer to the 
Nonjurors Charge of Schism upon the Church of England. Written by a Clergyman of the 
Church of England (appeared October 20) ; Anonymous, The Layman's Vindication of the 
Church of England, As well against Mr. Howell's Charge of Schism, As against Dr. Bennett's 
Pretended Answer to it (appeared October 22) ; Anonymous, A Dissuasive Against Joining 
with the Conventicles of Nonjurors; in A Serious and Earnest Address to the Subjects of 
Great Britain (appeared October 25). 

1 A Second Letter to the Lord Bishop of Carlisle, Lord Almoner to His Majesty, Upon 
the Subject of Bishop Merks; By Occasion of seizing some Libels, particularly A Collection 
of Papers Written by the Late R. Reverend George Hickes, D.D. (first edition, October 30; 
second edition, November 6). 

2 "The Reverend Dr. Kennett, Dean of Peterborough, having in a Pamphlet intituled 
A Second Letter to the Lord Bishop of Carlisle, &c., made very instructive Remarks on Dr. 
Hickes's Collection of Papers which have been lately printed and dispersed clandestinely 
for promoting the Jacobite Schism; 'tis thought proper to give the Publick the following 
Extract of such of those Remarks as may be of most general Use." Thus reads the 
introduction to the excerpts. 

8 A Vindication of the Realm, and Church of England, From the Charge of Perjury, 
Rebellion, and Schism, Unjustly laid upon them by the Non-Jurors: And the Rebellion and 
Schism shewn to lie at their own Doors (appeared November 2, 1716); A Letter to a Non- 
Juring Clergyman, Concerning the Schism Charged upon the Church of England (appeared 
November 14) ; A Preservative Against the Principles and Practices of the Nonjurors Both 
in Church and State. Or, An Appeal to the Consciences and Common sense of the Christian 
Laity. By the Right Reverend Father in God Benjamin, Lord Bishop of Bangor (first 
appeared November 20, 1716; second edition, November 23); The Sin of Schism Most 
unjustly and groundlessly charged by the Nonjurors Upon the present Establish'd Church 
of England, and the Charge made good against themselves. In a Letter to a Nonjuring 
Clergyman (appeared November 26, 1716) ; A Vindication of the Church of England, 
against the Nonjurors Charge of Schism; By T. [homas] Dawson, D.D. One of the Proctors 
in Convocation for the Diocese of Sarum, late fellow of St. John's College in Cambridge (first 
appeared December 5, 1716); The Layman's Letter to the Bishop of Bangor: or, An 
Examination of His Lordship's Preservative against the Nonjurors; Of the Vindication 
of the Realm and the Church of England; Of the Nonjurors Separation from Pubhck Assem- 
blies, examin'd by Dr. Bennet; And of all other late Discourses, occasion'd by the Charge 
of Perjury, Rebellion and Schism, imputed to the Body of the People (appeared December 22, 
1716; it is one of eighteen replies listed in the British Museum); A Third Letter to the 



Hoadley's Preservative. First published on November 20, it entered 
the second edition on November 23, and so long continued popular 
that a fifth edition was issued in 1719. Part of its longevity is to be 
attributed to the Bangorian controversy, which it helped to precipi- 
tate, but the agitation against the Nonjurors was the immediate 
cause of its sales. 

What aroused this hysterical interest in religious views was of 
course their political bearing. That was illustrated on August 28, 
when was arrested William Redmayne, the printer in Jervin Street 
later implicated in issuing Dr. Hicks's papers. " On his Examination, 
the Oaths being tender'd him, he refus'd to take them. The three 
Persons who BaiPct him, after they had been acquainted that he was 
a Nonjuror, having likewise had the Oaths tender'd to them, refused 
to take them." 1 In fact, the theological tempest described above was 
the occasion for keener hostility to all Jacobites. On "Sunday 
Night [September 23] the Body of Tho. Bean, one of the five Persons 
Executed [Friday, September 21] for the Riot in Salisbury-Court, 
was buried at St. Brides Church with much Ceremony, followed 
by Mourners, and Men and Women, the latter drest in white Sarcenet 
Hoods, and the Men wearing white Favors; a numerous Crowd of 
Rabble gathered together on that Occasion." 2 A fortnight later it 
was reported that " Nathaniel Spinks, the Non-juring Clergyman, 
had about him, when taken, a great Number of Receipts for Money 
paid to several of the Jacobite Party." 3 This precursor of Gibber's 
Dr. Wolf was held to be typical of the whole sect, hostility to whom 
became a criterion of loyalty. Read led the crusade, 4 becoming 

Lord Bishop of Carlisle, Lord Almoner to His Majesty, Upon the Subject of Bishop Merks; 
Wherein The Nomination, Election, Investiture, and Deprivation of English Prelates, are 

hew'd to have been Originally constituted and governed by the Sovereign Power of Kings and 
their Parliaments: Against the Pretensions of our New Fanaticks, who have withdrawn 

hemselves from the establish'd Church into a separate Communion, under the Name of some 
Deprived Bishops and their supposed Successors (preface dated "January 25, 1716-17"). 

i Read's Weekly Journal, September 1, 1716. 

* Ibid., September 29, 1716. 
Ibid., October 13, 1716. 

* "A Curate living not far from Shoreditch, having the Insolence to disturb the Peace 
of His Majesty's good Subjects, by keeping a Nonjuring Meeting-House in Spittle-Fields, 
'tis hoped that all Persons loyally affected to King GEORGE, will timely suppress the 
Diabolical Society, as they have done the like seditious Assemblies of blind, deluded Fools, 
in the Savoy, Scroop 's-Court in Holbourn, and in Aldersgate-Street" (ibid., October 27, 



jubilant 1 and abusive 2 until "On his Majesty's safe Arrival at St. 
James's Palace [on January 19, 1716, when] in all Parts of the Town 
there were Bonefires, Illuminations, and other publick Demonstra- 
tions of Joy," 3 he found occasion for printing: 

The last Will and Testament of the late Earl of Mar, General Foster, 
and other Rebels and Emissaries of the Church of Rome, who were executed 
at Charing-Cross [in effigy, where a noble Bonefire was prepar'd] on Saturday 
the 19th of January, 17if . In the Name of the Church of Rome, alias High- 
Church, alias the Nonjuring-Church, or truly any Church, but the Church 
of England as by Law establish'd, .... we think it as proper, .... to 
bequeath to our Friends what Nature hath given us, in the following Manner. 
Imprimis, Our Heads, as being without Brains, we give to the insipid dull 
Asses the Non-juring Clergy, who would poyson the Mob with false Doctrine, 
with a design to bring in Popery, Slavery, and Arbitrary Power. 4 

But there was no necessity for Whig efforts to keep the spirit 
of hostility alive. The trial of Howell on March 2, 1717, added a 
fresh explosion that reverberated far and wide. The following news 
account shows the party spirit at work : 

Last Saturday Sentence was pronounc'd against the following Criminals 
at Justice-Hall in the Old Baily. Laur. Howel a Nonjuring Clergyman, 
for publishing a false, Scandalous and Seditious Libel, Entitled, The Case of 
Schism of the Church of England truely stated. It was prov'd that the Prisoner 

"Last Sunday a Jacobite Assembly was held at a House in Spittle- Yard, Spittle- 
Fields, said to be the Dwelling of Mr. Mynors, a Nonjuring Clergyman, and late Curate 
of Shoreditch, which occasion'd a great Tumult; but the Tide seems so far turn'd, that 
the Mob, contrary to their former Proceedings, were for venting their Spleen against this 
Gentleman, and those deluded Wretches who compose his Congregation. The other 
Jacobite Assemblies in Town, appear quite dispirited, and out of Countenance" (ibid., 
Novembers, 1716). 

z " PHILIP HURST, an Apprentice to a Book-binder in the City, and a CHURCH- 
WARDEN to one of the late Nonjuring Meetings, was sent to the Compter for defrauding 
his Master: He is a Son to the same Hurst of Oxford, so often mention'd in the fam'd 
Depositions of that University, to have had his Windows broke on his Royal Highness 
the Prince's Birth-Day. The Character of whose Son take as follows: 

" This Impudent, Audacious and Rebellious Assembly of Nonjurors, consisting of 
nothing but a Parcel of Rattle-brain'd Rakish young Fellows, Sharpers, Gamesters 
Highway-men, House-breakers, Thieves, Pick-Pockets, Broken Tradesmen, Butchers, 
Link-Boys, Fools, and Mad-men, Bawds, Whores, Shop-lifters, Drunkards, Scolds, 
Fish-women, Basket-women, Sinder-wenches, and Fiery Cookmaids, have thought fit 
to Chuse Philip Hurst for their Church-warden; he being an Apprentice of about 20 Years 
f Age, and a Person very well Qualified for such an Office in their Church: He'll Drink, 
Swear, and Play at Cards on Sundays, but that's nothing but what they'll all do, like their 
Brethren in Iniquity the Papists .... " (with verse for nearly a column, ibid., Oecember 
22, 1716). 

* Op. cit., January 26, 1717. 




was seiz'd in August last by 2 of His Majesty's Messengers, with about 1000 
of the said Libels in his Custody, together with several Manuscripts, among 
which were the Prisoners Letters of Ordination by the late Dr. Hicks, which 
were mark'd by the Kings Messengers. One of Redmayne the Printers 
Servants prov'd, that the Prisoner us'd frequently to come to His Master's 
whilst the said Libel was in the Press, and saw, and corrected the Proofs, 
.... He was Fin'd 500Z. and 3 Years Imprisonment, and to remain in 
Custody while paid; to find four Securities of 500Z. each, and himself bound 
in 1000/. for his good Behavior during Life, and to be twice Whipt. Upon 
which he ask'd if they would whip a Clergyman, and was answered by the 
Court, they paid no deference to his Cloth, because he was a Disgrace to it, 
and had no Right to wear it; and they did not look upon him as a clergyman, 
in that he had produc'd no Proof of his Ordination but from Dr. Hickes, 
under the Denomination of the Bishop of Thetford, which was Illegal and 
not according to the Constitution of this Kingdom, which knows no such 
Bishop. Whereupon he receiving his Sentence with an Air of Haughtiness, 
and behaving himself contemptuously to the Court, he was order'd to be 
Degraded, and stript of the Gown, he had no legal Right to wear, which was 
done in Court by the Executioner. But upon his humble Petition he has 
obtain'd a Remission of the whipping Part of this Sentence. 1 

Even the Act of Grace in July did not allay the rancor against 
the Nonjurors. Two articles in Read's Journal amply prove this: 

The Report which has been spread before and since the publick notice of 
the Act of Grace, that the Nonjuring Jacobite Conventicles are shut up, is 
altogether groundless, for they are as much (tho' more privately) frequented 
as ever: particularly that in Trinity Court near Aldersgate-Street, which 
has been repair'd and beautified. And that little Fragment of Divinity 
in Spittle-Fields likewise keeps up his Synagogue, into which none are 
admitted, but such as are well known to be of his own Stamp; and they are 
oblig'd to pass thro' a dark and long Passage, on the North side of this School 
of Iniquity. 2 

We are inform'd that Dr. Welton, noted for seditious Sermons, and for 
being turn'd out of his Benefice as a Popish Recusant Convict, because he 
would not take the Oaths, now keeps a Conventicle in a very public Place 
in Goodman's Fields, where he mocks God, as well as the Law, and prays 
for the royal Family in general Terms, without mentioning King GEORGE, 
their Royal Highnesses the Prince and Princess of Wales, and the rest of his 
Royal Issue, as by Law, all public Preachers ought to do. He and the chiefs 
of this abominable Conventicle admit none to see their May-game without 

1 Op. cit., March 9, 1717. The prominence given the bishop of Thetford in this 
trial of March 2, 1717, explains Gibber's making Dr. Wolf a Bishop of Thetford in his 
play of December 6, 1717. 

* Ibid., August 3, 1717. 


Tickets, which they think a necessary Precaution to prevent a Discovery of 
their seditious Practices; which ('tis hop'd) the Government will soon 
suppress. 1 

Indeed, vindictiveness against the sect was so much an article 
in the Whig creed that it continued right up to the time of Gibber's 
play. The following is simply one more illustration: 

Last Sunday, in the Morning Service, several Files of Soldiers, under the 
Command of a Serjeant from the Tower, Colonel Ellis, &c. Mr. Woster 
the High Constable of that Division, with several of his Civil Officers, 
stopt and secur'd all the Avenues of the Quondam Rector of White Chappel's 
Schismatical Assembly, or Nonjuring Meeting in Goodman's Fields, and 
sending for the Assistance of D'Oily Michel, Thomas Shoewel, and J. Hayns, 
Esqs; the next Justices of the Peace, tendred the Oaths of Allegiance, 
Supremacy, and Abjuration, appointed by Law, to each of them severally; 
the greatest part absolutely refus'd them, whose Names, Places of Habita- 
tion, and several Employments, were taken upon Oath, in order to be re- 

turn'd at Hick's-Hall the next Sessions as Popish Recusants Convict 

The whole took up about Six Hours Time, which was manag'd with a great 
deal of Ease, without Disorder; so different are the Times now, and the 
Management too, from what they were not many Years ago. Next Day 
Dr. Welton, with two other Persons, rid out of Town, Booted, and Spur'd, 
with Pistols and Lap-Dogs, but upon what design we leave it to time to 
discover. N.B. Dr. Welton's Picture Sells now for as much as the Pre- 
tender's, in the time of the late Rebellion, and is worthy Hanging up Any 
where. 2 

The inspiration of Gibber's play was furnished by this rabid 
persecution, the main points in which are included in his satire. 
The refusal of the Nonjurors to pray for the royal family, which as 
we have just seen the case of Welton had brought afresh to public 
attention, the alliance with Catholics with which they were so often 
charged, their often noted machinations with the Jacobites to 
these points he adverted time and again. 3 The participation of the 

i Ibid., August 17, 1717. 2 Ibid., November 16, 1717. 

" Hear. With all my Heart, Sir, provided you'll do the Duty of a Subject too, and 
not leave out the Prayer for the Royal Family. 

" Doct. The good Colonel knows, I never do omit it. 

"Col. Sometimes, Doctor; but I don't remember, I ever Once heard you name 

" Doct. That's only to shorten the Service, lest in so large a Family, some few vain, 
idle Souls might think it Tedious" (The Non- Juror, p. 21). - 

"Sir John He is a true, stanch Member of the English Catholic Church. 

" Mar. Methinks though, I would not have him a Roman Catholick, Sir, because 
you know of Double Taxes" (ibid., p. 28). 

(Continued on p. 124) 


women, noted by Newton, 1 he introduced into a speech of Dr. 
Wolf. 2 The Case of Schism was too notorious a document not to be 
taken as the bible of the cause. Sir John hands it to his son as an 
authoritative exposition of the principles of the sect, 3 and Dr. Wolf 
refers to it 4 for elucidation of the relations with Catholicism. 5 

The main burden of the satire is of course carried on the shoulders 
of Dr. Wolf, the villain. This English Tartuffe not only retains the 

"Doct Well! The Catholicks are the sincerest Friends!" (ibid., p. 35). 

" Doct Would it not make one Smile; that it should ever enter into the 

Brains of this Man (who can in other Points distinguish like a Man) that a Protestant 
Church can never be secure, till it has a Popish Prince to defend it" (ibid., p. 38). 

" Mar. Then you were bred a Roman-Catholick. 

" Charles. No, Madam; but I own in Principles of very little difference, which I 
imbib'd chiefly from this Doctor" (ibid., p. 42). 

" Lady W You don't take him sure for a Roman Catholick. 

"Doct. Um not absolutely But, poor Soul! he little thinks how near he is one. 
'Tis true, name to him but Rome, or Popery, he startles, as at a Monster: But Gild its 
grossest Doctrines with the Stile of English Catholick, he swallows down the Poison, like 
a Cordial" (ibid., pp. 84 f.). 

" Doct. Charles, Step up into my Study, and bring down half a Dozen more of those 
Manual Devotions that I compos'd for the Use of our Friends in Prison" (ibid., p. 21). 

"Sir John. Then as to the State, he'll shortly be one of the most considerable Men 
in the Kingdom, and that too in an Office for Life; which, on whatsoever pretence of 
Misbehaviour, no Civil Government can deprive him of" (ibid., p. 28). 

"Laid out at several times for the Secret Service of His M " (cf. ante, p. 107, for the 


"Sir John. Well, Sir, what say our last Advices from Avignon ? 

"Doct. All goes right The Council has approv'd our Scheme, and press mightily 
for Dispatch among our Friends in England" (ibid., p. 35). 

"Doct it being of the last Importance to us, that hope to change the 

Government to let it have no quiet" (ibid., p. 37). 

i Cf. William Newton, The Life of the Right Reverend Dr. White Kennett, p. 161. 

* The Non-Juror, p. 37. 

'"SirJ'oAn. Difference! 'twould make you tremble, Sir, to know it! but since 'tis 
fit you should know it, look there (Gives him a Book) read that, and be reform'd. 

"Col. What's here? (Reads) The Case of Schism, &c. Thank you, Sir; I have 
seen enough of this in the Daily Courant, to be sorry it's in any Hands, but those of the 
common Hangman" (The N on- Juror, p. 11). 

" Doct and really, it you examine well the Doctrines laid down, by my 

learned Predecessor, in his Case of Schism, you will find those Differences are not so ter- 
ribly material, as some obstinate Schismaticks would paint them" (ibid., p. 36). 

Yet the wily author allowed himself a loophole for escape in case he were attacked. 
He made it appear that Dr. Won* was not typical of the sect. The Colonel declares: 
"But he does nothing like other People; he's a Contradiction ev'n to his own Character: 
Most of your Non-Jurors now are generally People of a free and open Disposition, mighty 
Pretenders to a Conscience of Honour indeed: But you seldom see them put on the least 
Shew of Religion" (op. cit., p. 32). Later in this second act he points out that the sect 
as a whole is sober and law-abiding. Sir John exclaims: "And truly, my Lord, we 
seem to be wrong too in another Point, to which I have often imputed the ill Success of 
our Cause; and that is, the taking into our Party so many loose Persons of dissolute and 
abandon'd Morals; Fellows, whom in their daily private Course of Life, the Pillory and 
Gallows seem to groan for." To which Dr, Wolf replies: " 'Tis true indeed, and I have 
often wish'd 'twere possible to do without them, but in a Multitude all Men won't be 



villainy of the original in Moliere but is made as far as possible the 
ideal representative of the Whig view of the Nonjuror. His alliance 
with Catholicism is brought forward in his own declarations 1 as 
well as in the revelations concerning his past. 2 His Jacobitish 
activities are hinted at from the first, 3 are developed in the second 
act, 4 and for them he is taken into custody at the end of the play. 
But the most direct connection with the Nonjuring sect is in his 
elevation in Act IP to the see of Thetford. The discovery of Hicks's 
writings 6 and the trial of Howell 7 had created too great a furore 
not to be alluded to in some way. Gibber speaks of Howell as fol- 
lowing Hicks in the see of Thetford, 8 though Thomas Brett or Henry 
Gandy would more properly be so considered. In all likelihood 
Gibber knew nothing of them. In any case, they were too obscure 
in the turmoil to be serviceable in the satire. The playwright's 
object was to hold up the nonjuring clergy to scorn, so that historical 
accuracy was worse than useless. What was necessary was to enlist 

all Saints; and then again they are really useful; nay, and in many things, that Sober 
Men will not stoop to They serve, poor Curs, to bark at the Government in the open 
Streets, and keep up the wholesome Spirit of Clamour in the common People" (ibid., p. 
36) . These are, to be sure, left-hand compliments, but in the epilogue he points out that 
the only real Nonjuror in the play is respectable: 

But hopes again ev'n Rebels cannot say, 
Tho' Vanquisht, they're Insulted in his Play: 
Nay more To set their Cause in fairest light, 
H' has made a Man of Sense A Jacobite! 

1 Cf. p. 123, n. 3, and p. 124, n. 4. 

2 " Col Here are Affidavits in my Hand, that prove him under his Disguise 

a lurking Emissary of Rome, that he is actually a Priest in Popish Orders, and has several 
times been seen, as such, to Officiate Publick Mass in the Church of Nostre Dame at 
Antwerp" (op. cit., p. 92). 

" Doct The Time's now yours, but mine may come. 

" Col. What do you mean, Sir ? 

"Doct. Sir, I shall not explain my self But Power perhaps may change its 

Hands, and you e'er long, as little dare to speak your Mind as I do. 

" Col, (Taking him by the Collar.) Hark you, Sirrah! Dare you menace the Govern- 
ment in my hearing?" (ibid., p. 22). 

" Col. So he pretends, and that he lost his Living in Ireland upon his refusing the 
Oaths to the Government" (ibid., p. 23). 

4 Cf. ante, p. 123, n. 3; also the following: 

" Sir John. Where is he ? 

" Charles. In his own Chamber, Sir, just taking his leave of the Count and another 
Gentleman, that came this Morning Express from Avignon" (ibid., pp. 30 f.). 

"Sir John. O my good Lord, if our Court abroad but knew what Obligations they 
have to your indefatigable Endeavours .... " (ibid., p. 37). 

6 " Doct. Our last Express has brought me this (he shews a Writing.) which (far 
unworthy, as I am) promotes me to the vacant See of Thetford" (ibid., p. 35). 

8 Cf. ante, p. 119. Cf. ante, pp. 116 fit. Cf. ante, p. 124, n. 4. 



in favor of his play the long-continued and at times violent hostility 
against the Nonjurors. So successful was this purpose of general 
ridicule that the identification of his villain with any one man was 
difficult. Dr. Wolf was declared to be "either Paul, who was hang'd, 
Welton, who lost his living, or Howell, in Newgate." 1 But the " Non- 
Juror" was quite wrong in denying that "the Aspersions cast upon 
Dr. Wolf, whom at the same time the Poet makes Suffragan Bishop 
of Thetford, have any relation to Dr. Welton, Mr. Howel, or the late 
Mr. Paul." 2 From their prominence in the agitation about the 
Nonjurors as revealed by the preceding study of the newspapers of 
that time, it seems pretty certain that Gibber had all three in mind. 
His purpose was not to paint a faithful portrait but to pen an effec- 
tive satire. That could best be accomplished by delineating by 
general and easily recognizable traits, by seizing on salient points 
in the popular excitement concerning the Nonjurors. 3 

A final element was in all probability contributed to the play by 
the Bangorian controversy. Benjamin Hoadley had followed his 
Preservative with a sermon preached before the king on March 31, 
1717, in which he maintained that no one person more than another 
had authority to make laws for Christ's subjects. Principles so 
subversive of the established church were at once attacked. For 
the fierce logomachy that followed, the pugnacious bishop had a 
most vulnerable heel. He had received as a tutor for his sons and 
kind of secretary a former Jesuit, Frangois de la Pilonniere. In 
the suspicious theological atmosphere of 1717 that was evidence 
enough of the bishop's disloyalty to the church. The reproaches 
became so violent that he was at length forced to issue a reply. It 
was published as by De la Pilonniere himself, but there was a long 

1 Gay, p. 25. 

2 Theatre-Royal Turn'd, p. 34. 

* Other identifications for Dr. Wolf have been made. One appears in a pamphlet, 
A Clue To the Comedy of the Non-Juror. With Some Hints of Consequence Relating to 
hat Play. In a Letter to N. Rowe, Esq; Poet Laureat to His Majesty, issued early in 1718, 
which in a second edition was entitled, The Plot Discovered: or, a Clue, etc. Treating 
the play as an allegory in a highly laudatory manner, it devoted some four pages (9-13) 
to an identification of Wolf with Bishop Hoadley. To attack this valiant supporter of 
Whig views in matters ecclesiastical was the farthest remove possible from Gibber's 
thoughts. The other identification appears in Dr. John Doran's gossipy London in 
Jacobite Times, I, 296, where Wolf is identified with the turn-coat Robert Patten, author 
of A History of the late Rebellion. As Patten had been indispensable to the government 
in several of its convictions, Cibber would have been more than careful not to allude 
to him. 



preface by Hoadley, dated August 20, 1717. The first edition 
appeared on August 27, a second coming out on September 3, 

In this agitation one may see the germ of Gibber's adaptation of 
the French masterpiece. The relation of the French Jesuit to the 
fighting bishop was similar enough to that of Tartuffe and Orgon 
to suggest taking over the whole plot. The heated agitation against 
the Nonjurors, the by that time well-established harmlessness of the 
Jacobites, the security of the government from malice domestic 
and foreign levy all made the design of a satire on the sect and the 
party not only safe but certain to gain a great following and to win 
favor from the party in power. 

A consideration of the theatrical season will support this surmise. 
The vacation that summer extended from Friday, June 7, to Saturday 
September 20. From Monday, June 9, to be sure, until Friday, 
August 22, a company headed by Mills presented plays regularly, 
but with this group of players Gibber evidently had nothing to do. 
Coming back to the theater, then, about the middle of September, 
refreshed by rest, and in the midst of the gossip about Lord Charles 
Murray and the renewed case of De la Pilonniere, a most suggestive 
conjunction for his plot, and with the familiar background of agitation 
against Jacobites and especially Nonjurors, it would be easy enough 
for the plot of his new play to shape itself in his imagination. As 
soon as completed it would of course be put in rehearsal to take 
advantage of the heated state of the public mind. The production, 
with its long-continued popularity and its memorable results for 
Gibber personally, justified him in his previsions of success. 

Viewed in this light, The Nonjuror does not appear to contain 
the bold attack which Professor Ward finds in it. To say "that 
Gibber's caricature was legitimately designed to expose a real public 
evil, which threatened to fester like a sore in the commonwealth," 1 
is to accept rather unwarily Gibber's own declarations of his purpose. 2 

1 A. W. Ward, History of English Dramatic Literature, III, 504, n. 4. 

2 "Of all Errors, those that are the Effect of Superstition make us naturally most 
obstinate; it is therefore no wonder, that the Blinded Proselytes of our Few Non-juring 
Clergy, are so hard to be recover'd by the clearest Evidences of Sense and Reason. But 
when a Principle is once made truly Ridiculous, it is not in the Power of Human Nature 
not to be asham'd of it. From which Reflection, I was first determined to attack those 
lurking Enemies of our Constitution from the Stage "(from the dedication to the king, 
The N on- Juror, p. iv). Cf. also the statement in his Apology, quoted ante p. 105. 



The foregoing account of the points in his satire and of the vehement 
demonstrations recorded in the newspapers over the points included 
shows that instead of exposing a neglected situation he was merely 
making use of the topics most familiar to the public and therefore 
most certain of applause in the theater. The explanation of its 
deferred appearance till there was nothing further to fear from Jaco- 
bites and Nonjurors, and the evidences of the continued hostility 
to the Nonjurors up to the production of the play, show how little 
likely the sect was to remain unheeded, "to fester like a sore in the 
commonwealth." Gibber's own statement that the satire "dis- 
covered the Strength and Number of the Misguided to be much 
less, than may have been artfully insinuated," 1 could not have been 
much of a surprise to him. An actor of some twenty-seven years' 
experience, a manager of the theater which had long been known as 
the Whig house, who for eight years had studied the tastes and pre- 
judices of his public, as we see from his Apology, and who had through 
Sir Richard Steele and other connections ample opportunities to 
feel the public pulse, could be under little apprehension concerning 
the amount of hostility his play would meet with. But in any case 
that reception reveals how little venom there was left in the fangs of 
the disaffected, whether Nonjurors or others. Gibber was not 
leading a crusade against obscure evils in the state; he was attacking 
a hated but recognizedly powerless sect after the first surge of 
hostility had already given way to contempt. 



1 Op. dt., p. v. 


Modern Philology 




The devotees of Apollo have to give a good account of themselves 
in Olympia before they can become persona grata on Olympus. 
They spend their lives, more or less, at the various games of poetry. 
Some, like Goethe, win in the majority of trials, and then we study 
all of their records regardless of their individual excellence. Some, 
like Immermann in Oberhof, win only once, but this is sufficient to 
insure immortality. Some play and joust, run and wrestle with 
constancy and grace; their records, just after starting and just 
before finishing, are interesting, but in the end they are always 
defeated. And when this is the case, posterity, lay and initiated, 
forgets their names and concerns itself in no wise with their records, 
unless it be for statistical purposes. It is to the latter class that 
Graf von Loeben 1 belongs. For twenty-five years he was a per- 

1 Ferdinand August Otto Heinrich Graf von Loeben, the scion of an old, aristo- 
cratic, Protestant family, was born at Dresden, August 18, 1786. He received his first 
instruction from private tutors. For three years from 1804 on, he unsuccessfully, 
because unwillingly, studied law at the University of Wittenberg. In 1807 he entered, 
to his profound delight, the University of Heidelberg, where, in association with Arnim, 
Brentano, and Gorres, he satisfied his longing for literature and art. Beginning with 
1808 he lived alternately at Wien, Dresden, and Berlin and with Fouqu6 at Nennhausen. 
He took an active part in the campaign of 1813-14, marched to Paris, and returned, 
after his company had been disbanded, to Dresden, where, in 1817, he married Johanna 
Victoria Gottliebe geb. von Bressler and established there his permanent abode. In 
1822 he suffered a stroke of apoplexy from which he never recovered ; even the magnetic 
treatment given him by Justinus Kerner proved of no avail. He died at Dresden, 
April 3, 1825. See Allgemeine deutsche Biographic, XIX, 40-45. The article is by 
Professor Muncker. Wilhelm Muller also wrote an article full of lavish praise of Loeben 
in Neuer Nekrolog der Deutschen, III, Jahrg. 1824, Ilmenau, 1827. 
305] 65 [MODERN PHILOLOGY, October, 1915 


petual, loyal, chivalric contestant in the Olympic vale of poetry. 
His running was interesting, but he never won; he never wrote a 
single thing that everybody still reads for its own sake. 

Aside from his connection with the Lorelei-matter, Graf von 
Loeben is, therefore, at present, a wholly obscure, indeed unknown, 
poet. The large Konversations-Lexikons 1 of Meyer and Brockhaus 
say nothing about him, unless it be in the discussion of some other 
poet with whom he associated. Of the twenty best-known histories 
of German literature, some of which treat nothing but the nineteenth 
century, only six contain his name, and these simply mention him 
either as a member of the Dresden group of pseudo-romanticists, or 
as one of those Afterromantiker who did yeoman service by way of 
bringing real romanticism into disrepute through their unsubstantial, 
imitative, and formless works. And this is true despite the fact 
that Loeben was an exceedingly prolific writer and a very popular 
and influential man in his day. Concerning his personality, Muncker 
says: "Die Tiefe und Warme seines leicht erregbaren Gemuthes, 
seine Herzensreinheit, seine schwarmerische Hingabe an alles Schone 
und Edle sowie sein zartes Tactgefuhl erwarben ihm bei Freunden 
und Bekannten das Lob einer schonen Seele in des Wortes schonster 
Bedeutung." 2 

As to his poetic ability from the point of view of quantity, one 
can only marvel at the amount he produced in the time at his dis- 
posal; his creative works cover all types and sorts of literature. 3 

1 Meyer (6th ed.) does not mention Loeben even in the articles on Fouqu6 and 
Malsburg, two of Loeben's best friends; Brockhaus (Jubilee ed.) mentions him as one of 
Eichendorff's friends in the article on Eichendorff, but neither lias an independent note 
on Loeben. Nor is he mentioned in such compendious works on the nineteenth century 
as those by Gottschall, R. M. Meyer (Grundriss and Geschichte), and Fr. Kummer. Biese 
says (Deutsche Literaturgeschichte, II, 436) of him: " Auch ein so ausgesprochenes Talent, 
wie es Graf von Loeben war, entging nicht der Gefahr, die Romantik in ihre Karikatur 
zu verzerren." 

2 Cf. Allgemeine deutsche Biographic, XIX, 42. 

Partial lists of his works are given in: Goedeke, Grundriss, VI, 108-10 (2d ed.); 
Allgemeine deutsche Biographic, XIX, 40-45; the sole monograph on Loeben by Raimund 
Pissin, Otto Heinrich Graf vonLoeben, sein Leben und seine Werke, Berlin, 1905, 326 pages. 
By piecing these lists together for they vary it seems that Loeben wrote, aside from 
the works mentioned above, the following: 1 conventional drama, 1 musical-romantic 
drama, 2 narrative poems, one of which is on Ferdusi, 3 collections of poems, between 30 
and 40 novelettes, fairy tales and so on, and "einige tausend" aphorisms and detached 
thoughts. It is in Pissin's monograph that Loeben's position in the Heidelberg circle 
of 1807-8 is worked out, as follows: Loeben and Eichendorff constituted one branch, 
Arnim and Brentano the other, Gorres stood loosely between the two, and the others 
sided now with one group, now with the other. 



He is best known for his numerous poems and his magnus opus, 
Guido, a novel of 360 pages, written under the pen-name of "Isidorus 
Orientalis," and intended as a continuation of Novalis' Ofterdingen; 
he used Tieck's notes for this purpose. He wrote also a great num- 
ber of letters, between 60 and 70 elaborate reviews, and some critical 
essays, the best of which seems to be his commentary to Madame 
de StaeTs De I'Allemagne, while he translated from Anacreon, Dante, 
Guarini, Horace, Ovid, Petrarch, Vergil, and others, and left a num- 
ber of fragments including the outline of a pretentious novel of which 
Heinrich von Veldeke, whom he looked upon as "der Heilige des 
Enthusiasmus," was to be the hero. And he was, incidentally, an 
omnivorous reader, for, as he naively said: 

Viele Biicher muss ich kennen, 
Denn die Menschen kenn' ich gern. 1 

As to his originality, another confession is significant: 

Ja, es gibt nur wenig Leute, 
Deren Schiller ich nicht bin. 2 

No attempt, however, has as yet been made at even an eclectic 
edition of his numerous finished works, a few of which are still un- 
published, many of which are now rare. 3 

As to his standing with his literary contemporaries, Eichendorff 
admitted 4 that Loeben influenced him as a man and as a poet; it 
was he who induced Eichendorff to write some of his earlier works 
under the pen-name of " Florens." And Eichendorff in turn credited 
Goethe with the remark 5 that " Loeben war der vorziiglichste Dichter 

1 The verses are from Gestandnisse, No. 125 in Pissin's collection of Loeben's poems. 

2 Gestandnisse, No. 125. 

8 Aside from the reviews, letters, and individual poems reprinted here and there, 
the following works were accessible to the writer: (1) Das weisse Ross, eine altdeutsche 
Familienchronik; (2) Die Sonnenkinder, eine Erzahlung; (3) Die Perle und die Maiblume, 
eine Novelle; (4) Cephalus und Procris, ein Drama; (5) Ferdusi; (6) Persiens Ritter, eine 
Erzahlung; (7) Die Zauberndchte am Bosporus, ein romantisches Gedicht; (8) Prim Floridio, 
ein M&rchen; (9) Leda, eine Erzahlung; (10) Weinm&rchen; (11) Gesange. 

4 Eichendorff's relation to Loeben can be studied in the edition of Eichendorflf's 
works by Wilhelm Kosch, Regensburg. Vols. Ill, X-XIII have already appeared. 
For a poetization of Loeben, see Ahnung und Gegenwart, chap, xii, pp. 144 ff. For a 
historical account of Loeben, see Erlebtes, chap, x, pp. 425 ft. It is here that Kichendorff 
makes Goethe praise Loeben in the foregoing fashion. 

6 There is no positive evidence that Goethe made any such remark. In his Ge- 
sprache (Biedermann, V, 279; VI, 198-99) there are two references to Loeben by Goethe; 
they are favorable but noncommittal as to his poetic ability. 



jener Zeit." His influence on Platen 1 is not quite so certain; Loeben 
was Platen's senior by ten years, and they resembled each other in their 
ability to employ difficult verse and strophe forms, and Platen read 
Loeben in 1824. Kleist interested himself in Loeben sufficiently to 
publish one of his short stories in his Abendbldtter, but only after he 
had so thoroughly revised it that Reinhold Steig says: "Ich wiirde 
als Herausgeber die Erzahlung sogar unter Kleists Parerga aufneh- 
men." 2 His connection with, and influence upon, the Dresden 
group of romanticists, including Tieck, is a matter of record, 3 and 
Fouque* looked upon him as a poet of uncommon ability. 4 

But let no one on this account believe that Loeben was a great 
poet and that the silence concerning him is therefore grimly unjust. 
Goethe, whether he made the foregoing remark or not, at least 
received 5 Loeben kindly; but he received others in the same way 
who were not poets at all. Eichendorff said : " Loeben. Wunderbar 
poetische Natur in stiller Verklarung." 6 But Eichendorff was then 
only nineteen years old, and he later took this back. Herder was 
moved to tears 7 on reading Loeben's Maria, but Herder was easily 
moved, and he died soon after; he would in all probability have 
changed his mind too. Friedrich Schlegel, on the other hand, was 
not justified in calling 8 the pastoral poems in Arkadien " Schaf poesie." 
Uhland praised 9 these same poems; but he reminded Loeben in no 
uncertain terms that the chief characteristic of southern poetry was 

1 Of. Die Tagebftcher des Grafen von Platen, Stuttgart, 1900. Under date of August 
14, 1824, Platen wrote: "Es enthalt viele gute Bemerkungen, wiewohl diese Art Prosa 
nicht nach meinem Sinne ist." The reference is to Loeben's commentary to Madame 
de StaeTs De I' Allemagne. 

2 Cf. Heinrich von Kleists Berliner Ktimpfe, Berlin, 1901, pp. 490-96. The story in 
question is " Die furchtbare Einladung." 

8 Of. Herm. Anders Kriiger, Pseudoromantik. Friedrich Kind und der Dresdener 
Liederkreis, Leipzig, 1904, pp. 144-48. Kriiger also discusses Loeben in his Der junge 
Eichendorff, Leipzig, 1904, pp. 88 and 128. 

Cf. FouquS, Apel, Miltitz, Beitrdge zur Geschichte der deutschen Romantik, Leipzig, 
1908. In a letter to his brother, Fouque" wrote (January 6, 1813) : "Ein Dichter, meine 
ich, ist er allerdings, ein von Gott dazu bestimmter." Fouqu6, however, realized 
Loeben's many weaknesses as a poet, though at Loeben's death he wrote a poem on 
him praising him as the master of verse technique. 

Cf. Kosch's edition of Eichendorff, XIII, 65. Loeben says: "In Weimar war ich 
imvorigen Winter bei Goethe; erwarmir freundlich." The " previous winter " was 1813. 

Cf. Kosch's edition, XI, 220. The remark was made in 1807. 

7 Cf. Pissin, p. 25. The incident occurred in 1803 and Herder died in 1804. 

8 Of. Kosch's edition, XI, 308. Loeben himself utterly condemned this work later. 
See Pissin, pp. 238-39, 267-68. Pissin gives the number of verse and strophe forms 
on p. 266. 

Of. Pissin, p. 267. Uhland made the remark in 1812 his own most fruitful year 
as a poet. 



"Phantasie," while that of the northern poets was "Gemtith," and 
that the attempt to revive the spirit of Guarini, Cervantes, and their 
kind was not well taken. 

That Loeben has been so totally neglected by historians and 
encyclopedists is simply a case of that disproportion that so fre- 
quently characterizes general treatises. Loeben is entitled to some 
space in large works on German literature; but he was, like many 
another who has been given space, a weak poet. And the sort of 
weakness with which he was endowed can be brought out by a dis- 
cussion of two of his novelettes, Das weisse Ross, 1 and Leda, neither 
of which is by any means his best work, and neither of which seems 
to be his worst. But, to judge from what has been said of his prose 
works in general, both are quite typical. 

The plot so far as the action 2 is concerned is as follows: Otto 
owes the victory he won at a tournament in Niirnberg largely to the 
beauty and agility of his great white horse Bellerophon. Siegenot 
von der Aue had seen him and his horse perform and determined to 
obtain Bellerophon, if possible, for, owing to a curse pronounced on 
his family by a remote ancestor, Siegenot must either win at the 
next tournament or become a monk, which he does not wish to do. 
Both he and Otto love Felicitas, the niece of Graf Berthald. Siege- 
not secures Bellerophon, is victorious at the tournament, though 
seriously wounded, and is nursed back to health by Otto and Felici- 
tas. It is Otto, however, who wins Felicitas through his chivalric 
treatment of his rival. The two are married, while Siegenot rides 
away on the great white horse Bellerophon. 

It is such creations that make us turn away from Loeben. Alas 
for German romanticism if this story were wholly typical of it! It 
contains the traditional conceits of the orthodox romanticists, but 
applied in such a sweet, lovely, pretty fashion! One woman is 
placed between two men, for in that way Loeben could best bring 
out his philosophy of friendship. The only change, it seems, that 

1 The story was published in 1817. The full title is Das weisse Ross, eine altdeutsche 
Familienchronih in seeks und dreissig Bildern. It is 160 pages long. 

3 An idea as to the lack of action in this story can be derived from the following 
statement by Otto (pp. 127-28), the brave hero: "Was man Schicksale zu nennen pflegt, 
habe ich wenige gehabt, aber erfahren habe ich dennoch viel und mehr als mancher durch 
seine glanzenden Schicksale erfahren mag: namlich die Fuhrungen der ewigen Liebe 
habe ich erfahren, die keinen verlasst, und alles herrlich hinausftihrt." And then Siege- 
not, the other hero, says that this is very true whereupon they embrace each other. 



he ever made in this arrangement was to place one man between 
two women. The sick-bed is poetized as the cradle of knowledge, 
for in it, or on it, we become introspective and learn life. Old 
chronicles, tournaments, jewelry, precious stones, Maryism, nature 
from every conceivable point of view, dreams and premonitions, 
visions and hallucinations, religion of the renunciatory type, the pain 
that clarifies, the friendship that weeps, Catholic painting and lute 
music, and love human and divine these are the main themes in 
this tale. Lyrics and episodic stories are interpolated, obsolete words 
and stylistic archaisms occur. In short, the novelette reads like an 
amalgamation of Novalis without his philosophy, Wackenroder with- 
out his suggestiveness, and Tieck without his constructive ability. 

The story 1 entitled Leda is again typical of Loeben. Briefly 
stated, the plot is as follows: Leda, the daughter of a Roman duke, 
loves Cephalo, who is a gentleman but not a nobleman, and is loved 
by him. Her father, however, has forced her to become engaged to 
Alberto, a man of high degree, whom she does not love. The wedding 
is imminent, and Leda is sorely perplexed. Her father does not 
know why she is so indifferent to the approaching event and accord- 
ingly sends her to a distant and lonely castle in the hope that she 
may become interested, at least, in her own nuptials. While there 
she drowns herself in the swan lake. Alberto drops out of the story, 
and Cephalo becomes the intimate friend of the duke. Previous 
to this Alberto had ordered a certain painter to paint a picture of 
"Leda and the Swan." Danae, the daughter of an old, unscrupu- 
lous antiquarian, was seen by Cephalo while posing as a model for 
Leda. Enraged at this, she tells her father that she will not be 
appeased until married to Cephalo. But she loses her life through 
the falling of an old, dilapidated castle wherein she has been keeping 
an unconventional tryst, and Cephalo becomes the intimate friend 
of the painter. 

Loeben's ideas and technique stand out in every line of this 
story. One woman is placed between two men, unexpected friend- 
ships are developed, the lute and the zither are played in the moon- 
light, love and longing abound, nature is made a confidant, der 
Zauber der Kunst is overdone, familiar stories Leda and the Swan, 

1 The story was first published in Urania: Taschenbuch fur Damen auf das Jahr 
1818, pp. 305-37. 



Actaeon and Danae are interwoven, there are manifest reminis- 
cences of Emilia Galotti and Ofterdingen, and the prose is uncommonly 
fluent. The only character in the entire narrative who has any 
virility is the antiquarian, and he is one of the meanest Loeben ever 
drew. Alberto has no will at all, Leda not much, Cephalo less than 
Leda, and Danae is without character. In short, the only valuable 
part of the story lies in its approach to a development of the psy- 
chology of love in art. But it is only an approach; and it does not 
make one feel inclined to read a vast deal more of the prose works 
of Graf von Loeben. 

As to Loeben's lyrics, 1 they are irregular, inconsistent, and odd 
as to orthography, 2 melodious and flowing in form, poor in ideas, 
rich in feeling that frequently sounds forced, representative of nearly 
all the important Germanic, Romance, and Oriental verse and 
strophe forms, reminiscent of his reading 3 in many instances, and 
romantic as a whole, especially in their constant portrayal of long- 
ing. Loeben was the poet of Sehnsucht. He tried always das Nahe 
zu entfernen und das Ferne sich nahe zu bringen. With a few con- 
spicuous exceptions, his lyrics resemble those of Geibel somewhat 
in form and treatment. Poetry and individual poets receive grateful 
consideration, the seasons are overworked, love rarely fails and 
nature never, wine and the Rhine are not forgotten, and the South 
is poetized as the land of undying inspiration. Of their kind, and 
in their way, Loeben's poems are nearly perfect. 4 There are no 

1 Aside from the poems in Pissin's collection in the D.L.D. des 18. u. 19. Jahr., Ignaz 
Hub's Deutschlands Balladen- und Romanzen-Dichter, Karlsruhe, 1845, contains: (1) 
" Romanze von der weissen Rose," (2) " Der Tanz mit dem Tode," (3) " Der Bergknapp," 
(4) "Das Schwanenlied." "Loreley" is also reprinted here, with modifications for the 
worse. "Schau', Schiffer, schau' nicht hinauf," is certainly not an improvement on 

"Lieb Knabe, sieh' nicht hinauf." 

2 The following are common forms: "Nez," "zwey," "versteken," "Sfaren," 
'Saffo," "Stralenboten," "Abendrothen," "Uibermuth," and so on, though the regular 

3, except in the case of " Saffo," also occur. 

8 "Der Abend" reminds one strongly of Holderlin's "Die Nacht," while "Tag und 
Nacht" goes back undoubtedly to Novalis' "Hymnen an die Nacht," W. Schlegel's 
sonnet ci the sonnet stood sponsor for "Das Sonett," and Goethe and Tieck also 
reoccur in changed dress. The poems on Correggio (73), Ruisdael (75), Goethe (137), 
Tieck (138-39), and Novalis (141) sound especially like W. Schlegel's poems on other 
poets and artists. 

4 In his Geschichte des Sonettes in der deutschen Dichtung, Leipzig, 1884, Heiyich Welti 
(pp. 216-17) criticizes Loeben's sonnets most severely from the point of view of content; 
and as to their form he says: "Bios die Form, oder gar die blosse Form der Form ist 
beachtenswert." This is unquestionably a case of warping the truth in order to bring 
in a sort of pun. 



expressions that repel, no verses that jar, no poems that wholly lack 
fancy, and there are occasional evidences of the inspiration that 
rebounds. It would be presumptuous to ask for a more amiable 
poem than " Friihlingstrost " (46), or for a neater one than "Der 
Nichterhorte " (121), or for a more gently roguish one than the 
triolett 1 entitled "Frage" (55). 

But be his poems never so good, there is no reason why Loeben 
should be revived for the general reader. His prose works lack 
artistic measure and objective plausibility; his lyrics lack clarity 
and virility; his creations in general lack the story-telling property 
that holds attention and the human-interest touches that move the 
soul. His thirty-nine years were too empty of real experience; 2 
his works are not filled with the matter that endures. And it is for 
this reason that they ceased to live after their author had died. 
His connection with this earth was always just at the snapping- 
point. His works constitute, in many instances, a poetic rearrange- 
ment of what he had just latterly read. And when he is original 
he is vacuous. To emphasize his works for their own sake would 
consequently be to set up false values. Loeben can be studied with 
profit only by those people who believe that great poets can be 
better understood and appreciated by a study of the literary than 
by a study of the economic background. To know Loeben 3 throws 
light on some of his much greater contemporaries Goethe, Eichen- 
dorff, Kleist, Novalis, Arnim, Brentano, Uhland, Gorres, Tieck, 
and possibly Heine. 

1 The triolett is worth quoting as a type of Loeben's prettiness : 

Gait es mir, das stisse Blicken 
Aus dem hellen Augenpaar ? 
Unter'm Netz vom goldnen Haar 
Gait es mir das stisse Blicken ? 
Einem sprach es von Gefahr, 
Einen wollt' es licht umstricken; 
Gait es mir, das siisse Blicken 
Aus dem hellen Augenpaar. 

* An idea as to Loeben's temperament can be derived from the following passage in 
a letter to Tieck: " Gott sei mit Ihnen und die heilige Muse! Oft drangt es mich, nieder- 
zuknien im Schein, den Albrecht Diirers und Novalis Glorie wirft, im alten frommen 
Dom, dann denk' ich Ihrer und ich lieg' an Ihrer Seele, ich fiihle Sie in mir, wie man eine 
Gottheit fuhlt in geweihter Stunde. 'Liebe denkt in sel'gen Tonen, denn Gedanken stehn 
zu fern." The quotation should read "siissen" instead of "sel'gen." See Brief e an 
Tieck, edited by Holtei, II, 266. 

As a corrective to the monographs of Pissin on Loeben and H. A. Krtiger on Eichen- 
dorff, one should read Wilhelm Kosch's article in Euphorion (1907, pp. 310-20). Kosch 
contends that Pissin and Krtiger have vastly overestimated Loeben's influence on Eichen- 
dorff, and that Loeben in general was "eine bedeutungslose Tageserscheinung." 




But it is not so much the purpose of this paper to evaluate 
Loeben's creations as to locate him in the development of the 
Lorelei-legend, and to prove, or disprove, Heine's indebtedness 
to him in the case of his own poem of like name. The facts are 

In 1801 Clemens Brentano published at Bremen the first volume 
of his Godwi and in 1802 the second volume at the same place. 1 He 
had finished the novel early in 1799 he was then twenty-one years 
old. Wieland was instrumental in securing a publisher. 2 Near the 
close of the second volume, Violette sings the song beginning: 

Zu Bacharach am Rheine 
Wohnt eine Zauberin. 

That this now well-known ballad of the Lorelei was invented by 
Brentano is proved, not so much by his own statement to that effect 
as by the fact that the erudite and diligent Grimm brothers, the 
friends of Brentano, did not include the Lorelei-legend in their col- 
lection of 579 Deutsche Sagen, 1816. The name of his heroine 
Brentano took from the famous echo-rock near St. Goar, with which 
locality he became thoroughly familiar during the years 1780-89. 
No romanticist knew the Rhine better or loved it more than Bren- 
tano. "Lore" means 3 a small, squinting elf, and is connected with 
the verb "lauern" The oldest form of the word is found in the 
Codex Annales Fuldenses, which goes back to the year 858, and was 
first applied to the region around the modern Kempten near Bingen. 
"Lei" means a rock; "Loreley" means then "Elbf els." And what 
Brentano and his followers have done is to apply the name of a place 
to a person. 

In Urania: Taschenbuch auf das Jahr 1821, Graf von Loeben 
published his "Loreley: Eine Sage vom Rhein." The following 

1 The complete title is Godwi, oder das steinerne Bild der Mutter. Ein verwilderter 
Roman von Maria. The very rare first edition of this novel, in two volumes, is in the 
Columbia Library. Friedrich Wilmans was the publisher. 

2 Of. Alfred Kerr, Godwi. Ein Kapitel deutscher Romantik, Berlin, 1898, ?. 2. 

8 Of. Wilhelm Hertz, "tJber den Namen Lorelei," Sitzungsberichte der k.b. Akademie 
der Wissenschaften zu Miinchen, Jahrgang 1886, pp. 217-51. For the etymologist, this 
is an invaluable study. 




ballad introduces the saga in prose, 
for the sake of comparison. 1 

Da wo der Mondschein blitzet 
Urn's hochste Felsgestein, 
Das Zauberfraulein sitzet 
Und schauet auf den Rhein. 

Es schauet heriiber, hiniiber, 
Es schauet hinab, hinauf , 
Die Schifflein ziehn voriiber, 
Lieb' Knabe, sieh nicht auf! 

Sie singt dir hold zum Ohre, 
Sie blickt dich thoricht an, 
Sie ist die schone Lore, 
Sie hat dir's angethan. 

Sie schaut wohl nach dem Rheine, 
Als schaute sie nach dir, 
Glaub's nicht, dass sie dich meine, 
Sieh nicht, horch nicht nach ihr! 

So blickt sie wohl nach alien 
Mit ihrer Augen Glanz, 
Lasst her die Locken wallen 
Im wilden goldnen Tanz. 

Doch wogt in ihrem Blicke 
Nur blauer Wellen Spiel, 
Drum scheu die Wassertucke, 
Denn Flut bleibt falsch und kiihl! 

Heine's ballad is set opposite 

Ich weiss nicht, was soil es bedeuten 
Dass ich so traurig bin; 
Ein Marchen aus alten Zeiten, 
Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn. 

Die Luft ist kiihl und es dunkelt, 
Und ruhig fliesst der Rhein; 
Der Gipfel des Berges funkelt 
Im Abendsonnenschein. 

Die schonste Jungfrau sitzet 
Dort oben wunderbar, 
Ihr goldenes Geschmeide blitzet, 
Sie kammt ihr goldenes Haar. 

Sie kammt es mit goldenem Kamme, 
Und singt ein Lied dabei; 
Das hat eine wundersame 
Gewaltige Melodei. 

Den Schiffer im kleinen Schiffe 
Ergreift es mit wildem Weh; 
Er schaut nicht die Felsenriffe, 
Er schaut nur hinauf in die Hoh'. 

Ich glaube, die Wellen verschlingen 
Am Ende Schiffer und Kahn; 
Und das hat mit ihrem Singen 
Die Lorelei gethan. 

The following saga then relates how an old hunter sings this song 
to a young man in a boat on the Rhine, warning him against the 
allurements of the Lorelei on the rock above. The hunter's good 
intentions are fruitless, the young man is drowned. 

In the autumn of 1823, Heine wrote, while at Luneburg, his 
"Die Lorelei." It was first published 2 in the Gesellschafterj March 

The superficial similarity of these two poems can easily be exaggerated. The 
rhyme " sitzet-blitzet " is perfectly natural: the Lorelei had to be portrayed as "sitzen"; 
what is then easier than "blitzen" ? In " Ritter Peter von Stauffenberg und die Meer- 
feye" (Des Knaben Wunderhorn, ed. of Eduard Grisebach, p. 277) we have this couplet: 

Er sieht ein schones Weib da sitzen, 
Von Gold und Silber herrlich blitzen. 

For more detailed illustrations, see below, p. 79. 

1 It is worth while to note the actual date of Heine's composition of his ballad, since 
so eminent an authority as Wilhelm Scherer (Ges. d. deut. Lit., 8th ed., p. 662) says that 



26, 1824. Commentators refer to the verse, "Ein Marchen aus 
alten Zeiten," as a bit of fiction, adding that it is not a tale of olden 
times, but one invented by Brentano about 1800. The statement 
is true but misleading, for we naturally infer that Heine derived his 
initial inspiration from Brentano's ballad. Concerning this matter 
there are three points of view: Some editors and historians point 
out Brentano's priority and list his successors without committing 1 
themselves as to intervening influence. This has only bibliographical 
value and for our purpose may be omitted. Some trace Heine's 
ballad direct to Brentano, some direct to Loeben. Which of these 
two points of view has the more argument in its favor and can there 
be still a third ? 


In the first place, Heine never knew Brentano personally, and 
never mentions him in his letters previous to 1824, nor in his letters 2 
that have thus far been published after 1824. Godwi was repudiated 
soon after its publication by Brentano himself, who said 3 there was 
only one good thing about it, the title, for, after people had said 
"Godwi," they could just keep on talking and say, " Godwi, dumm." 
On its account, Caroline called him Demens Brentano, while Doro- 
thea dubbed him "Angebrermtano." The novel became a rare and 

Heine wrote the poem in 1824. And Eduard Thorn (Heinrich Heines Beziehungen zu 
Clemens Brentano, p. 90, says that he published it in 1826. This is incorrect, as is also 
Thorn's statement, p. 88, that Brentano wrote his ballad in 1802. For the correct date 
of Heine's ballad, see Sdmtliche Werke, Hamburg, 1865, XV, 200. 

1 An instance of this is seen in Selections from Heine's Poems, edited by H. S. White, 
D. C. Heath & Co., Boston, 1900, p. 182. Professor White does, to be sure, refer to 
Strodtmann for the details; but Strodtmann does not prove anything. And in Heines 

Werke in filnfzehn Teilen, edited by Hermann Friedemann, Helene Herrmann, Erwin 
Kalischer, Raimund Pissin, and Veit Valentin, we have the comment by Helene Herr- 
mann, who follows Pissin: "Die Loreleysage, erfunden von Clemens Brentano; vielfach 
von Romantikern gestaltet. Zwischen Brentanos Romanze und Heines Situationsbild 
steht die Behandlung durch den Graf en Loeben, einen unbedeutenden romantischen 

2 The best finished collection of Heine's letters is the one by Hans Daffls, Berlin, 
1907, 2 vols. This collection will, however, soon be superseded by Heinrich Heines 
Briefwechsel, edited by Friedrich Hirth, Miinchen and Berlin, 1914. The first volume 
covers Heine's life up to 1831. In neither of these collections is either Brentano or 
Loeben mentioned. There are 643 pages in Hirth's first volume. 

For a discussion of Godwi, see Clemens Brentano: Ein Lebensbild, by Johannes 
Baptista Diel and Wilhelm Kreiten, Freiburg i.B., 1877, two volumes in one, pp. 104-25. 
As to the obscurity of Brentano's work, one sentence (p. 116) is significant "Godwi 
spukt heutzutage nur mehr in den Kopfen der liberalen Literaturgeschichtsschreiber, 
denen er einen willkommenen Vorwand an die Hand gibt, mit einigen stereotyp abge- 
schriebenen Phrasen den Stab iiber den phantastischen, verschwommenen, unsittlichen 
u.s.w., u.s.w. Dichter zu brechen." 



unread book until Anselm Ruest brought out a new edition 1 with 
a critical and appreciative introduction in 1906. Diel and Kreiten 
say "es ging fast spurlos voriiber." It was not included in his 
Gesammelte Schriften (1852-55), though the ballad 2 was. Heine 
does not mention it in his Romantische Schule, which was, however, 
written ten years after he had finished his "Die Lorelei." And 
as to the contents of Brentano's ballad, there is precious little in it 
that resembles Heine's ballad, aside from the name of the heroine, 
and even here the similarity is far from striking. 

And yet, despite all this, commentators continue to say that 
Heine drew the initial inspiration for his "Lorelei" from Brent ano. 
They may be right, but no one of them has thus far produced any 
tenable argument, to say nothing of positive proof. The most 
recent supporter of Brentano's claim is Eduard Thorn 8 (1913), who 
reasons as follows: 

Heine knew Brentano's works in 1824, for in that year he bor- 
rowed Wunderhorn and Trosteinsamkeit from the library at Gottingen. 
These have, however, nothing to do with Brentano's ballad, and it is 
one year too late for Heine's ballad. All of Thorn's references to 
Heine's Romantische Schule, wherein Godwi, incidentally, is not 
mentioned, though other works are, collapse, for this was written 
ten years too late. And then, to quote Thorn: "Loeben's Gedicht 
lieferte das direkte Vorbild fur Heine." He offers no proof except 
the statements of Strodtmann, Hessel, and Elster to this effect. 
And again: "Der Name Lorelay findet sich bei Loeben nicht als 
Eigenname, wenn er auch das Gedicht, 'Der Lurleifels' liberschreibt." 

1 Clemens Godwi, oder das steinerne Bild der Mutter. Ein verwilderter 
Roman. Herausgegeben und eingeleitet von Dr. Anselm Ruest, Berlin, 1906. Ruest 
edited the work because he thought it was worth reviving. In this edition, the ballad 
is on pages 507-10. Bartels (Handbuch, 2d ed., p. 400) lists a reprint in 1905, E. A. 
Regener, Berlin. 

2 II, 391-93. 

8 For the various references, see Thorn's Heinrich Heines Beziehungen zu Clemens 
Brentano, pp. 88-90. His study is especially unsatisfactory in view of the fact that he 
says (p. 88) in this connection: " Wirklich Neues zu bringen ist uns nicht vergonnt, denn 
selbstverstandlich haben die Forscher dieses dankbare und interessante Objekt schon 
in der eingehendsten Weise untersucht." And Thorn's attempt to show that Heine 
knew Godwi early in life by pointing out similarities between poems in it and poems by 
Heine is about as untenable as argument could be, in view of the great number of poets 
who may have influenced Heine in these instances; Thorn himself lists (p. 63) Burger, 
Fouqu6, Arnim, E. T. A. Hoffmann. 



But the name Loreley does occur 1 twice on the same page on which 
the last strophe of the ballad is published in Urania, and here the 
ballad is not entitled "Der Lurleifels," but simply "Loreley." Now 
even granting that Loeben entitled his ballad one way in the MS 
and Brockhaus published it in another way in Urania, it is wholly 
improbable that Heine saw Loeben's MS previous to 1823. 

And then, after contending that Brentano's Rheinmdrchen, 2 
which, though written before 1823, were not published until 1846, 
must have given Heine the hair-combing motif, Thorn says: "Also 
kann nur Brentano das Vorbild geliefert haben." This cannot be 
correct. What is, on the contrary, at least possible is that Heine 
influenced Brentano. 3 The Rheinmdrchen were finished, in first form, 
in 1816. And Guido Gorres, to whom Brentano willed them, and 
who first published them, tells us how Brentano carried them around 
with him in his satchel and changed them and polished them as 
opportunity was offered and inspiration came. It is therefore 
reasonable to believe that Heine helped Brentano to metamorphose 
his Lorelei of the ballad, where she is wholly human, into the super- 
human Lorelei of the Rheinmdrchen where she does, as a matter of 
fact, comb her hair with a golden comb. 4 

And now as to Loeben: Did Heine know and borrow from his 
ballad? Aside from the few who do not commit themselves, and 

i In Pissin's collection of Loeben's poems (D.L.D., No. 135) we have a peculiar note. 
After the ballad (Anmerk., p. 161), which Pissin entitles "Der Lurleifels," we read: 
"N.d. Hs." This would argue that Loeben did so entitle his ballad and that Pissin had 
access to the original MS. But then Pissin says: "Auch, die gleichnamige Novelle 
einleitend, in der Urania auf 1821." But in Urania the novelette is entitled "Eine Sage 
vom Rhein," and the ballad is entitled "Loreley." Let him who can unravel this! 

* For the entire story of the composition and publication of the Rheinmdrchen, see 
Die Marchen von Clemens Brentano, edited by Guido Gorres, 2 vols. in 1, Stuttgart, 
1879 (2d ed.). This edition contains the preface to the original edition of 1846, pp. i-1. 

1 Thorn, who drew on M. R. Hewelcke's Die Loreleisage, Paderborn, 1908, makes 
(p. 90) this suggestion. It is impossible for the writer to see how Thorn can be so posi- 
tive in regard to Brentano's influence on Heine. And one's faith is shaken by this 
sentence on the same page: "Brentano veroffentlichte sein Radlauf-M&rchenerst 1827, 
Heine 'Die Lorelei' schon 1826." Both of these dates are incorrect. Guido Gorres, 
who must be considered a final authority on this matter, says that, though Brentano tried 
to publish his Marchen as early as 1816, none of them were published until 1846, except 
extracts from "Das Myrtenfraulein," and a version of "Gockel," neither of which bears 
directly on the Lorelei-matter. 

4 Of . Gorres' second edition, I, 256: "Nachdem Murmelthier herzlich^fiir diese 
Geschenke gedankt hatte, sagte Frau Else: 'Nun, mein Kind! kamme mirund Frau 
Lurley die Haare, wir wollen die deinigen dann auch kammen' dann gab sie ihr einen 
goldnen Kamm, und Murmelthier kammte Beiden die Haare und flocht sie so sch6n, 
dass die Wasserfrauen sehr zufrieden mit ihr waren." 



those who trace Heine's poem direct to Brentano, and Oscar F. 
Walzel to be referred to later, all commentators, so far as I have 
looked into the matter, say that he did. Adolf Strodtmann said 1 
it first (1868), in the following words: " Es leidet wohl keinen Zweifel, 
dass Heine dies Loeben'sche Ballade gekannt und bei Abfassung 
seiner Lorelei-Ballade benutzt hat." But he produces no proof 
except similarity of form and content. Of the others who have fol- 
lowed his lead, ten, for particular reasons, should be authorities: 
Franz Muncker, 2 Karl Hessel, 3 Karl Goedeke, 4 Wilhelm Scherer, 5 
Georg Mucke, 6 Wilhelm Hertz, 7 Ernst Elster, 8 Georg Brandes, 9 
Heinrich Spiess, 10 and Herm. Anders Krtiger. 11 But no one of them 
offers any proof except Strodtmann's statement to this effect. 

Now their contention may be substantially correct; but their 
method of contending is scientifically wrong. To accept, where 
verification is necessary, the unverified statement of any man is 
wrong. And that is the case here. Elster's note is of peculiar 

iln H. Heinea Leben und Werke, Hamburg, 1884 (3d ed.), Bd. I, p. 363. In the 
notes, Strodtmann reprints Loeben's ballad, pp. 696-97. His statement is especially 
unsatisfactory in view of the fact that he refers to the "fast gleicher Inhalt," though the 
essentials of Heine's ballad are not in Loeben's, and to ' ' eine gewisse Ahnlichkeit in Form, ' ' 
though the similarity in form is most pronounced. 

2 In Allgemeine deut. Biog., XIX, 44. It is interesting to see how Professor Muncker 
lays stress on this matter by placing in parentheses the statement: "Einige Ztige der 
letzten Geschichte ["Sage vom Rhein"] regten Heine zu seinem bekannten Liede an." 

8 In Dichtungen von Heinrich Heine, ausgewdhlt und erldutert, Bonn, 1887, p. 326. 
Hessel's statement is peculiarly unsatisfactory, since he says (p. 309) that he is going to 
the sources of Heine's poems, and then, after reprinting Loeben's ballad, he says: " Dieses 
Lied war Heines nachstes Vorbild. Ausfiihrlicheres bei Strodtmann, Bd. I, S. 362." 
And this edition has been well received. 

4 In Grundriss, VI, 110. Again we read in parentheses: "Aus diesem Liede und 
dem Eingange der Erzahlung schopfte H. Heine sein Lied von der Loreley." 

s In Ges. d. deut. Lit., p. 662 (8th ed.). 

In Heinrich Heines Beziehungen zum deutschen Mittelalter, Berlin, 1908, pp. 94-95. 
Mucke is the most cautious of the ten authorities above listed ; and he anticipated Walzel 
in his reference to Schreiber's Handbuch. 

7 In Ueber den Namen Lorelei,^. 224. Hertz is about as cautious as Strodtmann: 
"Es ist kaum zu bezweifeln, dass," etc. 

8 In Sdmtliche Werke, I, 491. 

9 In Hauptstrdmungen, VI, 178. Brandes says: "Der Gegenstand ist der gleiche, 
das Versmass ist dasselbe, ja die Reimen sind an einzelnen Stellen die gleichen: blitzet- 
sitzet; statt 'an-gethan' steht da nur ' Kahn-gethan.' " 

In Die deutschen Romantiker, Leipzig, 1903, p. 235. 

" In Deutsches Literatur-Lexikon, Miinchen, 1914, p. 271. It is significant that 
Kriiger makes this statement, for the subtitle of his book is " Biographisches und biblio- 
graphisches Handbuch mit Motivtibersichten und Quellennachweisen." And it is, on 
the whole, an extremely useful book. 



interest. He says: "Heine schloss sich am nachsten an die Bear- 
beitung eines Stoffs an, die ein Graf Loben 1821 veroffentlichte." 
The expression "ein Graf Loben" is grammatical evidence, though 
not proof, of one of two things: that Loeben was to Elster himself 
in 1890 a mere name, or that Elster knew Loeben would be this to 
the readers of his edition of Heine's works. Brandes says: "Die 
Nachahmung ist unzweifelhaft." 1 His proof is Strodtmann's state- 
ment, and similarity of content and form, with special reference to 
the two rhymes "sitzet-blitzet" that occur in both. But this was 
a very common rhyme with both Heine and Loeben in other poems. 
How much importance can be attached then to similarity of content 
and form ? 

The verse and strophe form, the rhyme scheme, the accent, the 
melody, except for Heine's superiority, are the same in both. As 
to length, the two poems are exactly equal, each containing, by an 
unimportant but interesting coincidence, precisely 117 words. 2 But 
the contents of the two poems are not nearly so similar as they 
apparently seemed, at first blush, to Adolf Strodtmann. The 
melodious singing, the golden hair and the golden comb and the 
use that is made of both, the irresistibly sweet sadness, the time, 
"Aus alten Zeiten," and the subjectivity Heine himself recites his 
poem these indispensable essentials in Heine's poem are not in 
Loeben's. Indeed as to content and of course as to merit, the two 
poems are far removed from each other. 

And, moreover, literary parallels are the ancestors of that undocile 
child, Conjecture. We must remember that sirenic and echo poetry 
are almost as old as the tide of the sea, certainly as old as the hills, 

1 It is impossible to see how Brandes can lay great stress on the fact that this rhyme 
occurs in both poems. The following rhymes are found on the following pages of the 
Elster edition, Vol. I, of Heine's works: " Spitze-Blitze " (36), " sitzen-ntitzen " (116), 
"Witzen-ntitzen" (124), " sitzen-blitzen " (216), " erhitzet-bespitzet " (242), "Blitz- 
Sitz" (257), "blitzt-gestiitzt" (276), " blitze-besitze " (319), " blitzet-gespitzet " (464). 
And in Loeben's poems the rhyme is equally common. The first strophe of his Ferdusi 
runs as follows: 

Hell erglanzt an Persiens Throne 

Wo der grosse Mahmud sitzt; 

Welch Juwel ist's, das die Krone 

So vor alien schon umblitzt. 

And in Schreiber's saga we have in juxtaposition, the words, "Blitze" an* "Spitze." 
The rhyme " Sitze-Blitze " occurs in Immanuel's "Lorelei," quoted by Seeliger, p. 31. fb 

1 There are, to be sure, only 114 words in Loeben's ballad if we count "urn's," "dir's," 
and "glaub's" as three words and not six. 



while as to the general situation, there is a passage in Milton's 
Comus (11. 880-84) analogous to Heine's ballad, as follows: 

And fair Ligea's golden comb, 
Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks, 
Sleeking her soft alluring locks, 
By all the nymphs that nightly dance 
Upon thy streams with wily glance, 

and so on. And as to the pronounced similarity of form, we must 
remember that Heine was here employing his favorite measure, 
while Loeben was almost the equal of Riickert in regard to the num- 
ber of verse and strophe forms he effectively and easily controlled. 
In short, striking similarity in content is lacking, and as to the same 
sort of similarity in form to this but little if any significance can be 

And if the internal evidence is thin, the external is invisible, 
except for the fact that Loeben's ballad was published by Brockhaus, 
whom Heine knew by correspondence. But between the years 1818 
and 1847, Heine never published anything in Urania, 1 which was 
used by so many of his contemporaries. Heine and Loeben never 
knew each other personally, and between the years 1821 and 1823 
they were never regionally close together. 2 Heine never mentions 
Loeben in his letters; nor does he refer to him in his creative works, 
despite the fact that he had a habit of alluding to his brothers in 
Apollo, even in his poems. 3 

And therefore, though it is fashionable to say that Heine knew 
Loeben's ballad in 1823, and though the contention is plausible, it 
is impossible to prove it. Impossible also for this reason: Karl 
Simrock, Heine's intimate friend, included in his Rheinsagen (1836, 
1837, 1841) 4 the ballads on the Lorelei by Brentano, Eichendorff, 

1 These numbers are in the Columbia Library. 

* During these years Heine's letters are dated from Gottingen, Berlin, Gnesen, Berlin, 
Miinster, Berlin, Ltineburg, Hamburg, Ritzenbiittel, and Luneburg. During these 
same years Loeben was in Dresden and he was ill. 

1 We need only to mention such a strophe as the following from Atta Troll: 
Klang das nicht wie Jugendtraume, 
Die ich traumte mit Chamisso 
Und Brentano und Pouqu6 
In den blauen Mondscheinnachten ? 
See Elster edition, II, 421. The lines were written in 1843. 

The first edition of Karl Simrock's Rheinsagen came out in 1836. This was not 
accessible. The edition of 1837, "zweite, vermehrte Auflage," contains 168 poems, 572 
pages; this contains Simrock's "Ballade von der Lorelei." The edition of 1841 also 



Heine, and himself. Why did he exclude the one by Loeben ? He 
made an ardent appeal in his preface to his colleagues to inform him 
of any other ballads that had been written on these themes. The 
question must be referred to those who like to skate on flabby ice 
in things literary. 

The most plausible theory in regard to the source of Heine's 
ballad is the one proposed by Oscar F. Walzel, who says: " Heine 
hat den Stoff wahrscheinlich aus dem ihm wohlbekannten Handbuch 
fur Reisende am Rhein von Aloys Schreiber ubernommen." 1 The 
only proof that Walzel gives that Heine knew Schreiber's manual 
is a reference 2 to it in Lutetia. But this was written in 1843, and 
proves nothing as to 1823. His contention, however, that Heine 
borrowed from Schreiber 3 has everything in its favor, from the point 
of view of both external and internal evidence and deserves, there- 
fore, detailed elaboration. 

contains Simrock's "Der Teufel und die Lorelei." The book contains 455 pages, 218 
poems. The sixth edition (1869) contains 231 poems. In all editions the poems are 
arranged in geographical order from Siidersee to Graubtinden. Alexander Kaufmann's 
Quellenangaben und Bemerkungen zu Karl Simrocks Rheinsagen throws no new light on 
the Lorelei-legend. 

1 Of. Heinrich Heines s&mtliche Werke, edited by Walzel, Frankel, Krahe, Leitzmann, 
and Petersen, Leipzig, 1911, II, 468. So far as I have looked into the matter, Walzel 
stands alone in this belief, though Miicke, as has been pointed out above, anticipated 
him in the statement that Heine drew on Schreiber in this case. But Mticke thinks that 
Heine also knew Loeben. 

2 The reference in question reads as follows: " Ich will kein Wort verlieren iiber den 
Wert dieses unverdaulichen Machwerkes [Les Burgraves], das mit alien moglichen 
Pratensionen auftritt, namentlich mit historischen, obgleich alles Wissen Victor Hugos 
tiber Zeit und Ort, wo sein Stuck spielt, lediglich aus der franzosischen Uebersetzung 
von Schreibers Handbuch fur Rheinreisende geschopft, ist." This was written March 
20, 1843 (see Elster edition, VI, 344). 

Aloys Wilhelm Schreiber (1763-1840) was a teacher in the Lyceum at Baden-Baden 
(1800-1802), professor of aesthetics at Heidelberg (1802-13) where he was intimate 
with the Voss family, historiographer at Karlsruhe (1813-26), and in 1826 he retired and 
became a most prolific writer. He interested himself in guidebooks for travelers. His 
manuals contain maps, distances, expense accounts, historical sketches, in short, about 
what the modern Baedeker contains with fewer statistics and more popular description. 
His books appeared in German, French, and English. In 1812 he published his Hand- 
buch filr Reisende am Rhein von Schaffhausen bis Holland, to give only a small part of the 
wordy title, and in 1818 he brought out a second, enlarged edition of the same work with 
an appendix containing 17 Volkssagen aus den Gegenden am Rhein und am Taunus, the 
sixteenth of which is entitled "Die Jungfrau auf dem Lurley." His books were exceed- 
ingly popular in their day and are still obtainable. Of the one here in question, Von 
Weech (Allgem. deut. Biog., XXXII, 471) says: "Sein Handbuch fur Reisende am Rhein, 
dessen Anhang eine wertvolle Sammlung rheinischer Volkssagen enthalt, war lange der 
beliebteste FUhrer auf Rheinreisen." There are 7 volumes of his manuals in^the New 
York Public Library, and one, Traditions populaires du Rhin, Heidelberg, 1830 (2d ed.), 
is in the Columbia Library. It contains 144 legends and beautiful engravings. (The 
writer has just [October 15, 1915] secured the four volumes of Schreiber's Rheinische 
Geschichten und Sagen. The fourth volume, published in 1836, is now a very rare book.) 



As to internal evidence, there is only one slight difference between 
Heine's ballad and Schreiber's saga: where Heine's Lorelei combs 
her hair with a golden comb and has golden jewelry, Schreiber's 
"bindet einen Kranz fur ihre goldenen Locken" and "hat eine 
Schnur von Bernstein in der Hand." Even here the color scheme 
is the same; otherwise there is no difference: time, place, and events 
are precisely the same in both. The mood and style are especially 
similar. The only words in Heine not found in Schreiber are 
"Kamm" and "bedeuten." Schreiber goes, to be sure, farther than 
does Heine: he continues the story after the death of the hero. 1 
This, however, is of no significance, for Heine was simply interested 
in his favorite theme of unrequited or hindered love. 

Now Heine must have derived his plot from somewhere, else this 
would be an uncanny case of coincidence. And the two expressions, 
"Aus alten Zeiten," and "Mit ihrem Singen," the latter of which is 
so important, Heine could have derived only from Schreiber. Heine 
was not jesting when he said it was a fairy tale from the days of old; 
he was following, it seems, Schreiber's saga, the first sentence of 
which reads as follows: "In alten Zeiten liess sich manchmal auf 
dem Lureley um die Abenddammerung und beym Mondschein eine 
Jungfrau sehen, die mit so anmuthiger Stimme sang, dass alle, die 
es horten, davon bezaubert wurden." But Brentano's Lorelei does 
not sing at all, and Loeben's just a little, "Sie singt dir hold zum 
Ohre," while Heine, like Schreiber, puts his heroine in the prima 
donna class, and has her work her charms through her singing. And 
it seems that Heine was following Schreiber when the latter wrote 
as follows: "Viele, die voruberschifften, gingen am Felsenriff oder 
im Strudel zu Grunde, weil sie nicht mehr auf den Lauf des Fahr- 
zeugs achteten, sondern von den himmlischen Tonen der wunder- 
baren Jungfrau gleichsam vom Leben abgelost wurden, wie das 
zarte Leben der Blume sich im siissen Duft verhaucht." 

The remainder of Schreiber's plot is as follows: The news of the infatuated hero's 
death so grieved the old Count that he determined to have the Lorelei captured, dead 
or alive. One of his captains, aided by a number of brave followers, set out on the 
hazardous expedition. First, they surround the rock on which the Lorelei sits, and 
then three of the most courageous ascend to her seat and determine to kill her. so that 
the danger of her repeating her former deed may be forever averted. But when they 
reach her and she hears what they intend to do, she simply smiles and invokes the aid 



And as to her personal appearance, Brentano and Loeben simply 
tell us that she was beautiful, Brentano employing the Homeric 
method of proving her beauty by its effects. Heine and Schreiber 
not only comment upon her physical beauty, they also tell us how 
she enhanced her natural charms by zealously attending to her hair 
and her jewelry and religiously guarding the color scheme in so doing. 
In brief, the similarity is so striking that, if we can prove that Heine 
knew Schreiber in 1823, we can definitely assert that Schreiber 1 was 
his main, if not his unique, source. 

Let us take up the various arguments in favor of the contention 
that Heine knew Schreiber's Handbuch in 1823, beginning with the 
least convincing. If Heine read Loeben's ballad and saga in " Urania 
fur 1821 ," he could thereby have learned also of Schreiber's Rhein- 
sagen, for, by a peculiar coincidence for our purpose, Brockhaus dis- 
cusses 2 these in the introduction in connection with a tragedy by 
W. Usener, entitled Die Bruder, and based upon one of Schreiber's 
Sagen. Proof, then, that Heine knew Loeben in 1823 is almost proof 
that he also knew Schreiber. 

But there is better proof than this. In Elementargeister* we 
find this sentence: "Ganz genau habe ich die Geschichte nicht im 
Kopfe; wenn ich nicht irre, wird sie in Schreibers Rheinischen Sagen 
aufs umstandlichste erzahlt. Es ist die Sage vom Wisperthal, 
welches unweit Lorch am Rheine gelegen ist." And then Heine 
tells the same story that is told by Schreiber. It is the eighth of the 

of her Father, who immediately sends two white horses two white waves up the 
Rhine, and, after leaping down to the Rhine, she is safely carried away by these. She 
was never again seen, but her voice was frequently heard as she mocked, in echo, the 
songs of the sailors on her paternal stream. 

1 It is not simply in the appendix of Schreiber's Handbuch that he discusses the 
legend of Lorelei, but also in the scientific part of it. Concerning the Lorelei rock he 
says (pp. 174-75): "Bin wunderbarer Fels schiebt sich jetzt dem Schiffer gleichsam in 
seine Bahn es ist der Lurley (von Lure, Lauter, und Ley, Schiefer) aus welchem ein 
Echo den Zuruf der Vorbeifahrendem ftinfzehnmal wiederholt. Diesen Schieferfels 
bewohnte in grauen Zeiten eine Undine, welche die Schiffenden durch ihr Zurufen ins 
Verderben lockte." 

2 Brockhaus says (p. xxiv) : " Die einfache Sage von den beiden feindlichen Briidern 
am Rhein, von denen die Trammer ihrer Burgen selbst noch Die Briider heissen, ist in 
A. Schreiber's Auswahl von Sagen jener Gegenden zu lesen." Usener's tragedy Js pub- 
lished in full in this number of Urania, pp. 383-442. 

3 Of. Elster edition, IV, 406-9. The circumstantial way in which Heine retells this 
story is almost sufficient to lead one to believe that he had Schreiber at hand when he 
wrote this part of Elementargeister; but he says that he did not. 



seventeen Sagen in question. This, then, is proof that Heine knew 
Schreiber so long before 1835 that he was no longer sure he could 
depend upon his memory. But it is impossible to say whether Heine's 
memory was good for twelve years, or more, or less. 

But there is better evidence than this. Heine's Der Rabbi von 
Bacharach reaches far back into his life. That he intended to write 
this sort of work before 1823 has been proved; 1 just when he actually 
began to write this particular work is not so clear, but we know that 
he did much preliminary reading by way of preparing himself for 
its composition. And the region around and above and below 
Bacharach comes in for detailed discussion and elaborate description 
in Schreiber's Rheinsagen. The crusades, the Sankt-Wernerskirchen, 
Lorch, the Fischfang, Hatto's Mduseturm, the maelstrom at Bingen, 
the Kedrich, the story of the Keeker Renter who liberated the maid 
that had been abducted by dwarfs, and again, and this is irrefutable, 
the story "von dem wunderlichen Wisperthale driiben, wo die Vogel 
ganz verniinftig sprechen," all of these and others play a large role 
in Schreiber's sagas and in Heine's Rabbi. No one can read 
Schreiber's Handbuch and Heine's Rabbi without being convinced 
that the former stood sponsor for the latter. 

And lastly, Heine wrote before 1821 his poem entitled "Die 
zwei Briider." 2 It is the tenth of the seventeen Volkssagen by 
Schreiber, the same theme as the one treated by W. Usener already 
referrred to. It is an old story, 3 and Heine could have derived his 
material from a number of places, but not from Grimm's Deutsche 

1 Discussion as to the first conception of Heine's Rabbi are found in: Heinrich Heines 
Fragment: Der Rabbi von Bacharach, by Lion Feuchtwanger, Miinchen, 1907; Heinrich 
Heine und Der Rabbi von Bacharach, by Gustav Karpeles, Wien, 1895. 

The poem is one of the Junge Leiden, published in 1821. Elster (I, 490) says: 
"Eine bekannte Sage, mit einzelnen vielfach wiederkehrenden uralten Ztigen, dargestellt 
in Simrocks Rheinsagen." Simrock had, of course, done nothing on the Rheinsagen in 
1821, being then only nineteen years old and an inconspicuous student at Bonn. Walzel 
says (I, 449) : "Mit einem andern Ausgang ist die Sage in dem von Heine vielbenutzten 
Handbuch. filr Reisende am Rhein von Aloys Schreiber (Heidelberg, 1816) iiberliefert." 
The edition of this work in the New York Public Library has no printed date, but 1818 
is written in. Walzel may be correct. The outcome of Heine's poem is, after all, not 
so different: in Schreiber, both brothers relinquish their claims to the girl and remain 
unmarried; in Heine the one kills the other and in this way neither wins the girl. 

It is the same story as the one told by Bulwer-Lytton in his Pilgrims of the Rhine, 
chap. xxiv. 



Sagen, indeed from no place so convenient as Schreiber. Heine 
knew Schreiber's Handbuch 1 in 1823. 

The situation, then, is as follows: Heine had to have a source 
or sources. There are three candidates for Heine honors; Brentano, 
Loeben, Schreiber. Brentano has a number of supporters, though 
the evidence, external and internal, is wholly lacking. It would 
seem that lack of attention to chronology has misled investigators. 
Brentano's ballad can now be read in many places, but between 
about 1815 and 1823 it was safely concealed in the pages of an unread 
and unknown novel. Loeben 2 has many supporters, though the 
external evidence, except for the fact that Heine corresponded with 
Brockhaus, is wholly lacking, and the internal weakens on careful 
study. It would seem that the striking similarity in form has misled 
investigators. Schreiber has only one supporter, despite the fact 
that the evidence, external and internal, is as strong as it can be 
without Heine's ever having made some such remark as the follow- 
ing: "Yes, in 1823 I knew only Schreiber's saga and borrowed from 
it." But Heine never made any such statement. It would seem 
that the strong assertions of so many investigators in favor of 
Brentano and Loeben have made careful study of the matter appear 
not worth while; the problem was apparently solved. And since 
Heine never committed himself in this connection, the matter will, 
in all probability, remain forever conjectural. This much, however, 
is irrefutable: even if Heine knew in 1823 the five Loreleidichtungen 
that had then been written, those by Brentano, Niklas Vogt, 

1 All through the body of Schreiber's Handbuch there are references to the places 
and legends mentioned in Heine's Rabbi. On Bacharach there is the following: "Der 
Reisende, wenn er auch nur eine Stunde in Bacharach verweilt, unterlasse nicht, die 
Ruinen von Staleck zu besteigen, wo eine der schonsten Rheinlandschaften sich von 
seinen Blicken aufrollt. Die Burg von sehr betrachtlichem Umfang scheint auf den 

na eines Romerkastells erbaut. Die, welche die Entstehung derselben den 
Hunnen zuschreiben, well sie in Urkunden den Namen Stalekum hat, sind in einem Irrtum 
befangen, denn Stalekum oder Stalek heisst eben so viel als Stalbuhl, oder ein Ort, wo 
ein Gericht gehegt wurde. Pf alzgraf Hermann von Staleck starb im 12ten Jahrhundert ; 
er war der letzte seines Stammes, und von ihm kam die Burg, als Kolnisches Lehen, an 
Konrad von Staufen." 

2 To come back to Heine and Loeben, Herm. Anders Krtiger says (p. 147) in his 
Pseudoromantik: "Heinrich Heine, der iiberhaupt Loeben studiert zu haben scheint," 
etc. He offers no proof. If one wished to make out a case for Loeben, it coiJti be done 
with his narrative poem "Ferdusi" (1817) and Heine's "Der Dichter Ferdusi." Both 
tell about the same story; but each tells a story that was familiar in romantic circles. 



Eichendorff, Schreiber, and Loeben, and if he borrowed what he 
needed from all of them, he borrowed more from Schreiber 1 than 
from the other four combined. 2 


Where Brentano sowed, many have reaped. Since the publi- 
cation of his Godwi, about sixty-five Loreleidichtungen 3 have been 
written in German, the most important being those by Brentano 
(1810-16), Niklas Vogt 4 (1811), Eichendorff (ca. 1812),Loeben (1821), 
Heine (1823), Simrock (1837, 1840), Otto Ludwig (1838), Geibel 
(1834, 1846), W. Muller von Konigswinter (1851), Carmen Sylva 
(ca. 1885), A. L'Arronge (1886), Julius Wolff (1886), and Otto 

1 In reply to a letter addressed to Professor Elster on October 4, 1914, the writer 
received the following most kind reply on November 23: "Die Frage, die Sie an mich 
richten, 1st leicht beantwortet: Heine hat Loeben in seinen Schriften nicht erwahnt, 
aber das besagt nicht viel; er hat manchen benutzt, den er nicht nennt. Und es kann 
gar keinem Zweifel unterliegen, dass Loeben fur die Lorelei Heines unmittelbares Vorbild 
ist; darauf habe ich ofter hingewiesen, aber wohl auch andere. Das Taschenbuch 
Urania fiir das Jahr 1821, wo Loebens Gedicht u. Novelle zuerst erschienen, ist unserem 
Dichter zweifellos zu Gesicht gekommen." No one can view Professor Elster in any 
other light than as an eminent authority on Heine, but his certainty here must be accepted 
with reserve, and his "wohl auch andere" is, in view of the fact that he was by no means 
the first, and certainly not the last, to make this assertion, a trifle disconcerting. 

2 The ultimate determining of sources is an ungrateful theme. Some excellent 
suggestions on this subject are offered by Hans Rohl in his Die altere Romantik und die 
Kunst des jungen Goethe, Berlin, 1909, pp. 70-72. This work was written under the 
general leadership of Professor Elster. The disciple would, in this case, hardly agree 
with the master. Pissin likewise speaks wisely in discussing the influence of Novalis 
on Loeben in his monograph on the latter, pp. 97-98, and 129-30. And Heine himself 
(Elster edition, V, 294) says in regard to the question whether Hegel did borrow so much 
from Schelling: "Nichts ist lacherlicher als das reklamierte Eigentumsrecht an Ideen." 
He then shows how the ideas were not original with Schelling either; he had them from 
Spinoza. And it is just so here. Brentano started the legend ; Heine goes back to him 
indirectly, Eichendorff and Vogt directly; Schreiber borrowed from Vogt, Loeben from 
Schreiber, and Heine from Schreiber and thereafter it would be impossible to say who 
borrowed from whom. 

The majority of the Loreleidichtungen can be found in: Opern-Handbuch, by Hugo 
Biemann, Leipzig, 1886; Zur Geschichte der Mdrchenoper, by Leopold Schmidt, Halle, 
1895; Die Loreleysage in Dichtung und Musik, by Hermann Seeliger, Leipzig, 1898. 
Seeliger took the majority of his titles from Nassau in seinen Sagen, Geschichten und 
Liedern, by Henniger, Wiesbaden, 1845. At least he says so, but one is inclined to doubt 
the statement, for "die meisten Balladen" have been written since 1845. Seeliger's 
book is on the whole unsatisfactory. He has, for example, Schreiber improving on 
and remodeling Loeben's saga; but Schreiber was twenty-three years older than Loeben, 
and wrote his saga at least three years before Loeben wrote his. 

4 In F. Grater's Idunna und Hermode, eine Alterthumszeitung, Breslau, 1812, pp. 
191-92, Grater gives under the heading, "Die Bildergallerie des Rheins," thirty well- 
known German sagas. The twenty-seventh is "Der Lureley: Ein Gegenstiick zu der 
Fabel von der Echo." It is the version of Vogt. 



Roquette (1889). In addition 1 to these, the story has been retold 2 
many times, with slight alterations of the " original" versions, by 
compilers of chrestomathies, and parodies have been written on it. 
There is hardly a conceivable interpretation that has not been placed 
upon the legend. 3 The Lorelei has been made by some the evil 
spirit that entices men into hazardous games of chance, by others 
she is the lofty incarnation of a desire to live and be blessed with the 
love that knows no turning away. The story has also wandered to 
Italy, France, England, Scotland, Scandinavia, and the United 
States, 4 and the heroine has proved a grateful theme for painters and 
sculptors. Of the epic works, that by Julius Wolff is of interest 
because of the popularity it has enjoyed. First published in 1886, 
it had reached the forty-sixth thousand in 1898. Of the dramas that 

1 Aside from the above, some of the less important authors of lyrics, ballads, dramas, 
novels, etc., on the Lorelei-theme are: J. Bartholdi, H. Bender, H. Berg, J. P. Berger, 
A. H. Bernard, G. Conrad, C. Doll, L. Eichrodt, O. Fiebach, Fr. Forster, W. Fournier, 
G. Freudenberg, W. Freudenberg, W. Genth, K. Geib, H. Grieben, H. Griineberg, G. 
Gurski, Henriette Heinze-Berg, A. Henniger, H. Hersch, Mary Koch, Wilhelmine Lorenz, 
I. Mappes, W. Molitor, Fr. Miicke, O. W. Notzsch, Luise Otto, E. Riiffer, Max Schaf- 
froth, Luise Freiin von Sell, E. A. W. Siboni, H. Steinheuer, Adelheid von Stolterfoth, A. 
Storm, W. von Waldbriihl, L. Werft, and others even more obscure than these. 

2 In Menco Stern's Geschichten vom Rhein, the story is told so as to connect the 
legend of the Lorelei with the treasures of the Nibelungenlied. In this way we have gold 
in the mountain, wine around it, a beautiful woman on it what more could mortal 
wish ? Sympathy! And this the Lorelei gives him in the echo. In reply to an inquiry, 
Mr. Stern very kindly wrote as follows: "The facts given in my Geschichten vom Rhein 
are all well known to German students ; and especially those mentioned in my chapter 
'Lorelay' can be verified in the book: Der Rhein von Philipp F. W. Oertel (W. O. v. 
Horn) who was, I think, the greatest authority on the subject of the Rhine." Oertel 
is not an authority. In Eduard Prokosch's German for Beginners,the version of Schreiber 
was used, as is evident from the lines spoken by the Lorelei to her Father: 

Vater, Vater, geschwind, geschwind, 

Die weissen Rosse schick' deinem Kind, 

Es will reiten auf Wogen und Wind. 
These verses are worked into a large number of the ballads, and since they are Schreiber's 
own material, his saga must have had great general influence. 

3 There would be no point in listing all of the books on the legends of the Rhine 
that treat the story of the Lorelei. Three, however, are important, since it is interesting 
to see how their compilers were not satisfied with one version of the story, but included, 
as becomes evident on reading them, the versions of Brentano, Schreiber, Loeben, and 
Heine: Der Rhein: Geschichten und Sagen, by W. O. von Horn, Stuttgart, 1866, pp. 
207-11; Legends of the Rhine, by H. A. Guerber, New York, 1907, pp. 199-206; Eine 
Sammlung von Rhein-Sagen, by A. Hermann Bernard, Wiesbaden, no year, pp. 225-37. 

* Mrs. Caroline M. Sawyer wrote a poem entitled "The Lady of Lurlei. A Legend 
of the Rhine." It is published in The Female Poets of America, by Rufus Wilmot Gris- 
wold, New York, 1873, p. 221. This is not the first edition of this work, nor is it the 
original edition of Mrs. Sawyer's ballad. It is an excellent poem. Fr. Hoebel set it to 
music, and Adolf Strodtmann translated it into German, because of its excellence, and 
included it in his Amerikanische Anthologie. It was impossible to determine just when 
Mrs. Sawyer wrote her poem. The writer is deeply indebted to Professor W. B. Cairns, 
of the department of English in the University of Wisconsin, who located the poem for him . 



by L'Arronge should be valuable, but it has apparently never been 
published ; nor has Otto Ludwig's operatic fragment, 1 unless recently. 
Aside from Geibel, Otto Roquette is the most interesting librettist. 
Of the forty-odd (there were forty-two in 1898) composers of Heine's 
ballad, the greatest are Schumann, Raff, and Liszt, and in this case 
Friedrich Silcher, 2 who married the ballad to its now undivorceable 

Though Brentano created 3 the story of his ballad, he located 
it in a region rich in legendary material, and it was the echo-motif 
of which he made especial use, and traces of this can be found in 
German literature as early as the thirteenth century. 4 The first 
real poet to borrow from Brentano was Eichendorff, 5 in whose 
Ahnung und Gegenwart we have the poem since published separately 
under the title of "Waldgesprach," and familiar to many through 
Schumann's composition. 6 That EichendorfFs Lorelei operates 
the forest is only to be expected of the author of so many Waldlieder. 

1 Of. Otto Ludwigs gesammelte Schriften, edited by Adolf Stern, Leipzig, 1891, I, 
69, 107, 114. 

2 It has been impossible to determine just when Silcher (1789-1860) set Heine's 
ballad to music, but since he was professor of music at the University of Tubingen from 
1817 on, and since he became interested in music while quite young, it is safe to assume 
that he wrote his music for " Die Lorelei" soon after its publication. The question is of 
some importance by way of finding out just when the ballad began to be popular. 
Strangely enough, there is nothing on Silcher in Robert Eitner's compendious Quellen- 
Lexikon der Musiker und Musikgelehrten der christlichen Zeitrechnung, Leipzig, 19001904. 
Heine's ballad is included in the Allgemeines deutsches Commersbuch unter musikalischer 
Redaktion von Fr. Silcher and Fr. Erck, Strassburg, 1858 (17th ed.), but the date of 
composition is not given. 

8 In Pauls Grundriss der germanischen Philologie, I, 1039, Mogk says: "Die weib- 
lichen Nixen bezaubern durch ihren Gesang, die Loreley und ahnliche Sagen mogen 
hierin ihre Wurzel haben." The only trouble is, no one has thus far unearthed this saga. 

* Wilhelm Hertz gives (pp. 229-30) instances of this so that uncertainty as to its 
accuracy is removed. The passages are striking in that they concern the "Lorberg" 
and the "Lorleberg." 

8 In chap, xv Eichendorff introduces the ballad as follows: "Leontin, der wenig 
darauf achtgab, begann folgendes Lied tiber ein am Rheine bekanntes Marchen." The 
reference can be only to Brentano, despite the fact that the first two lines are so strongly 
reminiscent of Goethe's "Erlkonig." Eichendorfl and Brentano became acquainted in 
Heidelberg and then in Berlin they were intimate. There is every reason to believe 
that Eichendorfl knew Brentano's " Rheinmarchen " in manuscript form. For the 
relation of the two, see the Kosch edition of Eichendorfl's works, Brief e and TagebUcher, 
Vols. XI-XIII. 

Niklas Vogt included, to be sure, in his Jugendphantasien uber die Sagen des Rheins 
(ca. 1811) an amplified recapitulation in prose of Brentano's ballad. Schreiber knew 
this work, for in his Handbuch there is a bibliography of no fewer than ten pages of 
"Schriften, welche auf die Rheingegend Bezug haben." So far as one can determine 
such a matter from mere titles, the only one of these that could have helped him in the 
composition of his Lorelei-saga is: Rheinische Geschichten und Sagen, von Niklas Vogt, 
Frankfurt am Main, 1817, 6 Bande. 


Even if Heine had known it he could have borrowed nothing from 
it except the name of his heroine. 1 

As to Loeben's saga, there can be but little doubt that he derived 
his initial inspiration from Schreiber, with whom he became inti- 
mately acquainted 2 at Heidelberg during the winter of 1807-8. 
This, of course, is not to say that Heine borrowed from Loeben. 
Indeed, one of the strongest proofs that Heine borrowed from 
Schreiber rather than from Loeben is the clarity and brevity, ease 
and poetry of Schreiber's saga as over against the obscurity and 
diffuseness, clumsiness and woodenness of Loeben's saga, 3 the plot 
of which, so far as the action is concerned, is as follows: Hugbert 
von Stahleck, the son of the Palsgrave, falls in love with the Lorelei 
and rows out in the night to her seat by the Rhine. In landing, he 
falls into the stream, the Lorelei dives after him and brings him to 
the surface. The old Palsgrave has, in the meanwhile, sent a knight 
and two servants to capture the Lorelei. They climb the lofty 
rock and hang a stone around the enchantress' neck, when she 
voluntarily leaps from the cliff into the Rhine below and is drowned. 

The one episode in Loeben not found in any of Schreiber's Rhein- 
sagen is the story of the castaway ring miraculously restored from 
the stomach of the fish. This Loeben could have taken from " Mage- 
lone" by Tieck, or "Polykrates" by Schiller, both of whom he 
revered as men and with whose works he was thoroughly familiar. 
But there is nothing in Loeben that Heine could not have derived 
in more inspiring form from Schreiber; and Schreiber contains 
essentials not in Loeben at all. Indeed, a general study of Schreiber's 
manuals leads one to believe that the influence of them, as a whole, 
on Heine would be a most grateful theme: there is not one Germanic 
legend referred to in Heine that is not contained in Schreiber. And 
as a prose writer, Heine's fame rests largely on his travel pictures. 4 

1 Eduard Thorn says (p. 89): "Man darf annehmen, dass Heine die Ballade Bren- 
tano's kennen gelernt hat, dass er aus ihr den Namen entlehnte, wobei ihm Eichendorff 
die Fassung ' Lorelei ' lieferte, und das ihm erst Loebens Auffassung der Sage zur Gestal- 
tung verholfen hat." It sounds like a case of ceterum censeo, but Thorn's argument as 
to Brentano and Heine is so thin that this statement too can be looked upon only as 
a weakly supported hypothesis. 

2 Of. Raimund Pissin's monograph, pp. 73-74. 

8 There are about two thousand words in Schreiber's saga, and about flvjf thousand 
in Loeben's. 

4 It must be remembered that Schreiber's manuals are written in an attractive style; 
his purpose was not simply to instruct, but to entertain. And it was not simply the 
legends of the Rhine and its tributaries, but those of the whole of Western Germany that 
he wrote up with this end in view. 


The points of similarity between Loeben's ballad and saga and 
the ballads and Mdrchen of Brentano, all of which Loeben knew in 
1821, are wholly negligible. It remains, 1 therefore, simply to point 
out some of the peculiarities of Brentano's "Loreley" as protrayed 
in the Rheinmdrchen peculiarities that are interesting in themselves 
and that may have played a part in the development of the legend 
since 1846. 

In "Das Marchen von dem Rhein und dem Muller Radlauf," 2 
Loreley is portrayed in a sevenfold capacity, as it were: seven arch- 
ways lead to seven doors that open onto seven stairways that lead 
to a large hall in which Frau Lureley sits on a sevenfold throne with 
seven crowns upon her head and her seven daughters around her. 
This makes interesting reading for children, but Brentano did not 
lose sight of adults, including those who like to speculate as to the 
origin of the legend. He says: "Sie [Lorelei] ist eine Tochter der 
Phantasie, welches eine beruhmte Eigenschaft ist, die bei Erschaffung 
der Welt mitarbeitete und das Allerbeste dabei that; als sie unter 
der Arbeit ein schones Lied sang, horte sie es immer wiederholen 
und fand endlich den Wiederhall, einen schonen Jungling in einem 
Felsen sitzeh, mit dem sie sich verheiratete und mit ihm die Frau 
Lureley erzeugte; sie hatten auch noch viele andere Kinder, zum 
Beispiel: die Echo, den Akkord, den Reim, deren Nachkommen 
sich noch auf der Welt herumtreiben." 

Just as Frau Lureley closes the first Mdrchen, so does she begin 
the second: "Von dem Hause Staarenberg und den Ahnen des 
Miillers Radlauf." 3 Here she creates, or motivates, the other char- 
acters. Her seven daughters appear with her, as follows: Herzeleid, 
Liebesleid, Liebeseid, Liebesneid, Liebesfreud, Reu und Leid, and 
Mildigkeit. She reappears then with her seven daughters at the 
close of the Mdrchen, and each sings a beautiful song, while Frau 
Lureley, the mother of Radlauf, proves to be a most beneficent 
creature. Imaginative as Brentano was, he rarely rose to such 

1 Some minor details that Loeben, or Heine, had he known the Marchen in 1823, 
could have used are pointed out in Wilhelm Hertz's article, pp. 220-21. 

2 Of. Gorres' edition, pp. 94-108. 

Of. ibid., pp. 128-40, and 228-44. It is in this Marchen (p. 231) that Herzeleid 
sings Goethe's "Wer nie sein Brod in Thranen asz." 



heights as in this and the next, "Marchen vom Murmelthier," 1 in 
which Frau Lureley continues her great work of love and kindness. 
She rights all wrongs, rewards the just, corrects the unjust, and leads 
a most remarkable life whether among the poor on land or in her 
element in the water. All of which is poles removed from Loeben's 
saga, though he knew these Marchen, 2 for they were written when 
Brentano was his intimate friend. 

As to the importance of Loeben's saga, Wilhelm Hertz says: 
"Fast alle jtingeren Dichter kniipfen an seinen Erfindungen an, 
so besonders die zahlreichen musikdramatischen Bearbeitungen." 3 
It is extremely doubtful that this statement is correct. It is plain 
that many of the lyric writers leaned on Schreiber, and the librettists 
could have done the same; or they could have derived their initial 
suggestion in more attractive form than that offered by Loeben. 
It seems, however, that Geibel 4 knew Loeben's saga. Though his 
individual poems on the Lorelei betray the influence of Heine, and 
though his drama resembles Brentano's ballad in mood and in unim- 
portant details, it contains the same proper names of persons and 
places that are found in Loeben. And what is more significant, it 
contains two important events that are not found in any of the other 
versions of the saga : the scene with the wine-growers and the story 
of the castaway ring. The latter is an old theme, but that they both 
occur in Loeben and in Geibel would argue that the latter took them 
from the former. It is largely a question as to whether a poet like 
Geibel has to have a source for everything that is not absolutely 

1 Cf . Gorres' edition, pp. 247-57. There are a number of details in this Marchen 
that remind strongly of Fouqu6's Undine, which Brentano knew. 

2 In his Die Marchen Clemens Brentanos, Koln, 1895, H. Cardauns gives an admirable 
study of Brentano's Marchen, covering the entire ground concerning the question whether 
Brentano's ballad was original and pointing out the sources and the value of his Rhein- 
m&rchen. Cardauns comes to the only conclusion that can be reached: Brentano located 
his ballad in a region replete with legends, but there is no positive evidence that he did 
not wholly invent his own ballad. The story that Hermann Bender tells about having 
found an old MS dating back to the year 1650 and containing the essentials of Brentano's 
ballad collapses, for this MS cannot be produced, not even by Bender who claims to 
have found it. See Cardauns, pp. 66-67. Reinhold Steig reviewed Cardauns' book 
in Euphorion (1896, pp. 791-99) without taking in the question as to the originality of 
Brentano's ballad. 

P. 224. 

*In Geibel's Gesammelte Werke, VI, 106-74. Geibel wrote the libretti for Felix 
Mendelssohn in 1846. Mendelssohn died before finishing it; Max Bruch completed 
the opera independently in 1863. It has also been set to music by two obscure com- 
posers. Karl Goedeke gives a very unsatisfactory discussion of the matter in Emanuel 
Geibel, Stuttgart, 1869, pp. 307 ff. 



abstract. The entire matter is complicated. 1 The paths of the 
Lorelei have crossed each other many times since Brentano started 
her on her wanderings. To draw up a map of her complete course, 
showing just who influenced whom, would be a task more difficult 
than grateful. 2 

As to Brentano's original ballad, 3 try as we may to depreciate 
the value of his creation by tracing it back to echo-poetry and by 
coupling it with older legends, such as that of Frau Holla, we are 
forced to give him credit for having not simply revived but for having 
created a legend that is beautiful in itself and that has found a host 
of imitators, direct and indirect, the world over, including one of the 
world's greatest lyric writers. This then is just one of the many 
things that the German romanticists started; it is just one of their 
many contributions to the literature that lasts. And for the per- 
petuation of this one, students of German literature have, it seems, 
given the obscure Graf von Loeben entirely too much credit. But 
who will give the oft-scolded Clemens Brentano too little credit? 
Only those who dislike romanticism on general principles and who 
will not be convinced that the romanticists could be original. 4 


1 Hermann Seeliger says (p. 73): "Zu den Bearbeitungen, die sich an die Ballade 
von Brentano anlehnen, gehoren die Dichtungen von Geibel, Mohr, Roquette, Hille- 
macher, Fiebach und Sommer." Seeliger wrote his study for musicians, and his state- 
ment may be correct. 

8 Aside from the treatises on the Lorelei already mentioned, there are the following: 
Zu Heines Balladen und Romanzen, by Oskar Netoliczka, Kronstadt, 1891; this study 
does not treat the Lorelei; Die Lurleisage, by F. Rehorn, Frankfurt am Main, 1891; 
Sagen und Geschichten des Rheinlandes, by Karl Geib, Mannheim, 1836; the work is 
naturally long since superseded; Kdlnische Zeitung of July 12, 1867, by H. Grieben; 
Kdlnische Zeitung of 1855, by H. Diintzer; H. Heine, ein Vortrag, by H. Sintenis, pp. 
2126; Die Lorelei: Die Loreleidichtungen mit besonderer Rucksicht auf die Ballade von 
Heinr. Heine, by C. L. Leimbach, Wolfenbtittel, 1879. The last six of these works were 
not accessible, but, since they are quoted by the accessible studies, it seems that they offer 
nothing new. (The writer has since secured Leimbach's treatise of 50 small pages. It 
offers nothing new.) 

'Adolf Seybert in his Die Loreleisage, Wiesbaden, 1863 and 1872 (Programm), 
contends that Frau Holla and the Lorelei are related. Fritz Strich in his Die Mythologie 
in der deutschen Literatur von Klopstock bis Wagner, Halle, 1910, says (pp. 307-9) that 
Brentano's ballad is "eine mythologische Erflndung Brentanos, zu der ihn der echo- 
reiche Felsen dieses Namens bei Bacharach anregte." He also says: "Ob nicht Heines 
Lied auf Brentanos Phantasie zurilckgewirkt haben mag?" The reference is to Bren- 
tano's Marchen. Strich's book contains a detailed account of the use of mythology in 
Heine, Loeben, and Brentano. 

Hermann Seeliger says (p. 8): "Ich meine, die ganze romantische Schule hatte, 
ohne den Stoff vom Volke zu bekommen, ein Gedicht von solcher Schonheit wie das 
von Brentano weder gemacht noch machen konnen." Vis-a-vis such a statement, 
sociability ceases. 



Was Goethe bewog der Gotik den Riicken zu kehren, veran- 
laszte auch seine Annaherung an die Antike. Das Kapitel von 
Goethes Kunstanschauungen und -bestrebungen, wahrend der Italia- 
Reise und spater, ist abgehandelt worden von Volbehr, 1 wenn auch 
nicht philologisch genau, und vorziiglich, wenn auch in knappem 
Rahmen vom alten Hettner 2 und neuerdings von Harnack 3 und 
Heuszler. 4 

Es kann sich hier nicht darum handeln dasselbe Feld nochmals 
durchzuackern, was fur den italienischen Aufenthalt ja auch von 
Klenze 5 getan, wohl aber bei Sichtung des heute angesammelten 
Materials neue Gesichtspunkte fur Goethes Ubergang ins antike 
Lager und, teilweise wenigstens, eine neue Wertung seiner antiken 
sowohl als seiner spateren Kunstbestrebungen zu erbringen. 

Es mogen hier zusammenfassend die Haupttendenzen seines 
italienischen Aufenthaltes kurz skizziert werden. Er bezeugt, dasz 
ihm selbst Italien noch zu barbarisch, da sein Verlangen nur auf 
griechische Kunst ging: "Denn auch Italien ist noch nordlich und 
die Romer waren auch nur Barbaren die das Schone raubten, wie 
man ein schones Weib raubt. Sie pliinderten die Welt und brauchten 
doch griechische Schneider um sich die Lappen auf den Leib zu 
passen' 5 ; 6 dasz furs erste nur die italienische Hochrenaissance fur 
ihn vorhanden, dasz ihn eine grosze Befriedigung uberkommt nun 
in "Abrahams Schoosze" endlich die Kunstschatze, nach denen er 
sich so lange gesehnt, leibhaftig vor sich zu sehen und dasz er seinen 

1 Th. Volbehr, Goethe und die bildende Kunst, Leipzig, 1895. 

2 H. Hettner, Geschichte der deutschen Litteratur im 18. Jahrhundert, Braunschweig, 
1894, Bd. 3, 2. Teil. 

8 O. Harnack, Goethe in der Epoche seiner Vollendung, Leipzig, 1905, 4. Abschnitt. 

4 A. Heuszler, Goethe und die italienische Kunst, Basel, 1891. 

6 C. von Klenze, The Interpretation of Italy during the Last Two Centurtes, Chicago, 
1907, chaps, v-vii. 

8 3, 1, 308. Zitate nach Abteilung, Band, und Seite der weimarer Ausgabe von Goethes 
Werken. Hier gebrauchte Abkurzungen: Biedermann =W. von Biedermann, Goethes 
Gesprdche, 10 Bde. ; Eckermann = J. P. Eckermann, Gesprdche mit Goethe. 
333] 93 [MODEBN PHILOLOGY, October, 1915 


romischen Aufenthalt als die gliicklichste Zeit seines Lebens erachtete. 
"Ich kann sagen, dasz ich nur in Rom empfunden habe, was eigent- 
lich ein Mensch sei. Zu dieser Hohe der Empfindung bin ich spater 
nie wieder gekommen; ich bin mit meinem Zustand in Rom ver- 
glichen, eigentlich nachher nie wieder froh geworden." 1 "Ich habe 
endlich das Ziel meiner Wiinsche erreicht und lebe hier mit einer 
Klarheit und Ruhe die Ihr euch denckt, weil Ihr mich kennt." 2 
" Wie mir's in der Naturgeschichte erging, geht es auch hier, denn an 
diesen Ort kntipft sich die ganze Geschichte der Welt an, und ich 
zahle einen zweiten Geburtstag, eine wahre Wiedergeburt, von 
dem Tage, da ich Rom betrat." 3 "Die Wiedergeburt, die mich 
von innen heraus umarbeitet, wirkt immer fort " 4 

Sechs grosze Passionen aus dieser Zeit nehmen ihn ganz gef angen : 
"Das menschlich interessanteste, was ich auf der Reise fand, war 
die Republick Venedig, nicht mit Augen des Leibs sondern des Geists 
gesehen. Das groszte Werk der innern Groszheit nach die Rotonde 
[ein vornehmes Gebaude in Vicenza], das groszte dem Maase nach, 
die Peterskirche .... und das genialischte dasz man sagen musz 
es scheint unmoglich, ist der Apoll von Belvedere." 5 "So hat z. B. 
das Pantheon, der Apoll von Belvedere, einige, colossale Kopfe 
und neuerdings die sixtinische Capelle so mein Germith eingenom- 
men, dasz ich daneben fast nichts mehr sehe." 6 

Dabei arbeitete er riistig an seiner Iphigenie und sah die Kunst- 
schatze so weit als moglich unter fremder, berufener Leitung. Dazu 
kam ein eifriges Studium bis er endlich doch die Ruinen satt hat: 
"Gegen Weihnachten wird auch mein Pensum in Rom furs erste 
absolviert sein, mit dem neuen Jahre will ich nach Neapel gehen und 
dort mich der herrlichen Natur erfreuen und meine Seele von der 
Idee sovieler trauriger Ruinen reinspiilen und die allzustrengen 
Begriffe der Kunst lindern." 7 

Nun nach Sizilien, das ihm Griechenland ersetzte (Hettner), und 
unter Hackerts Anleitung zur Landschafts-Malerei, fur die er ein 

* Biedermann, VI, 341. 

2 An J. G. und Caroline Herder, Rom, den 10. und 11. Nov., 1786. 
1, 30, 232. 1, 30, 236. 

* An den Freundeskreis in Weimar, Rom, den 7. Nov., 1786. 

* 1, 30, 232, Rom, den 3. Dez., 1786. 

7 An den Herzog Carl August, Rom, den 12.-16. Dez., 1786. 



neues Verstandnis gewann! Jetzt kommt ihm auch fur Friih- und 
Spatrenaissance das Verstandnis und Michel Angelo wird einer seiner 
Lieblinge. Dasz er zur ausiibenden Kunst kein Talent habe, wurde 
ihm nun klar,und er verlegte sich nach seiner Riickkunft nach Weimar 
darauf, mit J. H. Meyer das Evangelium des griechisch-plastischen 
Kunstideals als einziges Heil fur Deutsche in die Welt zu tragen. 
Diese streng antike Periode kam, circa 1810, mit dem Einsetzen 
der Boissere'eschen Bemiihungen zu Ende, und liesz den Greis fur 
deutsche Kunst wieder empfanglicher werden. Das ist, kurz 
gesagt, das Ergebnis der Untersuchungen. 

Wir, nun, wollen die einzelnen Ubergange und Beweggriinde 
etwas naher priifen, urn, womoglich, zu einem besseren Verstandnis 
von Goethes Bestrebungen und Einflusz in Sachen der bildenden 
Kunst zu gelangen. 

Versetzen wir uns in Goethes Friihzeit, so finden wir uns im 
Zeitalter des Rococo und einer franzosisch-europaischen Kultur, 
gegen welche soeben Lessing erfolgreich anzukampfen begonnen 
hatte. Zwar die Lehre von einer kosmopolitisch-philosophischen 
Verbriiderung der Menschheit hielt noch eine Zeitlang vor. Nathan, 
Don Carlos, die franzosische Revolution, das sind ihre markantesten 
Stufen. Das nationale Gefiihl herrschte, im Grunde, aber doch vor, 
wie es sich, z. B. im deutschen Sturm und Drang aufs pragnanteste 
dokumentierte. Goethe war hier einer der eifrigsten Rufer im 
Streite. Zwar war auch er aus der allgemeinen franzosisch- 
europaischen Kultur hervorgegangen. Um uns das klar zu machen, 
brauchen wir nur einen Blick zu werfen in den Kreis der Goethischen 
Familie; in Bettinas Brief e an die Frau Rat, in die Bibliothek und 
die Kunstschatze des Vaters Goethe, in das Klein-Paris Leipzig, 
wohin man den zu erziehenden Jungling sandte, oder in die ersten 
litterarischen Versuche Goethes, welche rein Rococokunst darstellen. 

Und die Kunst Deutschlands in dieser Epoche, was war sie anders 
als Rococo ? Wenn Goethe in Dichtung und Wahrheit liber Kunst- 
bestrebungen seiner Umgebung berichtet, so braucht man nur auf 
die Namen der Ktinstler zu achten um zu sehen, dasz es Rococokunst 
ist, die hier gepflegt wurde. Und was war die Erlosung, wel?he ihm 
Oeser und Winckelmann brachten? Erlosung von Rococo! Denn 
den groszen Hollandern blieb er auch spater ergeben. "Ich dancke 



Ihrem Vater das Gefiihl des Ideals, und die gedrehten Reitze des 
Franzosen, werden mich so wenig exstasieren machen, als die platten 
Nymphen von Dietrich, so nackend und glatt sie auch sind." 1 

Von der groszen deutschen Kunst kannte der junge Goethe leider 
nur Diirer, dessen Einflusz, und Hans Sachsens, dann auch die 
Abfassung der Farcen moglich machte. Und die Possen bringen 
uns noch auf ein Weiteres. Was war es, was Goethe in dieser Zeit 
auf den gutmiitigen Wieland so erbitterte? Die franzosisch- 
dilletantische Auffassung der Antike; das heiszt wohl, in die Kunst- 
sprache iibertragen, der Geist des Rococo! 

Lessing hatte die Herrschaft des franzosischen Geschmacks auf 
dem Gebiet der Litteratur gebrochen; Goethe, durch die bildende 
Kunst in seinem litterarischen Schaffen immer stark beeinfluszt 
Grimm behauptet ohne Italien und Antike hatten Iphigenie, Faust, 
Tasso und Egmont nie vollendet werden konnen lehnt sich auch 
gegen den franzosischen Geschmack in der bildenden Kunst auf. 
1st "Philologie ohne Kunst nur einaugig," wie Goethe behauptet, 2 
so ist die Dichtung ohne Kunst fur ihn unmoglich. Das franzosisch- 
welsche Rococo aber hatte Deutschland geknechtet! Daher auch 
der Protest in Gotz von Berlichingen, in den, deutschem Puppenspiel 
ahnlichen, Possen, und in der Propagandaschrift Uber deutsche 
Baukunst. Denn, dasz der deutsche Sturm und Drang sich auf das 
Gebiet der bildenden Kunst erstreckte, das kann man schon an der 
Verehrung, welche die Sturmer und Dranger Diirern entgegen- 
brachten, abnehmen. 

Goethe suchte nun dem franzosischen Rococo eine deutsche 
Kultur und Weltanschauung entgegen zu setzen. Aber wie und was ? 
Als GotZj der Urfaust, und die Possen geschrieben waren, hatte der 
junge Sturmer und Dranger seinen nationalen Schatz, soweit er ihn 
kannte, schier erschopf t. Es kam die Zeit der Diirre in Weimar, die 
Zeit der Zersplitterung, des Suchens, des Lernens, des Sich-findens. 
Was die weimarer Hofgesellschaft ihm nicht geben konnte, suchte er 
in der Natur; was die Heimat ihm nicht geben konnte, suchte er in 
andern Zonen; er wirft sich ganz auf seine zwei Passionen : auf Natur 
und Kunst ! Die Natur, j a die Naturwissenschaf t, lernte er in Weimar 

i An Friederike Oeser, den 8. Apr., 1769. 
An J. A. Sack, den 15. Jan., 1816. 



griindlich kennen. In die Kunst suchte er nach Kraften einzu- 
dringen, aber erst in Rom konnte er schreiben: "Wie ich die Natur 
betrachtet, betrachte ich nun die Kunst, ich gewinne, wo nach ich so 
lange gestrebt, auch einen vollstandigen Begriff von dem Hochsten 
was Menschen gemacht haben und meine Seele bildet sich auch 
von dieser Seite mehr aus und sieht in ein freyeres Feld." 1 

Aber in welche Kunst ? Rococo? Nein! Altdeutsche Kunst? 
Nein! Von altdeutscher Kunst war ihm bisher nur Dtirer zugang- 
lich und dieser nur in minderwertigen Reproduktionen. Ihn und 
das Strassburger Miinster hatte Goethe bereits in seinem Innern 
verarbeitet. Was er aus den "nordischen" Anschauungen gemacht 
hatte, ist bereits angedeutet worden. Goethe spricht sich selbst 
dariiber so aus: "Wir Deutschen sind auch wirklich schlimm daran; 
unsere Urgeschichte zu sehr im Dunkel und die spatere Zeit hat aus 
Mangel eines einzigen Regentenhauses kein allgemeines nationales 
Interesse, Klopstock versuchte sich am Hermann, allein der Gegen- 
stand liegt zu entfernt, niemand hat dazu ein Verhaltnis, niemand 
weisz was er damit machen soil, und seine Darstellung ist daher ohne 
Wirkung und Popularitat geblieben. Ich tat einen gliicklichen Griff 
mit meinem Gotz von Berlichingen; das war doch Bein von meinem 

Bein und Fleisch von meinem Fleisch Beim Werther und 

Faust muszte ich dagegen wieder in meinen eigenen Busen greifen; 
denn das Uberlieferte war nicht weit her. Das Teufels und Hexen- 
wesen machte ich nur einmal; ich war froh mein nordisches Erbteil 
verzehrt zu haben, und wandte mich zu den Tischen der Griechen." 2 

Dazu war ihm, der "die Sachen in sich und nicht .... sich 
in den Sachen" 3 zu sehen gewohnt war, diese nordische Kunst zu 
subjektiv: "Ihr wahlt euch ein Muster und damit vermischt ihr 
eure Individualitat, das ist all eure Kunst. Da ist an keine Grund- 
satze an keine Schule, an keine Folge zu dencken," .... alles 

willkiirlich und wie es einem jeden einfallt Aber dasz man 

nicht denckt es mussen doch Gesetze seyn die aus der Natur jeder 
Kunst entspringen daran denckt niemand." 4 "Es will kein Mensch 

i An Charlotte von Stein, den 20.-23. Dez., 1786. 
Biedermann, V, 274. Vgl. auch I, 32, 351 f. 
An J. H. Meyer, den 3. Marz, 1795. 
4 Paralipomena, 1, 32, 455. 

. 337 


die gesetzgebende Gewalt des guten Geschmacks anerkennen .... 
so verliert man sich in einer Breite und Weite des Zweifels, leugnet 
die Regel, weil man sie nicht findet oder nicht einsieht .... 

laszt sich vom Material Gesetze vorschreiben Bald will man 

abstracte Ideen darstellen und bald bleibt man hinter dem gemeinsten 

zuriick Bringt man ungeschickte und widerliche Dinge 

hervor, so sollen sie sogar als Symbol verehrt werden, man arbeitet 
bios nach dunkeln Vorstellungen, auf unbestimmte Ideen los . . . . 
und so kommt alles zum Schwanken, dasz man immer von einem 
Erdbeben geschaukelt zu werden glaubt." 1 "Nichts ist dem 
Dilletantism mehr entgegen als feste Grundsatze und strenge 
Anwendung derselben." 2 "Es fehlt an einer approbierten Theorie, 
wie sie die Musik hat, in der keiner gegen den Generalbasz schlegeln 
darf, ohne dasz die Meister es riigen." 3 Auch war der nordische 
Kunstbegriff ihm zu eng. "So etwas (der alte schwarze Turm in 
Eger) setzt einen groszen Kunstbegriff voraus," 4 und er war 
deshalb fur Goethe romisch. 

Sodann suchte Goethe in der Kunst "auch einen vollstandigern 
Begriff von dem Hochsten was Menschen gemacht haben." 5 "Wer 
sich mit irgend einer Kenntnis abgibt, soil nach dem Hochsten 
streben. Es ist mit der Einsieht viel anders als mit der Ausiibung, 
denn im Praktischen musz sich jeder bald bescheiden, dasz ihm nur ein 
gewisses Masz von Kraften zugetheilt sei; zur Kenntnis, zur Einsieht 
sind aber weit mehrere Menschen fahig." 6 

Gotteswerk war sein bisheriges Studium gewesen. Nun zum 
Menschenwerk in der Kunst! "Als ich zuerst nach Rom kam, 
bemerckte ich bald dasz ich von Kunst eigentlich gar nichts verstand, 
und dasz ich bisz dahin nur den allgemeinen Abglanz der Natur in den 
Kunstwercken bewundert .... hatte, hier that sich eine andre 
Natur, ein weiteres Feld der Kunst vor mir auf, ja ein Abgrund der 
Kunst in den ich mit desto mehr Freude hineinschaute, als ich 
meinen Blick an die Abgrunde der Natur gewohnt hatte." 7 Freilich 

An J. H. Meyer, den 20. Mai, 1796. 

*ttber strenge Urteile, 1, 47, 49 (1798). 

Tagebticher, den 19. Mai, 1807. Ibid., den 30. Aug., 1821. 

An Charlotte von Stein, den 20. Dez., 1786. 

Einleitung in die Propyl&en, 1, 47, 26. 

7 An den Herzog Carl August, den 25. Jan., 1788. 



kannte er sich in der Natur besser zurecht. "Ich darf nur Augen 
haben um zu sehen, so kann ich die Verhaltnisze entdecken, ich bin 
sicher dasz innerhalb eines kleinen Cirkels eine ganze wahre Existenz 
beschloszen ist. Ein Kunstwerk hingegen hat seine Vollkommenheit 

ausser sich Es ist viel Tradition bei den Kunstwercken, die 

Naturwercke sind immer wie ein erst ausgesprochenes Wort Gottes." 1 
"Die andern bildenden Kiinste erfreuen mich mehr, und doch am 
meisten die Natur mit ihrer konsequenten Wahrheit." 2 

Fuhlung mit dieser Kunst hatte Goethe allerdings, obwohl er in 
seinem bisherigen Leben nur etliche minderwertige Abgusse derselben 
gesehen hatte, denn sie kam ihm vor wie ein Kommentar zu Homer, 
der seit der Sturm und Drang Zeit einer seiner Lieblinge gewesen. 
"Was den Homer betrifft ist mir wie eine Decke von den Augen 
gefallen. Die Beschreibungen, die Gleichnisse u.c. kommen uns 
poetisch vor und sind doch unsaglich natiirlich, aber freilich mit 
einer Reinheit und Innigkeit gezeichnet vor der man erschrickt. 
Selbst die sonderbarsten erlogenen Begebenheiten haben eine 
Natiirlichkeit, die ich nie so gefuhlt habe, als in der Nahe der be- 
schriebenen Gegenstande." 3 "So viel ist gewisz, die alten Ktinstler 
haben ebenso grosze Kenntnis der Natur und eben einen so sichern 
Begriff von dem, was sich vorstellen laszt, und wie es vorgestellt 
werden musz, gehabt, als Homer." 4 "Die Logen von Raphael und 
die groszen Gemahlde der Schule von Athen hab ich nur erst einmal 
gesehen, und da ist's als wenn man den Homer aus einer zum Theil 
verloschene beschadigten Handschrift herausstudieren sollte." 5 " Zu 
meiner Erquickung habe ich gestern einen Abgusz des colossalen 

Junokopfes .... in den Saal gestellt Keine Worte geben 

eine Ahnung davon. Es ist wie ein Gesang Homers." 6 

Weiter suchte Goethe immer grosze Zusammenhange auf. Ein 
Begriff muszte sich ihm zum Universell-Menschlichen erweitern. 
Der deutsche Kunstbegriff war ihm zu eng. Daran zu haften ware 
fur diesen elementaren Geist unmoglich gewesen. Und gerade dieses 
Universell-Menschliche, der griechischen Kunst zog ihn an. "Was 
ich aber sagen kann, und was mich am tiefsten freut ist die Wiirckung, 

> An die Herzogin Luise, den 12.-23. Dez., 1786. 
2 An den Herzog Carl August, Neapel, den 27. Mai, 1787. 
1 1,31, 238 f. 41,32,77. 8 1, 30, 209 f. 1, 30, 244. 



die ich schon in meiner Seele fiihle: es ist eine innere Soliditat mit 
der der Geist gleichsam gestempelt wird; .... wenn man so eine 
Existenz ansieht, die 2,000 Jahr und driiber alt ist, durch die Wechsel 
der Zeiten so manigfaltig und von Grund aus verandert und doch 
noch derselbe Boden, derselbe Berg, ia oft, dieselbe Saule und Mauer, 
und im Volcke noch die Spuren des alten Characters; so wird man 
Mitgenosze der groszen Rathschltisse des Schicksals." 1 "Es dringt 
eine zu grosze Masse Existenz auf einen zu, man musz eine Umwand- 
lung sein Selbst geschehen laszen." 2 "Wer sich mit Ernst hier 
umsieht und Augen hat zu sehen, musz solid werden, er musz einen 
Begriff von Soliditat fassen, der ihm nie so lebendig ward. Der 
Geist wird zur Tiichtigkeit gestempelt/' 3 

Ferner, und das war es, was er an den Deutschen, auch an Durer, 
vermisste, war es die erhabene naive Sinnlichkeit der antiken Kunst 
was ihn entziickte. " Ich leugne nicht dasz eine anhaltende Betrach- 
tung der Kunstwerke, die uns aus Alterthum und die uns die Romische 
Schule zuriickgelassen haben mich von der neuern Art, die mehr 
zum Verstande als zu der gebildeten Sinnlichkeit spricht einiger- 
maszen entfernt hat." 4 "Lasz mich meinen Gedanken kurz so 
ausdriicken; sie schilderten das Furchterliche, wir schildern furchter- 
lich; sie das Angenehme, wir angenehm u.s.w." 6 "Wir Neueren," 
fuhr er fort, "fuhlen wohl die grosze Schonheit eines solchen rein 
naiven Motivs, wir haben auch wohl die Kenntnis und den Begriff wie 
es zu machen ware; allein wir machen es nicht, der Verstand herrscht 
vor, und es fehlt immer diese entziickende Anmut." 6 " Dieser grosze 
sittliche Propheten-Act ist aber sinnlich gar nicht darzustellen, und 
solche Bilder werden nur gemahlt weil sie schon oftmal gemahlt 

worden sind Es mag ein gut Bild seyn, aber es sagt nichts. 

Davon haben die modernen Kiinstler keinen Begriff und mussen 
sich am Ende deine Auslegung des Beywesens gefallen lassen. Hier 
aber liegt der Grundirrthum der deutschen Kiinstler seit beynahe 

An J. G. und Caroline Herder, Rom, den 10.-11. Nov., 1786. 
2 An Charlotte von Stein, den 17.-18. Jan., 1787. 

1, 30, 212; vgl. hierzu auch An Charlotte von Stein, den 7.-11. Nov., 1786. 
An Lichtenberg, den 7. Dez., 1795. 
1, 31, 239 (1787). 

6 Eckermann, den 24. Feb., 1824. Vgl. dazu Biedermann, VI, 354, und idem., 
II, 332. 



40 Jahren." 1 Aber auch die Sinnlichkeit der Antike und die eines 
Rembrandt will er unterschieden wissen: "Besonders fuhle ich hier 
in Rom wie interessanter denn doch die Reinheit der Form und ihre 
Bestimmtheit, vor jener Marckigen Rohheit und schwebenden 
Geistlichkeit (eines Rembrandt) ist und bleibt." 2 Diese Entwicke- 
lung von der Natiirlichkeit zur ideelen Form zeigt ja Goethes eigener 
Werdegang auf : Von der Adelheid und den Bauern im Gotz zu der 
Iphigenie und den Tauriern! Um das zu erreichen hatte er sich nur 
"am besten" gebildet, was fur ihn gleichbedeutend mit Antike 
war, "Denn den Geschmack kann man nicht am Mittelgut bilden, 
sondern nur am Allervorziiglichsten." 3 

Wenn die soeben angeftihrten Griinde Goethe bewogen sich 
zur Antike zu wenden, so fand er sich empirisch im hochsten 
Masze gefordert sobald er nicht "Mehr in der Kritik als im 
Anschauen" lebte, sondern in Italien unter "dem Hochsten was 
Menschen gemacht haben" weilte. "Das Studium der Kunst wie 
das der alten Schriftsteller gibt uns einen gewissen Halt, eine Be- 
friedigung in uns selbst; indem sie unser Inneres mit groszen Gegen- 
standen und Gesinnungen fiillt." 4 "Ist doch die wahre Kunst," 
rief er aus, " wie gute Gesellschaft ; sie notigt uns auf die angenehmste 
Weise das Masz zu erkennen, nach dem und zu dem unser Innerstes 
gebildet ist." 5 Und aus seinem zweiten romischen Aufenthalt 
schreibt er: "Wenn man des Morgens die Augen aufschlagt, ftihlt 
man sich von dem Vortrefflichsten geriihrt; all unser Denken und 
Sinnen ist von solchen Gestalten begleitet, und es wird dadurch 
unmoglich in die Barbarei zuriickzuf alien." 6 Wie ja auch schon 
in Frankfurt, "Diese edeln Gestalten eine Art von heimlichen Gegen- 
gift [waren], wenn das Schwache, Falsche, Manerierte tiber mich 
zu gewinnen drohte." 7 

Dasz wie Geiger 8 meint, Goethe in Italien die Losung der Frage, 
ob er Dichter oder bildender Kiinstler werden wollte, suchte, ist 

1 An C. F. Zelter, den 9. Nov., 1830. 

2 An den Herzog Carl August, den 8. Dez., 1787. 
8 Biedermann, V, 35. 

* Campagne in Frankreich, 1, 33, 188. 

Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre, 1, 23, 161. 

1, 32, 322. t Ebenda S. 324. 
8 L. Geiger, Goethe und die Renaissance, Berlin, 1887. 



nicht anzunehmen. Da weisz es Goethe besser: "Die Sache 1st 
dasz ich wieder Interesse an der Welt nehme, meinen Beobachtungs- 
geist versuche und priife, wie weit es mit meinen Wissenschaften 
und Kenntnissen geht, ob mein Auge licht, rein und hell ist, wie 
viel ich in der Geschwindigkeit fassen kann, und ob die Falten, die 
sich in mein Gemiith geschlagen und gedrtickt haben wieder auszutil- 
gen sind." 1 Sonst hatte sich Goethe auch nicht wieder sofort an die 
Arbeit an der Iphigenie gemacht und sie selbst unter Vernachlassigung 
seiner Kunststudien rustig weitergefiihrt. "So habe ich eine heilige 

Agathe gefunden Ich habe mir die Gestalt wohl gemerkt 

und werde ihr im Geiste meine Iphigenie vorlesen, und meine Heldin 
nichts sagen lassen, was diese Heilige nicht aussprechen mochte." 2 
"Ihr beklagtet euch schon einig Mai iiber dunkle Stellen meiner 
Briefe, die auf einen Druck hindeuten, den ich unter den herrlichsten 
Erscheinungen erleide. Hieran hatte diese griechische Reisege- 
f ahrtin ( = Iphigenie) nicht geringen Anteil, die mich zur Thatigkeit 
notigte, wenn ich hatte schauen sollen." 3 

Nein, der Dichterberuf sasz schon fest! Wohl mochte ihm 
vorschweben, dasz er es auch in der bildenden Kunst zu ansehbaren 
Werken bringen konnte, hatte er doch diese Kunst sein Lebtag ge- 
flegt und studiert! Hatte er ja auch das grosze Beispiel Michel 
Angelos, welcher nicht nur Bildhauer, Baumeister, Maler, sondern 
auch Dichter war, und doch so riesengrosz! Zwar spricht folgende 
Stelle welche er aber nicht anf iihrt scheinbar f iir Geigers Ansicht : 
"Taglich wird mir's deutlicher dasz ich eigentlich zur Dichtkunst 
geboren bin." "Von meinem langern Aufenthalt in Rom werde 
ich den Vortheil haben, dasz ich auf das Ausliben der bildenden 
Kunst verzicht thue." 4 Man braucht an derselben Stelle aber nur 
ein wenig weiter zu lesen um zu sehen, dasz es sich um den Maler- 
beruf gar nie handelte : " Genug ich habe jetzt schon meinen Wunsch 
erreicht: in einer Sache, zu der ich mich leidenschaftlich gezogen 
fuhle, nicht mehr blind zu tappen." 5 Folgendes mag noch zum 
Uberflusz Goethes Auffassung seiner Kunstbestrebungen in Italien 

i 1, 30, 34 (1786). 

Italieniache Reiae, den 19. Okt., 1786. 

"1,30,245. 1, 32, 276 f. 

6 Ibid., S. 277. Vgl. hierzu auch Eckermann, den 20. Apr., 1825; und ibid., den 10. 
Apr., 1829. 



welter, und zwar nicht im Sinne Geigers, darlegen. "Es 1st eine 
ernste Sache um die Kunst .... und sogar die Kenntnis schon ein 
Metier, .... so viel kann ich versichern: dasz wenn ich Ostern 
weggegangen ware, ich eben geradezu nicht sagen durfte ich sey 

dagewesen Da doch von Jugend auf mein Geist diese 

Richtung genommen hat (auf die bildende Kunst); so hatte ich 
nie ruhig werden konnen, ohne dies Ziel zu erreichen." 1 Das Ziel, 
welches er erreicht hatte, war aber nicht der Malerberuf sondern 
lediglich Kenntnis der Kunst. 

"Ich werde taglich fleisziger, und treibe die Kunst, die eine 
so ernsthafte Sache ist, immer ernsthafter. Wenn ich nur iiber einige 
Stufen im machen hinwegkonnte ! Im Begriff, und zwar im achten, 
nahen Begriff bin ich weit vorgeriickt. Da ich doch einmal ein 
Kunstler bin, so wird es viel zu meiner Gltickseligkeit und zu 
einem kiinftigen frohen Leben zu Hause beytragen, wenn ich mit 
meinem kleinen Talente nicht immer zu kriechen und zu krabeln 
brauche, sondern mit freyem Gemiithe, auch nur als Liebhaber, 
arbeiten kann." 2 "Ich habe recht dieser Zeit her zwei meiner Capi- 
talfehler, die mich mein ganzes Leben verfolgt und gepeinigt haben, 
entdecken konnen. Einer ist dasz ich nie das Handwerck einer 

Sache, die ich treiben wollte oder sollte lernen mochte Nun 

dacht' ich, ware Zeit und Stunde da zu corrigieren. Ich bin im Land 
der Kiinste, laszt uns das Fach durcharbeiten, damit wir fiir unser 
iibriges Leben Ruh und Freude haben und an was anderes gehen 
konnen." 3 "Im Zeichnen fahr' ich fort Geschmack und Hand zu 
bilden, . . . . es wird mir alles erstaunend leicht (das heiszt der 
Begriff denn die Ausubung fordert ein Leben). Was das Beste war: 
ich hatte keinen Eigendunkel und keine Pratension, ich hatte nichts 
zu verlangen, als ich herkam." " Ich 4 sage dieses, indem ich bedenke 
wie viele Jahre es gebrauchte, bis ich einsah, dasz meine Tendenz 
zur bildenden Kunst eine falsche sei, und wie viele andere, nachdem 
ich es erkannt, mich davon loszumachen." 5 Zu diesem letzten Wort 
ist zu bemerken, dasz Goethe schon in der Frankfurter Zeit das 

1 An den Herzog Carl August, den 28. Sept., 1787. 

2 Ibid., den 6.-7, Juli, 1787. 9 
Zweiter rdmischer Aufenthalt, 1, 32, 34. 

1, 32, 28. 

Biedermann, VII, 87. 



Messerorakel liber eine mogliche Einlenkung in die Kunstlerlauf- 
bahn befragte, 1 und dasz er in Rom schreibt: "Ich bin schon zu alt, 
um von jetzt an mehr zu thun (in der bildenden Kunst) als zu 
pfuschen." 2 

Dasz sich Goethe in Italien ein groszes Programm vorgenommen, 
ist bekannt. Wie grosz diese Plane waren mag hier kurz skizziert 
werden: " Jetzt werden Architektur und Perspektive, Komposition 
und Farbengebung der Landschaft betrieben, Sept. und Oktbr. 
mochte ich im Freyen dem Zeichnen nach der Natur wiedmen, Nov. 
und Dez. zur Ausftihrung zu Hause, dem Fertigmachen und Vollen- 
den." Die ersten Monate des kiinftigen Jahres, der menschlichen 
Figur, dem Gesichte pp. 3 "die Perspektiv beschaftigt uns des 
Abends." 4 "Meine Absicht ist nun im Februar einige Landschafts- 
zeichnungen zu kopieren, einige Veduten nach der Natur zu zeich- 
nen und zu kolorieren. " .... Den Marz wollte ich anwenden, das 
wichtigste nochmals zu durchlaufen." 5 

Goethe sieht seinen Dilletantismus wohl ein, deshalb iibte er die 
bildende Kunst auch nach Italien nicht mehr aus, denn " Dilletantis- 
mus ernstlich betrieben heiszt Pedanterie." 6 

Dasz Goethe durch die bildende Kunst stark beeinfluszt wurde, 
bezeugt er selber. Plastisch nennt er sein eigenes Empfinden: 
"Ich bin ein Plastiker," sagte er, auf die Biiste der Juno Ludovisi 
zeigend, "habe gesucht mir die Welt und die Natur klar zu machen, 
und nun kommen die Kerls (gewisse zeitgenossische Maler), machen 
einen Dunst, zeigen mir die Dinge bald in der Feme, bald in einer 
erdriickenden Nahe wie Ombres chinoises; das hole der Teufel!" 7 
"Was hat ein Mahler zu studieren, bis er ein Pfirsche sehen kann 
wie Huysum, und wir sollen nicht versuchen ob es moglich sei einen 
Menschen zu sehen wie ihn der Grieche gesehen hat?" 8 So stehen 

i 1, 28, 175 f. 

1, 32, 140. Vgl. hierzu auch An den Herzog Carl August, den 11. Aug., 1787. 
An den Herzog Carl August, den 11. Aug., 1787. Vgl. auch Zweiter rdmischer 

Aufenthalt, den 23. Aug., 1787 ( =Modellieren). 
1, 32, 156. 

An den Herzog Carl August, den 25. Jan., 1788. 

Spruche, No. 170. Vgl. hierzu auch 6d., eine weitere Stelle, und An Friedrich von 
Stein, den 18. Dez., 1787; An J. G. Herder, den 29.-30. Dez., 1786; An den Herzog Carl 
August, den 29. Dez., 1787; vgl. hierzu auch Eckermann, den 20. Apr., 1825. 

i Biedermann, V, 286. 

8 Maximen und Reflexionen uber Kunst, 1, 48, 206. 



ja auch die griechischen Dichter, voran Goethes Liebling Homer, 
unter dem Prinzip der Plastik. Und iiber Hermann und Dorothea 
schreibt Goethe: "Diejenigen Vortheile, deren ich mich in meinem 
letzten Gedicht bediente, habe ich alle von der bildenden Kunst 
gelernt." 1 "Die Gegenstandlichkeit meiner Poesie," sagte Goethe, 
"bin ich den noch jener groszen Aufmerksamkeit und Ubung des 
Auges schuldig geworden; sowie ich auch die daraus gewonnene 
Kenntnis hoch anzuschlagen habe." 2 "Die hochste Instanz, vor der 
es [Hermann und Dorothea] gerichtet werden kann, ist die, vor welche 
der Menschenmaler seine Compositionen bringt, und es wird die 
Frage seyn, ob Sie unter dem modernen Costum die wahren, echten 
Menschenproportionen und Gliederformen anerkennen werden. 3 
"Das Altertum," sagte ich, "muszte Ihnen doch sehr lebendig sein, 
um alle Figuren wieder so frisch ins Leben treten zu lassen und sie 
mitsolcherFreiheitzugebrauchenundzubehandeln." .... "Ohne 
eine lebenslangliche Beschaftigung mit der bildenden Kunst," sagte 
Goethe, "ware es mir nicht moglich gewesen." 4 Man hat auch sonst 
interessante Einfltisse von bestimmten Kunstwerken auf Goethische 
Werke nachgewiesen 5 und vieles bleibt ohne Zweifel noch auf 
diesem Gebiet zu tun. 


1 An Schiller, den 8. Apr., 1797. Vgl. auch ibid.: "So erschienen mir diese Tage 
einige Scenen im Aristophenes vollig wie antike Basreliefen und sind gewisz auch in 
diesem Sinne vorgestellt worden." 

2 Eckermann, den 20. Apr., 1825. 

An J. H. Meyer, den 28. Apr., 1797. 
Biedermann, VIII, 31. 

8 Jos. Bayer, Aus Italien, Leipzig,1885, S. 297; Goethe Jahrbuch, VII, 251 ff.; VIII, 
239 flf.; VI, 334; W. von Biedermann, Goethe- Forschungen, N.F., Leipzig, 1885, S, 13 ff 




Das kleine mittelhochdeutsche Gedicht von Aristoteles und 
Phillis 1st von zwei uns leider nicht mehr erhaltenen Handschriften 
des 14. Jahrhtmderts iiberliefert worden. Diese waren: 

A, eine Strassburger Sammelhs. von 80 Blattern, gr. 8 oder kl. 4, 
zweispaltig, Pergament, welche der ehemaligen Johanniter- spater 
Stadt-Bibliothek in Strassburg gehorte und die Signatur A 94 trug. 
Sie verbrannte 1870. Nach einem von Graff, Diutiska I, 314 ver- 
offentlichten Inhaltsverzeichnis bildete der Aristoteles und Phillis das 
zwanzigste Gedicht der Sammlung, wo er auf Bl. 41-45 stand. 1 
Hiernach wurde unser Gedicht zum ersten Male von Christoph 
Heinrich Myller (Mtiller) in seiner Sammlung deutscher Gedichte aus 
dem XII., XIII. und XIV. Jahrhundert, 3. Band, S. xvii-xxi, nach 
einer von Breitinger vorgenommenen Abschrift zum Abdruck ge- 
bracht. Im allgemeinen konnen bekanntlich die Texte der Muller- 
schen Sammlung nichts weniger als zuverlassig bezeichnet werden, 
aber durch ein gliickliches Ereignis ist mir von seinem Werke das 
Handexemplar der Briider Grimm aus Oskar Janickes Tristan- 
Nachlass in die Hande gekommen. 2 Zu den einzelnen Gedichten 
befinden sich zahlreiche handschriftliche Bemerkungen der beiden 
Grimms, darunter eine Kollation des Aristoteles und Phillis mit der 
Handschrift, von Wilhelm Grimm besorgt, die wahrscheinlich gleich- 
zeitig mit der Kollation des Miillerschen Textes des Armen Heinrich 

1 Ftir eine genauere Beschreibung der Hs. sowie ilber ihre Vorgeschichte vgl. ausser 
Graff noch von der Hagen, Gesammtabenteuer, III, 760 (wo sie mit der Sigle St. bezeichnet 
wird), und zuletzt Gierach, Der Arme Heinrich von Hartmann von Aue, Uberlieferung und 
HersteUung, Heidelberg, 1913, S. ix. 

2 Vgl. Lit. Zentralbl., 1914, 742. Janickes Vorarbeiten zu einer Tristan- Ausgabe sind 
nach dessen 1874 erfolgtem Tode in den Besitz Zachers gekommen der sie spater an 
Reifferscheid zum Zwecke der Herausgabe ubermittelt hat. Durch die Liebenswiirdig- 
keit von Frau Prof. Reifferscheid sind mir nebst Janickes Sammlungen auch die wert- 
vollen diesbeziiglichen Studien ihres verstorbenen Mannes auf beliebige Zeit zur Ver- 
fiigung gestellt worden. Hinzu kommt noch der in einzelnen Teilen fast druckfertige 
Nachlass Marolds, dessen Vermittlung ich dem verehrten Herausgeber der ^Teutonia," 
Prof. Dr. W. Uhl, verdanke. Das vollstandige Worterbuch beflndet sich bereits unter 
der Presse und wird voraussichtlich in nicht allzu ferner Zeit vorliegen. Ein zweiter 
Band, der den textkritischen Kommentar, u.s.w. enthalten wird, beflndet sich in Vor- 

347] 107 [MODERN PHILOLOGY, October, 1915 


aus derselben Hs. die als eine Vorarbeit zur gemeinsamen Ausgabe 
von 1815 gemacht wurde, entstanden ist. Das Ergebnis dieser Ver- 
gleichung ist jedoch nur geringfiigig und betrifft bloss Kleinigkeiten 
in der Orthographic, u.s.w. So stellt sich z.B. das V. 332 wiederholte 
vliehen als Druckfehler heraus; vgl. auch zu 31, 176. Unter diesen 
Umstanden lasst sich also fur den Text von A. u. Ph. die Hs. A kaum 

R bezeichnet eine zweite Handschrift die sich friiher in der 
Jesuiten-Bibliothek zu Regensburg befand. Sie ist 1809 ebenfalls 
durch Feuer vernichtet. Eine nahere Beschreibung ist mir nicht 
bekannt. Aus den wenigen Angaben bei von der Hagen, GA , III, 780, 
enthielt diese Hs. ausser dem A. u. Ph. noch ein Leben des h. Alexius 
jedoch nicht die Konradsche Version sowie eine Bearbeitung des 
Cato. 1 

Auf Grund von Abschriften dieser beiden Hss. fur A, von Mass- 
mann, ftir R, von Th. Ried gab von der Hagen den Aristoteles und 
Phillis als Nro II seiner Gesammtabenteuer, Berlin, 1850, 1. Band, 
S. 21-35, zum zweiten Male heraus. Wahrend Mtillers Ausgabe 
lediglich ein Handschriftenabdruck war, ohne jegliche Interpunktion, 
u.s.w., bedeutet von der Hagens Text einen wesentlichen Fortschritt, 
indem er die Schreibung der Eigennamen geregelt, eine Interpunktion 
eingefurt, und ferner die Sinnesabschnitte durch Absatze bezeichnet 
hat. Bei Miiller sind die Zeilenanfange durchwegs mit grossen Buch- 
staben gedruckt, doch in der Hs. scheinen sie wie beim Armen 
Heinrich vorwiegend klein gewesen zu sein. Hagen dagegen, setzt 
abwechselnd die Majuskel neben den kleinen Buchstaben. Schliess- 
lich teilt er am Schluss des Bandes eine Auswahl aus den Lesarten mit. 

Die vorliegende neue Ausgabe verfolgt einen doppelten Zweck. 
Einmal will sie die beiden friiheren ersetzen und das sprachlich wie 
literarhistorisch nicht uninteressante kleine Gedicht weiteren Kreisen 
zuganglich machen. Aber auch andererseits, mochte ich sie als einen 
kleinen Beitrag zur Kritik und Erklarung von Gottfrieds von Strass- 
burg Tristan bezeichnen. Denn es war erst das genauere Studium 
dieses Autors und seines Werkes welches meine Aufmerksamkeit auf 
den Aristoteles und Phillis hinzog. Die Ausgabe von Mtiller, wie 
iiberhaupt seine Sammlung, erregt heute wohl nur Interesse als ein 

Vgl. Zarnke, Der deutsche Cato, Leipzig, 1852. 



schones Kapital in der Geschichte der deutschen Philologie, 1 ge- 
schweige seine Seltenheit auf unseren Bibliotheken. Aber auch der 
von von der Hagen gebotene Text entspricht doch nicht den jetzigen 
Anforderungen der Wissenschaft. Unter diesen Umstanden also 
bedarf eine neue Ausgabe wohl keiner Rechtfertigung. 

Der vorliegende Text unterscheidet sich von seinen Vorgangern 
im wesentlichen dadurch, dass eine normale mhd. Orthographie 
durchgefurt wird. Es werden ausserdem die einzelnen Teile von 
Kompositis auf iibliche Weise zusammengezogen und vor allem die 
sinnlose Interpunktion von der Hagens durch die einfache Lach- 
mannsche ersetzt. Die Anwendung von Majuskeln beschrankt sich, 
ausser bei den Eigennamen, auf die Absatze, welche dieselben geblie- 
ben sind wie bei von der Hagen. Beziiglich der Varianten, habe ich 
es nicht fiir zweckmassig gehalten, von der Hagens Lesartenverzeich- 
nis einfach abzuschreiben und alle bloss orthographische Differenzen 
zu notieren, sondern habe mich darauf beschrankt auf die wichtigsten 
Sinnvarianten nebst meinen Abweichungen von seinem Texte in 
Ubereinstimmung mit Grimm an der betreffenden Stelle aufmerksam 
zu machen. Bei dem Stand der Uberlieferung bin ich nicht bestrebt 
gewesen moglichst glatte, in regelmassigem Wechsel von Hebung und 
Senkung dahinfliessende Verse herzustellen, sondern habe mich so 
weit es ging an die Hss. angeschlossen. Deswegen erscheinen En- 
und Proklisis graphisch bezeichnet nur an denjenigen Stellen wo die 
Hss. bereits die Kiirzung bieten: z.B. 153, 196. Mit den wenigen 
beigefugten Anmerkungen erhebe ich keinen Anspruch darauf einen 
eingehenden Kommentar zum Texte zu liefern; sie gehen haupt- 
sachlich darauf aus des Dichters Verhaltnis zu seinen Vorgangern, 
besonders aber zu Gottfried von Strassburg, klarer darzulegen. 

Das gegenseitige Verhaltnis der beiden Hss. lasst sich nicht naher 
bestimmen. Jedesfalls ist keine eine Anschrift der anderen. Wah- 
rend A dem alemanischen Dialekt des Verfassers nahe steht hierauf 
deuten besonders die Part, gesat 39, gesin 410, die Bindung von n:m 
295, u. A zeigt die Hs. R, wie nach ihrem Aufbewahrungsort zu 
erwarten ware, ein unverkennbares bayerisches Geprage. Sie bietet 
iiberhaupt eine kiirzere Fassung des Textes, wahrscheirjjich ohne 

1 Ich erinnere an die bekannte Episode mit Friedrich dem Grossen und den Nibe- 
lungen. Den Brief des Konigs flndet man bei Zarnke, Das Nibelungenlied, Leipzig, 1856, 
S. xxvii abgedruckt. 



erkennbare Lticken. Es fehlen ihr die Verse 95-96, 185-94, 207-22, 
297-98, 309-22, 364-65, 383, 422, 447-64, 535-36, 551-52; also 
ein Minus von 70 Versen gegeniiber A. Bloss an einer Stelle 
bietet sie ein Plus von zwei Versen, namlich nach 286, welche uberdem 
doch nur eine platte Wiederholung von 273-74 bilden. 

Es ware wohl ein eitles Bemiihen unsere kleine Erzahlung mit 
dem Namen irgendeines bekannten Autors in Verbindung bringen zu 
wollen. Grimm erinnert an Konrad von Wtirzburg, mit dessen Stil 
sich manche Ubereinstimmung findet. Aber fiir seine Verfasser- 
schaft sind bestimmte Anhaltspunkte nicht vorhanden. Dagegen 
spricht aber das Fehlen der bei Konrad libliche Namensnennung, und 
obgleich er bei Gottfried von Strassburg in die Schule gegangen ist, 
hat er sich nirgends zum blossen Abschreiber des Tristan gestemplt. 
Vgl. zu 207 f., 238 f ., 270 f ., 310 f. 

Unser Dichter gehort dagegen der grossen Menge der Unbekannten 
an, deren gemeinsamer Tatigkeit wir eine betrachtliche Zahl derar- 
tiger kleinerer Erzahlungen und Schwanke verdanken. Von geringer 
dichterischer Begabung, kam es ihm hauptsachlich darauf an seine 
Erzahlung in Verse einzukleiden, ohne sich dabei um die poetische 
Form viel zu kummern. Seine Rede verschonerte er dadurch, dass 
er sich aus dem Werke des Tristandichters gerade das entlehnte was 
ihm fiir seine Zwecke 'am besten passte. Aber auch da, wo keine 
direkte Entlehnung stattfindet, erkennt man leicht den Einfluss 
Gottfrieds. Ob er neben diesem auch Hartmann von Aue gekannt 
hat, scheint mir nicht mit Sicherheit ausgemacht; vgl. jedoch zu 20, 
113, 390, 467, u.s.w. Eine Bekanntschaft mit dem Parzival verrat 
sich uberhaupt nicht, doch neben der hofischen Erzahlung finden sich 
hier und da Anklange an die volkstiimliche Epik; vgl. 1 ff. 

Was die Reime betrifft, so kann der Dichter nicht als sorgfaltig 
bezeichnet werden. Auf die Bindung von n :m, die aber nicht so sehr 
dem Dichter als seiner Mundart zur Last fallt, ist schon hingewiesen 
worden. Derselben Katagorie gehort auch der Reim z:s der an fol- 
genden Stellen begegnet: 47, 117, 123, 197, 267, 399; vgl. Weinhold, 
Mhd. Gr., 204. Von vokalisch ungenauen Reimen sind nur solche 
von a:d (157, 169, 333, 465) und i:i (229, 287, 339, 377, 479) je ein 
paar Mai zu belegen. Riihrender Reim erscheint an drei Stellen: 
sol 57, mich 391, ergienc : gienc 227. 



Die Verse sind mit wenigen Ausnahmen regelmassig gebaut und 
haben entweder stumpfen oder klingenden Ausgang. Die ersten 
weisen sammtlich vier Hebungen auf , wahrend solche mit klingendem 
Schluss drei Hebungen zeigen. Unter 277 Reimpaaren haben unge- 
fahr 20 Prozent letztere Form. Mit diesem Ergebnis vergleiche man 
Schroeder, Moriz von Oraon, 2. Aufl. S. 9. 

Nur so ungefahr kann die Entstehungszeit des Aristoteles und 
Phillis bestimmt werden. Wegen der Bekanntschaft mit dem 
Tristan gewinnen wir das Jahr 1210 um diese Zeit wird der Tristan 
gewohnlich angesezt als einen terminus a quo, aber eine dieszeitige 
Grenze lasst sich nicht mit Sicherkeit aufstellen. Jedoch auf Grund 
der Technik, des Wortschatzes, sowie der Sprache, mochte ich' das 
Gedicht nicht viele Dezennien nach den Tristan ansetzen. Innerhalb 
des Zeitraumes 1220-1250 wird es wohl entstanden sein. 

Der Stoff der Erzahlung, deren letzter Ursprung in der orienta- 
lischen Literatur zu suchen ist, hat vom Mittelalter bis in die neueste 
Zeit hinein eine ungemein weite Verbreitung genossen. Fur das mhd. 
Gedicht ist bis jetzt keine unmittelbare Quelle nachgewiesen worden. 
Wohl am nachsten mit ihm verwandt steht das anmutige kleine Lai 
d'Aristote des Henri d'Andeli, eines Trouveres des 13. Jahrhunderts. 1 
Doch auf die Quellenfrage, u.s.w., gehe ich nicht naher ein, zumal da 
dieselbe eine eingehende und verstandige Behandlung erfahren hat 
in der fleissigen Schrift von A. Borgeld, Aristoteles en Phyllis, Een 
bijdrage tot de vergelijkende litteratuurgeschiedenis, Groningen, 
1902, 2 wo man alle den Gegenstand betreffende Literatur angefiihrt 


In Kriechen was gesezzen der selbe kiinic het ein wip, 

ein kiinic vil vermezzen, diu was s6 schoene, daz nie lip 

der was genant Philippus. schoener an wtbe wart gesehen: 15 

daz maere saget uns alsus, des muosten alle die jehen, 

5 daz er gewaltic wsere. die si ie gesahen, 

milte und erbaere die verren und die nahen. 

was er alliu sine jar. diu was, als uns daz msere seit, 

an libe, an muote und an gebar ein bluome reiner wipheit 20 

nach wunsche was er vollekomen; und ganzer tugende ein adamas 

10 vor andern kiinigen uzgenomen und luter als ein spiegelglas 

an gewalt und an richeit, vor wand el und vor missetat, 

als uns diu aventiure seit. als noch maniger vrouwen stat. 


1 Vgl. A. H6ron, Oeuvres de Henri d'Andeli trouvere normand du XIII 6 siecle, Paris, 
1881 . Eine schone Ubersetzung des Lais gibt Hertz, Spielmannsbuch, 2te und 3te Auflage. 

2 Bespr. von Ludw. Frankel, Lit. Zentralbl., 1904, 491. 





Dem kiinige und der kilnigln 
verl^ch got ein kindelin, 
daz twanc da nach alliu lant; 
Alexander was er genant, 
daz vil h6ch geborne kint. 
alle die nu lebende sint 
gerichseten nie s6 verre, 
als Alexander der herre 
sider let bl sinen tagen. 
daz kint wart, als ich horte sagen, 
schcene unde aller tugende vol; 
an im was swaz man sehen sol 
an h6her kiiniges vriihte. 
durch kunst, durch herrenziihte, 
wart daz kint ze schuole gesat. 
der kiinic ime gewinnen bat 
ein meister, der was wise 
und gar von alter grlse: 
Aristoteles was er genant. 
der kiinic sprach "meister, 


e"ren unde tugende, 
und macht in slner jugende 
daz kint wise und 16ret ez." 
"ich tuon." sprach Aristoteles. 
der was s6 kiinsteriche, 
daz al diu werlt geliche 
noch siner kiinste 16re 
hat hiute und iemer mere. 
er sprach "nach gr6zen 6ren 
wil ich daz kint llren 
und wil ime geben stiure 
von al der aventiure, 
die diu werlt haben sol." 
d6 sprach der kiinic "dar umbe 

ich sol 

und wil iuch sicherliche 
guotes machen riche." 

Vor des ktiniges palas 
ein schoener boumgarte was, 
da vor ein bus erbouwen wol. 
der kiinic sprach "meister, diz 

huz sol 

sin iuwer und des kindes 
und des ingesindes, 
daz ir haben bi iu welt." 
da wart d6 langer niht getwelt: 
der meister nam den jungen 

und ISrte in die buochstaben 











daz tet im an dem e"rsten we", 
als ez noch tuot den jungen, 
die da sint betwunnge 

75 mit schuole meisterschefte. 
daz kint gevienc mit krefte 
der kiinste von dem meister vil, 
wan sin sin was ane zil, 
gelernic unde verstanden, 

80 daz man in alien landen 

so wisen knaben niht envant. 
doch wart er leider gepfant 
an witzen und an sinne: 
daz tet diu strenge minne. 

Diu kiinigin het eine maget, 85 

diu was so schoene, so man saget, 
an libe und an varwe, 
daz man sich an ir garwe 
volleclichen hete ersehen. 
die schoene an wiben kunden 90 


die sprachen, daz si waere 
schcene unde lobebaere. 
si was von hohem kiinne, 
der werlte gar ein wiinne. 
diu siieze vroudenschouwe 95 

was der kiinigin juncvrouwe 
unde was Phillis genant. 
Alexander wart enbrant 
in ir minnegliiete; 

verirret an gemiiete 100 

wart der juncherre. 
er gedahte harte verre 
wie ime der sorgen biirde 
ein teil geringert wiirde. 
sin lernen was verirret gar. 105 

er nam der juncvrouwen war: 
swenne er die niht ensach, 
so sach man groz ungemach 
an dem jungelinge. 
swen nu diu Minne twinge, 
der merke, wie im waere: 
Alexander der martelaere 
enweste wie gebaren; 
diu Minne in tusent jaren 
getwanc nie s6 sere 115 

eins mannes herze me're 
als er von ir betwungen was. 
swa er stuont oder gesaz, 
so was diu reine guote 
Phillis in sinem muote. 
diz werte also lange zit, 
daz diu juncvrouwe sit 
alse dicke bi im was, 
daz er ie baz unde baz 
kam in heinlichen 125 

mit der minneclichen, 
daz si einen muot gewunnen 
und nach ein ander brunnen. 
er was betwungen, si noch baz. 
also lange werte daz, 130 

daz diu juncvrouwe zart 
wol an ime inne wart, 
daz er n&ch ir tobete. 
da nach si im gelobete, 
(do er si vlizeclichen bat), 
si wolte komen an eine stat 
in dem boumgarten: 
da wolte si sin wart en. 
des komen si beide iiber ein. 




140 d6 wart under den gelieben zwein 
vriuntschaft unde triuwe; 
in ganzen vrouden niuwe 
wart ir minne und ir gemach. 
also dicke daz geschach, 

145 so sf des state mohten ban. 
D6 began sich des enstan 
der meister an dem jungen, 
daz ime was misselungen 
von der juncvrouwen minne. 

150 des wart er da nach inne 

unde bevant wol die warheit. 
dar umbe er harte sere streit 
den jungen, unde morten 
mit slegen und mit worten, 

155 und huote sin alle stunde, 
s6 er ie beste kunde. 
daz half allez niht ein h&r: 
swen er mohte komen dar, 
ez waere spate oder vruo, 

160 der lieben gienc er allez zuo 
und hete mit ir guot gemach. 
ir beider bant vU gar zebrach, 
da mite st gebunden 
waren ze alien stunden 

165 yon der strengen Minne; 
ir herze und ir sinne 
die swebeten in vrouden gar 
hohe alsam ein adelar. 

Diz was dem meister harte 

170 er gienc zuo dem kunige dar 
und seite ime disiu msere, 
daz der juncherre waere 
verirret an der schoenen. 
der kiinic begunde hcenen 

175 und strafen seTe dise maget. 
si sprach "herre, swaz ir saget, 
da enist dekeiniu schulde mite; 
mm yrouwe erkennet mine site: 
die sint wol s6 staete, 

180 daz ich ncete missetaete." 

und swuor d6 s6 manigen eit, 
daz diu kiiniginne streit 
selbe umbe ir unschulde. 
d6 kam si ze hulde. 

185 diu wol getane Phillis 
was dd nach ungewis 
minne und vriuntschefte; 
des wart ir lip an krefte 
beroubet und an vrouden bar; 

190 wan man nam ir beider war 
mit der vertanen huote, 
daz diu reine guote 
niht mohte an ime gestillen 
irs wunden herzen willen. 

195 do wart leide Alexander, 
sin herzeleit erkander, 
wan ime sin liep benomen was. 
harte zornig er d6 saz 

an der schuole, brummende als 

ein ber; 

er want sich hin, er want sich her; 200 
er was in slme sinne 
erblendet von der Minne. 
diu sende jamerunge 
vergienc ouch niht die junge; 
diu klare unde scho3ne 205 

wart uzer masen hcene. 
si was mit dem selben schaden 
durch in, als er durch si, beladen. 
diu gewaltige Minne, 
diu was ouch in ir sinne 210 

ein teil ze sturmliche komen 
und het ir mit gewalt benomen 
ein teil ir besten maze; 
si was an ir gelaze 

ir selben, noch der werlte mite 215 
nach ir gewonlichem site; 
swaz si sich vrouden an genam, 
als ir da vor wol gezam, 
daz missetet si allez do: 
ir leben was gerihtet s6. 220 

si gedahte in irem muote, 
diu siieze reine guote, 
wie si ir liep gesprseche, 
ir herzeleit geraeche 

an dem meister wise, 225 

der was von alter grlse. 
nu merket, wie ez hier umbe 

ergienc : 

Phillis diu liehte sunne gienc 
hi eine kemenate hin 
und nam ein sidln swenzelln 230 

und leit ez an ir zarten lip. 
daz siieze minnecllche wlp 
het einen pelz dar under, 
der was ouch guot besunder; 
er gap ir so blanken schln 235 

und was gar luter hermln; 
si was schoene, daz geloubet! 
si sazte uf ir houbet 
einen zirkel von golde, 
der was smal, als er splde, 240 

geworht mit h6hem sinne. 
dd lagen gimmen inne, 
zwischen dem gesteine, 
vil lieht und iedoch kleine, 
die besten von dem lande: 245 

smaragden und jachande, 
saffire und kalzedone, 
und waren die vil schone 
da unde dar in geleit; 
des wercmannes wlsheit 250 

ndch renter spa3heite 
nie steine baz geleite. 

diu schcene wol gezieret was. 
si nam ein liehtez spiegelglas; 
an llbe unde ouch an varwe 255 

beschouwete st sich vil garwe, 




obe kein dine ir mohte missestan, 

daz bezzerunge solte han. 

diu schcene was wol an geleit, 
260 als uns diu aventiure seit. 

da der boumgarte was, 

do gienc si viir den palas 

barvuoz, an den viiezen b!6z. 

ir bein waren wfzer dan ein sloz 
265 und slehter dan ein kerze, 

blanc, an alle swerze; 

diu wurden von dem touwe naz. 

da bl ein quecbrunne was; 

dem gie diu minnecllche bt, 
270 yr6 unde aller sorgen vrl. 

ir trite waren und ir ganc 

gemezzen, niht ze kurz, noch ze 

und doch in rehter maze. 

st was an ir gelaze 
275 ufreht und offenbaere, 

gellch dem sperwsere, 

und gestreichet als ein papegan; 

s! liez ir ougen umbe gan 

als ein valke uf dem aste; 
280 ze Use, noch ze vaste 

heten si beide ir weide. 

si weideten beide 

vil eben und vil Use 

in harte siiezer wise. 
285 daz minnecllche bilde 

gebarte harte wilde; 

si sleich her unde hin. 

uf huop si ir swenzelln 

vil nach unz iiber iriu knie. 
290 bluomen lesende si gie 

und warf die in iren swanz. 

Phillis der liehte sunnenglanz 

begunde sus gebaren, 

durch daz si mohte ervaren 
295 und betriegen den alten man, 

der ir ir herzeliep benam. 

dar umbe lief der minnen trut 

spilnde als ein windesbrut, 

durch daz gras ze dem brunnen. 
300 waz wlbe liste kunnen, 

daz kunde nieman gesagen! 

ein wip kan ftf der verte jagen, 

daz sich vor iren listen 

nieman kan gevristen. 
305 ez wart nieman s6 wise, 

noch von alter s6 grlse, 

wil er sin den wlben bl, 

ern werde gevangen an ein swi 

unde an der minnen llmruot 
310 reht als der wilde vogel tuot, 

der durch die vrlheit, die er hat, 

uf daz gellmete swi stat; 

als er des denne entsebet 

und sich uf ze berge hebet, 
315 sus klebet er d6 mitten dran, 

und reget sich unde wil dan. 

da mite rtieret er daz zwi 

an keiner stat, swie kiiene er st, 

ez bindet in und macht in haft: 

sus wirt der man unsigehaft 320 

und gevangen in dem stricke 

von wibes ougenblicke. 

swie wise er si, swie 16s ein man, 

von wibes listen nieman kan 

sin gemiiete enbinden, 325 

wil er sich lazen vinden 

in ir geselleschefte: 

s6 stark sint minnenkrefte. 

swer des welle wesen vri, 

der si den wlben selten bi, 330 

wan anders niht gehelf en kan 

wan vliehen verre von in dan. 

Nu lazen wir die rede stan 
und vahen daz msere wider an, 
daz ez niht belibe in wane. 335 

Phillis diu wol getane 
gienc spilnde under der bltiete; 
vil stolz was ir gemiiete. 
si sleich her unde hin. 
diz ersach durch ein vensterlin 340 
der alte meister und blikte dar 
und nam ir gebaerden war: 
die duhten im gar wunderllch. 
"hei," dahteer, "wie minnecllch, 
wie schoene und wie gehiure, 345 

wie zartiu cre"atiure 
ist daz minnecliche wlp! 
er saelic man, der slnen lip 
solte mit ir elten!" 

in stiez an ein kelten 350 

unde einiu hitze da nach; 
diu Minne tet im manigen schach 
und machte in ze eime kinde. 
under der griienen hnde 
do kam diu siieze reine, 355 

gar alles wandels eine, 
viir des meisters vensterlln 
und warf ime bluomen dar in, 
me dan eine hantvol. 
si sprach "meister, ich gan iu wol 360 
geliickes unde 6ren, 
und mohte ich iu gemeren 
vroude unde kurzewlle, 
dar umbe ich eine mile 
wolte gan, swie kranc ich si" 365 

der meister sprach "gramerzi, 
minnecllche siieze vruht. 
an iu lit alliu diu genuht, 
die man zer werlte haben sol. 
juncvrouwelin, nu tuo s6 wol 370 

und ruoche dich erbarmen 
iiber mich vil armen 
und ruoche gan her in ze mir; 
hie ist nieman me dan wir." 

Do gie diu siieze reine, 375 




gar alles wandels eine, 
zuo dem meister bin In. 
si kerte dar uf iren sin 
wie si in geschante: 

380 dar an si gar genante. 
si gie da bl in sitzen. 
er sprach "ich bin an witzen 
unde an sinnen gepfant. 
ich ban ervarn manic lant; 

385 ich gesach nie kint so wol getan. 
la mich dine hulde han: 
ich gibe dir goldes zweinzic marc 
und viiere dich in mlnen arc 
und nim dar uz swie vil du wilt." 

390 si sprach "der rede mich bevilt. 

meister, wes muotet ir an mich ? " 
"ich wolte, daz du liezest mich 
ein naht bl dir slafen." 
si sprach "geschriren wafen! 

395 meister, wie solt ich daz getuon ? 
ich wil mlnen magetuon 
sd t6rllche niht verliesen." 
d6 begunde si wol kiesen, 
daz er an si vereffet was. 

400 nu sach diu minnecllche, daz 
ein satel bl der wende lac. 
si sprach "entriuwen, ich enmac 
diz dine niht tuon vergebene: 
lat mich iu vil ebene 

405 den satel uf den riicke legen, 

(des suit ir iuch gen mir bewegen) 
und lat mich tuon an dirre stunt 
einen zoum hi iuwern munt, 
daz ist mln sldln giirtelm. 

410 tuotz, wan ez mac niht anders 



ich enmac niht langer blten; 

ir mtiezet mich Ian rlten 

in dem boumgarten: 

da enmac uns gewarten 

deweder wtp noch man." 

der alte sprach "ich enkan 

dich niht vil wol gereiten." 

si sprach "ich wil iuch bereiten 

vil schone und eben als ein pfert. 

so sit ir mir denne wert 

und wil tuon swaz iu liep ist." 

nil hceret wunderllchen list 

von einem jungen wlbe. 

swie so man ez tribe, 

ein schcene minnecllchez wlp, 

diu beide muot hat unde lip, 

waz diu wunders begat! 

und wie vil gewaltes si hat, 

und wie si kan verseren, 

herze und muot verk^ren 

mit iren siiezen worten! 

swie si an alien orten 

mit gallen sint gemischet! 

vor den gar verlischet 

mannes kunst, swie wise er ist. 435 

wunder wirket wibes list. 

ir smeichen und ir zarten, 

ir lagen und ir warten, 

ir sprechen und ir singen, 

ir tanzen und ir springen, 440 

ir weinen und ir lachen: 

die kunnen alle machen 

den stric und die gebende, 

daz si mit ir hende 

viieret den man, swar si wil. 445 

wlbes kunst ist ane zil. 

daz si vil wol bewaeret: 

von wlben wart ervaeret 

Adam unde Samson, 

Davit unde Salomon 450 

unde die besten alle. 

doch, samir sante Galle, 

diu wip sint alle niht als6; 

wlp machen manic herze vr6, 

daz in sorgen waere begraben. 455 

wil ir ein teil niht Ire haben, 

noch kiuschen sin, noch staeten 


daz schat den niht, die sint behuot 
und vrl vor aller missetat. 
tusent wlbe tugende hat; 460 

ob aber keiniu waere 
bcese und wandelbaere, 
wa solte man erkennen bl, 
welhiu waere an missewende vrl. 

Nti suln wk vahen wider an 465 
daz maere, da ez wart verlan. 
diu gewaltige Minne, 
der sinne ein roubaerinne, 
betwanc den meister grlsen, 
der h6hen kiinste wisen. 470 

er sprach "schcenez vrouwelln, 
ich wil dir undertaenic sin 
und tuon swaz dti mir gebiutest, 
daz du mich niuwan triutest." 
der alte gouch sich nider lie 475 

uf die hende und uf diu knie. 
diu schcene minnecllche 
nam vil behendicllche 
und leite den satel uf in 
und nam ir sidln giirtelln 480 

und macht im ein zoum in den 


d6 hete si gewunnen an der stunt 
von r6sen ein bliiendez zwt. 
diu schcene missewende vrl 
nam den zoum in die hant 485 

unde saz uf den wlgant 
und reit in vil sch6ne; 
in eime stiezen d6ne 9 

sane si ein siiezez minneliet. 
do sumte sich der alte niet: 490 

er krouch tif alien vieren d6, 
(des wart ir gemiiete vr6) 




gegen dem boumgarten 

und truoc uf im den zarten 
495 stiezen minnecllchen lip. 

Daz ersach des kiiniges wtp 

und ander ir juncvrouwen. 

an den zinnen schouwen 

begunden si daz wunder, 
500 daz Phillis da besunder 

also herliche reit. 

des wart diu kiinegtn gemeit 

und wunderte si harte vil. 

do st gereit unz an daz zil, 
505 da saz si vrcelichen abe. 

si sprach "du alter gouch, nu habe 

diz laster iemer me're, 

daz dft mir min ere 

unde min liep hast benomen. 
510 din hundert jar sint nti. komen 

ze siben jaren uzerwegen; 

daz din der tiuvel miieze pflegen!" 

Phillis lief durch daz gras 

vrcelichen in den palas. 
515 Diz gr6ze unbilde daz erschal 

in den hof und in den sal 

viir den kiinic und al die sine. 

Phillis diu siieze fine 

hete ir leit gerochen. 
520 da nach in einer wochen 

nam der meister sa zehant 

siniu buoch und sin gewant, 

sin golt, sin silber und sin habe; 

er schickete ez bi naht abe 

heinlich in ein schiffelin: 525 

er enmohte da niht langer gesin 
von dem spotte und von dem 


und von dem grozen ungelimpf, 
den si haten uf dem sal. 
er vuor daz wazzer hin ze tal, 530 
daz da durch die gegene floz, 
wan in des schimpf es da verdroz, 
daz man sin da wiirde sat. 
er kam gevarn in eine stat 
in ein insel, hiez Galicia; 535 

da beleip er und machte da 
ein michel buoch und schreip 

dar an 

waz wunderlicher liste kan 
daz schoene ungetriuwe wip 
und wie diu leben unde lip 540 

manigem hat verseret. 
swer sich an si keret, 
der wirt yon in gevangen 
als der visch an dem angen 
und als der vogel in dem stricke. 545 
ir lachen, ir ougenblicke 
yahen sam der agestein. 
ich bin des kpmen iiber ein, 
daz da viir niht gehelfen kan, 
wan daz ein iegelich wise man, 550 
der gerne ane vreisen si, 
si ir geselleschefte vri 
und vliehe verre von in dan, 
wan anders niht gehelfen kan. 


Der Titel stammt von von der Hagen. In A lautete die "Oberschrift: 
disjeit von alexander vn alistotiles; in R: Aristotiles. 

1 f . Laurin 1 f . Ez was ze Berne gesezzen ein degen so vermezzen der 
was geheizen Dietrich; ahnlich GA 1, 38 = Heidin hrsg. Pfannmiiller, 1912, 
Ulr. Trist. 520, 33 f. St. Alexius hrsg. Massmann 45b. Vgl. auch Armer 
Heinrich 31. 8 Trist. 3814, 4030, Troj. (Mtffler) 87, 7520. 12 = 260. 
Lanzelet 670, 6906, Wigalois 742. 13 Lanz. 72 nu hat er ein schcenez 
wip. 18 "Dber den Ausdruck vgl. Martin zur Kudrun 96, 4. 20 f. 
Armer Heinr. 60 f . er was ein bluome der jugent der werlte froude ein spiegel- 
glas staeter triuwe ein adamas. Der bildliche Gebrauch von bluome, der bei 
Gottfried fehlt, stammt aus der Mariendichtung. Lassberg, Liedersaal 27, 
24 wird die h. Jungfrau ain bluom rainer wibhait genannt. Vgl. Roethe zu 
Reinmar von Zweter 26, 6. "Cber adamas als Bild der Charakterfestigkeit 
vgl. Roethe a.a.O. 28, 6. Iwein 3257 ein rehter adamas riterlicher tugende. 
Das Wort kommt bei Gottfr. nicht vor. 22 Virginal 4, 5; 37, 9; 699, 7. 
Wig. 949, 4135. Trist. 11730 durchmter alse ein spiegelglas. 24 frowen 
h'ze A. 26 kindelin begegnet sehr haufig bei Gottfr. z.B. 1482, 1550, 
1786, 1833, 1975, 2044, 6083. 29 vil] wol R(H). 31 gerichseten A 



nach Grimm, geriten R, gerihten H. Die Stelle wird von Lexer mit Recht 
unter gertchsen angefiihrt. 34=Trist. 6558. Vgl. ferner Heinr. Trist. 
1636, 2204. Lanz. 1541, 3198, 4135, 4180. 37 Troj. 3137 er ist ernes 
hohen kiiniges fruht. Helmbr. 493 ein man von kiineges fruht. Parz. 41, 13 
von kiineges fruht was sin art. 38 herrenzuht fehlt den Worterbiichern. 
39 Myst. 253, 20 satzte si zu schule (Wb.). tFber die Form gesat, die vor- 
nehmlich bei md. und alemannischen Dichtern begegnet, vgl. Zwierzina, 
Z.f.d.A. 45, 43 f .; Gottfr. hat sie bloss zweimal, 12586, 13270. 41 f. Vgl. 
225 f. Vor. Alex. 189f. = Str. Alex. 219 f. der vierde meister den er gewan 
daz was Aristotiles der wise man. 42 Vgl. 510. Aristoteles, der 
bekanntlich nur das 62. Lebensjahr erreicht hat, gait dem Mittelalter als ein 
altersachwacher Greis. Vgl. das Lai d'Aristote 244, 338, 491, sowie Hertz, 
Aristoteles in den Alexanderdichtungen des Mittelalters, Abh. der k. bayer. 
Akad. der Wissensch. I. Cl. Band 19. Miinchen, 1890, S. 20. 49-50 
umgesetzt A.; die Besserung von 49 von Hagen. Dz alle die ovch hant 
kunsten riche AR. 52 Virg. 90, 2; 242, 13; 529, 11; 590, 4; 624, 13; 
625, 13; 636, 9; 639, 5; 672, 11, u.s.w. 55 stiure hier etwa Anteil, 
(Abgabe) 58 f . So werden haufig die Hilfsverba nebeneinander gestellt, 
z.B. Iw. 4788 ich sol und wil gedienen. 68 Wegen der Form getwelt 
neben haufigerem getwalt, vgl. Zwierzina Zs.f .d.A. 45, 40 f . 70 In 
Ulrichs von Eschenbach Alex. 1276 (Toischer) heisst es von Aristoteles als 
Erzieher Alexanders: er lerte in zuht und 6re er lerte in die karakter in 
kriecheschem daz a b c daz wir alrest miiezen versten so man uns lat ze schuole 
g&i. Parz. 453, 15 f . der karakter & b c muoser han gelernet e\ 72 f . 
Anlasslich des jungen Tristans Erziehung sagt Gottfr. 2983 f . der buoche lere 
und ir getwanc was stner sorgen anevanc. 76 f. Vg. Trist. 2085 f. 

88 Wegen garwe neben der Form gar 105, vgl. Zwierzina, Z.f.d.A. 44, 1 f . 

89 sich ersehen an etw., sich ins Anschauen verlieren. Vgl. MF 144, 10 
mit Anm. 94 Trist. 254 er was der werlde ein wunne. Gottfr. kennt 
bloss die umlautlose Form, Hartmann dagegen nur wiinne; vgl. Kraus in 
Abh. zur germ. Phil. Heinzel-Festschr. 112 f. bes. 119. 95-96 fehlen R. 
Das Kompositum vroudenschouwe, 'freudiger Anblick/ wird sonst nicht 
belegt; vgl. aber jamerschouwe bei Lexer, froeide frowen sch. A. 99 
minnegluot begegnet sonst nur in dem Gottfr. v. Str. (falschlich) zuge- 
schriebenen Lobgesang 58, 12. senegluot Trist. 112. 

103 f . Trist. 19065 f . ob ime sin senebtirde mit ir iht ringer wiirde. 
1 10 Iw. 1570 f . minne twinget alle kunege noch lihter danne ein kint. Trist. 
902. Parz. 84, 2; 301, 22; 548, 1. Walther 55, 28. MF 45, 20. 112 
Trist. 7652 ein armer martersere. 7740 der wsere ein marteraere (Hss. NRS 
martelere) 113 Iw. 2252 und enweste wie gebaren. Armer Heinr. 1410 
si enwesten wie gebaren. 124 Zum wiederholten baz vgl. Trist. 13281. 
MF 13, 4. Reinmar v. Zweter 38, 5. Lanz. 2908. 1. Buchl. 1496. 125 
heimliche, Ort zu dem nur die Vertrauten Zugang haben, Vertraulichkeit, 
begegnet sonst nur als stf., z.B. Trist. 10414 f. Er. 1532. Das Wb. nimmt 



fur unsere Stelle ein swm. an. 128 Herzmaere 123 er bran nach ir minne. 
137 Trist. 18143 f. si begunde in ir boumgarten ir gelegenheite warten. 
145 Greg. 882 so si des state gewan. 146 sich enstan eines dinges, etw. 
wahrnehmen. Vgl. Wb. II 2 , 5816. 152 Ausser der Redensart 'einen 
strtt, kampf striten' belegen die Worterbiicher keinen transitiven Gebrauch 
dieses Verbums. 153 morten = morte in, wie Wb. Ill, 223a vermutet 
wird. 155 Ein Adv. beste kennt Gottfr. nicht. Vgl. aber Parz. 482, 22 
s6 wir beste kunden. Walther 91, 26, u.s.w. 157 Trist. 16537 em hate 
niht gegeben ein bar. Armer Heinr. 501. Iw. 579. Zum Ausdruck vgl. 
Zingerle, tFber die bildliche Verstarkung der Negation. Wiener Sitzungsber. 
39, 414-477, Wien, 1862. 159 spate unde fruo: zuo sehr haufig bei 
Gottfr. z.B. 2095, 3115, 5740, 7927, 13849, 14081. 160 allezmitR. Vgl. 
Trist. 14518 sleich allez nach im dar. 161 Des Hundes Not 95 der hunt 
hat vil guot gemach. das. 163 da hat er vil guot gemach. 162 Im Tristan 
hat Gottfr. auffalligerweise das Wort bant nicht; dagegen in seinem (?) 
Minnelied 6, 10 enstricke mir daz bant. Vgl. noch Parz. 288, 30 frou Minne 
strickte in an ir bant. das. 532, 23. MSH 1, 144a, diu bant si noch nie zerbrach. 
168 Trist. 4720 slniu wort diu sweiment alse der ar. Ueber das Bild vgl. 
E. Schmidt, Reinm. v. Hagenau und Heinr. v. Rugge, S. 97 f . 176 ir]A 
(Gr.) er H. 180 ncete, Adv. ungern, gedrungen. Trist. 2177, 17856. 
184 Msere v.d. Sperwsere 263 wie si nach ir schulde kceme wider ze hulde. 
Haufiger steht aber der Plural, ze hulden komen, Iw. 184, 8111. 185-194 
fehlen R. 191 Das Part vertan als attributiver Adj. sehr oft bei Gottfr. 
und Konrad v. Wiirzburg. 193 Trist. 16433 man sol gelangen gestillen 
mit dem gewissen willen. 195 leider A laidig R. Die Besserung von H. 
Auffallig bleibt aber die Konstruktion. 199 Rother 1660 er begunde 
brimmen als ein bere. Herb. 2990 als ein grimmer ber er bram. 

200 Trist. 1744 f . si want sich unde brach ir lip sus unde s6 her unde 
dar. 202 Trist. 17745 f. diu blintheit der minne diu blendet uze und 
inne, si blendet ougen unde sin, und ahnlich ofters. MSH 1, 556 ir siiezen 
minne bant mich an den sinnen hat erblant. 204 Transitives vergan, 
voriibergehen an. Vgl. Trist. 955 f . ouch vergie sin senelich geschiht die 
seneden Blancheflure niht. 207-222 fehlen R. Die Verse 207-220 bil- 
den eine fast wortliche Wiedergabe von Gottfrieds Tristan 957-970. 209 = 
unten 467. Fur gewaltige hat Gottfr. gewaltserinne, doch wird von den Hss. 
MBOERS gewaltege geboten. 211 sturmliche A = Gottfr. ; weshalb von 
der Hagen in sturmische geandert hat, sehe ich nicht ein. Lexer hat unsere 
Stelle als einzigen Beleg fur sturmische angefiihrt. 214 = 274. 216 
Aneg. 37, 41 nach gewonlichem site. Marienleg. hrsg. Pfeiffer, 42, 32 (Lexer). 
221 Trist. 9453 er gedahte in sinem muote. Iw. 1609, 5971. Greg. 2235. 
GuteFrau275. Heidin61. Des Hundes Not 63, u.s.w. 224 herzeleitist 
ein beliebter Ausdruck Gottfrieds. 227 Lanz. 6914 nu merkent wie ez 
ergie. 233 Vgl. Helmbr. 143 und einen pelz dar under .... 236 
Wig. 701 f . mit einem pellez hermin was er gefurriert. 237 Des Hundes 



Not 191. Lanz. 1454, 4599, 5400. 238-252 sind aus dem Tristan ent- 
lehnt, wo sie den Versen 10966-10980 entsprechen. 254 ein liehtez 
spiegelglas Wig. 763. 259 geclait R. Zur Lesart von A vgl. Greg. 3656 
als er an wart geleit; ferner Nibel. (A.) 516, 1. Helmb. 414. Neid. 37, 7. 
263 Derartige Tautologien begegnen nicht selten. Vgl. ferner Trist. 4007 
an fuezen und an beinen bar. 264 s!6z, stm. oder n? Hagelkorn; ein 
seltsamer Vergleich, der mir sonst nicht begegnet ist. 265 Vergleiche mit 
der Kerze stehen z.B. Lanz. 7122. Wolfd. B. 2, 2. Ortn. 387, 4. 266 
Engelh. 3004 ir hende an alle swerze waren, luter unde wiz. 268 chiller 
prun R. Wegen dieser Lesart vgl. Trist. 16743, 17162, 17378. 270-284 = 
Trist. 10992-11006. 277 Die Tristanstelle hat auch Konrad v. Wiirzburg 
beniitzt. Vg. Troj. 7521 Medea die vil klare lancseine kam geslichen in 
gestreichet als ein velekin dem sin gevider eben lit; ferner noch Trist. 17540. 
278 si mit R= Gottfr. und A. 286 'Benam sich auffallig.' Ein Adv. 
wilde belegt das Wb. iiberhaupt nicht, Lexer mit nur ein paar Beispielen aus 
Chr. 287 = 339 Zum Ausdruck vgl. Krone 25370 slichen hin und her 
vil lise. 292 diu liehte sunne glanz H. Nach Analogic von sunnenglast 
habe ich das Kompositum gewagt, obgleich es sonst nicht belegt ist. 297- 
98 fehlen R. Zu windesbrut vgl. zuletzt B. Schmidt, Beitrage 21, 111 f. 

309-322 fehlen R. 3 10-3 19 = Tristan 842-851. 313 entseben, 
empfinden, wahrnehmen, bei Gottfr. nur hier (845). Das Wort ist md. 
Dichtern besonders eigentiimlich. Vgl. Zwierzina, Zs.f .d.A. 44, 253 f . 
318 keiner A (Gr.) = Gottfr. Kleiner H. kiiene fur kume und umgekehrt ist 
einer der haufigsten Schreiberf ehler. Vgl. Nibel. (A) 419, 3 ; 425, 4. Warnung 
2182. Virg. 69, 13. Engelh. 270 nebst den angefiihrten Lesarten. Das kume 
bei Gottfr. macht Schwierigkeiten; vgl. Bechstein zur Stelle. 322 wibes 
ougenblic Neif. 31, 33. 323 16s hier 'listig.' Lanz. 4054 wan nieman 
also kiindic ist der sich der minne miige erwern. 333 Vgl. 465. Der 
Uebergang nu lazen wir .... ist typisch. Lanz. 5676. Wolfd. B. 155, 1. 
CII 10, 1. Virg. 72, 4. 130, 1. Laurin 1758. Eckenl. 161, 1. 335 'Damit 
es nicht eitle Rede bleibe.' Den Ausdruck kenne ich sonst nicht. 346 
Ueber creatiure, das aus der geistlichen Poesie stammt, vgl. Roethe zu R. v. 
Zweter S. 287, Anm. 333. Zum Inhalt Wig. 937 f . ein s6 schceniu creatiure, 
reine und so gehiure. Winterst. 29, 31. 348 f. Mariae Himmelf. 1658 
s6 muost du elden dinen lip. 350 kelten stf. Fieberfrost, ahd. chaltin. 
352 einem schach tuon, einem ein Leid zufiigen. Fehlt bei Gottfr. kommt 
aber sonst haufig vor; vgl. das Wb. 355-56 = 375-76. 360 f. Trist. 
2598 f . alle die mir gunden geluckes unde guotes. 362 f . Trist. 13945 f . 
wie er in froude und 6re gemache unde gemere. 364-65 fehlen R. 365 
swie A (Gr.) wie H. 367 f. fruht: genuht ist ein beliebter Reim bei 
Konrad von Wiirzburg. 374 wir R ir A. Hagen verbessert sghon in den 
Lesarten 380 gemanteH. In den Lesarten sagt er "bessergenante von 
genenden," wie denn auch von A tatsachlich geboten wird. Vgl. Trist. 10562 
daz er dar an genante. 383 Der Vers fehlt R. 384 = Biterolf 274. 


Vor. Alex 668 er erfure al diu lant. das. 6585 sint erfur ich manic lant. 386 
Wig. 312 nu lat mich iuwer hulde haben. 387 f. Derselbe Reim auch 
Troj. 6514, 7641. Gottfr. kennt nur arke, swf. 390 mich bevilt eines 
dinges, es verdriesst mich, wird mir zu viel. 'Lasst eure Rederei.' Das 
Verbum kommt bei Gottfr. nur 4939 vor. Vgl. Wb. und Lexer. 391 
'Was verlangt ir von mir?' Trist. 16228 waz ist iu liep? wes muotet ir? 
394 Erec 4050 und wolde wafen han geschrirn. 

406 sich eines dinges bewegen, sich wozu entschliessen. 410 ez A 
(Gr.) es H. Vgl. Nibel. (B) 2293 ez mak niht anders gesin. Ueber die Form 
des Particips vgl. Weinhold, Mhd. Gr. 364, Al Gr. 203. 415 Vgl. 
Martin zu Kudrun 127, 2. 422 FehltR. Vgl.Lanz.7193darzuomerkent 
einen list der noch an manegem wibe ist. 427 Lanz. 4496 ach Minne waz 
du wunders weist! 432 an alien orten 'durch und durch.' Engelh. 3358. 
Walth. 5, 25. 433 Vgl. Trist. 13899 f . Armer Heinr. 108 f . unser siieze 
ist vermischet mit bitterre gallen. 438 Der subst. Infin. lagen wird von 
den Wbb. nicht belegt. 447-64 fehlen in R. 449 f . Die Erwahnung 
der vier biblischen Gestalten als Beispiele fur die Macht der Liebe ist 
typisch. Vgl. Borgeld, S. 26 f., 29 f., 34, und noch Part. 8884 f. Wegen 
Salomon besonders MF 66, 16. Parz. 289, 16. Krone 8451. 452 Vgl. 
Trist. 1055, 2439, 5434, 8520, 10080. 461 aber fehlt AR Ein wip: ob 
.... A (H). 464 (484) missewende fri Part. 263 u. sonst ofters bei 
Konrad von Wiirzburg. 467 Iw. 2056 f . diu gwaltige Minne ein rehtiu 
suenserinne. Der Ausdruck ist aber Gottfriedisch, vgl. Trist. 928 f . Ferner 
Minne und ein minneclichez wip sint sinne roubaerinne MSH 3, 4386. miner 
sinne ein roubaerin das. 2, 73a (Lexer) 489 minneliet belegt sonst nur 
Apoll. 20129. Neidh. 85, 33. 493 Untkrouch g.H. (AR). 498 Lanz. 
1449 f . daz tet inneclichen we den vrouwen uf den zinnen. 

510 dine H. das er in den Lesarten verbessert. 511 uzerwegen, 
erprobt, ausgezeichnet; hier ironisch. Vgl. Alph. 76, 4 512 Virg. 511, 
6 daz iuwer der tiuvel walde. das. 894, 1 1 daz ir der tiuvel walde ! 518 diu 
fine, die Schone, MSH 1, 1906. 519 Hate H. 535-36 fehlen R. 
Wegen derartig angehangter Satze (hiez G.), vgl. Roethe zu Reinm. v. Zweter 
186, 7. 537 Das secretum secretorum. nach Borgeld S. 7, Anm.l. 
542 und swer A (H). 543 in AR ir H. 547 Wegen des Vergleichs 
vgl. Trist. 8092 f., 8114 f., ferner MSH 3, 3296. 548 = Part. 16. 551- 
52 fehlen R. Nach 554 in R: Aristotiles hat hye ain end. 




Two articles bearing, in a more general way, upon the use of the 
two pronouns das and was are the occasion of the present inquiry. 
The first of the two is that by Professor Starr Willard Cutting, in the 
Decennial Publications of the University of Chicago, First Series, 
Vol. VII: "Concerning the Modern German Relatives das and was 
in Clauses Dependent upon Substantivized Adjectives." The second 
is by Dr. Charles Boyle Campbell, " Concerning the Pronominal Ante- 
cedent and the Form of the Accompanying Pronoun in Modern 
German Prose," University of Chicago Dissertation, Berlin, 1913. 

Professor Cutting concluded, from his collected material, that 
most of the modern stylists recognize a qualitative difference between 
the relatives das and was, and that they use das when it is intended 
to particularize the reference to a substantive adjective or to an 
indefinite antecedent, while was is employed when intentional 
vagueness is observed in the reference. It is with special reference 
to Professor Cutting's query and findings that the following exhibit 
of examples from Schiller's prose is given. The bearing of these 
examples upon Dr. Campbell's statements is discussed later. 

In order to facilitate reference (as well as from necessity), the 
same grouping of examples is here adopted as that used by Professor 
Cutting, only minor changes being made, according to the occurrence 
or non-occurrence of certain forms. 

I. Was-clauses. 

(a) After superlatives (or alles or einzig). 

(b) After positives or comparatives or indefinites. 
II. .Das-clauses (welches, wodurch, woran, etc.). 

(a) After alles, with or without an adjective. 

(b) After positives or comparatives or indefinites. 

With the exception of the four instances of alles under* II (a), 
Schiller uses only alles, was. This occurs so often, 248 times in all, 
that I have not included any examples in these quotations. Since 

361] 121 [MODERN PHILOLOGY, October, 1915 


the number of other instances is not excessive, all that occur are given. 
The citation is indicated by volume, page, and line, in that order, 
reference being to Bellerman's Kritisch durchgesehene und erlduterte 
Ausgabe. Consecutive numbers are merely for reference in this 

(a) After alles or einzig, or Superlatives 

1. 11:18:21. Dir auch nich das Geringste zu verhehlen, was ich . . . . 

auffangen kann. 

2. 11:125:22. es ist nicht .... das Schlechtste, was ich .... getan 


3. VI: 521: 24. da er das Einzige war, was ihr . . . . einigen Ersatz 

geben konnte. 

4. VII: 399: 10. mit dem Geld, dem Einzigen, was er brauchte. 

5. VIII: 141: 9. so ist Billigung das Hochste, was erfolgen kann. 

6. VIII: 167: 2. zu dem erhabensten, was dem Auge je erscheinen kann. 

7. VIII: 321: 5. das wenigste, was man ihm schuld gab. 

8. VIII: 364: 7. aus dem Hochsten und Edelsten, was ihn ausmacht. 

9. VIII: 397: 21. so ist eine Komparative Allgemeinheit das Hochste , was 

der Realist .... erreicht. 

10. VIII: 4 19: 10. Dieses einzige Schreckliche, was er nur muss und nicht will. 

11. VIII: 428: 2. uber das Hochste, was die Sinnlichkeit leisten kann. 

12. XIII: 63: 11. Das erste, was sich .... ihm darbietet. 

13. XIII: 455: 34. das einzige, was sie .... bemerken konnte. 

14. XIV: 76: 17. das Teuerste, was er auf der Welt hatte. 

15. XIV: 449: 15. das Schlimmste, was von ihm gesagt werden konnte. 

(6) After Positives or Comparatives or Indefinites 

1. 11:271:29. Ich bin zu stolz, mir etwas schenken zu lassen, was ich noch 

selbst zu erwerben weiss. 

2. VI: 11:1. verschlang noch das wenige, was er erwarb. 

3. VI : 92 : 2. aus dem wenigen, was er mir abfragte. 

4. VI: 99: 27. nur durch etwas, was nicht besser ist als Zauberei. 

5. VI: 99: 34. so ist nichts unnatiirlich, nichts gezwungen, was ihn .... 


6. VI: 103: 4. und eben das Grauenvolle und Derbe, war es was sich seiner 

lebhaften Einbildungskraft zuerst bemachtigte. 

7. VI: 136: 22. Kann die Phantasie etwas geben, was sie nie empfangen 


8. VI: 136: 23. ist nichts, was ich mit diesem Bilde zusammenstellen 


9. VI: 149:3. Aber es war etwas an diesem Auftritt, was mich riihrte. 

10. VI: 2 13: 27. Es ist nicht das Ausserordentliche oder Heroische dieser 
Begebenheit, was mich anreizt sie zu beschreiben. 


11. VI: 295: 26. dass nichts geschehen ware, was die Staaten nicht .... 


12. VI: 339: 1. aber nur das Wenige, was wir von ihm auffinden konnen. 

13. VI: 350: 8. Da die Schllisse Verschiedenes enthielten, was gegen die 

Rechte .... verstiess. 

14. VI: 354: 30. und nichts damit gemeint worden sei, was die Achtung 

.... verletzte. 

15. VI: 369: 9. Es war noch nichts geschehen, was sich .... nicht vertrug, 

was ihre Absichten verdachtig machte. 

16. VI: 389: 2. nichts enthalt, was sich nicht .... vertriige. 

17. VI: 389: 6. nichts enthalt, was .... streitet. 

18. VI: 478: 28. wiirde ihm nichts auferlegen, was die Rechte .... kranke. 

19. VI: 494: 13. und nichts sei mehr iibrig, was ihren Eintritt rechtfertigen 


20. VI: 517: 23. nichts besassen, was .... hatte lieb machen konnen. 

21. VII: 29: 28. vieks, was sie taten. 

22. VII: 62: 7. das Wenige, w<is sie preisgaben. 

23. VII : 155 : 14. das Wenige, was er sprach. 

24. VII: 359: 3. Es war nichts Geringes, was er jetzt auf dem Wege war, zu 


25. VIII: 44: 4. mit etwas, was .... in uns vorhanden ist. 

26. VIII: 113: 5. das Kleine und Niedrige, was sich .... misst. 

27. VIII: 113: 8. es ist das absolut Grosse selbst, was .... findet. 

28. VIII: 116: 2. nichts, was nur .... gross ist. 

29. VIII: 123: 16. nichts, was bloss .... angeht. 

30. VIII: 126: 23. setzt also etwas voraus, was von der Sinnlichkeit unter- 

schieden ist. 

31. VIII: 127: 3. etwas vorzustellen, was iiber der Natur ist. 

32. VIII : 127 : 27. Die Sprache ist gewiss etwas, was .... steht. 

33. VIII : 128 : 23. so ist nichts mehr vorhanden, was an die Person erinnern 


34. VIII: 134: 15. Aber etwas ist in uns, was .... keinen Teil nimmt. 

35. VIII: 194: 21. Es muss also etwas vorhanden sein, was . . . . im Wege 


36. VIII: 241: 21. dass etwas anfange, was noch nicht war. 

37. VIII: 25 1:33. Die Wahrheit ist nichts, was von aussen empfangen 

werden kann. 

38. VIII: 260: 5. zeigt ihm nichts, was sein eigener Grund ware. 

39. VIII: 260: 6. zeigt ihm etwas, was von keinem Grund weiss. 

40. VIII: 264: 25. sehen diese letztere als etwas Zufalliges an, was . . . . 

wegbleiben konnte. 

41. VIII: 289: 15. etwas Sinnliches, was .... liegt. 

42. VIII: 308: 30. da sie nichts besitzt, was sie nicht hingeben mtsste. 

43. VIII: 317: 6. nichts, was . . . . entspringt. 

44. VIII: 322: 34. das Wenige, was aufbewahrt worden ist. 

45. VIII : 420 : 10. Nichts, was sie an ihm ausiibt. 



46. XIII: 133: 17. da 1st nichts da, was ihn notigen konnte. 

47. XIII : 135 : 19. es erfolgt etwas dem Analoges, was .... hervorbringen 


48. XIII: 136: 33. nichts, was .... gef alien konnte. 

49. XIII: 141:1. als etwas Auswartiges und Fremdes betrachten, was . . . 

keinen Einfluss hat. 

50. XIII: 150: 31. Es kann aber nichts Pflicht sein, was unerfiillbar 1st. 

51. XIII: 157:1. Behandelt die Komodie etwas, was interessiert. 

52. XIII: 157: 5. Undank 1st an sich etwas, was unser moralisches Gefiihl 


53. XIII: 251: 25. nichts, was befriedigte. 

54. XIII: 283: 20. nichts .... was nicht natiirlich ist. 

55. XIII: 321: 32. etwas sagen zu lassen, was gesagt werden kann. 

56. XIII: 353: 6. das Schone, das Edle, das Vortreffliche, was wirklich in 

ihm wohnt. 

57. XIII: 365: 30. wird .... viel Willkurliches iibrigbleiben, was den 

Kiinstler gefangen halt. 

58. XIII : 382 : 2. ist uns nichts bekannt, was so befriedigend ware. 

59. XIII: 388: 6. nichts, was .... nicht ganz wiirdig ware. 

60. XIV: 74: 25. dass er nichts unterlassen wiirde, was in seiner Macht 


61. XIV: 83: 22. dass man nichts sagte oder tate, was Beziehung darauf 


62. XIV: 122: 12. konnte nichts .... ersetzen, was er . . . . verloren 


63. XIV : 137 : 15. Habe ich . . . . etwas zugelassen, .... was . . . . zu 

widerstreiten scheint. 

64. XIV: 154: 2. nichts zu versaumen, was dienen konnte. 

65. XIV : 227 : 27. nichts, was dem Schmerz nahe kame. 

66. XIV: 274: 33. das Wenige verlieren, was .... erkennt. 

67. XIV: 30 1:15. unterliess man nichts, was den Conne table stiirzen 


68. XIV: 307: 9. worm nichts vergessen war, was .... zusichern konnte. 

69. XIV: 320: 11. Nichts gab es, was sie nicht .... aufopferte. 

70. XIV: 386: 2. obgleich die historische Kritik das Bose glauben darf, was 

ein Freund berichtet. 

71. XIV: 41 1:9. etwas verstehen wiirde, was .... fassten. 

72. XIV: 478: 32. dass nichts Bestand hat, was Wahn griindete. 

73. XIV: 486: 18. Bot ihm also nichts dar, was sich lobpreisen .... Hess. 

II. Das- (welches) CLAUSES 

(a) After alles, with or without an Adjective 

(Schiller does not use das with any superlative adjective or with einzig.) 

1. VI : 17 : 18. an alles Bose zu erinnern, das mir der Tote .... zugefiigt 


2. VII: 12: 2. Alles Bose, welches Philipp .... beschloss. 



3. VIII: 107: 28. alles mit Wurde, welches zu verrichten er iiber seine 

Menschheit hinausgehen muss. 

4. XIV: 394: 7. Alles Bo'se, welches man .... nachzusagen gewohnt 1st. 

(6) After Positives or Comparatives or Indefinites 

1. II : 19 : 4. von dem Wenigen, das ich weiss. 

2. II : 68 : 26. ich muss was Magnetisches an mir haben, das .... anzieht. 

3. II : 107 : 24. Es ist so was Grosses und oft Geschehenes, das mich leben 


4. 11:119:30. es war so viel, so viel in seinem Angesicht . ... das Ihnen 

so gleich kommt, das ich so liebe. 

5. II : 179 : 16. arbeitet etwas auf deinem Gesichte, das nicht .... gibt. 

6. II: 189: 11. Haben Sie jemals etwas gegen mich gefiihlt, das man .... 


7. 11:201:24. Ich habe schon langst ein Etwas in meiner Brust gefiihlt, 

das sich von nichts wollte ersattigen lassen. 

8. 11:222:236. Ich denke etwas, das du nicht weiss. 

9. II : 226 : 12. Nichts kann zu ehrwiirdig sein, das du nicht untertauchen 

soils t. 

10. II : 249 : 17. Etwas Ausserordentliches mag es auch sein, das .... fiihrt. 

11. 11:338:29. In nichts, das mir wichtiger ware. 

12. 11:383:10. dir etwas Angenehmes zu verkiindigen und etwas lieber 

Sohn, das dich ganz iiberraschen wird. 

13. VI : 29 : 33. Sie sagten mir etwas, wodurch er widerlegt werden konnte. 

14. VI: 67: 3. das Wunderbare, das ich .... im Sinne hatte. 

15. VI: 125: 31. Zeigen Sie mir etwas, das dauert. 

16. VI: 137: 11. sprach sie einiges, das Biondello nicht verstand. 

17. VI: 159: 11. ich wollte etwas darin aufsuchen, das ihn mildern konnte. 

18. VI: 280: 4. In dem gemeinschaftlichen Ganzen, welches die Provinzen 

jetzt ausmachten. 

19. VI: 329: 10. fuhrt zugleich etwas Grosses, etwas Erhabenes mit sich, das 

.... gibt. 

20. VI: 11: 5. ist .... etwas Grosses und Merkwurdiges geschehen, woran 

die Reformation .... gehabt hatte. 

21. VIII: 121: 9. Verstand lasst ihn das Zuf&llige, das .... macht, von 

dem Notwendigen nicht unterscheiden. 

22. VIII: 121: 18. Kleider sind ihm etwas Zufalliges, dem . . . . nach- 

gesetzt werden darf . 

23. VIII: 149: 17. von dem Guten, welches .... gefallt. 

24. VIII : 153 : 30. Jeder wird diesen Erdhaufen hinwegwiinschen als etwas, 

das die Schonheit .... verunstaltet. 

25. VIII: 156: 20. von etwas, das .... uberschreitet. 

26. VIII : 156 : 26. Ein Manigfaltiges wird uns dort gegeben, welches .... 

treibt. * 

27. VIII: 161: 28. etwas absolut Grosses, dem kein Masstab gewachsen ist. 

28. VIII : 176 : 10. Sie nimmt dem Menschen etwas, das er wirklich besitzt, 

und ohne welches er nichts besitzt. 



29. VIII: 176: 12. weist ihn dafiir an etwas, an das er besitzen konnte. 

30. VIII: 205: 14. Sie unterscheidet .... etwas, das bleibt, und etwas das 

sich .... verandert. 

31. VIII: 217: 25. ein Unendliches, dem er sich nahern kann. 

32. VIII : 225 : 28. haben wir das Schone hervorgehen sehen, dessen hochstes 

Ideal .... wird zu suchen seia. 

33. VIII: 236: 3. wenn nicht etwas vorhanden ware von welchem ausge- 

schlossen wird. 

34. VIII : 241 : 22. es muss etwas aufhoren, welches war. 

35. VIII: 250: 15. das Einzelne sorgfaltig aufscharren, das der Meister 

.... verschwinden machte. 

36. VIII: 25 1:35. sie ist etwas, das die Denkkraft .... hervorbringt. 

37. VIII : 281 : 7. Das Angenehme, wekhes .... lockt. 

38. VIII: 324: 24. erzeugen ein Naives des Ausdrucks im Umgang, welches 

darin besteht. 

39. VIII: 337: 8. Weil aber das Ideal ein Unendliches ist, das er niemals 


40. VIII: 365: 21. das Ganze, von dem sie .... ausmachen. 

41. VIII: 394: 7. das schone Ganze, .... wekhes zerstort wird. 

42. VIII: 394: 32. die poetische Stimmung ist ein selbstdndiges Ganze, in 

welchem .... verschwinden. 

43. VIII: 399: 13. auf das Allgemeine richtet, wekhes .... gleich macht. 

44. VIII: 399: 15. kann er leicht das Besondere vernachlassigen, wodurch 

sie sich .... unterscheiden. 

45. VIII: 437: 17. das Niedrige, welches .... unterschieden ist. 

46. XIII: 19: 4. driickt mich etwas auf dem Herzen, das ich Ihnen sagen 


47. XIII : 101 : 14. Der Mensch brachte hier etwas zustande, das mehr ist, 

als er selbst war, das an etwas Grossers erinnert. 

48. XIII : 102 : 17. Etwas geschaffen zu haben, das nicht untergeht. 

49. XIII : 145 : 28. etwas Furchtbares, wekhes kommen soil. 

50. XIII: 156: 4. Man findet .... etwas, das .... hinausgeht. 

51. XIII: 253: 28. fur die Gliickseligkeit dieses grossen Ganzen entziindet, 

das ihm .... vergegenwartigt war. 

52. XIII: 270: 25. Also muss etwas Drittes vorhanden sein, das verschieden 

ist von Freundschaft und Liebe, fur wekhes beide gewirkt haben und 
wekhen beide aufgeopfert worden. 

53. XIII: 283: 30. fur etwas tun und geben kann, das ihm das Teuerste ist. 

54. XIII : 304 : 15. als gait es etwas, das uns nicht lieb ist. 

55. XIII: 339: 25. ein zusammenhdngendes Gauzes ausmachen, mit dessen 

Bruchstiicken nichts gewonnen wird. 

56. XIII : 346 : 9. das Unideale, wekhes davon unzertrennlich ist. 

57. XIII: 353:1. von etwas unterrichten, das .... vorgegangen. 

58. XIII: 369: 17. auf dem simultanen Eindruck des Ganzen beruht, das 

er doch nicht anders .... kann. 

59. XIII: 418: 12. allein das Pobelhafte in ihrer Seele ist .... noch nicht 

verdrungen worden, wekhes sie .... an den Tag legen. 



60. XIII: 437: 7. Wenn je etwas 1st, das .... erwarmen kann. 

61. XIII: 459: 17. einiges in mir zu bemerken . . . . , das mich vielleicht 

fahig machte. 

62. XIII: 497: 2. wenn nicht etwas vorhanden ist, das ihr Wachstum 


63. XIV: 109:1. sah er auf seinem Gesicht etwas arbeiten, das . . . . 


64. XIV: 114: 30. er hatte etwas sehr Eiliges zu entdecken, welches . . . . 


65. XIV: 445: 16. Zu Hause fand der Spartaner nichts, das ihm hatte 

fesseln konnen. 

66. XIV: 448: 16. um etwas zu erhalten, das nur .... einen Wert haben 


Even a casual survey of the illustrative material of the was-clauses 
in the superlative category will convince that only the generalizing 
was could properly be used. Also it is illuminating to notice that not 
a single instance of das occurs relating to a superlative adjective. 
In the three instances in which alles Bose, das (welches) occurs, the 
delimiting force of the relative is evident, so that we might substitute 
jedes for alles and still preserve the meaning. The other example 
seems not so clear, as will appear by the reading of the entire sentence : 
"tiberhaupt gilt hier das Gesetz, dass der Mensch alles mit Anmut 
tun miisse, was er innerhalb seiner Menschheit verrichten kann, und 
alles mit Wiirde, welches zu verrichten er iiber seine Menschheit 
hinausgehen muss." This would seem to be a deliberate change of 
relative with purpose to particularize each separate act to be per- 

By a more careful survey of the examples under the positive- 
comparative categories we are struck by the very few cases in which 
either a was-clause or a das-clause might be shifted to the opposite 
category. For example, I (6) 4, 32, 36 seem to be more particular 
than general in their sense; while II (6) 1, 9, 11, 21, 26 might be 
regarded as more general in meaning than particular. 

Another helpful factor in reaching a decision is that a very con- 
siderable majority of was- and das-clauses, outside of the superlative 
category, occur in those volumes devoted chiefly to philosophical 
writings (VIII, XIII, XIV), and in which, therefore, we should 
expect to find a more discriminating use of these relatives. Tfce ratio 
in these three volumes is : was 49, das 46 ; in the first three volumes 
(II, VI, VII) the ratios are, severally: II, was 1, das 12; VI, was 19, 



das 7 ; VII, was 4, das 1 . Here again the character of the composition 
and material have their evident effect; for all of Vol. II is occupied 
with the colloquial style of Schiller's three earlier prose dramas. 
Vol. VI is half narrative, half history, and the ratio in the historical 
part is was 10, das 2; total for the three volumes: 24, 20. 

In view of the evidence available, and in view of Schiller's 
recognized standing and authority as a stylist and a careful thinker, 
we may confidently conclude that he did observe a qualitative 
difference between the relatives das and was. To quote Professor 
Cutting's apt phrasing, Schiller used was in this relation " whenever 
the vagueness (inherent in the antecedent) is not overborne by the 
particularizing intention of the author, or whenever the writer's 
intentional vagueness demands such expression." 

The second part of my discussion has to do with what seems to 
me to be an unfortunate choice, on the part of Dr. Campbell, of 
material from Schiller upon which to draw for his comparisons. He 
has chosen the "Geschichte des dreissigjahrigen Kriegs," and " Brief e 
(1782-83)," (1903). 

In lack of access to the Brief e, I am giving below only those 
figures obtained from a careful count in the six volumes referred to 
in the first part of this discussion. Reference to the above ratios in 
Vol. VII, which contains the "Thirty Years' War," will instantly 
show how barren of material is this choice for the purpose here in 
hand, a total of seven das- and was-clauses. 

Following are Dr. Campbell's figures (first column), compared 
with the total examples in the Bellerman edition of Schiller's prose. 

nichts, was 1:35 einiges, was 1:0 

" das 1:3 " das 0:2 

alles, was 50:248 vieks, was ?:1 

" das 0:1 " das 0:0 

etwas,was 0:18 viel, das 0:2 

" das ?:27 

To be sure none of these results might change essentially Dr. 
Campbell's conclusions. They do, however, suggest the importance 
of a complete survey of each author's writings, in order to determine 
accurately his total influence in such changes of usage as those dis- 
cussed by Dr. Campbell. 



Modern Philology 



My object in this chapter is to record several non-Castilian 
elements contained in the language of the Grail portions (G) of 
Ms. 2-G-5 in the Palace Library at Madrid. I include some similar 
elements contained in the language of La Demanda del Sancto Grial, 
1535 (D). Both texts, as I have shown in Modern Philology 11, 1, 
go back to a common source (O). As scribes and redactors have 
continuously endeavored to Castilianize G and D, the non-Castilian 
elements still found in G and D are not due to them but belong 
to 0. The date which I assign to O is the first quarter of the 
fourteenth century. 

1. Pretonic e instead of i: G 254 1 presion. 255 feniestra. 256 
deziendo. 267 egual. 271 serviente. 275 V esquierdo, etc. Cf. 13a 
and 6. 

The lack of umlaut would suggest that these forms are OLeonese, 
cf. Hanssen, Gram. hist. 74. 2 They are found also in a group of 
texts that have other Leonese and Portuguese-Galician character- 
istics in common with our texts. I refer to Alexandre (Janer), 

* =f. 254 of Ms. 2-G-5. El Libra de Josep Abarimatia comprises f. 25fB]-f. 282, 
La Estoria de Merlin f. 282^-f. 296, Lanyarote t. 298*-f. 30(K 

* According to Hanssen, such forms as presion abound in Leon and Navarra. Where- 
ever we are dealing with a form that may be western or eastern, I shall put it down as 
western. For we shall soon observe forms that are western only. 

369] 65 [ MODERN PHILOLOGY, November, 1915 

66 K. PlETSCH 

Alfonso XI (Janer), 1 and Ms. h-I-13 of the Escorial. 2 The cases are: 
presion SEnperatriz 519, 62. feniestras Alex. 1103, 1384; Rrey 
Guillelme 181, 182. deziendo Alex. 527ad, 2193; Rrey Guillelme 245; 
Alfonso XI 494, 1139. egual Alex. 735, 1831 (P 1973 eguales)-, 
Alfonso XI 10. servientes SCatalina 274, 301; Placidas 133, 150; 
Rrey Guillelme 220, 229; Alfonso XI 1102, 1897. esguierda Alfonso 
XI 1316, 1331. 

2. Pretonic o instead of u: G 290 V mogieres. 

Pretonic o (before palatal) remains in OPortuguese (molher), 
OGalician (moller) and OLeonese. Cf. moyer FJuzgo 45 VL 10 
B.R. 2. 3 moyeres FJuzgo 4 VL 32 B.R. 2. mojer Staaff, Dial. le*on. 
122 (1262 twice), mogier Alex. 386; FJuzgo XIV VL 5 Esc. 3; 
196 VL 4 Esc. 3; Staaff 82, 6 (1260). mogieres Alex. 822; FJuzgo 
4 VL 32 Esc. 3; 201 VL 1 Esc. 3; Josaphat (Lauchert) 4 370. moger 
FJuzgo 45 VL 10 B.R. 3; 5 55 VL 9 B.R. 3; 196 VL 4 Esc. 3; Elena 
210; Josaphat 354 (cf. note); 373; 376; 378; 379. moires FJuzgo 
196 VL 4 Esc. 3; Josaphat 369; 375; 376; 378. moguer Elena 260. 

3. Atonic -es instead of -as: G 279 E [si] queria (sc. Josafas) dezir 
que el padre era perfecto Dios e entrego, pues non podrian nada las 
personas del fijo nin del spiritu sancto. Sy avyan antes cada uno su 
deydat, pues seryan tres deydades. (K 6 94 Et se il voloit dire ke li 
peres fust entiers diex & parfais, dont n'i prendrait noient la persone du 
fil & du sains esperit. Et se eles auoient ambedeus cascune sa deite 
enterine, dont serroient chou trois deites.) 281 V E cuydavan que eras 
mas fidalgo que tu non eras, par que eres fermoso fieramente. (S 7 1, 47, 
27 car tu estoies tant biaus que trop.) 

To these poetical works belongs also Elena, cf. Menendez Pidal, Rev. fil. esp. 1, 92. 

2 The following parts of this Ms. have been printed: SMaria Egipciaca (Knust), 
SCatalina (Knust), Placidas (Knust), Rrey Guillelme (Knust), Florencia (Rios), 
SEnperatriz (Mussafla), Carlos Maynes (Bonilla). 

All these works were translated from French about the first quarter of the fourteenth 
century; the Ms. dates from the same century; cf. Baist, Span. Litt. 416. 

Cf. Hanssen, Con/, leon. 8: "El testo leones [del Fuero Juzgo] se ha conservado 
particularmente en tres manuscritos de la Biblioteca Real (B.R. 1, B.R. 2, B.R. 3)." 

4 The text is full of decidedly western characteristics; the Ms. is of the fifteenth 

6 See note 3. 

=Kempe, The Legend of the Holy Orail, 1905 (EETS). The French Ms. published 
there is part of Ms. Bibl. Reg. XIV E 3 in the British Museum. 

7 =Sommer, The Vulgate Version of the Arthurian Romances, 1909-13. 6 V. 



The phenomenon is OLeonese, cf. Elena p. 81 10. I add 
FJuzgo 24 VL 30 S.B. bueltes; SCatalina 236 desvariades 1 boses. 

In the first example, the translator, bearing in mind las personas, 
probably wrote ames cada una. ames is partly OCastilian (am-) 
and partly OLeonese (-es), the strict OLeonese form being ambes. 
But the use of such a hybrid form is quite natural in the case of a 
Leonese translator, ames was overlooked by a Castilian scribe, 
who, however, changed una to uno. 

In the second example the translator may have written yeres or 

eres. z 

4. Cons.+r instead of cons.+Z: G 259 V fabra. 266 V proguyese; 
282 V progo. 269 V conpriose [1. conpriese]; 277 conprio; 276 V con- 
premiento (K 88 satisfasions) . 273 prata. 274 brago; 276. 290 V 
afroxaron. 294 V Brage. 298 V senbrante. 

OLeonese forms, cf. Staaff 240. Other cases of fabrar: Elena 
p. 81 8, etc. Of prazer: Alex. 1913; 2029; 2088, etc.; SMaria 
Eg. 340; Rrey Guillelme 213; Florencia 444, etc. Of conprir: Alex. 
5; 1462; 1641, etc. ... Of afroxar: Lucas Fernandez 121 ... 

5. r-r instead of r-l: G 267 arbor, 268 (twice). 267 V arbores 
(twice), 268 (twice). 

OPortuguese-Galician arvor. OLeonese: aruores Staaff 140, 7 
(1246) etc. (cf. Staaff 251); SMaria Eg. 330; Rrey Guillelme 183; 
JRuiz (S) 3 1291, 1292 (G T r-Z), etc. Similarly career, carceres; 
marmor, mdrmores. 

6. Prosthetic v: G 259 V vueste, 281. 
OLeonese, cf. ZrP 34, 646. 

7. -s (of verbal inflection) +Z- (of pers. pron.)>Z: G 262 con- 
vienete . . . dexar tus ymagines que dizes e que tu crees que son dios 
e demandales consejo. D 143a E quando vistes que no queria yr con 
vos, tomastesle el galgo, que era todo bianco, y leuastesgelo, e dexistele 
que lo guardariades . . . 

According to Cornu 312 the phenomenon is especially frequent 

1 Thus the Ms. ; Knust reads desvariadas. 

1 In a Ms. otherwise strictly Castilian, ames for amaa and ere* for eras would b scribal 
errors. Considering, however, that our Ms. has undoubted western characteristics, 
and further that ames and eres can be justified as western forms, I have admitted them as 
such. I shall do likewise in other similar cases. 

On "leonesismos" of Ms. S, s. Rom. 30. 435. 


68 K. PlETSCH 

in OPortuguese, less so in OGalician. For OLeonese, s. Staaff 
255 and 259. 

8. arbor f . : G 267 V venieron a los que fincaron so el arbor que avya 
la corteza negra. E comengaronla a tajar toda enderredor. E despues 
que esto ovieronfecho, non quedaron aun, ante le quebrantaron las rramas 
que tenia. E pues la ovieron asi ferida e quebrantada e llagada, salio 
ende un rrio . . . E levol (sc. el rrey . . . al rrepostero) a los ires 
arbores por catar por ver de qual guysa eran. E entonge conoscio bien 
que eran ires e que la mediana que avia fea la corteza [nasda] de la 
primera. E (de) la tercera nascia de la ^tna e de la otra. E el rrey 
los cato contra suso e vido que avya en cadauno de los arbores letras de 
oro e de azul e de bermejo. E dezian las letras asy de la primera: JEsta 
forma. E las otr as dezian: Estasalva. Elasotras: [Esta] alinpia(ri) . 

OGalician aruor occurs as f . in Martinez Salazar, Doc. gall. 44, 8 
(1259) doutras aruores; 113, 16 (1348) hua aruor; 115, 11 (1354) das 
aruores. Likewise OLeonese arbol f., cf. Mod. Lang. Not. 27, 168b. 
I add Alex. 2323 las aruoles; FJuzgo 137a; CMaynes 507a vna arbol. 

9. lie, lla, pron., instead of le, la: G 255 si sabia alguna cosa que 
lie podiese fazer pro. 255 V nunca vy enfermo a que lla (sc. la tovaja) 
posiese que non fuese guarido. 

OLeonese forms, cf . Staaff 266. To judge from Staaff, the palatal 
form of the ace. is not so rare as Menendez Pidal, Dial. leon. 49, 

10. a) ela, elos, elas, art. and demonst. pron., instead of la, los, 
las: G 254 todas elas gentes. 254 V servir ela yglesya. 256 todas elas 1 
otras gentes. 258 V Z elos paganos. 259 V elos 2 otros. 262 V Z ela don- 
zella. 263 V tolere elos onbres . . . todas elas cosas. 275 V conplir 
elas obras. 280 en tal manera que elos que alii estavan . . . 282 todos 
elos pensamientos. 282 V sanudos fueron elos diablos. 287 Z ela otra. 
288 por ela sana. 290 todas elas* cosas . . . Z ela madre. 290 V Z elas 
mogieres. 293 V Z (1. de) elas cosas. 299 gedo averedes (Z) ela puerta 
abierta. 299 V Z elos otros. 

OLeonese, cf. Staaff 262. As Menendez Pidal, Gram, hist. 2 
100, 2, observes, this form of the article was lost early in Castile, 
but still used in Leon in the fourteenth century. 

1 Corrected in Ms. for z las; cf. Elena p. 81 9. 

2 Ms. et los. Ms. Z las. 



6) lla, art., instead of la: G 299 V De como lievan a lla rreyna a 

OPortuguese instances of the palatal form are given by Gessner, 
Das Altleonesische 17. OGalician: Martinez Salazar 105, 15 (1324) 
per lias sentenzas. 17 sobre llo dito senorio. 126, 6 (1394) porlla 
mja alma. 11 todas Has partes. 127, 2 porllo amor. 129, 18 (1415) 
sobre llo adeante declarado. 130, 18 and 23 todas lias outras herdades. 
OLeonese: Mene*ndez Pidal, Dial. leon. 50. 

11. a) Personal infinitive: G 259 E todos aquellos que contigo 
fueren non lieven de todo el aver del mundo nada fuera tu si kvares la 
mi escodilla que levaras contigo. 

The phenomenon is rather OPortuguese-Galician than OLeonese, 
cf . Staaff 288 and Elena p. 82 12. 

6) Unsyncopated future and conditional forms: G 259 saliredes. 
D 22a salira (three times), 52b, 57a. G 266 avere. 286 V averas. 
260 avera. D63b. G 266 averedes, 271 (three times), 286. 259 
averan, 278 V , 296. 253 averia (3), 267, 285 V . D 99b auerian. D 
113b ponere, etc. 

OLeonese forms, cf. Hanssen, Gram. hist. 261. Cf. for similar 
Future or conditional forms of salir: SEnperatriz 558, 71. Of aver: 
SEnperatriz 509, 39; 513, 22; 519, 84, 85; 537, 49; 548, 4; 551, 30; 
556, 22; Rrey Guillelme 186; 188; 189. Of saber: SEnperatriz 
513, 23; 515, 7; Placidas 141; Rrey Guillelme 196. Of poder: 
SEnperatriz 513, 10; Placidas 126; Rrey Guillelme 216, etc. 1 

c) A future form of the type habeo cantare: D 25a & me lo as tu 
mostrarf (M 2 1, 65 et le nous saver oies tu ensegnierf) 

OLeonese examples in Alexandre have been pointed out by 
Cornu, Misc. Caix-Canello 225. 

d) deria (3) instead of diria: G 270 En como vino la boz del 
spiritu sancto sobre Josep e su conpana que dixo que escuchasen lo que 
les deria. 

dere (deria) is found in Alex. 130 (deredes) ; FGongalez 201 (deria 
[3]); 472 3 ; Josaphat 343 (deriades). OGalician deria is attested by 

1 Quoting from Ms. h-I-13, I should not fail to mention OGalician fazerds SEnpe- 
ratriz 550, 31. 

2 = Merlin, p.p. G. Paris et J. Ulrich, 1886. 2 v. (SATF). 

8 These forms like others in FGongalez are due to a scribe, "natural de la regi6n 
leones-portuguesa" (Marden); cf. also Mene"ndez Pidal, AnS 114, 244. 



Garcia de Diego, Gram. hist. gall. 138. One OPortuguese instance 
occurs in Graall 1 60 (eu Iho dericf}. 

12. oes instead of oyes: D 115b y en aquella cruz auia letras que 
dezian: "Oyste tu, cauallero, acuerdate, e antes cata de* otras auenturas, 
que yo te defiendo que ..." 

The perfect oyste seems illogical in the context; one would expect 
the present oyes=oyes?=oye, cf. Mod. Phil. 10, 16. 

I have no doubt that O read Oeste tu. de (pres. 3) appears in 
Cant. Maria 2, 288a, 486b, 542a; (imp. sg.) 1, 32b. oen 1, 104a. 
Garcia de Diego, Gram. hist. gall. 119, remarks: "Audis ant. oes . . . 
mod. ois . . . Audit ant. oe . . . mod. oi." For OLeonese oe (pres. 
3 and imp. sg.), oen, s. ZrP 35, 171. Concerning the ethical dative 
te (OGalician beside che), cf. CMichaelis de Vasconcellos, ZrP 19, 
534: "Auf Schritt und Tritt braucht der Galizier [den ethischen 
Dativ],besondersc/ie(furc/w = &&0 . . ." 4 Out of Oeste tu a Castilian 
scribe made Oyste tu. 

13. Perfect forms and derived forms. 

a) Lack of umlaut in weak perfects (3 and 6) and derived forms: 

G 252 rrescebio, 262. 258 rrescebieron. 259 V rrescebiera. Cf. 
SCatalina 232. 237. 264. 281. Rrey Guillelme 203. 240. 242. 

G 252 sofriese. 253 sofriera. 262 sofrio. Cf. Placidas 133. 149. 
153. SEnperatriz 509, 53. 538, 16. 539, 43. 542, 26. 

G 252 V pedio, 253. Cf. SMaria Eg. 333. SCatalina 309. Rrey 
Guillelme 204 (espedierori). 

G 253 V moriese, 255 V , 258 V . Cf. SCatalina 264. 291. Placidas 
133. Rrey Guillelme 179. 

G 254 V bevio (=vixit). 

G 256 descobrio. Cf. Rrey Guillelme 229. SEnperatriz 515, 79. 
Rrey Guillelme 198 (encobrid). 230. SEnperatriz 523, VII, 4. 

G 257 servio. 259 servieren. 260 servieremos. 260 servieron. 
Cf. Placidas 139. 144. 145. Rrey Guillelme 197. 237. 

l =*A Historta doe Cavalleiros da Mesa Redonda e da Demanda do Santo Graall, 
verdffentlicht von K. von Reinhardstoettner, 1887. 

Thus the Ms. ; the editor reads diria. 

This use of de is possibly one of the abuses which Alvarez Gimenez has in mind, 
cf . Los defectos de lenguaje en Galicia y en la provincia de Leon 64. 

Cf. also 535 n. 1: "Ballesteros wird nicht mtide, darauf aufmerksam zu machen, 
dass der Stock-Galizier diese Redeweise auch ins Kastilische tibertragt, wo sie verpont 
1st." "VerpOnt" is going somewhat too far, cf. Hanssen, Gram. hist. 499. 



G 259 V convertio. Cf . Placidas 124. 126. 

6) Lack of umlaut in some strong perfects (6) and derived forms : 

G252 podiese, 253 V , 255, 258, 261 V . 255 podierdes. 262 
podieron. 1 Cf. Placidas 126. Rrey Guillelme 173. 195. 233. 

G 252 V posieron, 258 V , 260 V . 255 V posiese. Cf. Placidas 152. 
Rrey Guillelme 206. 

G 257 estodieran. 258 estodiera. 260 V estodieron. 

G 260 andodieron. Cf . Placidas 142. 

G 252 quesiese. 254 quesieron, 254 V . 255 V quesierdes, 257, 
258 V , 261 V (and quesieredes) , 262. 258 V quesieren, 259, 260, 260 V . 
260 quesiere. 260 V quesieres. Cf . Placidas 132. 136. Rrey Guillelme 
186. 190. 192. 200. 201. 203. 207. 215. 217. 226, etc. 

G 252 veniera. 259 venieron, 262 V . Cf. Placidas 141. 148. 150. 
156. Rrey Guillelme 201. 202. 208. 222. 226. 234. 

G 253 feziera, 253 V , 254, 256 V , 259, 259 V . 253 V fezieran. 255 V 
fezieron, 257 V , 258, 259 V , 261. 255 V feziesen, 258 V (1. feziese). 255 V 
feziese, 257 V , 261 V . Cf. Placidas 123. 134. 135. 138. 144. 145. 150. 151. 
152. 155. 156. 157. 

Forms cited under a) and 6), all taken from the first ten folios 
of G 2 and Ms. h-I-13, are OLeonese, cf . Staaff 307. 

c) Imperfect and future subjunctives of verbs in -er ending in 
-ese, -era, -ere: G 280 V yoguera, 287, 287 V . 286 V yogueres. 287 V 
yoguese. D 25b pluguere, 329b (see v. 2, 700a). Cf. Florencia 451 

OLeonese, cf . Hanssen, Gram. hist. 245 ; Staaff 299. 

d) -e (3) of strong perfects instead of o: G 299 V e desarmol e prise 
de aquellas armas las mejores. D 152a La Tabla Redonda, que se 
fize por vuestro consejo, ^ que sera dellaf 

Cf. Staaff 169, 74 (doc. from Cacabelos, 1294) sacado el Prior 
iadito que non uene hy. SEnperatriz 516, 22 Mas el diablo . . . 
nunca le tanto pude* fazer que . . . Josaphat 336 Entre estas cosas 
nasgea (1. nasge a) el fijo muy fermoso, en el nas$iemiento del qual el 

1 G 252* podiera ver is to be read podie aver. 

* Forms with umlaut on the same folios: 256 sintio (but sentieron 270, etc. sentio 
SCatalina 264 [twice], sentieres 284, etc.). 262 sufrio (but sofrio twice on the same 
folio). 256 V pudieron. 

Thus the Ms.; Mussafla reads pudo. But critical as always he ask^ in a note: 
"gibt es andere Beispiele, in denen die 3. Sing, der starken Perfecta das dem urspriing- 
lichen t (potuit) naher stehende e aufweisen konnte?" 



alegrado mucho pusele nombre Josafat. 355 Ca ninguno de los omnes 
non pude acabar en ningund tienpo ninguna destas cosas. 

The phenomenon is OPortuguese-Galician, cf. Staaff 308 and 
344, Garcia de Diego, Gram. hist. gall. 127. 

e) Weak perfects and derived forms instead of strong : G 262 V 
aduzieron. 282 V dezieran . . . dezieron. 287 V dezistes. 300 V dezier. 

Cf . LEnxemplos 1 (Gayangos) 462b enducid, 475a reducio. Alvarez 
Gimenez 52 conduct, conduciste, etc. SMaria Eg. 339 bendisio. 
Alonso Garrote, El dialecto vulgar leones hablado en Maragateria y 
tierra de Astorga 71 decistes, decieron, etc. 

Castilian examples of aduzieron do not seem to appear until late, 
cf. Cuervo, Apunt. crit. 5 263, and Cirot, Bull. hisp. 13, 89; Castilian 
examples of dezieron are not known to me at all. Consequently I 
posit the above forms as OLeonese. 

Here may belong also G 258 V (Joseph is pleading for Caiaphas) 
ca podria ser q el emendaria en su yerro Z asy se el defazer Z no 
qrria dios q moriese. I propose to read sel defazere, 2 non querria 
Dios . . . 

For fazl, s. Josaphat 341 desfaziose. Alvarez Gimenez 55 satis- 
facimos, satisfacisteis, satisfacieron } etc. El tiu Xuan 3 18 jacieron; 
62 jaciera. Nunes, Dialectos algarvios, Rev. lus. 7, 47 fazi, fazetes, 
fazeu, fazemos, fazerom, fazesse, fazer. 

Of -ere for -4ere I have spoken under c). 

For the sequence of tenses in defazere . . . querria , s. Gessner, 
ZrP 14, 64. 

Finally for the meaning of defazere, s. Dice. Aut.: "Deshacer un 
yerro. Phrase que vale emendar 6 corregir alguna cosa mal dirigida 
. . . Quev. Romul. Quieren deshacer un yerro, y hacen mil." 

14. se, conj., instead of si: G 256 V se, 258 V , 284 V . 
OLeonese, cf. Elena p. 83 16, Hanssen, Gram. hist. 660. 

15. Interpolation. Extremely frequent in G, D, and Ms. h-I-13. 
A few instances from the first five folios of G will suffice: 252 V aquel 

By "Climente Sanches, arcediano de Valderas en la iglesia de Leon" (Rom. 7, 484). 

* It is possible that O read defazer, e. The text has many instances both of apo- 
copated forms of the fut. subj. (1 and 3) and of the e of the "nachsatz." It is more 
probable, however, that the scribe, being unfamiliar with the form defazere, separated 
it into the infinitive and the conjunction. 

"La acci6n pasa en un caserio del pueblo de Llenin (Cangas de Onis) el afio 1877." 



que se non llega . . . e porque la non podiera ver (1. podie aver) . . . 
ante que les su came e su sangre diese. 253 quando la el ovo guardada. 
253 V sy la non viese ... quel non diesen. 254 V como lo ende saco. 
256 quando lo su padre vyo . . . 256 V se le non mostrasen . . . sy lo 
aquel non sabe. 257 por tal pleyto que me non enforquedes . . . este 
que lo tanto servyo . . . si lo non sacase bivo . . . aquellos de que se el 
mas confiava. 257 V tan grand claridat que le nunca fallescio . . . en 
guysa que la non oviese onbre del mundo . . . ally do la tu posiste en 
aquel lugar de donde la yo aqui aduxe. 

OLeonese, cf. Elena p. 84 17. 

16. si-non instead of si non: G 268 non ay si muerte non. D 24b 
ninguno no podria dezir aquellas palabras si el no (M 1, 65 se il non). 
(Four lines later: no podia adeuinar ninguno la muerte de aquellos 
sino el [M 1, 65/ors que il].) 78a si Dios no, otre no vos puede guardar 
de muerte (M 1, 229 fors Dieus). 171b no lo vimos si cubierto no. 
176a jamas no tornareys, si por marauilla no. 301a no lo puede 
(1. puedo) saber si por vos no. 328a no lo sentian si eran mal trechos 
si poco [no]. 

Cf. SMaria Eg. 333 ella non podia saber su nonbre si por santo 
spiritu non (si par le seint espirit ne l[e] seust). SCatalina 288 yo 
non prise de ninguno comer, nin alguno non melo dio sy aquel non que 
. . . (se cil non qi . . .). 298 Tu puedes conoscer sy al non, commo el 
Dios de los christianos, que el poder que ha te confonde . . . (se viaus 
non). Placidas 156 non ha Dios sy el non. Rrey Guillelme 199 otro 
cauallero non prenderia (1) nin casamiento sy el suyo non (G d'An- 
gleterre 1129 Ainz se leiroit [sc. la dame] bruller ou tondre, Que ja mes 
an nule meniere . . . Vueille ami ne seignor avoir Se le suen me'ismes 
ne ra). SEnperatriz 557, 55 Non es verdadero amigo sy Dios non 
(G de Coinsi [Meon 2] 110, 3475 fors Dieu). 558, 69 non seria 
(1) yamds mugier nin amiga de ninguno ssy del non (G de Coinsi 
111, 3502 Ne serai mes fame riamie A roi, n'a prince n'a baron . . . 
s'd lui non). Josaphat 380 E agora, o padre, por que engerreste las 
tus orejas . . . , sy al non, non me defiendas andar por la carrera 
derechera. 383 fijo, esta sea la postrimera palabra de mi a ti, a la 
qual sy non obedesgieres man a mano e sy al non en esto el mi common 
espagiaras, sabe que . . . 

To the OPortuguese instances given by Espinosa, Matzke 


74 K. PlETSCH 

Memorial Vol., 80, 1 add some OGalician from Cr6n. Troy, i 1 2, 6 
Ca nom uelo a quantos som enna hoste rrogoar (sic) esto se a uos nom. 
(RTroie [Constans] 16948 fors que vos.) 18 et no podia meter mentes 
en al. se en esto no. 29 et en outra maneyra no quere tomar outro 
camjno. se este no. 65 Ca elles de outra cousa non aujan cura se 
desta non. 70 nen catara por outra cousa se por el non, etc. 

The phenomenon is surely OPortuguese. Whether also OGalician 
and OLeonese, I dare not say. It is certainly not OCastilian. 


[To be continued] 

i a, Cronica Troy ana; codice gallego del siglo XIV, publicalo A. Martinez Salazar, 
1900. 2 v. 



That two of the tenses included in the system of conjugation 
of a French verb had their origin in the fusion of the present and 
imperfect of the verb avoir with the infinitive is a fact that has 
obtained recognition today even hi the teaching of elementary 
grammar. The former of these tenses has been classed from the 
beginning among the tenses of the indicative, while the latter was 
assigned in the scheme of conjugation, to a mood of its own, the 
conditional. For a long time it has been, however, a recognized 
fact that this verb-entity has other uses besides the very frequent 
and distinctive use in hypothetical sentences. Especially promi- 
nent is a "temporal" use, in opposition to the "modal" (conditional, 
etc.). The temporal use of this verb-entity brings out its very close 
relationship to the future very clearly; consequently, ever since it 
was recognized as a distinct tense it was, like the future, assigned to 
the indicative mood. The recognition of its tense-force brought 
with it the necessity for giving it a name, and the name " past future" 
has only very recently in the Report of the Joint Committee on Gram- 
matical Nomenclature (July, 1913) received what I may call "official 
sanction" in America. Mr. Armstrong 1 refers to the name "future 
of the past" (and "imperfect of the future," of which name, with 
good reason, he disapproves; [ibid]), but the name "past future" 
is adopted in the recently published treatise on French verbs by 
Nitze and Wilkins 2 and there is scarcely a doubt that it is destined 
to prevail in this country. 

The recognition of a specific temporal use of this verbal entity 
marks a distinct progress in the observation and formulation of the 
syntax of French moods and tenses; but interesting as it would be, 
it is beyond the scope of this article to give a history of the intro- 
duction into elementary or practical French grammars of the tense- 
idea of the past future. Some landmarks may, however, be briefly 

Syntax of the French Verb (1909), p. 43. 9 

1 The French Verb, Its Forms and Uses, Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 

379] 75 [MoDEBN PHILOLOGY, November, 1915 


sketched here. Girault Duvivier seems to make no mention of it 
in his grammar, 1 and Foth says: "noch Chabaneau in seiner histoire 
et theorie de la conjugaison frangaise erwahnt von einer Bedeutung 
und Anwendung desselben als eines Futurs der Vergangenheit so 
gut wie nichts." 2 No definition of this tense is given by Larousse, 3 
though some "cautions" relating to this peculiar use of the so-called 
conditional are given on p. 487. But Ayer says explicitly: "En 
effet, le conditionnel designe un avenir au point de vue du passe, 
comme le future designe un avenir au point de vue du present [de 
la personne qui parle]." 4 Lucking 5 clearly defines this tense, 
though with the not very satisfactory designation of Imperfekt des 
Futurs, and the same designation had been used by Matzner. 6 

On the whole, in elementary textbooks, even when no specific 
statement to that effect is made, the assumption appears to be 
that the past future is a tense of the indicative. Such, indeed, 
seems to be the prevailing opinion also of those who have devoted 
special attention to our verb-entity. Cle"dat says: "C'est done 
a Porigine un temps de 1'indicatif, et il a conserve cette valeur dans 
les propositions comple*tives qui dependent d'un verbe principal 
& un temps du passe*." 7 Many years before him, Foth had written: 
" Vor alien Dingen muss man festhalten, dass es seiner Bildung sowie 
seiner ursprunglichen Bedeutung und Anwendung nach ein indika- 
tivisches Tempus der Vergangenheit ist und als solches in einer 
Reihe steht mit alien tibrigen Tempora." 8 Tobler should be quoted, 
even if he is less explicit in his statement: 

"Wie nun aber wenn .... das Geschehen oder Sein, von 
welchem aus ein Zweites als bevorstehend hingestellt werden soil, 
durch Perfektum oder Imperfektum ausgedriickt ist? Natur- 
gemass wird dann statt des Futurum Praesentis das Futurum 
Praeteriti, der sogenannte Konditionalis eintreten. In der Tat ist 

1 Orammaire des Grammaires, 1840. 

2 "Die Verschiebung lateinischer Tempora in den romanischen Sprachen," Roman- 
ische Studien, II, Heft 8 (1876), p. 257. 

8 Grammaire superieure, 1901. 

4 Grammaire comparee de la langue franyaise (1900), p. 242. 

6 FranzSsische Sprache fiir den Schulgebrauch (1889), p. 98. 

Franzosische Grammatik (1885), p. 105. 

1 Revue de philologie franc, aise et provensale, XI (1897), 274. 

8 Romanische Studien, II, 257. 



nichts haufiger als Beispiele dieser urspriinglichsten aller Verwen- 

dungen des Konditionalis " l And, p. 158: "so 1st die 

Tempusform je partirais, 'ich hatte auf zubrechen ' zur Modusform 
l je partirais' 'ich brache auf geworden." Whether it is safe to con- 
clude that by Tempusform is meant a tense of the indicative, must 
be left to individual opinion. 

Brunot, 2 on the contrary, can be quoted as distinctly accepting 
the indicative origin of this verb-entity. We find, p. 505: "Mais 
nous avons de"ja vu, en parlant des formes du verbe, que la langue 
avait compose un nouveau temps pour marquer le futur dans le 
passe, et nous avons indiquS aussi en parlant de Temploi de ce temps, 
qu'il avait surtout une valeur modale "; and farther on : "II s'agirait 
premierement d'expliquer comment un temps de Pindicatif a pu 
usurper la fonction qui appartenait a un temps du subjonctif." 

Ayer, p. 477, goes a step farther than any of the foregoing: "Le 
conditionnel," he says, "appartient au mode indicatif, meme lors- 
qu'il depend d'une condition ou d'une supposition, car dans ce cas 
il marque e"galement la realite", soit la re'alite' supposed." 

The evidence quoted above, while by no means complete, is very 
fairly representative, and it appears safe to deduce from it that the 
consensus of opinion: (1) ascribes to the verb-entity composed of 
infinitive plus imperfect of verb avoir a temporal force as quite dis- 
tinct from its modal force (in hypothetical sentences, etc.); (2) 
assigns this tense to the indicative mood; (3) considers this temporal 
use the primitive and original, and the modal the derived use of our 
verb-entity, though some diverging views on this last point are not 
lacking. Chief among these should be quoted Diez's: "Au moyen 
de la m&ne methode on crea ensuite avec habebam un second temps 
qui pour le sens re"pond a peu pres a 1'imparfait du subjonctif 
latin." 3 

Very pertinent to the discussion of the temporal and modal 
nature of our verb-entity would be a consideration of the essence 
and genesis of mood-force in general, though reasons of space and 
the limitations set by the necessity for unity and congruity in a short 

1 Vermischte Beitr&ge zur franzdsischen Grammatik, II, 140. 
8 Precis de grammaire historique de la langue franfaise, 
8 Grammaire des langues romanes, II, 109. 



study allow only a brief survey of the question here, a more thorough- 
going consideration being reserved for some future occasion. 

There is nothing new in the statement that mood and tense are 
not distinct and separate phenomena, but merely related phases of 
one basal whole. The relation between mood and tense was studied 
by Tobler 1 in an article which, in spite of the time which has elapsed 
since it was written, still remains of paramount importance. The 
entire article throws light on our subject, though only a few of the 
most salient remarks can be quoted here. Tobler says, p. 33: 

Im ganzen wird man mit der Ansicht der Wahrheit ziemlich nahe kom- 
men, dass keines von beiden, weder Tempus noch Modus, urspriinglich fur 
sich ausgebildet war, ehe noch vom anderen eine Spur keimte, sondern dass 
entweder in einer dem Hebraischen 2 ahnlichen Weise beide in einander lagen 
und sich allmahlich von einander losten, oder dass zwar eines von beiden 
vorherrschte, aber schon sehr fruh zu Zwecken des andern verwandt, wohl 
gar formell umgebildet wurde. 

And, p. 34: 

Die Ansicht, dass die Tempora (doch wohl das Prasens ausgenommen) 
aus ursprunglichen Modi erwachsen seien, kann sich am ehesten auf das 
Futurum stiitzen, welches auch, wo es in relativ einfacher Form vorhanden 
ist, d.h. nicht iiberhaupt fehlt oder gar umschrieben wird, als spatere Bildung, 
aus dem Conjunctiv und Optativ entnommen, zu erkennen giebt. Dass 
das Futurum von den Zeiten die abstracteste ist, also dem altesten Bediirf- 
niss und Vermogen am entferntesten lag, wurde oben gemerkt, ebenfalls 
angedeutet, dass der Begriff des moglichen, wofur Conjunctiv und Optativ 
gelten, leicht in den des zukunftigen iibergehen. 

Also, p. 35: 

Trotzdem ware es ubereilt, was vom Futurum gilt, diesen modalen 
Ursprung, aufs Prateritum iibertragen zu wollen, dessen uralte Formen 
nichts von solcher Abhangigkeit verraten ..... Wohl findet hier das 
umgekehrte statt, modale Verwendung des ursprunglichen Tempus. Schon 
oben war davon die Rede, wie fern die Vergangenheit an Nichtwirklichkeit 
und blosse Moglichkeit granze. 

In spite of this undeniable interrelation, however, mood and 
tense are on the whole, to the modern Romance mind, pretty clearly 
differentiated; moreover, this differentiation seems to be one of the 
characteristics of the Indo-European languages. Even in Semitic 

zwischen Tempus und Modus," Zeitschrift far Vdlkerpsychologie, II 


s Cf . quotation given farther on, p. 79. 



languages 1 and more specifically in Hebrew, there still persists a very 
primitive lack of differentiation: Hebrew possesses only two verb- 
entities, which go respectively by the name of "first mood" or 
"perfect," and "second mood" or "imperfect": 

Es sind also beides Haupttempora, aber weil ihnen zur genaueren Modi- 
fikation des Temporalen Neben-Tempora fehlen, schlagen sie, grade wegen 
dieser angeborenen Sprode zu blossen Rudimenta von Modi herab, denn 
wahre Modi (wie der daneben bestehende Imperativ und Infinitiv) konnen 
sie auch nicht wieder sein, weil diese deutlich ausgepragte Tempora neben 
sich verlangen, um ganz rein ihrer Bestimmung zu dienen. 

What then is this essential nature of mood as distinct from tense, 
this Bestimmung, this "function" which they are intended to per- 
form? It is interesting to note the variety of the answers we get 
to this query. "Mood is the expression, through the form of the 
Verb, of certain attitudes of mind toward an act or state." 2 Since 
there is no limit to the possible "attitudes of mind," this definition 
allows theoretically of an unlimited number of moods, though the 
"attitudes of mind" specified are but four: attitude of commanding; 
attitude of wishing; attitude of fearing; attitude of recognizing a 
fact. However, the remark is added: "But many attitudes of mind 
can be expressed only by special words combined with an Infinitive, 
e.g., the attitude of hesitation, as in dubito adesse, I hesitate to be 
present." According to this definition, then, mood would be entirely 
subjective, depending altogether on the attitude of mind of the 
speaker and not at all on any inherent quality of the act or state 
expressed by the verb; there would also be no limit to the possible 
number of moods. 

Very different is the opinion expressed by Brinkman: 

Es liegt in der Natur der Sache, dass es nur drei Modusformen giebt, 
da eine Handlung nur unter den drei Gesichtspunkten der Wirklichkeit, 
der Moglichkeit, der Nothwendigkeit gedacht werden kann: den Indikativ, 
Conjunktiv und Imperativ. Das Griechische kennt zwar ausserdem einen 
Optativ, das ist aber nur eine besondere Art des Konjunktivs. Der Indi- 
kativ ist der Modus der Wirklichkeit, d.h. der Ausdruck fur dasjenige, was 
der Redende als wirklich, als eine Thatsache auffasst. Der Konjunktiv 
ist der Modus der Vorstellung, d.h. der Ausdruck fur dasjenigef was der 

1 See Tobler, Ubergang zwischen Tempus und Modus, p. 31. 

2 Hale and Buck, A Latin Grammar, p. 239. 


Redende nur als moglich, als eine blosse Vorstellung auffasst. Der Impera- 
tiv 1st der Modus der Nothwendigkeit, d.h. der Ausdruck fur dasjenige, 
was der Redende fiir notwendig halt, und als seinen Willen, seinen Befehl 
einer anderen Person ausspricht. Es liegt hierin schon ausgesprochen, ver- 
dient aber noch hervorgehoben zu werden, dass die Modusformen einen 
durchaus subjektiven Charakter haben. Sie driicken daher nie etwas Objek- 
tives aus, d.h. sie zeigen niemals an wie eine Thatigskeitausserung in der 
Wirklichkeit beschaffen sei 1 

According to Brinkman mood would be entirely subjective, but 
the number of moods limited. 

Gille says, or rather quotes from Steinthal: 2 

Die Sprache ist die Erscheimmg des Gedankens. Durch die Modi hat 
der Redende die Mittel in der Hand, die Beschaffenheit dieses Gedankens 
zu kennzeichnen. Um die Uebereinstimmung dieses Gedankens mit der 
Welt des ausser ihm bestehenden zu betonen, benutzt der Redende den 
Indikativ. Will er aber betonen, dass sein Gedanke wesentlich nur Gedanke 
ist, gleichviel ob er reales Fundament hat oder nicht, so gebraucht er den 
Konjunktiv. Darum steht dieser Modus hauptsachlich zum Ausdruck des 
Wunsches und der Ungewissheit, nach welchen Kategorien wir ihn behandeln. 3 

According to this definition the essence of mood would be the 
discrimination between reality and thought, and theoretically only 
two moods would exist. 

Mr. Brunot in his discussion of mood says : 

Des Modes. Ce sont les modifications subies suivant les rapports de 
la chose e"nonce"e avec les vues de Fesprit ou les affections de Tame de celui 
qui parle. 4 

And, p. 436: 

Suivant les uns, et c'est la la vieille doctrine de Porient, nous concevons 
tout comme re"el ou comme possible. Suivant les autres, nous voyons les 
choses par intuition, par reflexion, ou comme des objets de notre activite*. 
De la, dit-on, trois modes: Tindicatif, le subjonctif, 1'impe'ratif. 

But, Mr. Brunot continues, the development and present complexity 
of French moods is such, "que la theorie s'en trouve dementie a 
chaque instant," and he consequently prefers to consider moods 
and their uses in the old traditional order. 

1 Syntax des FranzOsischen und Englischen (1885), p. 782. 

*Gill, "Der Konjunktiv im Franzosischen," Herrig's Archiv, LXXXII (1889), 426. 

* Grammatik, Logik und Psychologic, p. 385. 

4 Precis de grammaire historique de la langue franfaise, p. 384. 



Even the traditional order is far, however, from eliminating 
complexity and contradiction; though its practical insufficiency is 
undoubtedly far more obvious to those who concern themselves with 
the teaching of French to foreigners, than to anyone who is studying 
French moods and tenses with native students, since the latter can 
rely on their Sprachgefuhl for a practical knowledge of moods which 
will lead them safely around many a slough in which the foreigner 
flounders. It is not surprising, therefore, that attempts are not 
lacking to replace the traditional presentation of moods by something 
clearer and better. 

Prominent among such attempts is the article by This 1 whose 
interesting conclusions are summarized here. If I have understood 
him, he tacitly assumes that mood is subjective and depends on some 
quality of the thought of the speaker, e.g. (p. 236), hearing a noise 
in the next room, we say: "Es ist jemand im Nebenzimmer .... 
wenn auch dieser Redeinhalt der Wirklichkeit nicht entspricht: wir 
stellen das gesagte als wahrgenommen hin, es ist als wahrgenommen 
gedacht ausgesprochen." Some exception could be taken to this 
example, for it appears to be a case of "substitution of mood" rather 
than a normal use of the indicative. A careful speaker would rather 
say under those circumstances: "Es muss jemand im Nebenzimmer 
sein," "There must be someone in the next room," "II doit y avoir 
quelqu'un dans la chambre a cote*," and less frequently in French, 
perhaps, than in Italian "il y aura"; "Ci sara, ci deve essere, gente 
nella stanza accanto." But, p. 237, if we see heavy clouds we say: 
" Es wird regnen." " Wir sagen nicht ' es regnet ' weil das Geschehen 
nicht wahrgenommen ist. Das 'Regnen-werden' ist gefolgert, ist 
potential : die Aussage ' Es wird regnen' ist durch die Wahrnehmung 
des bewolkten Himmels u.s.w. bedingt." And, p. 238: "mit alien 
futurischen Satzen wird demnach ein Geschehen als (durch ein oder 
mehrere als wahrgenommen gedachte Geschehen) bedingt gedacht 
hingestellt." It is undoubtedly true that all futurity implies an 
element of "condition," but this "condition" does not always so 
much depend on "wahrgenommen gedachtes Geschehen" as on 
unforeseen and unforeseeable contingencies. This is very obviously 
the case in examples like: "Tomorrow the sun will set at six-fifteen," 

1 Zur Lehre der Tempora und Modi im FranzGsischen. Grober Festschrift. 



in which the realization of the statement is confidently expected 
unless meanwhile the world comes to an end, which cannot be con- 
sidered "ein wahrgenommen gedachtes Geschehen." The difference 
between mere futurity and conditioned statement comes out very 
clearly by the comparison of two sentences like: "If I earn enough, 
I shall pay you what I owe you," and " I have the money in the bank, 
and tomorrow I shall pay you what I owe you/' 

On p. 239 This says that verb-forms like vienne, soit, parle 
" driicken demnach einen Redeinhalt aus der nicht als wahrgenommen, 
nicht als bedingt gesetzt wird, also Gegensatz zu dem als wahrge- 
nommen oder bedingt gedachten sein oder Geschehen Bei 

solcher Bezeichnung der Thatigkeit wird also ein Satzinhalt als nur 
vorgestellt ausgesprochen." 

For the present time-sphere This recognizes, therefore, four pos- 
sible moods that denote the action or state expressed by the verb as 
(1) wahrgenommen "il ecrit"; (2) bedingt "il e*crira"; (3) nur 
vorgestellt "(je desire, il est temps, il est possible) qu'il e*crive": 
(4) als btfohlen"6criB." 

For the past time-sphere there is no imperative; but (p. 249) 
This finds it necessary to create another mood, to which he has given 
no place in his mood-scheme: "Die Thatigkeitformen, vermittelst 
deren ein Sein oder Geschehen fur die Zeitstufe der Vergangenheit als 
vollgefuhrt bezeichnet wird, wollen wir Modus narrativus, kurzweg 
Narrativ bezeichnen." 

Another article that claims consideration is Sechehaye's "L'im- 
parfait du subjonctif et ses concurrents dans les hypothetiques nor- 
males en frangais." 1 The strict limitation of his subject excludes a 
complete discussion or even a categorical definition of mood, which 
appears, however, to be promised for some future time. The glean- 
ings on this subject are nevertheless of interest, especially the follow- 
ing statement, p. 324: "Pour la designation des modes nous avons 
fait une innovation importante en errant le terme fictionnel pour 
designer a la fois les modes logiques potentiel et irreel." Farther on 
we find the expression, "mode logique reel ou objectif" and it may not 
be too risky to conclude that the "mode fictionnel" is considered 

* Romaniache Forschungen, XIX (1906). 



If from the foregoing survey we try to sum up the trend of 
thought, "the attitude of mind," of present-day scholarship with 
regard to mood, I think that we can safely say that the "subjectivity" 
of mood is pretty generally accepted; also, that all seem to be agreed 
on the existence of one mood, the indicative, denoting that which the 
speaker wishes to convey as a "reality," as something that is per- 
ceived, wahrgenommen (This), reel ou objectif (Sechehaye), etc. 

Over against this one generally accepted mood-force are placed 
other mood-forces on whose definition and scope views vary consider- 
ably; as extremes one might compare the unlimited "attitudes of 
mind" (Hale-Buck), and the strictly limited three moods (Brinkman), 
two moods (Gille). But one more mood-force is either tacitly 
admitted or explicitly defined by almost all: the mood of pure 
thought: Vorstellung (Brinkman, This); wesentlich nur Gedanke 
(Gille); "something conceived in the mind of the speaker" (Arm- 
strong); fidionnel (Sechehaye), etc. But a closer analysis shows 
that even Brinkman's third mood-force "the imperative," is after all 
only Vorstellung, and the same remark also applies to This's Kondi- 
tional and Imperatif, etc". Restricting ourselves, for a minute, to 
French, it is safe to say that on the whole, with some restrictions and 
divergencies, the opinion prevails that the principal, if not the only, 
function of mood is to discriminate between fact and thought, between 
perception (Wahrnehmung) and conception (Vorstellung). 

But if Tobler's suggestion with regard to future tense-force, i.e., 
that its " abstractness " militates against the primitiveness of its 
origin (cf. quotation given above, ibid., p. 33), can be accepted as 
valid even with regard to mood-force (and it is right in line with 
the generally accepted philological "postulate" that the formation 
of language is a process of "evolution"), then there is the strongest 
possible presumption that this modern principal function of mood in 
French was not the original one; for the original function of mood 
must, in all likelihood, have had a more practical nature. 

The historical evidence, without which all theory is idle, seems to 
be all in favor of this assumption, since expressions of wish, will, and 
commanding, the first to be differentiated by special rnood^ from 
other statements, 1 were practical necessities of common occurrence. 

1 Cf. Brugmann, Kurze vergleichende Grammatik der indogermanischen Sprachen, 
p. 578; and Hale-Buck, A Latin Grammar, p. 29. 



Since expressions of will and wish bred true to type throughout the 
ages, and are even in Romance languages the least subject to fluctua- 
tion of mood, the question of the existence of an older, primitive mood- 
force, and of its possible survival in modern French, is of some impor- 
tance for the teaching of moods; but it cannot be discussed here. It 
is enough to hold fast to the generally accepted fact, that "statement 
of thought" is an essential function of the subjunctive, while " state- 
ment of fact" is, on the whole, the characteristic function of the 
indicative, and to remember that future and past-future express 
"thought" (conception), not "fact" (perception), and are thus non- 
indicative by their nature, a view which is borne out by the very 
origin of Latin futures. 
Lindsay says: 

For verbs of the third and fourth Conjugations in Latin the I Sg. of the 

A-Subjunctive (see par. 55) is used for the I Sg. Future For the other 

Persons of the Future the E-subjunctive forms (see par. 55) are used l 

And, p. 492: 

This -bo of the future tense .... is clearly some part of the verb 
bheu (Lat. fui, etc.) of which we have seen -bam of the Imperfect tense to 
be a preterite. The future of Latin sum, ero, is a Subjunctive form, *es-o 
with Future meaning: a meaning which seems to have attached itself to 
the I-Eur. Subjunctive (see par. 55) . 2 

Logically, "futurity" did not change its nature when the old 
Latin futures were superseded in the Romance languages by the new 
formations which now go by the name of future and past future (or 
conditional). Now, if the "constructive," the "logical" indicative 
always expresses a fact, a reality, a Wahrnehmung, since futurity never 
expresses any of these things, there never was a reason to assign a 
future or past future tense to the indicative mood; indeed, since 
these two tenses strictly express a "concept" (not a percept), a 
logically indicative future and past future are nonsensical an absurd- 
ity : their assumption would be justifiable only for formal or historical 
reasons, that is to say, if by chance, futurity, in spite of its "ideality," 
had originally been expressed, as certain conditions are, by a "form- 
ally" indicative tense. But this is not the case even with the new 

1 The Latin Language, chap, viii, p. 492. 

8 Cf. also Brugmann, Kurze vergleichende Grammatik der indogermanischen Sprachen, 
pars. 747, 754, 763, etc.; Tobler, Ubergang zwischen Tern-pus und Modus, p. 34. 



Romance formations. Diez came very near the truth in considering 
the past future, "a peu pres," an imperfect subjunctive, 1 and even 
those writers who explicitly state that it is a tense of the indicative 
take more or less cognizance of the fact that the infinitive plus the 
verb avoir implied from the first a notion of obligation, necessity. 
My contention is that even if the origin of the past future had been 
purely temporal, expressing mere futurity, it still would not have 
been an indicative tense; but I have serious doubts whether originally 
these expressions regularly expressed "futurity"; in other words, 
whether even as futures to both present and past, they have not 
suffered a shift in temporal value. 

There is no reason for us to believe that originally these new 
formations differed in meaning from similar expressions in which 
even today the verb "to have" is used with the force of a modal 
auxiliary. Taking a modern Italian example, when Malatestino 2 
answers Francesca's inquiry: "Senti dolore?" by saying "Sassate di 
saccardi ghibellini non hanno da dolere," the implication is not, "they 
shall not hurt" (in future time), but "they must not hurt," even at 
the moment of speaking, and, therefore, he feels no pain. 

Just so in English we can say: "I have to lie in bed," "I have to 
stay at home," when the speaker is actually lying in bed, or staying 
in the house. 

Nor has the future quite lost this original modal and temporal 
force: it still retains it in certain imperative expressions: "Dieu en 
vain ne jureras" implies obligation at the moment of speaking as well 
as for future time. Such also is the temporal value of the future in 
expressions of probability or supposition: "La nef appartient au 
[I e sicle, mais le chceur sera du XV 6 ," 3 which in Italian could be 
idered "sara," but also "ha da essere del quattrocento." This 
should also be the temporal value of the future in what Robert calls 
"une ne'cessite' logique" : 4 "Si deux plans sont paralleles, toute droite 
perpendiculaire a Tune sera perpendiculaire a 1'autre" "has to be," 
lot "to become." 

1 Of. reference given, p. 77, and previous exposition. 

2 D'Annunzio, Francesco, da Rimini, Act II, scene v. 

8 Fraser and Squair, p. 185. ^ 

* Questions de grammaire, p. 178. 



Oh the whole, however, it is safe to say that both verb-entities 
have specialized the function of expressing futurity with regard to a 
standpoint in present or past time, and this temporal force must have 
been original with all perfective verbs (e.g., "he had to come," aveva 
da venire) in which the Aktionsart implied futurity by its very nature. 

But the modal uses of the past future (and it appears to have more 
than are generally recognized in French grammars, but I hope to 
come back to this point at some later time) should all be considered 
as derived from its original modal rather than from the secondary 
temporal force. 

The indicative has no claim to the past future even as a tense. 
Dr. This, in the article already quoted, had excellent reasons for sepa- 
rating the future and past future tenses from the other tenses of the 
indicative, though the name he chose for the new tense, Konditional, 
is not felicitous. Lucking (and others) took a step in the right direc- 
tion when he divided indicative tenses into "real" and "ideal," 
though "ideal" and "indicative" are really mutually exclusive terms, 
and an "ideal indicative tense" is a logical absurdity. 

There is no logical reason why these tenses should not be assigned 
to the subjunctive mood in French: but if the tradition of centuries 
makes it too hard to disconnect entirely the future from the indicative 
mood, would it not be possible at least to compromise by considering 
future and past future as a distinct mood, a kind of a "link-mood" 
between indicative and subjunctive, and so to define them, even in 
elementary teaching? 

The gain in clarity and precision in the statement of the rules for 
the use of the different moods would certainly make it worth while. 



. . . mais ce qui serait bien plus plaisant, ce serait de voir tous nos bons 
contes modernes pil!6s de la plus haute antiquite" orientale. Voltaire. 

En septembre 1846, le Musee des Families publiait une nouvelle 
de Th. Gautier: le Pavilion sur I'eau, laquelle e*tait qualifi^e de 
nouvelle chinoise. Ce n'e'tait pas la premiere ceuvre que Fauteur 
donnait a ce recueil. Dans le cours de 1840, il en avait paru deux 
autres: le Chevalier double, en juillet, et le Pied de momie, en sep- 
tembre. Cette collaboration d'un e*crivain qui tenait une place 
e*minente dans l'e"cole romantique dut etre Peffet des mesures prises 
par la nouvelle administration pour elargir le champ des services 
rendus par ce pe"riodique a la dissemination des conhaissances. 

J'ai sous les yeux Fannie 1839-40 (octobre-septembre) . La 
table methodique des matires contient des articles repartis sous les 
rubriques suivantes: poe*sie, Etudes, voyages, mceurs, litt^rature 
trangre, histoires naives, contemporains et magazine. Les Etudes 
e*taient de toutes sortes : historiques, morales, religieuses, chretiennes, 
biographiques, retrospectives, artistiques, heraldiques, astronomiques, 
maritimes et militaires, arch^ologiques et aussi d'histoire naturelle. 
Parmi les redacteurs, je Us les noms de Marceline Valmore, de 
Granier de Cassagnac, du Bibliophile Jacob et de Samuel Henry 
Berthoud, qui, appele* a la direction du Musee en 1834, 1'avait quittee 
pour celle du Mercure, Panned suivante, mais n'en e"tait pas moins 
reste* le re"dacteur en chef puisque les nouveaux proprie*taires annon- 
cent son maintien en date du l er juin 1840. La section de poe*sie 
6tait particuli^rement f avoris^e : on y trouvait (N de mai) des vers 
de Casimir Delavigne intitules les Deux soleils qui pre*cdent la 
d^dicace a 1'Espagne de sa tragedie la Fille du Cid (represented le 
15 decembre 1839) et un poeme extrait des Ombres et Rayons, le 
volume que Hugo venait de donner au public : Que la musique date du 
XVI* m<s siecle. II faut avouer que le choix de cette dernifcre piece 
honore la redaction, car c'est une des plus belles d'un recueil qui 

391] 87 [MODEEN PHILOLOGY, November, 1915 


abonde en belles choses et Tune de celles que la posterite* a distingue'es 
dans tout Pceuvre du maitre. Get apergu donne une idee de la valeur 
d'une publication qui semble avoir joue" dans la Iitt6rature de Pepoque 
un role assez marque*. 1 

En effet, ce qui frappe des Pabord dans la collaboration de Th. 
Gautier, c'est la nature de ses Merits. Le Chevalier double et le Pied 
de momie sont re*unis sous le titre de Contes etrangers et, dans la table, 
viennent imme'diatement apres la litte"rature e"trangere. En cette 
annee 1839-40, il n'est pas sans interet de savoir quelles etaient les 
ceuvres e"trangeres et exotiques que le Musee des Families faisait con- 
naltre au public frangais par Pinterme'diaire de la traduction. C'etait 
les Pieces d'or pretees de Henri Zschokke; Vile magique prise du New 
Monthly Magazine; le Crime puni par le del traduit de Bidpai; 
I'Exile, improvisation de Giuseppe Regaldi (texte italien et traduc- 
tion) et enfin le Mori fiance emprunte* au Sketch Book de Washington 
Irving. L'Allemagne, PAngleterre, PItalie et PAmerique repre- 
sentent le monde occidental et Bidpai, le monde oriental. Mais, 
d'une part, il est piquant de remarquer que le conte de Washington 
Irving est traduit par Ernest Feydeau, Pauteur de Fanny, et qu'il 
est donnS comme repr6sentant la litte"rature anglaise; et d'autre part, 
il est a noter que le re*cit de Bidpai, indique* comme traduit de Pindien, 
fait partie de la collection des Contes chinois publiee en 1827 par Abel 
Re"musat, contes dont j'aurai amplement 1'occasion de parler a 
propos du Pavilion sur Veau. 

Par les tableaux de moeurs (Gascogne et Irlande), les r^cits de 
voyages (Spitzberg et Amerique), et les traductions que renferme 
cette seule anne*e du Musee des Families, on peut se convaincre que 
cette publication contribuait pour sa part a repandre le gout des 
choses et des litteratures e*trangeres, tout en ne negligeant pas 
Tarcheologie (Bibliophile Jacob et S. H. Berthoud). Tout cela, bien 
entendu, e*tait envisage du point de vue litteraire; c'etait de la vulgari- 
sation a 1'usage des gens du monde, comme on disait alors, et Ton 
ne se faisait pas faute d'avoir recours a Pimagination en Pabsence 

Le Mus6e des Families, recueil litte'raire et illustre", fond6 en 1833. Le premier 
article signe" J. Janin est intitule" les Magazines anglais. La publication nouvelle e"tait 
done cre6e sur le patron des recueils mensuels qui existent de longue date en Angleterre. 
Elle se proposait de devenir 1'Encyclopedie des gens du monde, de la jeunesse et des 
femmes, de de"velopper un plan complet d'Sducation contemporaine, de donner une 
instruction universelle sous une forme re"cr6ative. 



des fails. Rien d'e"tonnant a ce que Ton se soit assure* le concours 
d'un esprit curieux, comme celui de Th. Gautier, qui savait com- 
prendre, interpreter, au besoin deviner, son intuition etant, comme 
on sait, vraiment remarquable. Les traductions pre"sentaient 
I'etranger tel qu'il etait, ou a peu pres, au public frangais; mais 
malgr6 le talent des traducteurs, et les de*guisements qu'ils ne se 
faisaient pas faute d'imposer aux originaux, cette matiere 6trangere 
semblait toujours un peu crue ou pre*pare*e de telle sorte qu'elle etait 
d'une digestion difficile. Le besoin s'imposait de la rendre appetis- 
sante et Ton pensa naturellement a Fartiste, a "Phomme de style," au 
seul romantique, avec Hugo, qui sut la langue a fond et dont le gout 
large pouvait rendre heureusement 1'art des autres peuples. 

Les deux contes, le Chevalier double et le Pied de momie, qui ne 
parurent que dans la seconde partie de Tanne^e, e"taient de"ja Merits, 
sinon sous leur forme definitive, avant le 10 Janvier 1840, comme la 
lettre suivante en fait foi. Elle est adresse"e par Th. Gautier a cet 
Henry Berthoud rest6 a la tete de la redaction du Musee des Families. 


J'ai trouve* un autre sujet pour une troisteme nouvelle. La chose 
s'appellera YeitrTseu, ou la Fille de Hang, si vous le pre*fe*rez; c'est un conte 

Si vous voulez avoir quelque chose de trs fice!6, ayez la galanterie de me 
dormer les cent livres demain et d'attendre ma copie jusqu'a mercredi ou 
jeudi de la semaine prochaine; j'ai a lire plusieurs volumes pour me bar- 
bouiller de couleur locale, et j'ai besoin de fourrer mon nez dans beaucoup 
de pots de Japon et autres. 

Vous savez que je ne suis pas un blagueur litte"raire; vous me rendriez 
un service qui ne vous de*rangerait pas beaucoup et qui me servirait fort. 
Si par hasard vous aviez le livre de T Univers pittoresque od il est question de la 
Chine, vous me feriez plaisir de me le prater. 

Envoyez les placards du Pied de momie et d'Oluf le danois, je les travail- 
lerai jusqu'a perfection entire. 

Je vous remercie d'avance. 

Ce 10 Janvier 1840 1 

Les deux contes e*taient-ils de"ja tels que nous les avous, ou 
furent-ils travaille's? Je ne puis le dire. Les termes de la lettre 
font supposer que le destinataire n' etait pas satisfaif de leur 

1 Histoire des (Euvres de Th. Gautier, par le V*e de Spoelberch de Lovenjoul, 1. 1, p. 338. 



e*tat. Tou jours est-il qu'il ne se pressa pas de les faire paraitre, 
puisque le second, sous le litre du Chevalier double, ne devait etre 
public que dans le N de juillet et le premier dans celui de septembre. 
Quant au conte chinois, il ne parut qu'en septembre 1846, soit six ans 
plus tard, et le titre devait en etre: le Pavilion sur I'eau. Rien ne 
prouve d'ailleurs que ce fut le sujet que 1'auteur avait en tete quand 
il parle de Yeu-Tseu 1 ou la Fille de Hang. 

Mais la collaboration de Th. Gautier au Musee des Families ne 
devait pas cesser pendant cet intervalle. Dans le cours de l'anne*e 
1841, il y fait paraitre trois pieces de vers: Saint-Christophe d'Ecija 
(avril), Notre-Dame de Tolede (juin) et Sur un album (octobre), 
toutes trois reproduites dans les Poesies completes, les deux premieres 
dans la collection intituled Espana 1845. Avec ces poesies, parait en 
juillet un morceau de prose: Deux acteurs pour un rdle, conte fan- 
tastique dont la scene se passe a Vienne. En 1842, il donne pour les 
Etudes litte*raires un article sur Eugene Sue, lequel etait en grande 
partie une reimpression, et aussi la Mille et deuxieme nuit. En 1843, 
il revient a 1'Espagne avec la description d'une course de taureau: 
la Tauromachie (aout). En mai 1844, c'est le Berger, petite histoire 
romanesque avec une fin Sdifiante ou 1'on voit un jeune patre devenir, 
non pas roi, mais grand peintre et Spouser, non une princesse, mais 
une grande dame veuve. Au mois de juillet de la meme annee, 
parait un article sur V Exposition de V Industrie. En juin 1845, un 
seul morceau: VOreiller d'une jeune fille, autre histoire morale ou 
1'auteur de Mile de Maupin semblait avoir pris la place de Marceline 
Valmore pour la rubrique: histoires naives. Enfin, en septembre 
1846, parait le Pavilion sur I'eau, nouvelle chinoise. 2 

Nous avons vu que ds le debut de 1'annee 1840, Th. Gautier 
songeait a tirer une inspiration de la litterature chinoise. Cette 
litterature avait pre*ce"demment attire* son attention. En effet, en 
1833, a Page de vingt-deux ans, il publiait dans le Selam, morceaux 
choisis, inedits, de litterature contemporaine, une nouvelle ayant pour 

Dans Fortunio, qui parut dans le Figaro en 1837 sous le titre: I' Eldorado, il est 
parle des pantoufles d'une princesse chinoise qui s'appelle Yeu-Tseu: "Une charmante 
fllle! dit le he"ros. Elle avait un anneau d'argent dans le nez et le front couvert de 
plaques d'or . . . . Je lui disais qu'elle avait la peau comme du jade et les yeux comme 
des feuilles de saule" (cf. section 43). A cette 6poque, 1'auteur ne s'6tait pas encore 
sufflsamment "barbouil!6 de couleur locale" (Nouvelles, pp. 29, 30). 

* Romans et Conies, pp. 353-69. 



titre Laquelle des deux f histoire perplexe, dans laquelle il mentionnait 
le roman des Deux cousines, dont Abel Re*musat avait donne une 
traduction en 1826. Bien que la situation qui fait le sujet de Laquelle 
des deux, se retrouve dans le roman chinois, il ne faudrait pas con- 
clure que celui-ci a ne*cessairement inspire* celle-la. Le sentiment 
qui pousse un homme a aimer deux femmes a la fois, n'est pas exclu- 
sivement chinois et ce qui fait 1'interet de la nouvelle manque tout a 
fait dans le roman. Nos moeurs et lois n'autorisent 1'union legitime 
qu'avec une seule femme, de sorte que le jeune Europe*en qui en aime 
deux a la fois, une blonde et une brune, d'un amour parfaitement 
e*gal, et qui est e*galement aime de chacune d'elles, soutient une lutte 
centre cette double passion. Laquelle des deux e*pousera-t-il puis- 
qu'il est oblige" de faire un choix? N'ayant pu decider laquelle 
1'emportait dans son cceur, il prend le seul parti que puisse prendre 
un homme honorable ne sous nos climats, celui de n'epouser ni Tune 
ni 1'autre. La polygamie e"tant permise en Chine, le he"ros, aime* de 
deux jeunes femmes charmantes, n'est en proie a aucune perplexite*, 
d'autant plus que 1'une des cousines s'offre de prendre la seconde place 
et qu'il n'existe aucune jalousie entre ces deux parentes qui s'aiment 
comme deux sceurs et qui sont heureuses d'etre encore plus rap- 
proche*es 1'une de 1'autre par ce mariage. D'autre part, s'il faut en 
croire le V* e de Spoelberch de Lovenjoul (Hist, des (Euv. de Th. G., 
I, 55), ce serait une gravure anglaise accompagnant la nouvelle, qui 
aurait inspire" le sujet. Et n'e*tait-ce pas aussi dans 1'essence du 
romantisme de traiter de pre*fe"rence les situations anormales et 
scabreuses? Th. Gautier e*tait assez paien et meme turc, de son 
propre aveu, pour tre en mesure d'ecrire Mile de Maupin, double 
amour, comme le porte la feuille de titre dans les deux Editions in-8? 
II y a eu rencontre, coincidence, et c'est ce que parait bien dire 1'auteur 
dans le paragraphe qui commence: "En ce temps-la, il me tomba 
entre les mains un certain roman chinois, etc." II y a aussi une 
difference qui a son importance. C'est que les deux heroines de 
Laquelle des deux, sont sceurs et jumelles, mais qu'elles n'avaient en 
commun qu'une seule chose, c'est qu'on ne pouvait les connaltre sans 
les aimer, car c'e*tait bien les deux plus charmantes et, en meme temps, 
les deux plus dissemblables creatures qui se soient jamais rfticontre"es 
ensemble. S'il faut que la nouvelle de Th. Gautier ait une source 



autre que la gravure anglaise dont il a e*t< par!6 et que cette source 
soit chinoise, je la trouverais dans le conte des Deux jumelles qui 
fait partie des Conies chinois mentionne's plus haut. 

Une preuve plus convaincante de 1'influence de la litterature 
chinoise, ou pour mieux dire, de la preoccupation des choses chinoises 
dans Pceuvre de Th. Gautier, c'est le poe*sie intitulee Chinoiserie qui 
parut dans le recueil des Poesies diverses (1833-38). Elle est com- 
posee de quatre quatrains et dans sa brievetg ne contient que deux 
allusions qui revelent une connaissance moins que superficielle des 
oeuvres litteraires chinoises. Ces allusions sont contenues dans 
les deux vers qui la terminent: 

Et chaque soir, aussi bien qu'un po&te, 
Chante le saule et la fleur du pcher. 

C'est d'une belle jeune femme qu'il s'agit et Ton verra plus loin, a 
propos du Pavilion sur Veau, que les ceuvres litte*raires chinoises 
off rent des exemples de charmantes jeunes femmes qui sont poetes et 
qu'elles louent dans leurs vers la beaute de ces arbres, de leur f euillage 
et de leurs fleurs. 

A propos de cette piece, le V* e de Spoelberch de Lovenjoul en cite 
une autre, malheureusement reste"e inacheve'e et sans date. Dans 
ses deux quatrains, elle aussi contient un vers ou 1'influence est plus 
manif este : 

Un saule inconsolable aux longs cheveux de soie. 

Jusqu'alors, tout cela est bien mince. II faut arriver au Pavilion 
sur Veau pour trouver une preuve irrecusable d'imitation, une 
tentative d'acclimatation d'une ceuvre chinoise. 

La "nouvelle perplexe" Laquelle des deux, nous renseigne sur 
ce fait que Th. Gautier avait lu le roman des Deux cousines (en 
chinois: lu-Kiao-Li). 1 Dans sa lettre a Henry Berthoud, il 
demande le volume de I'Univers pittoresque qui concerne la Chine. 
Cette publication pre*tendait donner 1'histoire et la description de 
tous les peuples, et il avait paru un volume sur la Chine en 1837. 
C'est eVidemment de celui-ci qu'il s'agit. Que le re"dacteur en chef 
du Musee des Families se soit rendu ou non a la demande du nou- 
veau collaborateur, c'est ce qu'il importe peu de savoir, car je n'a 

Compose au XV Sme si&cle. 


trouv6 dans ce volume que bien peu qui ait pu tre utile a Th. 
Gautier et ce peu figure aussi dans les deux ouvrages dont Gautier 
s'est indubitablement servi, savoir: lu-Kiao-Li et les C antes chinois 
publics par Abel Re*musat, lesquels contes Th. Gautier ne men- 
tionne nulle part, non plus que 1'historien de ses ceuvres, le V* 6 
de Spoelberch de Lovenjoul. 

Des dix contes que ce recueil renferme, celui que Th. Gautier a 
transpose* en fransais est intitule: I' Ombre dans Veau 1 et seulement en 
partie. II a pris des details a d'autres, surtout a celui des Trois 
Stages consacres ainsi qu'au roman des Deux cousines. Voila les trois 
sources principales du Pavilion sur Veau. 

Afin qu'on puisse appre*cier l'e*tendue de 1'emprunt que Th. 
Gautier a fait a ce conte, je vais en donner un resume*: 


Deux fonctionnaires retire's, les Chinois Tou et Kouan, vivaient ensemble 
chez leur commun beau-p&re parce que celui-ci n'avait pas eu de fils. Si 
1'esprit et les connaissances e*taient a peu pres les memes chez eux, leurs 
caractSres 6taient trds diff e"rents. Kouan e*tait grave et seV6re; Tou, enjoue* 
et aimant le plaisir. Les deux sceurs avaient eu les me'mes gouts, mais la 
vie conjugate les fit peu a peu ressembler chacune a leurs maris. Ces deux 
hommes unis par Pamitie", et ces deux femmes par le sang, finirent done par 
ne plus s 'entendre; ne*anmoins ils continurent a vivre quelque temps en- 
semble. Mais aprs la mort de leurs beaux-parents, les deux manages di- 
visrent la maison en deux parties par un mur assez haut pour qu'on ne put 
voir de Tun chez 1'autre. 

II y avait au milieu du jardin deux pavilions ou maisons d'e*te", qui e*taient 
sur les bords opposes d'une petite pi6ce d'eau et chacun des deux beaux- 
freres en eut un. L'6tang ne fut pas un obstacle et Kouan fit passer le mur 
en son milieu, au moyen de piliers de pierre. Quoique voisines, les deux 
families purent done vivre parfaitement e*trangeres Tune a Tautre. 

Tou eut un fils qu'il nomma Tchin-Seng, et Kouan eut une fille qui 
s'appela Ju-Kiouan. Le nom du premier signifie la perle et celui de la 
seconde, le jaspe. Enfants des deux soeurs et a peu prs du meme age, 
tous deux se ressemblaient tellement qu'il e"tait difficile de distinguer la perle 
d'avec le jaspe. Les meres e*taient belles, eux aussi e*taient beaux. Quand 
ils furent en age de comprendre, ils entendirent parler de cette ressemblance, 
mais la possibility de se rencontrer leur 6tait interdite par les usages, en 

1 Dans Hyperion, Longfellow fait allusion a ce conte: That very pleating and fanciful 
Chinese romance, the Shadow in the Water, ends with the hero's marrying both the 
heroines (p. 214, Longfellow's Prose Works II, Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1892). Je dois 
cette reference a M. Alfred Emerson de 1'Art Institute de Chicago. 



outre de la querelle qui divisait leurs families. Us en devinrent plus jaloux 
de cette beaute" identique et re*ciproque. Ne'anmoins, le gargon, pensant 
que les querelles des parents ne concernent pas les enfants, tenta chez les 
voisins une visite qui e*choua. Avec le temps, les deux cousins oublierent 
cette ressemblance qui avait tant eVeille* leur curiosite* enfantine. 

Mais un jour d'e*te*, il arriva que les deux jeunes gens vinrent prendre le 
frais dans les deux pavilions. L'eau e*tait tranquille et tout s'y re"fle*chissait 
distinctement. Quelle ne fut pas la surprise de la jeune fille de voif refle*te*e 
dans Peau, au del& du mur, une image qui lui ressemblait au point d'etre 
prise pour la sienne! Cela provenait de ce que son cousin avait 6t6 son 
bonnet. D'abord jalouse de cette beaute*, elle finit par avoir de la sympathie 
pour un tre si semblable & elle-meme et Pamour se glissa dans son coeur. 

Le jeune homme, de son cote", apercut la reflexion sur le bord oppose* et 
constata que si sa cousine lui ressemblait, elle le surpassait en beaute*. DSs 
que Tchin-Seng cut vu Ju-Kiouan, il Paima; et sa passion Pemportant sur 
la prudence, il sauta de joie et lui dit: " Vous etes la contre-partie de moi- 
me"me: qu'est-ce qui nous empeche de nous rejoindre et de nous unir pour 
la vie?'" Ces paroles ne firent qu'augmenter Tamour de Ju-Kiouan. Mais 
plus prudente et plus re*serve*e que son cousin, elle ne lui re*pondit que par 
un sourire qui fut compris de Tchin-Seng. 

Depuis ce moment, ils vinrent tous les jours aux pavilions sous pre*texte 
que la chaleur e*tait accablante; Tchin-Seng continua de parler et Ju-Kiouan 
se risqua & re*pondre par des signes (chap. i). 

Mais ces entrevues par reflexion n'e"taient pas de nature a satisfaire 
Tchin-Seng et un jour, il se jeta dans Pe*tang et se rendit & la nage au pavilion 
oppose* oil il arriva avant sa cousine. Ju-Kiouan, timide de nature, se retira 
effraye, quand elle vit venir & elle, lui tendant les bras, la re*alite* au lieu de 
Pombre. La peur ne la retint loin du balcon que peu de jours; de*cide*e a 
renouer des relations si douces, elle e*crivit quelques vers, les enveloppa dans 
une fleur qu'elle roula ensuite dans une feuille de nymphea-ne*lumbo, et la 
premiere fois qu'elle apercut Pombre de Tchin-Seng, elle jeta le rouleau dans 
Peau en lui faisant signe de le ramasser. Elle lui disait que la surface agite"e 
de Peau 4tait Pimage de son ame et que ce qui avait cause* sa fuite, lors de la 
visite de Tchin-Seng, e*tait la crainte d'etre punie si on les trouvait ensemble. 
On juge de la joie de Tchin-Seng qui se hata d'e"crire quelques vers en re*ponse 
et les envoya par le meme chemin. II disait que la maniere actuelle de 
s'entretenir ne valait guere mieux que de cueillir des fleurs en songe et qu'il 
fallait s'efforcer de trouver un autre moyen qui pre"sentat moins de gene et 
plus d'intimite*. A la lecture de cette proposition, Ju-Kiouan ne douta pas 
que son cousin f ut pret & commettre quelque imprudence qui pourrait etre 
suivie d'une catastrophe, et elle re"pondit qu'ils devaient tous deux agir avec 
la plus grande circonspection. Tchin-Seng n'osa pas renouveler sa proposi- 
tion et adressa & la jeune fille une demande formelle de mariage. II de"plorait 
les malheureuses circonstances qui s'opposaient pre*sentement il leur union, 



concluant qu'il fallait saisir la premiere occasion favorable qui s'offrirait. 
II attendait un mot de re"ponse qui rendlt leurs engagements inviolables pour 
la vie. Ju-Kiouan, tranquillise"e, consentit avec joie a cette proposition et 
re"pondit par signes qu'elle acceptait et serait a lui jusqu'a la mort. Cette 
re"ponse fit prendre patience a Tchin-Seng et le consola d'etre se"pare" de sa 

Les entrevues par reflexion continuerent, ainsi que les envois de vers dont 
le refrain e"tait constamment 1'ombre dans 1'eau, de sorte qu'en six mois, 
Tchin-Seng avait compose" un petit poeme intitule" la Rencontre des ombres. 
Ce poeme laisse" par hasard sur une table fut vu de ses parents qui connurent 
par la .que leur fils n'avait pas de'ge'ne're'. II ressemblait a son pere par la 
direction de ses etudes et allait au-devant des de"sirs de sa mere. 

Eremites avec Kouan, ils choisirent un ami commun, Lou-Koung, pour 
porter au vindicatif beau-frere la proposition de mariage. Lou-Koung 
accepta volontiers et se rendit chez Kouan. Celui-ci l'e"couta et sans faire 
de re"ponse, sourit et se mit a e"crire ces mots sur une table pres de laquelle 
ils e"taient assis: "Puisque la me'sintelligence et 1'inimitie' ont dure" si long- 
temps entre mon beau-frere et moi, ce n'est pas une petite affaire que d'amener 
une reconciliation; mais Pide"e d'un mariage n'est guere mieux qu'un songe." 

Lou-Koung rendit compte a Tou du peu de succes de sa mission, mais ne 
lui dit rien de ce que Kouan avait e"crit sur la table. Tou et sa f emme abandon- 
nerent done l'ide"e de cette union et s'occuperent de chercher un autre parti 
pour leur fils. Ils se rappelerent que Lou-Koung lui-meme avait une fille 
adoptive nomme"e Kin-Yun, qui ne c4dait en rien a Ju-Kiouan, tant pour la 
figure que pour les qualit6s de 1'esprit. Ils chargerent done une personne 
d'aller proposer ce mariage a Lou-Koung. En vrai Chinois, Lou-Koung 
conside"rait le mariage comme une chose de la plus haute importance et 
re"pondit qu'on ne devait pas seulement e"couter ses propres de"sirs, mais 
qu'il fallait consulter les "pa tseu" ou huit caracteres des deux personnes 
et que si, apres les avoir compare's, les combinaisons ne pre"sageaient aucun 
malheur, 1'union aurait lieu. Les "pa tseu" e"tant favorables: "II parait 
evident, s'e"cria Lou-Koung, que cette union est arrete"e dans le ciel; ainsi, 
il n'appartient pas aux hommes de s'y opposer plus longtemps." L'entremet- 
teur rapporta cette re"ponse aux parents qui s'en re"jouirent et conclurent le 
mariage sans en parler a leur fils. 

Absorbe" par sa passion, Tchin-Seng ne s'apergut de rien: il passait tout 
son temps sur le balcon, sans rien faire et ne permettant a personne de 
s'approcher de lui. Mais, il n'en fut pas de meme de sa cousine qui enten- 
dit parler de ce pro jet de mariage et en congut imme*diatement la crainte 
que celui a qui elle ne faisait que penser jour et nuit, eut manque" a la foi 
qu'il lui avait jur4e. Elle lui e"crivit une lettre pleine d'amertume et de 
ressentiment. C'est par ce moyen que Tchin-Seng fut informe" de ce qui se 
passait. II se rendit sur-le-champ aupres de ses parents et les supplia de 
rompre leurs engagements avec Lou-Koung. Dans son de"pit, il alia jusqu'a 



accuser cet ami d'avoir rapporte le contraire de ce que lui avait dit Kouan. 
Tou, qui retrouvait ses propres passions dans son fils et qui 1'avait gate, ne 
pouvait exercer son autorite. II se contenta de lui dire qu'il devait modeler 
son chagrin et lui laisser arranger cette affaire. Tchin-Seng insista pour 
qu'on ne donne pas suite au pro jet de mariage avec Kin-Yun et que Ton 
conclue son mariage avec Ju-Kiouan et jura que, s'il etait tromp6 dans ses 
espeYances, il trouverait un sur moyen d'eteindre la posterite de sa famille. 
Tou fut oblige* d'aller trouver Lou-Koung et de le prier de lui rendre sa parole. 
Mais ce dernier ne voulut rien entendre, alle"guant que la rupture de cet 
engagement le plagait dans une situation ridicule vis-a-vis de ses parents, amis 
et connaissances. Tou lui avoua que toutes les pense"es de son fils etaient 
tourneys vers la fille de Kouan et que, malgrS le refus de celui-ci, il s'entetait & 
espe*rer un heureux changement de fortune. C'est alors que Lou-Koung 
infonna Tou de la re"ponse 4nergique que Kouan avait traced sur la table. 
Le pauvre p&re en fut de*sespe*re" et expliqua & Lou-Koung que son fils et sa 
cousine etaient tombe*s amoureux de leurs ombres, et que leur attachement 
etait si vif qu'il etait impossible de le vaincre. Et pour prouver son dire, il 
montra la composition poe*tique que cet amour Strange avait inspired. Certes, 
la chose etait contrariante, mais Lou-Koung trouva cette passion si singuliere 
qu'il la jugea digne de passer & la posterite. II blama les parents qui ne sur- 
veillent pas leurs enfants, mais puisque 1'affaire etait si avanc^e, il crut 
que le mieux etait d'aviser, afin de la conduire & bien et il se chargea de 
1'entreprise. Quant a sa fille, il verrait & la pourvoir. Tou apprit & sa 
femme et & son fils la tournure que prenaient les choses, et Tchin-Seng fut si 
heureux de la promesse de Lou-Koung qu'il alia Ten remercier. L'ami 
gSneYeux profita de cette visite pour conseiller au jeune homme de ne pas 
s'occuper de son mariage et de retourner & ses etudes. 

Lou-Koung ne dit rien de ce qui avait eu lieu ni & sa famille ni & sa fille. 
II assura que c'etait lui qui avait rompu le mariage parce que le jeune homme 
ne re"pondait pas & son attente. Mais Kin-Yun trouva que la conduite de son 
pere adoptif etait pleine d'inconse'quence et attribua le changement de ses 
projets au manque d'inte'ret qu'il lui portait. Le de"sappointement qu'elle 
en ressentit la fit tomber malade (chap. ii). 

Kouan etait un homme se"vre dans sa famille et son premier soin, apr&s 
la proposition faite de la part de son beau-frere, fut de rendre la separation 
encore plus complete; & cette fin il fit fermer 1'espace qui restait sous le mur. 
Les ombres memes e"taient maintenant se"pare*es. Tchin-Seng, pour se con- 
soler et prendre patience fit de nouveaux vers sur la cruaut de la separation 
absolue. Ju-Kiouan apprit qu'il avait recherche une autre personne, sans 
savoir que ce mariage e"tait rompu. Elle s'irrita centre rinfideiite* de son 
amant et 1'egoisme de Lou-Koung qui s'accommodait d'un gendre qui avait 
6te destine a une autre. Elle pensa que le refus de son pere provenait du 
manque de sincerite de la proposition de Lou-Koung faite au nom de Tou, et 
comme la malheureuse Kin-Yun, Tinfortunee Ju-Kiouan tomba malade. 



Ainsi, dit 1'auteur, quoique leurs maladies provinssent de causes diffe"rentes, 
toutes deux avaient pour premier fondement une erreur. Tchin-Seng, de 
son c6te", e*prouva une indisposition qui ressemblait en partie & celle de 
Kin-Yun, et en partie a celle de Ju-Kiouan. En songeant a Ju-Kiouan, il 
envisageait Kin-Yun comme une ennemie; en songeant a Kin-Yun, il 
accusait Ju-Kiouan de perfidie et de faussete* et de ne pas avoir e*te* e*trang&re 
a la fermeture complete du mur pour se donner le me*rite d'une grande vertu 
et d'une seVe"rite* remarquable. 

Mais la maladie de Kin-Yun devint si grave qu'elle dut garder le lit. 
Lou-Koung commenc,a a se repentir d'avoir rendu sa parole a Tou, mais ce 
qui est fait est fait. D'ailleurs, il avait promis ses bons offices a Tchin-Seng. 
La seule chose done qu'il y ait a faire, c'est de convertir les deux mariages en 
un seul, et de re*unir ainsi ces trois personnes. Mais Kouan e*tait si seVre 
que Lou-Koung dut recourir a un stratageme et lui forcer la main. II se 
rappela que Kouan, le voyant sans enfants, lui avait souvent conseille* 
d'adopter un fils. II lui dirait done qu'il venait de le faire et qu'il de*sirait 
beaucoup avoir Ju-Kiouan pour belle-fille. II lui demanderait ensuite 
d'agre*er un projet de mariage entre Kin-Yun et Tchin-Seng. II fit part de 
ses plans a Tou qui en loua hautement la sagesse. La maladie grave de 
Ju-Kiouan pr4disposa son pere en faveur d'un mariage avec le fils adoptif 
de Lou-Koung. Kin-Yun se chargea d'informer Ju-Kiouan de ce projet de 
double mariage, ayant bien soin d'aj outer que Ju-Kiouan serait la femme de 
premier rang, tandis qu'elle, Kin-Yun, ne serait que celle de second rang. II 
n'y avait plus que le se"vre Kouan qui ne fut pas dans le secret. II va sans 
dire qu'une fois le mariage consomme*, il accusa Lou-Koung de 1'avoir 
trompe* par des paroles ambigues. Lou-Koung lui rappela alors la fagon 
de*tourne"e dont il lui avait re"pondu en e"crivant sur la table: l'ide*e d'un 
mariage n'est gure mieux qu'un songe. Et il ajouta: "C'est ainsi que vous 
avez jete* les racines de ce reVe, qui est devenu maintenant une re*alite*. Mais 
puisque la vie humaine n'est qu'un reve, pourquoi y attacher tant d'impor- 

Apr6s ces paroles, tous redevinrent bons amis et acheverent la journe*e 
en festins et en re*jouissances (chap. iii). 

Voici maintenant un resume" du Pavilion sur I'eau. On y verra ce 
que Pauteur frangais a pris au conteur chinois, en ce qui concerne 

le sujet. 


Des deux Episodes du conte chinois: 1'amour par le moyen de la reflexion 
et le double mariage, Th. Gautier n'a garde" que le premier et encore l'a-t-il 
beaucoup simplifie', comme on va le voir. 

Les deux peres Tou et Kouan ne sont plus beaux-fr&res; des gouts com- 
muns, une parente* e*loigne*e les ont re*unis, mais a la longue, les annees aidant, 
les de*fauts du caract^re s'accentuent, 1'indulgence disparait, les plaisanteries 



deviennent mordantes, et autant on de"sirait se voir, autant maintenant Ton 
tache de s'eViter. 

II n'habitent plus la meme maison, ils ne sont que voisins; et lorsque 
Panimosite' a succ&le' aux bons rapports, chacun d'eux voudrait bien aller 
vivre plus loin. Toutefois, Ton s'attache aux lieux ou Ton vit, il est dur de 
s'en eloigner et malgre" les inconve*nients de toutes sortes qui re"sultent de la 
proximit6 des gens qu'on ne veut plus voir, on reste ou Ton est. Seulement, 
pour eViter tout rapport, on fait batir un mur qui s6parera un jardin et 
une piece d'eau que Fancienne amitie" avait voulu communs, et les deux 
pavilions construits sur les rives oppose*es avec Pintention de se faire vis-a- 
vis n'auront plus d'autre perspective que Pobstacle du mur ennemi. La 
separation n'est cependant pas complete. L J e*tang est profond et le mur qui le 
traverse doit reposer sur pilotis: sous les arches, les eaux ignorantes des dis- 
sensions humaines passent avec insouciance de Tune a Tautre propri^te" et avec 
le ciel refltent tout ce qui s'offre a leur miroir sans excepter les pavilions 

Chacune de son c6te* du mur, Mesdames Tou et Kouan ont donne* le jour a 
un enfant. 

Mais dans la nouvelle frangaise, c'est madame Tou qui est la mere d'une 
fille charmante et madame Kouan d'un garc.on le plus joli du monde. Et 
contrairement aussi a ce qui a lieu dans le conte chinois, cet heureux e*ve"ne- 
ment est ignore" de part et d'autre, et le restera, car une tablette fixe*e par leurs 
proprie"taires a chacune des maisons contigues defend tout rapport entre les 
serviteurs sous la menace des peines les plus seVeres. En passant d'une 
langue a Pautre, si les enfants ont change" de families, ils ont garde" leurs noms, 
ou a peu pres en ce qui regarde le gargon Tchin-Sing au lieu de Tchin-Seng 
et ils n'en sont pas moins re"ciproquement la perle et le jaspe. 

Quand ils furent assez grands pour se rendre compte de la valeur des 
choses et de leur objet, ils s'enquirent de la presence de ce yilain mur qui 
obstruait le regard et on leur re*pondit que c'e"tait pour se soustraire a la vue 
de gens bizarres, quinteux, reveches et de tous points insociables, pour se 
defendre de si mediants voisins. 

Ju-Kiouan croissait en graces et en perfections: elle brodait et e"crivait 
on ne peut mieux et son pre qui e"tait lettre* lui avait enseign^ ^ comprendre 
les poetes, tache d'autant plus facile que la jeune fille avait apporte* en nais- 
sant un veritable talent d'^crivain. 

Tchin-Sing, de son c6te", avait de Tintelligence et de 1'application et fut 
bientot en mesure de se presenter aux examens ou il r^ussit si brillamment 
que son nom figurait invariablement en tete de la liste des candidats heureux. 
Un superbe avenir s'ouvrait devant lui et sa famille pouvait pr^tendre ^ un 
beau mariage; mais Tchin-Sing voulait jouir de sa liberte" le plus longtemps 
possible. Ce n'e"taient cependant pas les occasions qui lui manquaient, 
toutes les meres qui 1'avaient vu le de"sirant pour gendre. Beau et instruit, 
s^duisant et brillant, il pouvait se montrer difficile et il le fut. 



Ju-Kiouan, elle, voulait un mari parfait et critiquait sans merci tous les 
jeunes gens assez pre*somptueux pour desirer comme Spouse une jolie femme 
doubled d'un poete. 

Les parents commencement a s'inquieter de cette persistance a repousser 
tous les partis, et les meres, soucieuses de Pavenir de leurs enfants, n'avaient 
plus d'autres preoccupations que ces id6es de mariage, de sorte qu'elles con- 
tinuaient dans leurs reves de nuit leurs pense"es de jour. Un des songes 
qu'elles firent les frappa particuli&rement. Madame Kouan, mre de 
Tchin-Sing, rva qu'elle voyait sur la poitrine de son fils une pierre de jaspe 
et Madame Tou, mre de Ju-Kiouan, reva que sa fille portait au cou une 
perle du plus bel orient. Quelle signification pouvait avoir ces songes? 
C'est ce que se demandaient chacune de son cote" les deux excellentes femmes 
et d'un commun accord, comme si elles se fussent entendues, elles allerent 
trouver le bonze du temple de F6 pour qu'il la leur reVelat. Get homme 
inspire r^pondit a Mme Tou qu'il fallait le jaspe a la perle et a Mme Kouan 
la perle au jaspe. 

Un jour que le temps etait beau, Pair clair et Peau paisible, Ju-Kiouan, 
accoude*e au balcon du pavilion familial, apergut la reflexion du pavilion 
oppose. Mais ce qui Pinteressa au plus haut degre", ce fut de voir accoude* 
aussi a Tautre balcon une figure qui lui ressemblait de telle fagon que, si elle ne 
fut pas venue de Pautre c6te du bassin, elle Peut prise pour elle-meme. 
Cette ressemblance surprenante ne surprend pas ceux qui ont lu Poriginal 
chinois, mais la surprise de ceux qui ne Pont pas lu est bient6t dissipe*e, car is 
Pon trouve Strange que Tchin-Sing, qui est un gargon, puisse tre pris pour 
une demoiselle, nous re"pondrons que Padolescent, a cause de la chaleur, avait 
6te son bonnet de licencie", qu'il etait extremement jeune et n'avait pas 
encore de barbe, que ses traits deiicats, son teint uni et ses yeux brillants 
pouvaient facilement preter a Pillusion, illusion qui ne dura guere, Ju- 
Kiouan, aux mouvements de son cceur, ayant bien vite reconnu que ce n'etait 
point une jeune fille dont Peau re*pe"tait Pimage. 

Tchin-Sing, fit de son c6t6 la meme experience. L'amour a des voies 
inconnues: le reve de Ju-Kiouan avait pris corps, les desirs de Tchin-Sing 
s'etaient fixes. Effet merveilleux de la symetrie! De cette entrevue par 
reflexion, il resulta que leurs refus des partis qu'on leur proposait fut plus 
obstine que jamais. 

Faut-il rapporter que les pavilions devinrent les retraites favorites des 
deux jeunes gens? Les gestes passionnes de Tchin-Sing regurent la bien- 
venue d'un sourire. Enhardi par cet accueil, il ecrivit en vers une declaration 
d'amour sur un carre de papier argente et colore, puis apres Pavoir rouie il 
Penveloppa dans une feuille de nenuphar que la brise complaisante et com- 
plice des amants poussa sur la surface lisse du bassin sous Parche du mur 
jusqu'au pied du pavilion oppose ou Ju-Kiouan n'eut qu'a se baisser pour 
la recueillir. La beaute de 1'ecriture, le choix des mots, Pexactitude des rimes, 
Pedat des images confirmerent le choix qu'avaient fait les yeux de Ju-Kiouan. 



Mais quel enchantement quand elle lut la signature: la perle! Elle avait 
trop souvent entendu sa m&re parler de son reve pour ne pas etre frappSe par 
la coincidence. 

Le jour suivant, com me la brise avait change*, Ju-Kiouan profita de ce 
hasard pour envoyer par le me'me moyen une re*ponse aussi en vers, ou ses 
sentiments, bien que voile's d'une extreme modestie, n'en laissaient pas moins 
voir leur ardeur. Mais quel nom y 6tait attache* ? le jaspe ! la pierre pre*cieuse 
que Mme Kouan avait vu e*tinceler sur la poitrine de son fils. 

Tchin-Sing raconta tout a Mme Kouan et Ju-Kiouan rapporta tout a 
Mme Tou. Les noms de perle et de jaspe furent de"cisifs pour les deux dames. 
Interroge* par elles, le bonze du temple de F6 annon^a que telle e*tait bien la 
signification des deux reves. Avec la complaisance qui caracte*rise les 
eccle*siastiques, il se chargea des demarches auprSs des deux pres. De petits 
presents le rendirent si Eloquent que Tou et Kouan se demanderent comment 
ils avaient pu rester se*par6s si longtemps. 

Les noces se firent. La perle et le jaspe purent enfin se parler librement 
et autrement que par rinterme*diaires d'un reflet. En f urent-ils plus heureux ? 
C'est ce que nous n'oserions affirmer, car le bonheur n'est souvent qu'une 
ombre dans Teau. 

Quiconque a le re*cit de Th. Gautier present a la me*moire recon- 
naitra qu'ici et lit nous avons laisse* parler Pauteur, car dans ces pas- 
sages, on ne peut mieux dire qu'il ne Fa fait lui-meme. Certes, le 
conte chinois est gracieux; mais il faut lire le Pavilion sur Veau pour 
appre*cier ce que le grand artiste frangais a su tirer de cette grace et 
comment il a su 1'orner d'un luxe de details aussi inte*ressants que 
pittoresques. Ces details, ou les a-t-il emprunte*s, quel usage en 
a-t-il fait ? C'est ce que nous allons maintenant examiner. 

Dans ce qui suit, les initiales DC repre"sentent le roman des Deux 
cousines, traduit par Abel Re*musat, 2 vol., 1826; les initiales CC, 
les Conies chinois, e*dite*s par le meme, 3 vol., 1827. Parmi ces contes, 
celui des Trois etages consacres est mdique" par les initiales TEC, les 
autres par leurs titres suivis de CC et de Vindication du tome et de la 
page. Tous les passages ou la page seule est marquee proviennent de 
I' Ombre dans Veau. 1 

Les mots en italique dans la colonne de gauche sont ceux qui 
sont passes tels quels des sources dans le texte de Gautier. En plus 
de ceux-la, il y en a d'autres dont le radical suffit a indiquer la filia- 
tion ou dont la synonymic est si grande que la source est tout aussi 

i Tome II, p. 7-64. Traduit par M. Davis. 




6vidente que dans les cas oil les mmes mots, lettre pour lettre, 
ont e"te* employes. On verra, du reste, que si nous avons pe*che", 
c'est par exces de precaution. 

1 . Dans la province de Can- 
ton, a quelque'W 1 de la 
ville, demeuraient porte 
a porte deux riches Chi- 
nois retires des affaires; 

2. L'un de ces Chinois 
s'appelait Ton, et 1'autre 

3. Tou avail occupe de 
hautes fonctions scienti- 
fiques. II 6tait "han- 
lin" et lettre de la chambre 
de jaspe; 2 Kouan, dans 
des emplois moins releves 

4. ils faisaient voltiger le 
pinceau charge de noir 

5. sur le treillis 3 du papier a 

Dans un district de la province de Canton, 
vivaient deux hommes qui, . . . s'e"taient re- 
tire's des affaires; (p. 7) 

ils firent plus de soixante-dix lis. NOTE: II faut 
environ dix lis et demi pour faire une lieue de 
France (les Tendres epoux, CC, I, 143). 
II (Pe) s'e"tait retir6 dans un village a soixante ou 
soixante-dix milles de la ville. NOTE: Les 
milles chinois sont tres petits; il en faut dix 
pour faire une de nos lieues (DC, I, 85, et aussi 
Preface, p. 70). 

ils s'appelaient Tou et Kouan: (p. 7) 

apre"s avoir occup6 des emplois (p. 7) 
et avait rempli les fonctions d'inspecteur- 
ge"ne"ral d'une province (p. 7) 
le premier avait obtenu les plus grandes dis- 
tinctions litte"raires . . . Kouan e"tant reste" 
dans un rang moins e"lev6 (p. 7) 
hanlin (DC, Preface, p. 75). 
et lettrS de la salle de jaspe (DC, I, 98). 

II saisit le pinceau. Tels on voit les dragons 
voltiger en sautant (DC, III, 5) . 
le pinceau rempli d'encre est un nuage noir 
charg< de pluie (I, 117). 

il prit la feuille de papier a fleurs (DC, I, 117 et 

1 Le li n'a done pas tout a fait 400 metres. D'aprSs les passages cite"s, on ne voit 
pas pourquoi G. a employ^ le singulier : il serait plus courant de dire quelques lis, comme on 
dit quelques milles. 

2 Ces deux dignite's confSre'es a Tou n'en sont qu'une, comme 1'attestent les deux 
passages suivants des DC et les notes qui les expliquent (I, 92, et 98): (1) Gou, docteur 
de la grande Academie imperiale. NOTE: Hanlin: Ce titre n'est pas plus honorable 
mais il est infimment plus honore" que celui d' acadtmicien parmi nous. (2) Le seigneur 
Gou est un lettrS de la salle de Jaspe. NOTE: C'est-a-dire un membre de I'acadSmie 
impgriale. ( Voyez plus haut, p. 92.) C'est done comme si G. disait d'un Scrivain frangais 
qu'il tait academicien et avait aussi 1'honneur de sigger sous la coupole. A. Rgmusat ne 
dit rien de 1'origine de ces deux expressions; on la trouvera dans la tradition de S. 
Julien (I, 67). Voir note, p. 107. 

Par treillis, G. veut probablement dire les raies ou lignes po6tiquement d6sign6es 
par des flls de sole noire dans les passages dont il s'est inspire pour les sections 5 et 30: 
Le papier ray6 semble le fll d'un collier de perles et de pierres precieuses (I, 117). D6ja 



6. tout en buvant de petites 
tosses de vin 

Apres avoir bu quelques tasses. NOTE: La 
tasse dans laquelle les Chinois prennent leur vin 
chaud est tres petite, et contient a peine une 
cuiller6e (DC, I, 96). 

7. mais leurs deux carac- 
teres qui ne pre"sentaient 
d'abord que des diffe- 
rences presque insensibles 
devinrent, avec le temps, 
tout a fait opposes. 

mais ils diffe"raient beaucoup par le caractere. . . . 
Les deux femmes avaient commenc^ par avoir 
les memes gouts; mais, apres leur mariage, 
chacune d'elles se conforma a 1'humeur de son 
mari, et peu a peu leurs inclinations devinrent de 
plus en plus diffe>entes (p. 8). 

8. ils ne faisaient plus que 
des distiques moraux 

Les reflexions morales dont le fond est g^n^rale- 
ment assez commun sont rejet6es dans des dis- 
tiques ou des quatrains (DC, I, 19, Preface). 

9. quand le mot qu'il fallait 
enchdsser dans un vers 
avait e"te* donne", sa main 
n'h6sitait pas un seul 

10. (ils) firent pendre, cha- 
cun de son c6te*, a la 
facade de leurs maisons, 
une toblette portant la 
defense f ormelle qu'aucun 
des habitants du logis 
voisin, sous quelque pre"- 
texte que ce fut, en fran- 
chlt jamais le seuil. 

le docteur Gou proposa a Yang un de ces jeux 
de socie"te" qui consistent a placer dans une 
phrase un mot convenu (DC, I, 156) 
les mots obliges (tels que metal, pierre, corde, 
roseau, courge, terre, peau, bois,) au commence- 
ment et a la fin des vers (rimant avec rien et 
nid) viennent s'y placer sans aucun effort (III, 
4-11 et aussi IV, 72), 

il trouve une affiche en gros caracteres collie sur 
le mur, portant cette defense: 'II n'est permis a 
aucun parent de se presenter ici; cette mesure 
ayant e"te* juge"e convenable, on prie les gens de la 
famille, quel que soit le degr6 de leur parente*, 
d'y avoir e"gard' (p. 14). 

A chaque e"tage e"tait une tablette portant des 
inscriptions (TEC, 35). 

11. Tou essaya m&ne de 
vendre sa propri^te*; mais 
il n'en put trouver un 
prix raisonnable, et d'ail- 
leurs il en coute toujours 
de quitter les lambris 

Vendre sa maison, cependant, n'est pas une 
affaire peu embarrassante, et on ne saurait s'y 
decider sans regrets (TEC, 9). 
Dans la piece du rez-de-chausse"e 6taient des 
lambris sculpte"s, des treillages, des sieges de 
bambou et des vases de fleurs (ibid., 35). 

les flls de sole noire sont remplis de perles, etc. (I, 64). Ce sont deux traductions du m6me 
passage. Dans sa preface, A. R&tnusat explique que la soie noire est le nom qu'on donne 
au papier raye" (p. 64). Dans Fortunio, G. parle d6ja "d'une feuille de papier de Chine, 
toute couverte de caractSres bizarres, entrelac6s en fagon de ireillage s\ir un fond de fleurs 
argente"es" (p. 44). Ici, ce sont les lettres elles-me'mes qui torment le treillage, tandis 
que la le treillis est prepare pour les recevoir. 




sculptts, les tables polies, 
les f entires transparentes, 
les treillis dor6s, les sieges 
de bambou, les vases de 

12. les cartouches d'anciens 
poemes, 1 

13. le jardin qu'on a plante* 
soi-m^me de saules, de 
packers et de pruniers, 

14. la jolie fleur de m&i: 

15. ils avaient fait Clever 
dans leur jardin chacun 
un pavilion sur le bord 
d'une piece d'eau com- 
mune aux deux pro- 

La chambre du milieu avait des tables polies et 

des croise*es transparentes (ibid., 35) . 

tous les vases e"taient de porcelaine fine (DC, 


les lambeaux de vieux poemes accroche"s aux 
murailles (TEC, 8). 

un ruisseau le traversait (le jardin) en serpen- 

tant; . . . ses rives e*taient planters de saules et 

de pSchers (DC, I, 85) 

une habitation champe'tre situe*e au milieu 

d'une plantation de pchers et de pruniers (II, 


les pins, les bambous et les fleurs de mel sont 
compris dans le me'me marche". NOTE: La 
fleur Mei est celebre dans toutes les composi- 
tions chinoises; c'est celle d'une espece d'aman- 
diei(TEC, 8). 2 

II y avait au milieu du jardin deux pavilions . . . 
qui e"taient sur les bords opposes d'une petite 
piece d'eau et chacun des deux beaux-fr&res en 
eut un en partage (p. 9). 

i " II est d'usage, dans les maisons particuliSres, de suspendre aux murs des bandes de 
papier sur lesquelles sont 6crites des sentences morales ou des vers tires des anciens livres. 
Le sens en est ordinairement trs obscur" (note de A. R. sur le passage cit). Cette 
coutume est aussi mentionnSe dans le roman des DC: (Gou) invita ses trois h6tes a 
traverser le salon pour faire quelques tours de promenade dans un petit pavilion, lieu peu 
spacieux, mais dont les quatre murs Staient d6cor6s d' inscriptions (I, 164). Gou, de son 
c6tS, s'arreta a considSrer les piSces de vers qui 6taient attache'es aux deux pans du mur: 
on voyait des morceaux composes par des hommes celgbres d'autrefois, par les auteurs 
du temps, d'anciennes poesies et des vers nouveaux (I, 222). G. y voyait une pratique 
digne d'etre imite. Dans un article sur 1'Exposition universelle de Londres et intitulg 
En Chine (juin 1849), il Scrivait: " II ne nous restait plus a visiter que la cabine du milieu, 
espece de salon entourg de sieges de bambou, tapissS de panneaux, etc., et de cartouches 
contenant;des strophes ou des sentences d'auteurs illustres, Scrites par des calligraphes en 
caractSres orn6s. Nous aimons beaucoup cet usage d'employer comme arabesque les 
beaux vers des poetes ou les maximes des sages; 1'oeil est rejoui par 1'ornement, 1'esprit 
par la pensee. Quelque chose d'intellectuel se mele au luxe et l'empche d'etre bete. 
Nous voudrions bien lire, ainsi encadres dans la decoration de nos appartements, des vers 
de Lamartine, de Victor Hugo, d' Alfred de Musset et autres auteurs cheris (Caprices et 
Zigzags ou I' Orient, I). Le po&te aurait approuvS Montaigne d'avoir fait inscrire des 
citations latines et grecques sur les solives de sa "librairie." Cette pratique 1'a frappg 
et s6duit partout ou il 1'a rencontree. A 1'Exposition universelle de 1867, visitant le 
pavilion de la Perse, il s'arrSte a examiner les inscriptions dont une armure est historiee 
et qu'un Persan lui traduit : ' ' C'e'taient des vers du Schah-Nahmeh, de Firdou^. N'est-ce 
pas une idee charmante, ajoute-t-il, que de decorer rarmure du guerrier avec les vers du 
po6te?" (La Perse dans I' Orient II.) 

1 S. Julien dit que c'est le prunier et non 1'amandier. 


V. sa traduction des DC. 



16. ils avaient fait bdtir un 
mur qui separait Vetang 
en deux portions egales; 
seulement, comme la pro- 
fondeur du bassin e"tait 
grande, le mur s'appuy- 
ait sur des pilotis formant 
des especes d'arcades bas- 
ses, dont les baies lais- 
saient passer les eaux 

On batit facilement un mur de separation aussi 
loin que le terrain s'e~tendait; mais 1'eau e"tant 
profonde, il devenait difficile d'y Jeter des fonda- 
tions. Cependant, on continua le mur par- 
dessus 1'eau, au moyen de piliers en pierre 
place's au milieu du bassin, ou on prolongea le 
mur d'un bout a 1'autre (p. 10) 
il (Kouan) fit aussitot fermer Tespace qui restait 
sous le mur (p. 41) 

17. Ces pavilions comptaient 
trois Stages 

la portion qu'il conserva e"tait dans le style des 
pagodes, et consistait en trois (Stages (TEC, 35). 

18. aux parois des mur allies 
des vers de Tou-chi et de 
Li-tai-pe l 6taient ecrits 
d'une main agile 

en passant dans une galerie voisine, il apercut 
sur un mur de platre, une piece de vers e"crite 
avec la tegerete" des dragons (DC, I, 222). 
C'est excellent, s'e"cria-t-il, c'est tout a fait la 
mani&re du vieux Tou-chi. NOTE: Poete 
celebre du huitieme siecle dont nous avons les 
oeuvres (II, 55). 

Lipe ou Lithaipe, celebre poete du VIII&me 
siecle de notre ere. . . . On a de lui trente livres 
de poesies auxquelles il est souvent fait des 
allusions dans les ouvrages des e"crivains plus 
re"cents (I, 237, note. V. aussi la note a la sec- 
tion 13). 

19. sur leur rebord (des fene*- 
tres), des pots de pivoine, 
d'orchis, de primeveres 
de la Chine, d'e"rythrine 
a fleurs blanches, places 
avec art, rSjouissaient les 
yeux par leurs nuances 

un des clients de Pe lui avait envoye" douze pots 
de reines-marguerites odorantes, et il les avait 
fait placer au bas des degre"s de Tescalier de sa 
biblioth&que. La 6taient aussi rang4es des 
amaranthes avec des rosiers et des orchis . . . 
leur f euillage pre"sentait . . . douze tetes dories. 
Pe trouvait un plaisir extreme a les conside"rer 
(DC, I, 91-92). 

Et la pivoine dont Toeil ne peut compter les 
pe"tales, Et mille pierres pr^cieuses recueillies dans 
le calice des fleurs (II, 113). 

20. sur les tables, ... on 
trouvait toujours des 

on y voyait (dans la chambre) des curedens 
(TEC, 36). 

1 Les deux plus celSbres po6tes de la Chine sont Toufou et Litaipe. Ils v6curent sous 
la dynastie des Thang (VIII 6me siecle). Touch! vecut aussi au VIII eme siecle. On 
comprend ais6ment pourquoi G. a pr6f6r6 Touchi a Toufou. L'ancien rapin 6crivait 
pour le Magasin des Families! 




21. C'6tait . . . un coup d'ceil 
channant de voir le saule 
predpiter du haut de ces 
roches vers la surface de 
I'eau sea filaments d'or et 
ses houppes de sole 

22. les larges feuilles du 
nympficea-nelumbo s'e"ta- 
laient paresseusement