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3MI. 






PUBLICATIONS 



OF THE 



Modern Language Association 



OF 



AMERICA 



EDITED BY 

JAMES W. BRIGHT 

SECRETARY OF THE ASSOCIATION 



(Vol. VIII) 
NEW SERIES, VOL. I 




BALTIMORE 

PUBLISHED BY THE ASSOCIATION 

PRINTED BY JOHN MURPHY & COMPANY 

1893 






TO 

PROFESSOR A. MARSHALL ELLIOTT, 

THE FOUNDER OF 

THE MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA 

AND FOB NINE YEARS ITS ZEALOUS LEADER 

AND FAITHFUL SECRETARY, THIS 

VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY 

DEDICATED 

IN ACCORDANCE WITH A RESOLUTION UNANIMOUSLY 
ADOPTED BY THE ASSOCIATION. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGB. 

I. Die Beziehung der Satire Rabelais' zu Erasmus' Encomium 

Moriae und Colloquia. By HERMANN SCHOENFKLD, 1 

II. The Legend of the Holy Grail. 

By GEORGE MCLEAN HARPER, 77 

III. The Historical Development of the Possessive Pronouns in 

Italian. By Louis EMIL MENGER, ----- 141 

IV. The Order of Words in Anglo-Saxon Prose. 

By CHARLES ALPHONSO SMITH, - - - - - 210 

V. The Absolute Participle in Middle and Modern English. 

By CHARLES HUNTER Ross, 245 

VI. On the Source of the Italian and English Idioms Meaning 
'To Take Time by the Forelock,' with special reference 
to Bojardo's Orlando Innamorato, Book II, Cantos VII-IX. 
By JOHN E. MATZKE, 303 

VII. Lessing's Religious Development with special reference to 

his Nathan the Wise. By SYLVESTER PRIMER, - - 335 

VIII. An Apocryphal Letter of St. Augustine to Cyril and a life of 
St. Jerome, Translated into Danish. Codex Regius 1586, 
4to, Gl. Kong. Saml., Copenhagen. Edited with an Intro- 
duction, and a Glossary of the Proper Names and the 
Obsolete Words and Forms. By DANIEL KILHAM DODGE, 381 

IX. Notes on the Language of J. G. Schottel. 

By H. C. G. von JAGEMANN, 408 

X. A Grouping of Figures of Speech, based upon the Principle 

of their Effectiveness. By HERBERT EVELETH GREENE, 432 



VI CONTENTS. 



APPENDIX. 

PAGE. 

Proceedings of the Tenth Annual Meeting of the Modern Language 
Association of America, held at Washington, D. C., December 

28, 29, 30, 1892. 

An Address of Welcome. By President JAMES C. WELLING, - iii 

Report of the Secretary, iv 

Report of the Treasurer, - ~ m ~ ~ "" " " * v 

1. Did King Alfred translate the Historia Ecclesiastica f 

By J. W. PEARCE, vi 

Discussion : by FRANCIS A. MARCH, .... ix 

by A. MARSHALL ELLIOTT, x 

2. The Absolute Participle in Middle and Modern English. 

By C. H. Ross, ----.---- x 

Discussion : by J. M. GARNETT, ..... x 

by FRANCIS A. MARCH, .... xi 

3. The Sources of Udall's Roister Doister. By GEORGE HEMPL, xiii 

4. The Gardeners Daughter ; or, the Pictures. 

By JOHN PHELPS FRUIT, ------- xiii 

Discussion : by H. E. GREENE, ----- xv 

5. The Legend of the Holy. Grail. By GEORGE M. HARPER, - xvii 

Discussion : by F. M. WARREN, ----- xvii 

by J. E. MATZKE, ..... xviii 

6. Recollections of Language Teaching. By FRANCIS A. MARCH, xix 

7. A Grouping of Figures of Speech, based upon the Principle of 

their Effectiveness. By HERBERT E. GREENE, - - - xxii 

Discussion : by JOHN PHELPS FRUIT, .... xxii 

8. Guernsey : its People and Dialect. By E. S. LEWIS, - - xxiv 

Discussion : by A. MARSHALL ELLIOTT, - ... xxiv 

9. The Literary Burlesque Ballad of Germany in the Eighteenth 

Century. By C. VON KLENZE, xxv 

Discussion : by H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN, ... xxxi 

by H. C. G. BRANDT, ----- xxxii 

by J. E. MATZKE, - xxxii 

Election of Officers, --------- xxxiii 

10. MS. 24310 and other MSS. in the Paris National Library which 

contain French Metrical Versions of the Fables of Walter of 

England. By T. LOGIE, ------- xxxiii 

Discussion : by A. MARSHALL ELLIOTT, - xxxiii 



CONTENTS. Vll 

PAGE. 

11. Erasmus' Works, especially the Encomium Moriae and the 

Colloquia, as Sources of Eabelais' political, religious and 
literary Satire. By HERMANN SCHONPELD, ... xxxv 
Discussion : by J. A. FONTAINE, - .... xxxv 

Keports of Committees, --------- xxxvii 

12. The Tales of Uncle Remus, traced to the Old World. 

By A. GERBEB, ..--.--- xxxix 

Discussion : by F. M. WARREN, - - - - - xxxix 

by S. GARNER, ------ xl 

by O. B. SUPER, ------ xli 

by J. B. HENNEMAN, .... xlii 

by S. GARNER, ------ xliii 

13. Two Pioneers in the Historical Study of English, Thomas 

Jefferson and Louis F. Klipstein : A Contribution to the 

History of the Study of English in America. 

By J. B. HENNEMAN, - xliii 

Report of the Auditing Committee, ------ xlix 

Eeport of the Secretary of the Phonetic Section, - - - - xlix 

14. Lessing's Keligious Development with special reference to his 

Nathan the Wise. By SYLVESTER PRIMER, 

Kemarks upon the work of the Pedagogical Section. 

By E. H. MAGILL, li 

15. The Preparation of Modern Language Teachers for American 

Institutions. By E. H. BABBITT, ----- Hi 
A Resolution on the subject of Spelling Reform, - - - - Ixi 

16. A Study of the Middle English Poem, The Pystal of Susan; its 

MSS., Dialect, Authorship and Style: Introductory to a 
collated Text and Glossary. By T. P. HARRISON, - - Ixi 

17. Irregular Forms of the Possessive Pronouns in Italian. 

By L. EMIL MENGER, ------- Lrii 

Discussion : by J. E. MATZKE, ----- Ixii 

18. J. G. Schottel's Influence on the Development of the Modern 

German Schriftsprache. By H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN, - Ixiii 

EXTRA SESSION. 

1. The Language of the Sciences and a Universal Language. 

By FRANCIS A. MARCH, - Ixiv 

2. The Psychological Basis of Phonetic Law and Analogy. 

By GUSTAF E. KARSTEN, Ixiv 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

3. On the Source of the Italian and English Idioms meaning ' To 
Take Time by the Forelock,' with special reference to Bo- 
jardo's Orlando Innamorato, Bk. ii, Cantos vii-ix. 

By JOHN E. MATZKE, ------- Ixv 

Discussion : by KARL PIETSCH, Ixv 

by JAMES W. BRIGHT, - Ixv 

Election and List of Honorary Members, ----- Ixvi 

List of Officers, ----- Ixviii 

List of Members, ---------- Ixix 

List of Subscribing Libraries, ------- Lxxviii 

Roll of Members Deceased, -------- Ixxix 

The Constitution of the Association, ------ Ixxx 



PUBLICATIONS 

OF THE 

MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA, 

1893. 

(VOL. vin, 1.) NEW SERIES, VOL. I, 1. 

I. DIE BEZIEHUNG DER SATIRE RABELAIS' ZU 
ERASMUS' ENCOMIUM MORIAE UND COLLOQUIA. 

Die Beziehung Rabelais' zu Erasmus von Rotterdam drangt 
sich beim Studium der beiderseitigen, zumal satirischen 
Schrifteu machtig von selber auf und ist infolge dessen auch 
langst erkannt worden. Keiner hat diese Beziehung starker 
betont als Birch-Hirschfeld. 1 Aber eine eingeheude Abhand- 
lung, eigens zu dem Zwecke verfasst zu erweisen, warum 
Rabelais fast in alien Stiicken seiner Satire mit dem wahl- 
verwandten Erasmus ubereinstimrut, steht meines Wissens 
noch aus. 

Bedenkt man jedoch die ungeheure Bedeutung, den unend- 
lich breiten Raum, den beide Manner in der Weltliteratur 
einnehmen, dann lohnt es sich wohl der Miihe, den Zu- 
sammenhang und die Beziehung zwischen den Werken der 
beiden unstreitig genialsten Satiriker und Humanisten des 
XVI Jahrhunderts ins Auge zu fassen. Wenn man ferner 

1 Gench. der Franzos. Lit. I, 215-216, 217 (Erasmus Schriften bei Rabelais 
gefunden). 

1 



2 H. SCHOENFELD. 

den breiten Strom der franzosischen Literatur l betrachtet, der 
sich gerade im XVI Jahrhundert nach Deutschland ergoss, 
so ist es trostlich zu wissen, dass der Gegenstrom, der von den 
deutschen Huraanisten und Reformatoren aus nach Frankreich 
stromte, vielleicht noch mehr kulturbestimmend gewesen. 
" Die Schilderung des Einflusses, welchen Erasmus atif die 
strebenden und reifen Manner Frankreichs und Englands 
iibte, gehort der Culturgeschichte der genannten Lander an. 
Nur so viel ist kurz zii constatiren, dass die Umwandlung der 
Universitat Paris aus einer Hochburg des Scholasticismus in 
eine Pflanzstatte humanistischer Wissenschaft teilvveise sein 
Werk ist, und dass England im Wesentlichen ihm die Ver- 
trautheit mit der klassischen Literatur zu verdanken hat." : 
Freilich ist es hierbei notig gewesen, noch den Beweis zu 
fuhren, dass Erasmus thatsachlich deutsch war nach Eigenart, 
Gesinnung und Bildung, ein Beweis, der L. Geiger trefflich 
gelungen ist. 3 So viel steht fest, dass Reuchlin (" Egregius 
ille trilinguis ernditionis Phoenix." Apotheosis Capnionis.} 
und Erasmus nach des urdeutschen Hut ten Wort als "die 
beiden Augen Deutschlands " galten. Jedenfalls bedeutet 
Erasmus, der mit Spott und Sophistik das verderbte Kirchen- 
tum seiner Zeit untergrabt, schopferisch ist in der Theorie der 
Padagogik, durch seine Leistungen auf dem Gebiete eines 

1 Caesar Fleischlen's Oraphische Lileratur-Tafel : Die deutsche Lit. u. der 
Einfluss fremder Literaturen auf ihren Verlauf in graphischer Darstellung. 
Stuttgart, 1890. 

8 Ludwig Geiger, Renaissance und Humanismus, p. 528. 

3 Ren. u. Hum., p. 527: "Zehn Jahre lang gehorte er, der Niederlander, 
Frankreich und England, hier Paris, dort London u. Oxford, an. Trotzdem 
ist er weder Englander noch Franzose geworden. . . Wiihrend aber jene 
beiden Nationen bei aller Verehrung ihn nicht als den ihrigen betrachteten, 
fingendie Deutschen schon damals an, ihn als ihren Landsmann anzusehen. . . . 
So spat er sich auch entschloss, von nostra Germania zu reden, so hatten die 
Deutschen doch Eecht, ihn als den ihrigen zu bezeichnen. Nur in Deutsch- 
land erscheint er fast in gleichem Maasse als Geber und Empf anger (cf. 
Modern Language Notes, Febr., March, June, 1892: meine Aufsiltze : " Brant 
und Erasmus"), in alien anderen Landern ist er entweder das Eine oder 
das Andere. . ." 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 3 

klassischen Latein und Griechisch, dessen Aussprache er durch 
eine scharfsinnige Schrift : De recta Ldtini Graecique sermonis 
pronunciatione, fixirt, die ausschliesslich auf seine Autoritat 
bin herrschend wurde, fur Deutschland den Hohepunkt des 
Humanismus unter den humanistischen Grossen, die das Bil- 
dungsuiaterial, welches das Altertura hinterlassen hatte, metho- 
disch dem Inhalte nach zu bewaltigen such ten, um sich nicht 
in dem blanken Formenkram der Italiener zu verlieren. Er 
darf als der Vollender dessen gelten, was ein Ennea Silvio Pic- 
colomini, der Apostel des Humanismus unter den Deutschen, 
die von Conrad Celtes gestiftete rheinische Gesellschaft be- 
gan nen, was auf den Universitaten Heidelberg und Tubingen, 
was unter den sechs Mannern von der Schule zu Deventer, 
unter denen der beruhmteste Rudolf Agricola, Bliiten zu 
treiben anfing. Von den Gelehrten aller vom Humanismus 
beruhrten Lander bis hinauf nach Polen bewundert, von den 
Grossen der Erde gesucht, die hochste wissenschaftliche Au- 
toritat seiner Zeit war die Wirkung seiner unzahligen Schriften 
eine ungeheure fur Deutschland. 

Uns aber soil hier hauptsachlich seine tiefeinschneidende 
Wirkung auf die franzosische Renaissance beschaftigen. Die 
scholastischen Nichtigkeiten jener Zeit, die Frevel und Sun- 
den der Fiirsten und Grossen, die Versunkenheit der Geist- 
lichkeit, die Sophisterei der luristen, die "in eineni Atemzuge 
eine grosse Anzahl aus der Luft gegriifener Gesetze zusam- 
mendrechseln," kurz die Unsitten aller Stande seines Zeital- 
ters finden keinen riicksichtsloseren Aufdecker als Erasmus, 
und sein Geist, seine Kritik und Satire durchdringt intensiv 
verstarkt den genialsten, ihm geistesverwandten Franzosen 
des XVI Jahrhunderts seinen unmittelbaren Schiller und 
Gesinnungsgenossen, Franois Rabelais rait seiner encyclo- 
padischen klassischen Bildung, den gewaltigsten Satiriker 
Frankreichs: "Rabelais, le plus grand des romauciers et des 
poStes du temps, le bouifon (?) et sublime Rabelais." l 

1 Sainte-Beuve, Tableau de la Poesie Franfaise au XVI* stecle, p. 259. 



4 H. SCHOENFELD. 

Hatte sich Erasmus in seiner Satire par excellence, dem 
Encomium Moriae, insbesondere an Brant's Narrenschiff 
freilich original als " ein Mann fur sich " angeschlossen, 1 
so schloss sich Rabelais ebenso original und selbststandig an 
seinen Meister Erasmus an. 2 Und in Erasmus haben wir 
in letzter Instanz die Quelle des breiten, weitverzweigten 
Stromes zu suchen, der sich aus Rabelais nach alien Rich- 
tungen der Weltliteratur ergoss. 

Aus Rabelais schopfte Fischart nicht nur seinen Gargantua, 
eines der wertvollsten Satirenwerke unserer Literatur, weit 
mehr als eine blosse Ubersetzung (Scherer, pp. 291, 371, 672), 
sondern auch den Geist der Freiheit fur seine anderen freige- 
sinnten und patriotischen Schriften. 

Rabelais' Geist wirkte fort in unserem humoristischen 
Roman bei Hippel und Jean Paul. 3 Selbst der einzige 
Goethe hat Rabelais nachzuahmen versucht, ist aber in diesem 
Versuche noch nicht recht gewiirdigt worden. 

Jedenfalls brachte er dem Rabelais ein gutes Verstandnis 
entgegen, wie aus seinem politisch-satirischen Romanfragment 
Reise der Sohne Megaprazons hervorgeht, das sich an den schon 
friih gelesenen Pantagruel von Rabelais anlehnte. 4 



1 Scherer, Gesch. der Deutschen Int., p. 273. Mod. Lang. Notes, Febr. 
Marz, 1892: "Brant u. Erasmus." 

2 Freilich hat wohl auch Rab. Brant's NS. unmittelbar benutzt, cf. Louis 
Spach, Bulletin de la Societe litteraire dt Strassbourg, 1862, I, 38. Siipfle, 
Gesch. des deutschen Cultureinflusses auf Frankreich, I, 31 ff. Jn Brant's cap. 
108 [etas schluraffenschif] scheint mir die Narrenfahrt nach Montflascun 
(cf. Goedeke's Note 7) ["all port durchsuchen wir und gstad"] sicher dem 
Rabelais bei der Fahrt nach der heiligen Flasche Quelle gewesen zu sein ; 
vide Rab. V, 15 ff. (wenn echt). 

3 Scherer, p. 672: "Die ganze Art erinnert an Rabelais und noch mehr 
an Fischart." 

4 Es sei bier gestattet, teils an der Hand H. Duntzer's (Goethe's Werke, 
Band XIV, in Deutsche Nat. Lit., Einl. zu Reise der Sohne Meg.) teils im 
Widerspruch gegen ihn zu einer Wiirdigung des goethischen Fragmentes 
in seinem Verhaltnis zu Rabelais kurz abzuschweifen. Goethe schreibt 
selbst dariiber : " Ich hatte seit der Revolution, um mich von dem wilden 
Wesen einigermaassen zu zerstrenen, ein wunderbares Werk begonnen, eine 
Reise von sieben [sechs] Briidern verschiedener Art, jeder nach seiner 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 5 

Auch in England hat das geniale Werk Rabelais' einen 
weiten Widerhall gefunden und tief nachgewirkt. Jonathan 
Swift 1 erneuert in der satirischen Erzahlung die Weise des 

Weise dem Bunde dienend ; durchaus abenteuerlich und marchenhaft, ver- 
worren, Aiissicht und Absichl verbergend [war das Goethe's Meinung iiber 
Rabelais' Werk ?], ein Gleichnis unseres eigenen Zustandes." 

Plan und Ausfiihrung des Fragment-Romans stellt sich wie folgt : 

I. Die Namen zweier Sohne, Epistemon und Panurg, sind aus Rabelais 
entlehnt. 

II. Der Umschwung in den Prosperitatsverhaltnissen der von ihrem 
Ahnherrn Pantagruel entdeckten Inseln Papimanie und Papefigue ist 
durchaus beabsichtigt ; seit Rab. ist der Gegenschlag erfolgt, und die Insel 
der Papimanen ist verfallen und verodet, wie einst bei Rab. die ungliickliche 
Insel der Papifiguen, ein characteristischer Beleg fur Goethe's historische 
Sinnesart. 

III. Eine offenbare Beziehung auf die franzosische Revolution tritt in 
der gewaltsamen Sprengung der Insel der Monarchomanen durch vulka- 
nische Gewalten zu Tage. Die drei zersprengten Teile sind unverkennbar 
nicht wie Diintzer will das Konigtum, der Adel und das Volk, sondern 
der revolutionare " tiers e"tat," der mit Feuer und Schwert Konigtum und 
Adel einerseits, andererseits den Clerus sprengt. Hier wird in rabeliisischer 
Art eine sociale Frage abgehandelt, die zu Rabelais' Zeiten noch nicht 
existirte. [" Ihr habt von der grossen Insel der Monarchomanen gehort?" 
" Wir haben nichts davon gehort," sagte Epistemon, " es wundert mich um 
so mehr, als einer unserer Ahnherren in diesen Meeren auf Entdeckungen 
ausging."] 

IV. Die Erzahlung des Papimanen von der Insel der Monarchomanen 
ist vortrefflich: "Die Residenz (Paris), ein Wunder der Welt, war auf dem 
Vorgebirge angelegt, und alle Kiinste hatten sich vereinigt, dieses Gebaude 
zu verherrlichen. . . . Hier thronte der Konig [Louis XVI] in seiner 
Herrlichkeit, und Niemand schien ihm auf der ganzen Erde gleich zu 
sein." Dann kam die vulkanische Sprengung. Leider gestattet das Frag- 
ment keinen Einblick in die Ereignisse der von Pantagruel gleichfalls 
entdeckten Laterneninsel und bei dem Orakel der heiligen Flasche, die in 
dem Briefe Megaprazon's erwahnt sind. 

Dieser Brief des Megaprazon an seine Sohne ist durchaus nach dem Briefe 
des alten Gargantua an seinen Sohn Pantagruel ( Oeuvres, II, VIII) model - 
lirt. Wie hier Rab. (Garg. ) mit tiefem Ernst und vollendeter Weisheit die 
geistigen Kriifte seines Sohnes auf das Hochste entwickeln will, so sucht 
Megaprazon bei Goethe alle Fahigkeiten, welche die Natur in die Seele 
jedes einzelnen seiner Sohne gelegt hat, zu erwecken und anzuregen. 

1 Scherer, p. 371. Schon in seinem Marchen von der Tonne (The Tale 
of a 2W>, 1704), einem beissenden Pasquill gegen Papismus, Luthertum 



6 H. SCHOENFELD. 

Rabelais. Tristram Shandy, Lawrence Sterne's geistvoller 
Roman von feinstera Humor, den aber Birch-Hirschfeld wegen 
der beabsichtigten " Liisternheiten und Zweideutigkeiten," die 
Rabelais fernliegen, 1 dem Werke des letzteren niit Recht unter- 
ordnet, wiirde ohne die anregende franzosische Quelle nicht 
existiren. Southey, einer der keuschesten englischen Dichter, 
bezieht sich nicht uur bestandig auf Rabelais, sondern la'sst 
sich in The Doctor fiber einige seiner Episoden des Breiteren 
aus, wahrend Coleridge, die hochste Autoritat auf dem Gebiet 
der Kritik, sich mit Bezug auf Rabelais riihmt, " that he could 
write a treatise which would make the Church stare and the 
conventicle groan and yet it would be truth and nothing but 
the truth." 

In der romanischen Literatur hat Italien allein dem grossen 
Rabelais die Gefolgschaft versagt : die kirchentreuen Schrift- 
steller Italiens habendie(angeblichen)menschlichen Schwachen 
Rabelais' zu Unrecht in den schwarzesten Farben gemalt. Erst 
G. Martinozzi 2 sucht die Berechtigung dieser Feindseligkeiteu 
gegen Rabelais in Italien zu widerlegen. Er sieht in dem Werke 
nur ein Produkt heiterer Latine und echt dichterischer Phan- 
tasie. Der Grundgedanke sei die Parodie der Romantik des 
Mittelalters, ihre Tendenz sei weder politisch, noch kirchen- 
feindlich, noch gar padagogisch, sondern die treile, naturwahre, 
an die Diagnose des Arztes erinnernde Schilderung der Zeit 
und der Menschen. Dieser zahme Standpunkt Martinozzi's 
scheint mir absolut einseitig, wenn nicht ganz falsch. 

und Calvinismus, werden die Streitigkeiten der Kircbe in einer Weise 
veranschaulicht, die Papimaniens und Papifiguiens nicht unwiirdig sind. 
Besonders aber sein Werk Travels of Lemuel Gulliver (1726) enthalt eine 
erasmisch-rabelasische Satire auf menschliche Torheit und Schwache mit 
zahlreichen Schlaglichtern auf die politischen, religiosen und socialen Zu- 
stande seiner Zeit und seines Landes. 

1 Burgaud-Kathe'ry, Oeuvres, III, XXXIV, Anm. 2: Hal Swift die Ge- 
schichte von der Nonnenbeichte, die die Nonnen einander ablegen wollen, 
nicht dem Priester, aus Rab. ? cf. Birch-H., Gesch. der Franzos IM., p. 262. 

2 II Pantagruele di Francesco Rabelais, Cittd di Castello, Lapi 1885. Bespr. 
von Mahrenholtz, Neufranzos. Zeitschr., 1886, II, 3-5. 



RABELAIS UXD ERASMUS. 7 

Dagegen verdankt ihm Spanien einen grossen Teil der Bliite 
seiner Literatur. Cervantes und Quevedo stehen auf Rabelais' 
Schultern. Don Quixote in Spauien ist das letzte Echo und 
die Parodie der Romantik der Ritterromane, ein Echo, das aus 
Rabelais widerhallt und vielleicht aus Erasmus, 1 der wohl jene 
Art Dichter im Sinne hat, wenn er sagt : "... poetae . . ., 
quorum omne studium non alio pertinct, quam ad demulcendas 
stultortim aures, idque meris nugamentis, ac ridiculis fabulis." 
Sainte-Beuve 2 citirt einen Ausspruch des Bernardin de St.- 
Pierre : " C'en etait fait du bonheur des peuples et meme de 
la religion, lorsque deux hommes de lettres, Rabelais et Michel 
Cervantes, s'eleverent, 1'un en France et Pautre en Espagne, 
et ebranlerent a la fois le pouvoir monacal et celui de la cheva- 
lerie. Pour renverser ces deux colosses, ils n'employerent 
d'autres armes que le ridicule, ce contraste naturel de la terreur 
humaine. Semblables aux enfants, les peuples rireut et se 
rassurerent." " Das sei zwar ein wenig zu viel gesagt," meint 
Sainte-Beuve, " il y a pourtant du vrai dans cette maniere d'en- 
visager Rabelais, le franc rieur, au sortir des terreurs du nioyen 
age et du labyrinthe de la scolastique, comme ayant console et 
rassure le genre humain." Nur darf man dabei nicht ver- 
gessen, dass dieser Geist des Rabelais in gleicher Weise eras- 
mischer Geist ist und von diesem abstammt. 

In seiner eigenen Heimat ist naturgemass der Einfluss des 
genialen Franzosen am inteusivsten gewesen. Zwar in der 
Beurteilung seiner Zeit schwankt eben sein Bild " von der 
Parteien Hass und Gunst verwirrt." 3 

Aber iiber seinen Einfluss auf die nach folgendeii Genera- 
tionen Frankreichs scheint mir Jacob Bibliophile's (Paul 
Lacroix) Schlussurteil in seiner Notice Histoiique sur Rabe- 
lais nicht ubertrieben : " Rabelais, le plus grand genie de 

1 Enc. Moriae. * Oauseries du Lundi. 

3 John Colin Dunlop, History of Prose Fiction, p. 307 : "Few writers have 
been more reviled and extolled than Rab." . . . cf. Mahrenholtz, Neufranzos. 
Zeitschr., 1886, II, 3-5 : Verschiedene Beurteilung des Kab. in verschiedenen 
Liindern und Zeiten. 



8 H. SCHOENFELD. 

son epoque, n'a pas fait seulement ce roman si comique, si 
profond, si vaste, si sublime, qui survivra meme a la langue 
fran9aise, il a fait de plus Moliere, 1 La Fontaine, 1 Le Sage, 2 et 
Paul-Louis Courier. 

Diese kurze, bei einem fliichtigen Blick auf das Feld der 
nachfolgenden Literaturgeschichte sich von selbst ergebende 
Ahrenlese der aus rabelasischem Geiste entsprossenen Saat 
legt nicht nur die Berechtigung, sondern sogar die Verpflich- 
tung nahe, das Quellenstudium Rabelais' eingehender zu be- 
handeln und moglichst zu ervveisen, in wie weit rabelasischer 
Geist erasmischer Geist ist, d. h. aus diesem geflossen oder durch 
die Geistesanlage beider Manner letzterem unbewusst ver- 
wandt ist. 

Zwar dass der nucleus von Rabelais' Werk in den alt 
celtischen popularen Traditionen zu suchen ist, 3 steht wohl 
nunmehr fest, obwohl es befremdlicherweise erst am Anfang 
dieses Jahrhunderts erkannt worden ist. Eloi Johanneau 
ausserte die Meinung, Gargantua ware der " Hercule Panto- 
phage" der Gallier. Im Jahre 1829 sagte Philarete Chasles : 
" II y avait en Touraine un Gargantua obscur et chirue>ique 
qui avait une grossiere legende ; Rabelais emprunta au peuple 

1 Sainte-B., Tabl. Historique et Critique de la Poesie Frangaise au XVI" si&cle 
p. 259 : " Certaines pages de son livre font deja penser a Moliere, a La Fon- 
taine ; comme eux, il est profonde'ment humain et vrai ; dans son langage 
aussi bien que dans sa pensee ; il sait s' Clever du ton le plus familier a 1' Elo- 
quence la plus haute." 

Moliere hat wiederholt Stoff und Geist aus Rab. entlehnt, z. B., Ill, 
XXXIV: Die Geschichte von der stummen Frau, cf. Rath^ry's Anm. 3 (p. 
678) ; III, XXXV u. XXXVI, Eathe"ry's Anm. 1 ; III, XLI, Kath^ry's 
Anm. 4 (p. 712) ; III, LII, Rathery's Anm. 10 (Ende, p. 759). 

* Bei Le Sage scheint die ganze Form und Fassung des Gil Bias de San- 
lillane auf Rab. hinzuweisen. Schon am Eingang erinnert die Geschichte 
der zwei Studenten, von denen der eine die Seele des Licentiaten Garcia 
unter dem Grabstein sucht, an die Biichse mit der celeste et impreciable 
drogue ; " so auch die Durchhechelung aller Stande. " Les Panurge et les 
Gil Bias ne sont pas rares." " II faut chercher 1'origine du genre dans la 
nature humaine elle-mfime.'' Paul Albert, La Prose: Le Roman, p. 437. 

'Paul Se"billot, Gargantua dans les Traditions Populaires, Paris 1883. (Les 
Litteratures Populaires, Tome XII). 



KABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 9 

ce he>os fabuleux." Auch Jacob Grimm (Deutsche Mytholo- 
gie, 2 Ausg.) sah dariu eine Tradition, die in die celtische Zeit 
zuruckreichte. Bourquelot und Henri Gaidoz l sind derselben 
Meinung. Nur Gaston Paris, 2 allerdings ein starker Gewahrs- 
mann, hegt Zweifel fiber die Schliisse Gaidoz. Aber die von 
Burgaud et RathSry (Einl., p. 29) vorgebrachten Beweise sind 
fiberzeugend geuug, ura tins S6billot's (Einl. 27) Schlussur- 
teil beizustimmen zu lassen : " Rabelais, fort au courant des 
croyances et des traditions de son temps, a pu en avoir con- 
naissance et, transformant au gr6 de son g6nie le r6cit confus 
du peuple, il en a fait 1'oeuvre immortelle que 1'on connalt." 
Das Studium der unzahligen Quellen aus der Klassik 3 und 
der franzosischen Literaturvergangenheit, die Rabelais' unend- 
lich reicher Bildung zu Gebote standen, wiirde das Studium 
der Geschichte seiner Bildung bedeuten. Der umfassenden 
und zusammenfassenden Darlegung und dem statistischen 
Nachweis bei Birch-Hirschfeld ist schwerlich etwas Neues 
beizufugen. Die Spiele der Innung Bazoche von satirischem 
Gehalt und allegorischer Form (Moralitaten), die "societ6 des 
enfants sans souci" 4 mit ihrer sottie, 5 die lustige Predigt, 6 
die Farce, die ihren Hohepunkt schon im XV Jahrhundert 
mit Pathelin erreicht hat, sind von Birch-Hirschf. klar als 
Quellen des Rabelais dargethan. 7 

l Revue arcMoloyique, Sept., 1868, pp. 172-191. 
3 Revue critique, 1868, pp. 326 ff. 

3 Birch-Hirschfeld, I, 274-275. Burgaud et Rathe>y, Not. Biogr., p. 3. 
Rabelais selbst lilsst sich im Prol. zum II. Buche iiber das franzos. Litera- 
turmaterial aus. P. Albert, La Prose, p. 437 : " Le Roman a tenu, on ne 
peut le me'connaitre, une place considerable. C'est un genre aussi riche 
en chef-d'oeuvre que pas un. . . . La nature humaine y est repre'sente'e 
sous une foule d'aspects divers et par des types qu'il n'est pas permis 
d'ignorer. 

4 Birch-H. I, 44-45. 5 p. 46. 8 p. 47. 

7 Berufungen und Anklange an Pathelin habe ich bei genauerer Priifung 
des rabelasischen Werkes folgende gefunden (19 Stellen, incl. V. Buch 21) : 

Oeuvres : 

I, 1: Retoumons a nos moutons; I, 11; III, 34 (Ende) ; Rath4ry sagt 
zu III, 34, Anm. 4 (p. 678) : "Rab. n'a peut-tre pas moins contribu^ que 



10 H. SCHOENFELD. 

In wie weit Rabelais deutsche Quellen benutzt hat, hat Th. 
Supfle 1 zu erforschen versucht. Es ist dies wahrscheinlich 
hinsichtlich des Eulenspiegel 2 und steht fest hinsichtlich Heinr. 
Bebels, 3 Professors in Tubingen, eines schwabischen Bauern- 
sohnes, der in seinem Triumph der Venus cine Satire auf 
alle Stande tmter dem Gesichtspunkte der Liebe, wie sie in den 

1'auteur de'l'Arovat Pathelin a faire passer cette phrase en proverbe." 
" Das ' revenons a nos moutons ' ist nach meiner Ausicht in Deutschland 
erst sprichwortlich geworden, nachdem es Kotzebue in den deutschen 
Kleinstiidtern verwertet hatte." A. von Weilen bei Bespr. von " Holstein, 
Reuchlins Komodien" in Zeitschr.Jur Deutsches Alt. XXXV, 50. 

I, 5 (gegen Ende) : bien drappe et de bonne laine. (Rathe"ry, Anm. 1 
(Allusion). 

I, 20: .... comme feit Pat(h)elin son drap. 

II, 9 : languaige patelinois. 

II, 12: "Six blancs; j'entends, par mon serment, de laine." Anm. bei 
Rath. 

II, 17 : "six solz et maille Que ne vivent oncq pere ny mere." (Vers du 
Pathelin). 

IT, 30 : " Je veis Pathelin, thesorier de Rhadamanthe." 

III, 4: "le noble Pat(h)elin .... rien plus ne dist, sinon: 

Et si prestoit 

Ses denrees a qui en vouloit." 

Ill, 22: O quel patelineux (von Raminogrobis gesagt). 

Ill, 30: RatheYy, p. 659, Anm. 5. Jacob Bibliophile, Edition 1869, p. 
266, Anm. 4. 

Ill, 34 : " Je ne ris onques tant que je fis a ce Patelinage." Rath., p. 678, 
Anm. 3. 

III, 41: (Rath., p. 712, Anm. 3: Onq lard en pois n'escheut si bien. 
Pathelin). 

IV, Nouvenu Prol.: "Et mon urine Vous dit elle point que je meure?" 
(Pathelin'sWorte). 

JVowv. Prol. : "en ay je," Jacob p. 332 u. Anm. 7, cf. V, 17. (Jacob p. 487, 
Anm. 15). 

IV, 6: bes, bes, bes. . . ., wie in der Farce Pathelin. 

IV, 25 : vide Rath., Anm. 4 : " II y aura beu et guall Chez moi, ains que 
vous en aliez." 

V, 27 (unecht? Birch-H. I, 281, u. Anm. 10 zu. pag 257) : "car je n'en- 
tendois leur patelin" (in demselben Sinne wie II, 9). 

I 6esch. des deutschen Culturein flusses auf Frankreich, Gotha, 1886. 
2 Siipfle, I, 37, Anm. 91. 3 Ib , I. 37, Anm. 90. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 11 

Fastnachtspielen ublich war, lieferte. 1 Es 1st iiberhaupt an- 
zuuehmen, dass dem grossen Linguisten Rabelais nicht leicht 
etwas Wesentliches aus der deutschen Literatur entgangen sein 
mag, denn er kannte die deutsche Sprache genau, 2 im Gegen- 
satz zu Erasmus, dem die Sprache der Englander und Franzo- 
sen fast ebenso verschlossen blieb, wie die deutsche. 3 Rabelais' 
Beeinflussung durch Luther in erzieherischer Hinsicht versucht 
Otto Haupt* zu erweisen. Sicherlich hat Rathery nicht zu viel 
gesagt, wenn er behauptet : 5 " Rabelais, lui aussi, prenait son 
bien ou il le trouvait, et il embellissait son modele." 

An encyclopadischer Fiille von verwertetem Quellen material 
hat es also Rabelais gewiss nicht gefehlt. Aber durch den Reich- 
turn der mannichfachen Quellen, die von Rabelais original auf- 
gefasst und verwertet wurden, zieht sich wie ein roter Faden, 
auf Schritt und Tritt mehr oder minder buchstablich oder selbst- 
standig sich in dem Genius Rabelais' widerspiegelnd, erasmischer 
Geist. Er ist von diesem erasmischen Geiste formlich durch- 
trankt und hat sich augenscheinlich mit den Schriften des Eras- 
mus so vertraut gemacht, dass dessen Ideen oder Anklange an 
dieselben, sowie unzahlige erasmische Adagia iiberall hervor- 
brechen uud bei der Behandlung jeden Gebietes menschlicher 
Verrichtungen und Torheiten das rabelasische Werk von Seite 
zu Seite fulleii, freilich immer wieder in vereigentumlichter 
selbststandigerWeise. Ja, eine genaue Lecture des erasmischen 
Satirenwerkes Encomium Moriae und der ebenso erzieherischen, 
wie kritisch-satirischen Colloquia erweisen, das fast alle Zustande 
und Personen, denen Rabelais seine Satire zuwendet, im Keime 
oder auch in ausfiihrlicher Behandlung bei Erasmus vorhanden 
sind, wie eine Vergleichung der beiderseitigen Werke ergeben 

1 Scherer, Gesch. der deut. Lit., p. 272. 

2 Vide Siipfle, I, 67, 68 (Anm. 158), 77. 

3 Geiger, Ren. u. Ref., p. 527 ; dagegen streitet A. Richter (Erasmusstudien, 
Leipz. Diss.) in einem Anhang gegen die Behauptung, dass sich Er. gegen 
die Volkssprache der Lander, wo er sich aufh'ielt, teilnahmlos verhalten 
habe. 

* Leipz. Diss., pp. 40-47. 5 Anm. zu III, 23 (p. 621 ). 



12 H. SCHOENFELD. 

und aus inueren Griinden die Beziehung zwischen Erasmus und 
Rabelais darthun wird. 1 

Es ist eine bewiesene Thatsache, dass Rabelais in seinem 
friihen Jiinglingsalter erasmische Schriften zu seinem Special- 
studium gemacht hat. Erasmus kam im Jahre 1496 das erste 
Mai nach Paris ; sein standiger Aufenthalt daselbst fallt in die 
Jahre 15031504. Die erste Ausgabe seiner Adagio, erfolgte 
1500, die aber in der definitiven Ausgabe seit 1515, in der sie 
wohl Rabelais benutzt, aus einem " opus jejenum atque inops " 
zu einem starken Folianten mit mehr als 4000 Sprichwortern 
geworden war, voll von den heftigsten Ausfallen gegen die 
Frauen, Juristen, Adligen, gegen die Eitelkeit der verschie- 
denen Stande und Nationen und besonders gegen die Feinde der 
Humanisten, die Monche, Ceremonien, Vernachlassigung des 
wahren Inhalts der Religion, die weltliche Macht der Pabste. 
Erasmus war bereits das anerkannte Haupt des Humanis- 
mus und der bestgehasste Mann seitens der Scholastiker und 
Monche, als um das Jahr 1523 in den Zellen des Franziscaner- 
klosters zu Fontenay-le-Comte in Poitou bei Pierre Amy 2 und 
unserem Rabelais griechische Biicher 3 und einige theologische 
und politische Schriften des Erasmus, den man der Anhanger- 
schaft an Luther verdachtigte, gefunden wurden. 4 Er entging 

1 Die folgende Bemerkung Sainte-Beuve's, so geistreich sie ist, ist schief, ja 
sogar falsch, weil sie Erasmus vor anderen Quellen nicht scharf genug her- 
vortreten lasst : " Ce fut tout a la fois Erasme et Boccace, Reuchlin et Mar- 
guerite de Navarre : ou plutot de tous ces souvenirs, confondus, dige"re"s et 
vivifies au sein d'un ge"nie original, sortit une oeuvre inoui'e, mele'e de science, 
d'obsce'nite', de comique, d' Eloquence et de fantaisie, qui rappelle tout, sans 
6tre comparable a rien, qui vous saisit et vous de"concerte, vous enivre et vous 
de"goute, et dont on peut, apres s'y tre beaucoup plu et 1' avoir beaucoup ad- 
mire, se demander serieusement, si on Fa comprise." Tabl. de la Poesie Fr. 
au XVI e siecle, pp. 260-261. 

8 "Qui disputait a Rabelais 1'honneur de correspondre en grec avec Guil- 
laume BudeV' Jacob, EM. 5. 

3 On a trouve' depuis peu une nouvelle langue qu'on appelle grecque. II 
faut s'en garder avec soin : .cette langue enfante toutes les he're'sies. (Nisard, 
Hist, de la Litt. franf. I, 248. 

* Budaei Epistolae graecae, pp. 136, 137, 145. Vide Kathe'ry, Notice sur Bab., 
p. 12, Anm. 2 u. 3. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 13 

der Gefahr indes dank dem Einfluss des Budaeus und anderer 
machtiger Freunde ; wie viel er aber den erasmischen Studien 
in der Klosterzelle verdankte, bekannte er selbst in jenem 
beriihmten Briefe 1 aus der Periode seines Aufenthalts zu Lyon 
(1532-1535 [Marz]), iiber dessen Adressaten lange eine Con- 
troverse geschwebt, bis Birch-Hirschfeld 2 aus inneren Griinden 
zur Evidenz nachgewiesen, dass er nicht, wie Rathery (Notice, 
28), Marty-La veaux (III, 322), Paul Lacroix (EinL, p. 18) 
will, an " Barthelemy Salignac, gentilhomme berruyer " ge- 
richtet ist, sondern eben an Erasmus (geschrieben am 30. Nov. 
1532, als Rabelais gerade an seinem Pantagruel arbeitete). 

Eine weitere starke Evidenz fur die literarische Anlehnung 
Rabelais' an den grossen Meister liegt neben der inneren Ver- 
wandtschaft der beiderseitigen satirischen Schriften in der 
nahezu gleichen Lebensfuhrung und den Lebensschicksalen 
beider Manner, die gleiche Wirkungen zur Folge batten. 

Der Ursprung beider Manner liegt nicht in historischer 
Klarheit vor. Die uneheliche Geburt des Erasmus ist fur 
ihn spater eine Quelle beschamender Demiitigung geworden. 3 
Auch Rabelais' Geburtsumstande sind noch nicht gehorig ge- 
klart. Wenn man 1495 (Jacob 1483?) als Datum seiner Geburt, 
den Stand seines Vaters als den eines Landwirtes und Wein- 
bauers (nach anderen Apothekers) annimmt, so wissen wir iiber 
seine Mutter absolut gar Nichts. 

Beide Manner durchliefen ungefahr denselben Klostergang 
und dieselben Verge waltigungen des Geistes zeitigten die nam- 
lichen Resultate. Bitter keit und Rene iiber den Verlust 
kostbarer Zeit und iiber die falsche Jugendrichtung begleitete 
Erasmus durch das Leben. In der Klosterhaft zu Stein 

1 Mitgeteilt bei Jacob, EinL, p. 19 : "... aM TOVTO <rvy' ra0, qui me 
tibi de facie ignotum, ... sic educasti, sic castissimis divinae tuae uberibus 
usque aluisti, ut quidquid sum et valeo, tibi id uni acceptum, ni feram, homi- 
inuni omnium . . . ingratissimus sini." 

I, 216, Anm. 8. cf. Th. Ziesing: Erasme ou Salignac f Paris, 1887. 

5 Nisard, Rev. des Deux Mondes, 1835, vol. Ill : " Le fameux Julius Scali- 
ger qui avait une jalousie miserable centre Erasme, ne pouvant rien centre 
ses ecrits, s'en prit honteusement a sa naissance." 



14 H. SCHOENFELD. 

(Emmaus) bei Gouda haben sich seine antik]6sterlichen und 
antimonchischen Tendenzen gebildet und im spateren Leben 
gefestigt. 

Ganz so ist es Rabelais ergangen. 1 Die Benediktinerabtei 
Seuilly, wie der Minoritenconvent (La Basmette), sowie der 
mehr als zehnjahrige Aufenthalt im Franziscanerkloster Fon- 
tenay mit den mannichfachen triiben Erfahrungen daselbst 
nahrte seinen Hass gegen das Kloster und Monchswesen, von 
dem seine spateren Schriften zeugen. Widerrechtlich schied er 
aus, erlangte aber Clemens' VII Indult (1524), in die Bene- 
diktinerabtei Maillezais iiberzusiedeln, aber auch hier dauerte 
sein Aufenthalt nicht lange ; etwa 1526 gab er seinem ausseren 
Leben eine neue Wendung 2 und begab sich auf die Wander- 
schaft, erst i. J. 1530 nach Montpellier, urn Medizin zu stu- 
dieren. Aber er begegnete viele Jahre spater (1535) der ev. 
daraus resultirenden Gefahr dureh eine supplicatio pro apo- 
stasia an Paul III, 3 der denn auch seinem "geliebten Sohn" 
vaterlich verzieh. 

Dieselben Vorgange hatten sich fast in alien Stricken in 
Erasmus' Leben ereignet. Auch er hatte das Priesterkleid 
abgelegt, als er in Bologna auf Grund dieser Kleidung fur 
einen Pestarzt gehalten und angefallen worden war. Auch er 
erwirkte, wie Rabelais spater, pabstliche Breve, verstand sein 
eigenmachtigesVorgehen nachtraglich durch die hochste kirch- 
liche Gewalt mit dem Scheiu des Rechtes zu umkleiden ; auch 
er richtete Supplicationen an den heiligen Stuhl, um fiir Able- 
gung des Monchsgewandes Verzeihung zu erlangen. In dem 
Breve vom 26. Januar 1517 willfahrte Pabst Leo X dem 
" geliebten Sohne," dessen Sittenreinheit, Gelehrsamkeit und 

1 Ausfuhrlich bei Birch-H. I, 218 ff. 

*"I1 jeta, comme on dit, le froc aux orties." Sainte-Beuve, Cauteries du 
Lundi. 

3 Jacob, Einl. 33, Text der suppl. ibid. Einl. 35 u. 36, Breve : " omnem 
inhabilitatis et infamiae maculam sive notam ex praemissis insurgentem 
penitus abolemus teque in pristinum statum restituimus et plenarie rein- 
tegramus." 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 15 

sonstige Verdienste auszeichnendes Lob erhalten. 1 Ganz der- 
selbe Process wiederholte sich auch bei Hutten, 2 allerdings 
ohne die nachtragliche pabstliche Sanction, denn er allein 
blieb durchweg consequent in seinera Handeln. Als der Abt 
Johann II, Graf v. Henneberg, aus den Mauern seines Stifts 
zu Fulda alle weltlichen Beschaftigungen ausschloss, brachte 
die Flucht allein Rettung. 

Seitjenem Conflict beginnt die eigentliche Ruhmeslaufbahn 
aller dieser geistigen Fiihrer bei Erasmus und Rabelais wenn 
auch ausserlich verschieden, so doch innerlich nach dersel- 
ben humanistischen Richtung und mutatis mutandis gleich 
ange'feindet aus gleichen Ursachen und von den gleichen Ele- 
menten, beide "prcurseurs et initiateurs de Fesprit mo- 
derne;" das "celeste manne de honneste savoir" beseeligt 
beide, um eine neue Epoche einer neuen Welt zu inauguriren. 

BlLDUNGSBESTREBUNGEN UND ALLGEMEINE SATIRE BEI 
ERASMUS UND RABELAIS. 

Hirschfeld's 3 Worte : "Rabelais liegt vor Allem der Fort- 
schritt der Menschheit durch die ' Wiederherstellung der guten 
Wissenschaften ' am Herzen ; sein Interesse ist daher kein 
kirchliches, kein politisches, auch nicht vorzugsweise ein reli- 
gioses, sondern vorzugsweise ein Bildungsinteresse, daher sein 
Kampf gegen das bildungsfeindliche Monchswesen," diese 
pragnanten Worte gelten wortlich und unvermindert auch fur 
Erasmus. Ihre Achtung und Liebe fur die Bildung ist ana- 
log. Mit Beziehung auf die Apotheosis Capnionis erklart er 
in De Colloquiorum Utilitate seine Lehre, " quantum honoris 

1 Karl Hartfelder, Desid. Erasmus und die Pabste seiner Zeit. Hist. Tas- 
chenbuch, VI. Folge, 11. Jahrg. pp. 131-132. Nisard, Rev. des D. M. 1835. 

3 Strauss, Ulrich von Hutten, p. 15 : " Gleichsam vorbildlich steht in dem 
Jugendleben verschiedener zur freien Entwicklung und zur Befreiung an- 
derer berufnen Menschen eine solche Flucht. . . . Die Fessel wird ge- 
sprengt, u. damit hat der Character u. das fernere Leben sein bleibendes 
Gepriige erhalten. So bei Schiller, so bei Hutten ! " 

3 1, 268. 



16 H. SCHOENFELD. 

debeatur egregiis viris, qui suis vigiliis bene raeriti sunt de 
liberalibus studiis." 

Derselbe Reichtuin an Material und Ideen, die namlichen 
Anregungen desWissens und des Lebens, derselbe Geist der 
Reform jedoch in geistiger Unabhangigkeit, der Rabelais am 
Ende mit Calvin, wie Erasmus mit Luther und dem den letz- 
teren noch verteidigenden Hutten l zusammenstossen liess, ein 
Geist, der die Reinigung ohne die furchtbare Revolution im 
Schoosse der katholischen Kirche vornehmeii lassen wollte ; 
derselbe Karnpf gegen das Yeraltete, missbrauchlich Gewor- 
dene, Klosterleben, unsinnigen Heiligencult (denn das person- 
lich Heilige erkannten Beide an), Reliquienschwindel, Ablass- 
wesen, wie es in ihrer Zeit ausgeartet, gegen die. Fastengebote, 
Ehelosigkeit, Ubergriffe des Pabsttums, die auf materiellen 
Erwerb erpichte Wirtschaft in Rom ; dieselbe Geisselung der 
alien Berufstanden anhaftenden Mangel ; derselbe Spott fiber 
das Treiben der Fiirsten und Grossen, iiber verderbte Richter 
und Beamte, Geistliche und Lehrer, sowie deren verzwickte, 
brutale, scholastische Erziehung ; alle diese Ziige finden sich 
Zug fur Zug bei Rabelais wie bei Erasmus, wobei in beiden 
Fallen die Satire und der Spott wenn nicht etwa der helle 
Zorn iiber die " besterie " hervorbricht durch die " humani- 
tas," das Verstandnis fur menschliche Schwache "tout com- 
prendre, c'est tout pardonner" gemildert wird, die Fehler 
nicht selten mit dem Schleier der Narrenkappe christlich zuge- 
deckt werden. Nur wahlt Rabelais der Natur seines Kunst- 
romanes nach Charactere als Reprasentanten der Stande, Eras- 
mus im Encomium Moriae die Stande als Ganzes : "lam 
vero ut de mordacitatis cavillatione respondeam, semper 
haec ingeniis libertas permissa fuit, ut in communem horai- 
num vitam salibus luderent impune, modo ne licentia exiret 
in rabiem. ... At enim qui vitas hominum ita taxat, ut 
neminem omnino perstringat nominatim, quaeso, utrum is 

1 Strauss hat schwerlich Unrecht, wenn er behauptet, dass auch Hutten, 
hatte er langer gelebt spater mit Luther in Conflict geraten ware, freilich 
aus etwas verschiedenen Ursachen als Erasmus. 



i RABELAIS UND EEASMUS. 17 

mordere videtur, an docere potius, ac raonere ? . . . Praeterea 
qui nullum hominum genus praetermittit, is nulli homini, 
vitiis omnibus iratus videtur. Ergo si quis exstiterit, qui sese 
laesum clamabit, is aut conscientiam prodet, aut certe metum. 
. . . Nos praeterquam quod a nominibus in totum abstine- 
mus, ita praeterea stilum temperavimus, ut cordatus lector 
facile sit intellecturus nos voluptatem vnagis quam morsum quae- 
sisse." Freilich ist Erasmus gar oft von diesem Princip abge- 
wicheii und hat sich besonders in den Colloquia durchaus nicht 
gescheut, selbst hohe und einflussreiche Personen durchsichtig 
genug zu persiffliren, was auch Rabelais in Ausfallen wider 
Pontanus, Galland, Ramus, Calvin reichlich gethan hat. 1 Bei 
der Congenialitat Beider lag es nahe, dass sie angesichts der- 
selben Missbrauche in Deutschland und Frankreich dieselben 
Stande in den Kreis ihrer Betrachtungen zogen, und das waren 
fast alle : "Atque hie sermo per omnes ordinum et professio- 
uum formas circumferri potest." 2 

Beiden a hat es so wollen behagen, mit Lachen die Wahrheit 
zu sagen," denn " le ryre est le propre de 1'homme " sagt Rabe- 
lais, und Erasmus : "Ut enim nihil nugacius, quam seria nuga- 
torie tractare, ita nihil festivius, quam ita tractare nugas, ut 
nihil minus quam nugatus fuisse videaris. . . . Stultitiam lau- 
daviinus, sed non omnino stulte." 3 

Aber beide Humanisten machen von vornherein den Leser 
auf den kostbaren Schatz, der unter der sonderbaren Htille 
ihres Werkes verborgen ist, aufmerksam. Das Horazische 
" ludo quaerere vera " miisse auch dem Gelehrten erlaubt sein : 
" Narn quae tandem est iniquitas, quum omni vitae institute 
suos lusus concedamus, studiis nullum omnino lusum per- 
mittere, maxime si nugae seria ducunt atque ita tractentur 
ludicra, ut ex his aliquanto plus frugis referat lector non om- 

1 Birch-H. I, 270. 

8 IxOvoQayia. Uber Kab.'s Weltsatire cf. den Satz De Thou's : " Scriptum 
edidit ingeniosissimum, quo vitae regnique omnes ordines, quasi in sooenam 
sub fictis nominibus produxit et populo deridendos propinavit." 

3 Praefatio E. M. 
2 



18 H. SCHOENFELD. 

nino naris obesae, quam ex quorundam tetricis ac splendidis 
argumentis ? " l 

Uud Rabelais ? Er ist sich der oft anstossigen Form seines 
Werkes wohl bewusst. Wie man fur Socrates [" sans contro- 
verse prince des philosophes "] nicht einen Pfifferling gegeben 
hatte [" n'en eussiez donne un coupon d'oignon "] nach seiner 
ausseren Erscheinung [" tant laid il etait de corps, et ridicule 
en son maintien . . . le visage d'un fol etc."], aber auch sein 
gottliches Wissen irnmer verbergend, 2 so sollte der Leser aus den 
spassigen Titeln seiner Bucher nicht etwa auf torichte Spasse 
schliessen ["n'e'tre au dedans traite que moqueries, folateries 
et menteries joyeuses"], denn "das Kleid macht nicht den 
Monch," sondern er sollte das gottliche Mark (" ]a mouelle qui 
est aliment elaboure a perfection de nature ") aus seinem Werke 
schopfen :'..." car en icelle bien autre goust trouverez, et 
doctrine plus absconse, laquelle vous revelera de tres hauts 
sacremens et mysteres horrifiques, tant en ce que coneerne nostre 
religion, que aussi Vested politicq et vie oeconomicque" Belehren 
und nebenher alles Wissenswerte in Form von Geschichten, 
Anekdoten, Belegstellen etc. ausstreuen, das ist die Methode 
Beider : " Ut enim omittam tot serias sententias mediis iocis 
admixtas ; tot fabulas, tot historias, tot rerum uaturas dignas 
cognitu," 3 . . . und wiederum : " Socrates philosophiam coelo 
deduxit in terras : ego philosophiam etiam in lusus, confabu- 
lationes et compotationes deduxi. Oportet enim et ludicra 
Christianorum sapere philosophiam " 4 . . . und einige Seiten 
weiter : " Atque hie libellus tradet illos ad multas disciplinas 
magis habiles, ad poeticen, ad rhetoricen." . . . 



Aber bei beiden Humanisten liegt fur den Leser bei der 
Auslegung eine Gefahr nahe, namlich die : " legt ihr nicht aus, 
so legt ihr unter." Beide haben sich denn auch gegen diese 
Unterstellungen verwahrt. So Erasmus in seinem De Utilitate 

*Praef. E. M. 

3 Verborgne socratische Weisheit, wie oben. 

3 De Colloquiorum Utilitate. 4 Colloqu. Senile. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 19 

Colloquiorum ad Lectorem: "Adeo nunc in ornnes et in omnia 
per universum orbem grassatur comitata Furiis rj Sia{3d\rj, ut 
tutum non sit ullum emittere librum, nisi satellitio munitum. 
Quamquam quid satis esse tutum possit adversus sycophantae 
morsum, qui, velut aspis ad vocem incantantis, ita ad omnem 
purgationem quamvis iustissimam obturat aures?" ... So 
weist auch Rabelais die Ausleger ab mit ihrer Sucht " de galle- 
freter des allegories qu'onques ne furent songees par 1'auteur," l 
eine Verwahrung, die den in demselben Prolog vorher gethanen 
Ausserungen,"das Mark auszusaugen," nicht etwa widerspricht, 
wie denn auch nach Birch-H.'s 2 richtiger Bemerkung An- 
spielungen auf Selbsterlebtes, auf bekannte Personlichkeiten, 
bestimmte politische Zustande und geschichtliche Vorgange 
deutlich genug hervortreten. 



Beide Satiriker und Humanisten haben das Ungliick gehabt, 
dass Teile ihrer Werke unter ihrer Hand wider ihren Willen 
verandert und herausgegeben wurden und einen gefahrlichen 
Sturm gegen sie erregten. Es gab zwar in den Werken Beider 
an sich genug des dem Angriff Offnen, und Beide haben sich 
wohl hinter diesen imaginaren Schutzwall der angeblichen 
Falschung durch andere gestellt, um sich erfolgreicher vertei- 
digen zu konnen. Beide bedauerten wohl nachtraglich, Man- 
ches so crass ausgesprochen zu haben, und Rathe'ry behauptet 
wohl mit Recht von Rabelais : " Les alterations du texte de 

1 Freilich bleibt des Dunklen, Unerklarbaren bei dem genialen, tiefen 
Denker Eab. so viel, dass Burgaud Des Marets* geistreiche Bemerkung ihren 
tiefen Sinn hat: "Moi aussi je sais quand Dante, Rabelais et le geant 
Shakespeare ne seront plus compris de personne . . . le lendemain du jour 
ou les commentateurs auront tout expliqu^." Es ware freilich wiinschens- 
wert, Rab. hatte uns etwas deutlicher sein Leben und seine Zeit vorgefiihrt, 
um eben das viele Raten und Irren der Zukunft zu ersparen. " Je voudrais 
que les auteurs nous donnassent 1'histoire de leurs d^couvertes et les progres 
par lesquels y sont arrives. Quand il ne le font point, il faut tdcher de les 
deviner pour mieux profiler de leurs outrages." Leibniz, ed. Erdmann, p. 722 b. 

1,271. 



20 H. SCHOENFELD. 

Rabelais sont dues a Fobligation ou s'est trouv6 1'auteur de 
supprimer les hardiesses des premieres editions pour 6 viter que 
lui et le livre ne fussent jete"s au bucher." Wiederholt beklagt 
sich Erasmus iiber jene angeblichen Falschungen, so z. B. in 
einem Briefe vom 5. Oktober 1532 an Johannes Cholerus : 
" Lambertus Campester, qui olim Lutetiae edidit colloquia 
mea velut a me emendata, persuaso typographo reni esse ven- 
dibilem, et sub nomine meo praefatur, et admixtis per totum 
opus miris emblematibus . . .," in einem anderen Briefe vom 
22. April 1536 : "Huius generis erant colloquia, quae Helenius 
quidam, baud scio unde nactus, nam apud me nullum unquam 
fuit exemplar, care vendidit Joanni Frobenio, simulans alios 
esse typographos qui empta cuperent." Damit war dann natiir- 
lich auch jeder Missbrauch ermoglicht. Ausfiihrlich behandelt 
Erasmus diesen Gegenstand in " Coronis Apologetica Pro Coll. 
Er. De Sycophantiis et imposturis cuiusdam Dominicani, qui 
in Gallia Colloquia Erasmi, a se ridicule interpolate, edi cura- 
verat, Erasmi Admonitiuncula :".... "Addidit impostor 
novam praefationem meo nomine, in qua fecit tres viros in 
uno puero instituendo sudantes ; Capitonem, qui tradidit lite- 
ras Hebraicas, Beatum, qui Graecas ; me, qui Latinas .... 
significans, in colloquiis inspersa quaedam, quae Lutheri re- 
sipiant dogmata ; und etwas spater : Olim capitale erat edere 
quicquam alieno nomine; nunc tales sycophantias in vulgus 
spargere, ficto ipsius nomine qui traducitur, Indus est theolo- 
gorum : nam vult theologus videri, quum res ilium clamitet 
ne pilum quidem tenere rei theologicae. . . . Qui tale faci- 
nus audet, idem non dubitabit incendium aut veneficium 
admittere." 

Dasselbe ist Rabelais wenigstens mit einem Buche passirt. 
Birch-H. 1 sagt dariiber : " Sicher ohne Ein willigung des Ver- 
fassers erschien aber bald darauf eine Fortsetzung des Panta- 
gruel (als IV Buch) in Lyons. Diese unrechtmcissige Ausgabe 
enthalt .... nur einen Entwurf der spateren Ausfiihrung." 
Und ein Privileg Heinrichs II constatirt, dass Rabelais sich 

1 1, 244. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 21 

iiber die Drucker beklagt habe, die sein Werk an verschiedenen 
Stellen geaudert, verderbt und verdreht haben. Rathery meint 
mit Bezug darauf : " Cette allegation n'Stait qu'une finesse, 
bien excusable en face du bucher toujours allume ! " Jeden- 
falls bedurfte es des ganzen Einflusses des machtigen Beschiit- 
zers, Bischofs du Chatel, der ihn zur Fortsetzung seines Werkes 
ermuntert haben soil/ gegen die Censur der Sorbonne und das 
Verbot des Parlaments das IV Buch drucken zu lassen. 

Beide Manner haben der Haeresie und somit dem Scheiter- 
haufen nahe genug gestanden. Beide haben sich wiederholt 
zuweilen fast mit denselben Worten gegen die Anklagen der 
Ketzerei, die von der katholischen wie antikatholischen Seite 
gegen sie erhoben wurden, verteidigen miissen. So Erasmus : 2 
" Demiror, Dolae tantum posse duos Franciscanos. Colloquia 
et venduntur et excuduntur Lutetiae, et Dolae exulant. Qui 
dicunt, in illis aliquid esse haereticum, sive docti sive indocti, 
mentiuntur. Id liquido perspiciet qui legerit meas declara- 
tiones." Mit scharfem, geistreichem Sarcasmus lasst er die 
Dime in Coll. Adolescentis et Scorti sagen : "Aiunt ilium 
(sc. Erasmum) esse sesquihaereticum" mit dem Seitenhieb, den 
er den Monchen versetzt, sie (die Dime) habe das von den 
" viris reverendis " (ihren besten Kunden) gehort. 

So verteidigt auch Rabelais stets seinen rechten Glauben : 3 
" Car 1'une des moindres contumelies dont ilz usoient, estoit 
que telz livres tous estoient farziz d'heresies diverses : n'en 
pouvoient toutes fois une seule exhiber en endroit aucun ; de 
folastries joyeuses, hors Poffense de Dieu et du Roy, prou; 
d'heresies point ; ... si en ma vie, escrits, paroles, voire certes 
pens6es, je recognoissois scintille aucune d'heresie, ilz ne tom- 
beroient tant detestablement es lacs de 1'esprit calomniateur, 
c'est diabolos, 4 qui par leur ministere me suscite tel crime." 

1 Prol. IV : " par votre exhortation tant honorable m'avez di HUH' et cou- 
rage et invention." 

* In epistola scripta Basileae, anno 1536. 17 Mali. 
3 Epfitre a Monseigneur Odet, IV. 
4 Cf. Grassatur Furiis comitata TI Sm^oA^. (Erasm.) 



22 H. SCHOENFELD. 

Aber Stellen wie die stupende Ausserung iiber die christliche 
Religion und ihre Verwandtschaft rait der Torheit ira E. M. 
wenn auch nur im Scherz gesagt und eine Bemerkung im 
Merdardus, so wie der Scherz des Buchstabenspiels " ane " 
statt "ame," 1 Leichtfertigkeiten, wie sie Birch-H. 2 aufzahlt, 
boten wohl Handhaben genug zurn Angriff bei Beiden, mochte 
Rabelais beabsichtigte oder unbeabsichtigte Druckfehler vor- 
schiitzen oder Erasmus das als Verleumdungen hinstellen : 
" Ea vox Sycophantae fuit, non Erasrni." 

Am besten erscheint die Congenialitat des Rabelais und 
Erasmus und die Beziehung des ersteren zu dem letzeren aus 
den Freunden und Feinden der Werke Beider. Zu den Fein- 
den und Hassern unserer Satiriker und Humanisten gehoren 
nun in erster Reihe die Leute, die man gemeiniglich als 
" Dunkelmanner " bezeichnet, dann aber sind auch ihre Ge- 
sinnungsgenossen beinah aus denselben Ursachen ihnen gram 
geworden. Hutten 3 geriet in eine erbitterte Fehde mit Eras- 
mus, weil dieser " nachdem er das Ei gelegt, das Luther aus- 
gebriitet," sich scheu und angstlich vor den Folgen verbarg 
und dem tapferen Ritter beinah feig erscheinen musste ; Rabe- 
lais seinerseits wird von Desperiers in dem 1537 in Paris 
erscheinenden "Cymbalum Mundi" (Weltglocke) tiichtig 
durchgehechelt. 4 In dem letzten der vier Gesprache steht eine 
Unterhaltung zwischen Pamphagus (Rabelais) und Hylaktor 
(Dolet ?), zwei Hunden, die beide nicht zufrieden sind ; aber 
Hylaktor giebt seiner Misstimmung offen Ausdruck, indes 
Pamphagus vorsichtig ermahnt zur Jagd zuriickzukehren, um 
" mit offenem Maul und hervorhangender Zunge " den Glauben 
zu erwecken, sie waren mitgerannt. In den bitteren Vorwiir- 
fen Huttens gegen Erasmus und der versteckten Satire Despe- 

1 Oeuvres, III, 22 Anm. 11 (bei Kathe"ry). I, 275, Anm. 

8 "Als nach des hellen freisinnigen Zwingli Falle der geistvolle, aber 
finstere Calvin den Scheiterhaufen Servets schiirte und die Praedestinations- 
lehre ausbildete, da ware auch in diesem Lager seines Bleibens nicht liinger 
gewesen;" Strauss, U. v. Hutten, p. 572. 

4 Birch-H. p. 38. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 23 

Tiers gegen Rabelais ist ein gates Stuck Wahrheit enthalten, 
aber nicht in alien Stiicken. 

Erasmus und Rabelais mussten es der Natur ihres Wesens 
nach mit beiden Lagern verderben. 1 Denn bei beiden ist der 
humanistische Radikalismus vorherrschend, wenn auch Beide 
Satze aufgestellt haben, die Protestanten und Katholiken, In- 
differente und Radikale berechtigen konnen, sie Beide als die 
ihrigen zu betrachten. Daher kommt es, dass die Fiihrer des 
Potestantismus, hier Luther, dort Calvin, viel erbitterter gegen 
diese Manner auftreten, als gegen die Haupter der katho- 
lischen Kircbe, wahrend diese sich nur mit Widerwillen die 
compromittirenden Bundesgenossen gefallen lassen. 

Zwar zuerst scheint es, als ob Erasmus mit Luther, Rabelais 
mit Calvin gemeinsame Sache machen wiirden, aber bald glaubte 
Luther zu erkennen, dass Erasmus " ein listiger, tiickischer 
Mann, eiu Spotter und Verwiister der Religion sei." 2 " Er 
hat das Pabstthum gereizt u. vexirt, nun zeucht er den Kopf 
aus der Schlingen" (61, 93). "Ob er gleich den Pabst mit 
sei nen Ceremonien verspottet, so hat er ihn doch nicht con- 
futirt noch erlegt ; denn mit Vexiren und Spotten schlagt man 
die Feinde nicht ; ja, indem er das Pabstthum spottet, ver- 
spottet er Christum." . . . " Erasmus is ein gottloser Mensch, 
hat keinen Glauben, denn eben den rechten romischen Glauben, 
glaubt eben das, das Pabst Clemens glaubt. Ich will ihn ein- 
mal von dem Argwohn erledigen bei den Papisten, dass er 
nicht lutherisch ist, sondern ein papistischer Klotz, der Alles 

1 So auch der beriihmte Wilibald Pirckheimer : " Er sei anfanglich gut 
lutherisch gewesen, wie der selige Albrecht Diirer (|1528) auch," bekennt 
er kurz vor seinem Tode in einem merkwiirdigen Briefe, "weil sie gehofft 
haben, die romische Buberei, desgleichen der Monche und Pfaffen Schalk- 
heit sollte gebessert werden. Allein statt dessen habe sich die Sache also 
verschlimmert, dass in Vergleichung mit den evangelischen Buben die 
vorigen fromm erscheinen. Das schreibe er jedoch nicht darum, dass er des 
Pabstes und seiner Pfaffen und Monche Wesen loben kb'nnte oder mb'chte ; viel- 
mehr wisse er, dass es in viel Weg straflich sei und einer Besserung bediirfe ; 
nur sei leider vor Augen, dass auch das neue Wesen in keiner Weise zu loben." 
D. F. Strauss, Ulrich von Hutten, p. 556. 

3 Joh. Conr. Irmischer, Band 61, p. 38 ffi, 100 ff., 107, 112 f. 



24 H. SCHOENFELD. 

glaubt, was der Pabst will, und doch Alles verlacht und treibt 
sein Gespott draus" (61, 95). " Da Erasmus sein Buch Moriam 
geschrieben, hat er eine Tochter gezeuget, die ist wie er. Derm 
also pflegt sich der Ael zu schlingen, winden und beissen ; aber 
er als ein Morio und Stocknarr hat Moriam, eine rechte Narre- 
rei geschrieben" (61, 99). Derselbe Gegensatz, der spater 
Rabelais mit Calvin in dem Streite iiber den freien Willen 
collidiren machte, der Gegensatz zwischen der " Fais ce que 
voudras " Maxime des Klosters Thel^me uud der Praedestina- 
tionslehre Calvins entbrannte auch zwischen Luther und Eras- 
mus : " Und zwar hat er wider mich geschrieben in seinem 
Biichlein Hyperaspiste, in dem er vertheidigen will sein 
Buch vom freien Willen, dawider ich in meinem Buch vom 
knechtischen Willen geschrieben hab, das er noch nicht verlegt 
hat und nimmermehr in Ewigkeit verlegen wird konnen" 
(61, 106). 

Erasmus selbst hat seine Polemik gegen Luther viel riick- 
sichtsvoller gefuhrt. Uberall da, wo er mit den reformato- 
rischen Mannern selbst, mit Luther, Melanchthon, Spalatin, 
Justus Jonas, Zwingli, u. s. w. verkehrt, lasst er Mahnungen 
zur Sanftmut, zum Maasshalten, zur Vorsicht einfliessen. Man 
sollte sich den geordneten Autoritaten des Pabstes, der Bischofe, 
der Fiirsten unterordnen, nicht das Volk in Aufreguug ver- 
setzen, man sollte lieber in Einigem den Irrthum und den 
Missbrauch noch dulden, als im Kampfe fur die Wabrheit die 
"Welt in Unruhe versetzen es sei nicht augebracht, stets die 
Wahrheit zu sagen ; die Gelehrteu sollen sich uuter einander 
iiber die Mittel zur Besserung beraten und ihre Vorschlage 
sodann in geheimen Briefen dem Pabst und dem Kaiser zu 
geneigter Beachtung vorlegen ! 1 

Derselbe Gegensatz entwickelte sich zwischen Rabelais und 
Calvin bis ins Einzelne. Auch Calvin hatte gehofft, den be- 
deutenden, geistesgewaltigen Rabelais ganz und gar fur sich 
gewinnen zu konnen. Aber seine Natur und Gesinnung der 

1 Eudolf Stahelin, Erasmus' Stellung zur Reformation, Basel 1873. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 25 

Herbheit und Intoleranz widerstrebte allzusehr der humani- 
taren, milden Toleranz des Rabelais, 1 und ausserdem wider- 
strebte ihm die Bildung einer neuen Secte ebenso, wie dem 
Erasmus, weil durch deren Bildung der Bestand der Gemein- 
schaft gefahrdet erschien. So kam er deun schliesslich dahin, 
den neuen Religionsstifter und dessen ihm so widerwartige 
Vorbestimmungslehre bitter anzugreifen, 2 was ihm denn auch 
von Calvin und dessen Anhangern Robert und Henri Esti- 
enne, 3 Theodor Beza u. s. w. reichlich vergolten wurde. 4 

Aus ihrem eigenen Lager, aus dem sich Beide nominell nie 
entfernt hatten, wenn auch Erasmus factisch Grundlehren der 
katholischen Kirche, wie die Lehre von der Dreieinigkeit, die 
Erbsiinde, die Gegenwart Christi im Abendmahl, das Recht 
der Heiligenverehrung, das Wesen der Hollenstrafen, die Be- 
rechtigung der Messe, der Beichte und des Ablasses angriff, 
und Rabelais auf Grund seiner Satire auf ebendieselben Ein- 
richtungen und Missstande der romischen Kirche von Birch- 
H.'geradezu als Evangelischer und An hanger der franzosischen 
Reformation hingestellt wird, haufen sich die Angriffe und 
Anklagen der Ketzerei gegen Beide in schreckenerregender 
Weise. Von welcher Art diese Anklagen gewesen, lasst sich 
am besten aus den gelegentlichen Verteidigungen und Wider- 
legungen unserer Autoren reconstruiren. In Ooronis Apolo- 
getica, gerichtet an die Theologen zu Loewen, thut Erasmus 
einen Klaffer fur alle ab und fiihrt die Angriffe auf ihr wahres 
Wesen zuriick : . . . " Quis non intelligit, ista [gehassige 

1 " 1'humeur chagrine (sc. de Calvin) avait de tout temps rdpugnd a sa 
nature franchement Gauloise." Rathe"ry, Notice, p. 62. 

* " Les Demoniacles Calvins, imposteurs de Geneve," Oeuvres IV, 32. 

3 "Quoique Rab. semble 6tre des n6tres, toutefois il jette souvent des pi- 
erres dans notre jardin." (Apologie pour Herodate). 

4 Ausfiihrlich bei Birch-H. I, 246 ff. Eath4ry, Notice, pp. 62-63. Jacob 
Bibliophile, Notice, 54. 

6 1, 265-267. 

Vgl. dagegen Colletet's Bemerkung (bei Burgand et Rathe"ry, Notice, p. 
35) : " Rab. ne laissait pas d' avoir de pieux et ddvots sentiments et de 
deffe"rer merveilleusement (?) aux saintes constitutions de 1'Eglise catholi- 
que et orthodoxe qu'il reconnut toujours pour sa veritable m6re." 



26 H. SCHOENFELD. 

Augriffe] proficisci a private quodam odio? Quamquam a 
me quideru in nulla re laesus est ; nisi quod favi bonis litteris, 
quas ille plus quam capitaliter odit, nee scit quam ob rem. 1 Et 
interim gloriatur, sibi quoque telum esse, quo se ulciscatur . . . 
Quid furiosius, quam quod Mechliniae in publica concione 
monuit populum, ut caveret ab haeresi Lutheri et Erasnii? . . . 
Isti, quidquid odit, Lutheranum est et haereticum. Sic opiuor 
tenue zythum, vapidum vinum, et ius insipidum isti Luther- 
anum vocabitur : et lingua Graeca, quam unice odit, opinor 
ob id, quod hanc apostoli tanto honore dignati shit, ut non 
alia scripserint, Lutherana vocabitur." ... " Clamat totum 
Lutherum esse in libris meis, omnia undique scatere haereticis 
erroribus." Gegen die ganze Klasse seiner Widersacher ver- 
wahrt er sich in De Colloquiorum Utilitate .*..." Genus 
mire biliteon, qui sic pronunciant de meis colloquiis, opus esse 
fugiendum, praesertim monachis, quos illi Religiosos appellant, 
et adolescentibus, eo quod ieiunia et abstinentiae ecclesiae parvi 
penderentur : beatae virginis et sanctorum pro ludibrio habe- 
rentur suffragia; virginitas, si coniugio conferatur, uullius 
esse aut parvi moment! : religionis etiam dissuaderetur omni- 
bus ingressus : quodque in eo arduae theologiae questiones 
grammaticulis proponantur, contra statuta per magistros in 
artibus iurata." Also hier giebt Erasmus selbst eine ganze 
Disposition der gegen ihn erhobenen Vorwiirfe der Ketzerei, 
Vorwiirfe, die Punkt fiir Punkt 2 auch gegen Rabelais erhoben 
vvurden. Gabriel de Puits-Herbault iibernimmt ihm gegen- 
iiber die Rolle des Loewener Theologen, nach Antoine Leroy 
ebenfalls mehr aus personlicher Feindschaft, als aus Faua- 
tismus. 3 Das Fatale dieses Angritfs 4 lag fur Rabelais darin, 

1 La vraie querelle, dit il en mille endroits de ses ouvrages, c'est celle 
qu'on fait aux lettres ; les vrais ennemis, ce sont les anciens qu'on veut 
faire rentrer dans leurs tombes ; le fond de la guerre religieuse, c'est une 
guerre de 1' ignorance centre la lumiere de 1'antiquit^." Nisard, Erasme. 
So auch Rab., cf. Birch-H. I, 268. * Birch-H. I, 265 (oben). 

3 Zwar ware der Umstand, dass Rab. ihn als Modell fiir seinen geistig 
freien lean des Entommeures benutzt habe, sicher kein Grund zum Hasse, 
wie Rath^ry (Notice, p. 54 oben) zu verinuten geneigt ist. 

* Birch-H. I, 248. Rathe"iy, Notice, p. 52. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 27 

dass die ungliicklichen Zustande in Frankreich nach Franz' I 
am 31. Marz 1547 erfolgten Tode ihn ins Exil trieben, wo 
er in bitteres Elend geriet. 1 Es ist eine gewisse Analogie 
zwischen der Flucht Rabelais' nach Melz and der formlichen 
Flucht des Erasmus aus Basel, der Unterschied liegt nur darin, 
dass ersterer vor seinen rechtglaubigen Briidern floh, der andere 
nicht in der reforrairten Stadt bleiben konnte oder wollte. 

Es ware ein vergebliches Beginnen, bei Beiden alle die 
Stellen anzumerken, wo sie mil Zorn oder spottischer Satire 
gegen die Intoleranz der Monche und ihre Sunden ankampfen. 2 
In alien Lebenslagen und von alien Seiten kommen sie auf 
diese Hemmuisse "der guten Wissenschaften " zuriick ; es ist 
das eeterum censeo bei Beiden. In dem Lob der Narrheit uimmt 
die Satire die bitterste Form an und bei Rabelais steigert sie 
sich von Buch zu Buch. 

Rabelais ist so gut wie Erasmus 3 ein vollendeter Humanist. 
Partieen wie die von klassischer, edler Beredtsamkeit getragene 
Harangue d'Ulrich Gallet a Picrochole (I, 31.), Concion que 
fit Gargantua es vaincus (I, 50.), der Brief des Gargantua an 

1 A. Heulhard, Rabelais, voyages en Italic, son exil <J Melz. Athenaeum, 3327. 
Rathe"ry, Notice, p. 52. 

2 Rabelais' "enrage" Putherbe" und Erasmus' Monche, "qui suis sententiis 
homines pertrahunt ad incendium" sind ganz identisch. "Ce n'est de main- 
tenant que les gens reduicts a la creance evangelique sont persecutes." (1,58). 
Dem Vorwurf, er begiinstige die Ketzer, begegnet Erasmus recht geistreich: 
"Nihil est sanctius quam favere haereticis . . . An non favet ille, qui 
studet, ut quis ex malo fiat bonus, ex mortuo vivus?" (fnquisitio de Fide). 

3 Er vergottert formlich Cicero ( " non possum legere librum Ciceronis .... 
quin aliquoties exosculer codicem," Conv. Relig.}, fiihlt sich oft versucht zu 
sagen : " Sancte Socrates ora pro nobis ! " Ganz wie das horazische Wort : 
"Haec exemplaria Graeca versate manu, versate, diurna, versate nocturna" 
klingt seine Mahnung: "Officia Ciceronis nunquam de manibus deponenda, 
et sunt quidem digna, quae cum ab omnibus turn praecipue ab his, qui desti- 
nandi sunt administrandae rei publicae, ad verbum ediscantur ; " dagegen 
lassen ihn die Neueren kalt : " ego citius patiar perire totum Scotum cum 
aliquot sui similibus quam libros unius Ciceronis aut Plutarchi." Er duldet 
Thomas und Scotus in den Schulen nur, bis etwas Besseres gefunden ist ( " fons 
Scoti, lacus ranarum," Epithalamium Petri Aegidii).cf. " Barbouillamenta 
Scoti" bei Rab. II, 7 unter den lacherlich gemachten, fingirten Biichern der 
Bibliothek St.- Victor. 



28 H. SCHOENFELD. 

Pantagruel (II, 8.) beweisen das zur Evidenz. .Rabelais lasst 
Gargantua seine eigenen Ansichten fiber das Aufbliihen der 
Wissenschaften in jener grossen Zeit ausdriicken : " Mainte- 
nant toutes disciplines sont restitutes, les langues instaurees, 
Grecque, sans laquelle c'est honte qu'une personne se die 
savant, Hebraicque, Caldaicque, Latine." Der treffliche 
Erziehungsplan wetteifert mit dem des Erasmus und Mon- 
taigne, ja ist ersterem durch die unbeanstandete Anerken- 
nung der Naturwissenschaften, 1 letzterem durch die Befiir- 
wortung der Frauenerziehung weit iiberlegen. Er ist ein Hut- 
ten in der Bekarnpfung der Dunkelmanner, ein Erasmus im 
Aufbau des Humanismus ; wie dieser zerstort er durch Spott 
und Satire den alten, schlechten Bau, aber er ist nicht nur "ein 
Geist, der stets verneint," sondern er fuhrt ganz wie Erasmus, 
wenn auch verschieden in der Methode, einen neuen Bau auf. 



Ein Verdienst von weit grosserer Tragweite, als bisher er- 
kannt worden, erwarben beide Manner auf Grund ihrer erfolg- 
reichen Bekampfung jeglichen Aberglaubens, in welcher Gestalt 
derselbe auch immer erscheinen mochte. Hatte Erasmus schon 
gelegentlich in der Inquisitio de Fide geaussert : " . . . totam 
fiduciam et spem in ilium unum transfero, detestans Satanam, 
omnemque idololatriam, et quidquid est artium magicarum ; " so 
hat er die Vernichtung der Magie, Astrologie und Goldmacher- 
kunst 2 in einen eigenen Colloquium (Alcumistica), die der 

1 Rathe"ry, Notice, p. 19. (Colletet's und Rouzeau's Ausspriiche). III, 49, 
Anm. 3. (Rab. botaniste). III, 52, Anm. 10. (Rab. und die Naturwissen- 
schaften, Jaubert's Rede zu Montpellier vor der botanischen Gesellschaft.) 

* Vorlaufer unserer beiden Humanisten im Kampfe gegen die Astrologie, 
Alchymie und Magie ist Petrarca. " Zunachst und vor Allem zieht er vor 
seine Schranken die Astrologen, Alchymisten und alle die betrogenen Be- 
triiger, welche durch ihre Kiinste das zukiinftige Schicksal der Menschen 
zu ergrunden oder der Natur ihre Geheimnisse abzulauschen vorgeben. 
Eine That des Mutes, so riicksichts- und bedingungslos wie Petrarca den 
Trug und den Aberglauben zu brandmarken. Hat er gleich noch Jahr- 
hundertelang fortgedauert, so hat doch unausgesetzt der Humanismus den 
Kampf dagegen wie ein Erbe seines Erzvaters auf sich genommen und 
nahezu durchgefiihrt." Georg Voigt, Die Wiederbelebung des Mass. Alter- 
turns, I, 75. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 29 

Chiromantie irn " Coll. Senile" unternommen. Auf die Frage 
des Polygamus, woher Pampirus die Reisekosten zur Wall- 
fahrt nach Jerusalem genommen habe, antwortet dieser : " . . . 
TO rexyiov Trdcra <yrj rpefat." " Quam artem circumferebas ? " 
" Chiromanticam." " Ubi earn didiceras ? " " Quid refert ? " 
" Quo praeceptore ? " "Eo, qui nihil non docet, ventre. Prae- 
dicebam praeterita, futura, praesentia." " Et sciebas ? " " Nihil 
minus ; sed divinabam audacter, idque tuto, videlicet prius 
accepto pretio." "An ars tarn ridicula poterat alere te?" 
" Poterat, et quidem cum duobus famulis. Tantum est ubique 
fatuorum et fatuarum." Ganz dieselbe Meinung dem Sinne 
nach aussert Rabelais wiederholentlich, so in dem bekannten 
Briefe II, 8 : " Laisse moi 1'astrologie divinatrice, et Part de 
Lullius (sc. alchimie), comme abus et vanites." Die Satire auf 
Her Trippa ist doch jedenfalls gegen die Astrologen und Geo- 
manten gerichtet, die Kapitel von der Sibylle (III, 16, 17, 18) 
sind auf den Aberglauben des Traumdeutens, der Orakel mit 
zweifachen Auslegungen gemiinzt. Augenscheinlich ist die 
Mummerei der Gespensterscene (Oeuvres, IV, 13), die den 
Geisterglauben satirisiren soil, dem erasmischen Muster ("Ex- 
orcismus sive Spectrum ") nachgebildet. Nur ist der Ausgang 
des spiritistischen Gaukelspiels mit dem geafften Canonicus 
Faunus scherzhafter als bei Rabelais uud enthalt die Lehre : 
"Antehac non soleo multum tribuere fabulis, quae vulgo ferun- 
tur de spectris ; sed posthac multo minus tribuam : suspicor 
enim, ab hominibus credulis et Fauni similibus multa pro 
veris prodita literis, quae simili artificio sunt simulata." Bei 
Rabelais artet derselbe Scherz leider, wie so oft, in grausamer 
Weise aus. Hier wird Frater Ettienne Tappecoue, weil er 
nach den Statuten seines Ordens Kapuze und Stola fur das 
Passionsspiel des Meister Fra^ois Villon nicht hatte leihen 
wollen, von diesem und seinen vermummten Teufeln auf seinem 
Heimritt grausam erschreckt und von dem erschreckten, scheu 
gewordenen Pferde zu Tode geschleift, woriiber dann Meister 
Villon eine unbandige Freude empfindet. 1 

^iehe dariiber Birch-H. I, 260-261. 



30 H. SCHOENFELD. 

Von welcher Culturbedeutung aber der Erweis der Nichtig- 
keit des Gespensterglaubens, der Alchymie und Wahrsage 
kunst in jener glaubenstollen Zeit sein rausste, lasst sich leicht 
ermessen. 

Dass indes wenigstens Erasmus, der doch den Heiligencultus 
im Encheiridion Militis Christiani als Uberrest des Heiden- 
tums, als Heroencultus bezeichnet hat, nicht ganz frei war, 
belegt die Thatsache, dass er gesteht, seine eigene Heilung der 
Hilfe der heiligen Genovefa (Ep. Append. 504, p. 1884) zu 
verdanken. 1 Rabelais aber bleibt sich unwandelbar conse- 
quent. Obgleich er sich wohl in der Serie seiner Kalender, 
die sich mit Unterbrechungen von 1 533-1 550 erstreckt, 2 scherz- 
weise einen Propheten nannte, so protestirt er doch ausdriick- 
lich gegen jeden Aberglauben, 3 so in dem Kalender von 1535 : 
" Predire seroit I6gerete a moi, comme a vous siraplesse d'y 
ajouter foi. Et n'est encore, depuis la creation d'Adam, ne 
homme qui en ait traite ou bailie chose a quoi Ton dut acquiescer 
et arreter en assurance." 

Um nunmehr die allgemeine Vergleichung zwischen Eras- 
mus und Rabelais abzuschliessen, sei hier noch das vollstandige, 
positive Glaubensbekenntnis, das Erasmus in der Inquisitio 
de Fide ablegt, kurz mitgetheilt. In den Grundformeu der 
Religion weicht er seiner Uberzeugung nach von der Recht- 
glaubigkeit nicht ab, aber auf die Frage : "Credis in sanctam 
ecclesiam?" antwortet er fest : " Non " und begriindet diese 
Antwort : " Sic me docuit divus Cyprianus : in solum Deum esse 
credendum, in quo simpliciter omnem fiduciam reponimus. 

1 Nisard, Erasme ."... car il a son grain de superstition, lui-aussi, quoi- 
qu' il se moque des franciscains, lesquels disent au peuple que les moucherons 
qui voltigent sur le corps du franciscain qu'on mene en terre sont des demons 
qui n'osent pas se poser sur la face bdnie du defunt. Deja, dans la maladie 
qu'il fit a Paris par 1'effet des oeufs pourris et des chambres malsaines de 
Montaigu, n'avait-il pas attribu6 a 1'intercession de Ste.-Genevieve son re- 
tour a la santS ? " 

8 Birch-H. I, 245. Anm. ft- 

3 Rathe'ry, Notice, 26. Anm 1 : " Je vous envoye un livre de prognostics, 
duquel toute cette ville est einbesoigne . . . Demapartjen'yadjaustefoy 
aulcune." 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 31 

Eeclesia vero proprie dicta, quaraquam non constat nisi ex 
bonis, 1 tamen ex hominibus constat, qui ex bonis possunt fieri malt, 
qui f alii possunt etfallere." Darait ist der Autoritatsglauben 
an die Kirche, deren Berechtigung, neueSatzungen aufzustellen, 
fiir Erasmus aufgehoben : der Conflict mit dem katholischen 
Clerus, der gerade dieses Recht fur sich in Anspruch nimmt, 
gegeben. Ganz analog hat auch Rabelais gedacht, wenn er 
auch seiner Stellung nach sich nicht so frei und offen gegen 
die Unfehlbarkeit der Kirche als solchen aussprechen konnte. 
Aber wo sich die Gelegenheit dazu bietet, verweist er auf Gott 
allein : " . . . il te convient servir, aimer et craindre Dieu, et 
en luy mettre toutes tes pensees et tout ton espoir ; et, par foy 
formee de charit6, estre a lui adjoinct, en sorte que jamais 
n'en sois desempar6 par peche!" (Oeuvres, II, 8). Gott und 
Menschenliebe sind die Pfeiler der Religion, die er empfiehlt, 2 
gegen die meisten kirchlichen d. h. menschlichen Einrichtungen 
und Formen in Glaubenssachen baumt sich seine Natur gerade 
so wie die des anderen Humanisten in zersetzender Satire auf. 

POLITISCHE SATIRE. 

Fursten und Grosse. 

Interessant und wertvoll ist eine Wiirdigung der von beiden 
Wahlverwandten in Ernst uud Spott ausgesprochenen Mei- 
nungen iiber das Herrschertum, Fursten und Grosse. In 
seiner Jugend hatte Erasmus eine gute Meinung von den 
Herrschern der Welt, aber seine Enttauschungen durch Hein- 
rich VIII von England und die Fursten, mit denen er sonst 
in Beziehung gestanden, anderten seine Gesinnungen ich 
mochte fast sagen zu demokratischer Herbheit, wahrend Ra- 
belais bei dem Schutz, den er gerade bei Franz I und Heinrich 
II fand, in seiner Satire sehr vorsichtig ist und meist eben 

1 Eine captatio benevolentiae, die bei seinem Hasse gegen die Monche 
und Theologen ihm wohl schwerlich von Herzen kam. 
2 Birch-H. I, 267 Anm. 



32 H. SCHOENFELD. 

nur Carricaturen von Fiirsten wie Picrochole, Anarche zum 
Gegenstand seiner Satire wahlt. Nicht lange dauerte die gute 
Meinung, die Erasmus in einem Jugendgedicht an den nach- 
maligen Heinrich VIII, den er als Prinzen durch den ge- 
lehrten, gemiitvollen, characterfesten Thomas Morus kennen 
gelernt hatte, aussprach, wo er das Lob Englands und seines 
Konigs sang, der " patriotischer als die Dacier, gottesfurch- 
tiger als Numa, beredter als Nestor, diplomatischer als Casar, 
freigebiger als Macenas und nur mit etwas sparsam sei, nam- 
lich mit dem Blute seiner Unterthanen." Aber schon in den 
Adagia, begegnet man den radicalsten Ausfallen gegendas 
Fiirstentum ; l alle paar hundert Jahre babe es hochstens einen 
order den anderen Fiirsten gegeben, der nicht durch ganz 
hervorragende Torheit der Welt verderblich geworden ware ; 
jeder Beruf miisse erlernt werden, aber den schwersten und 
wichtigsten vertrane man dem Zufall furstlicher Geburt an, 
und es geniige schon, wenn der Prinz iiberhaupt nur einem 
Menschen ahnlich sehe. Den Konigen, die er in der Hegel 
fur Narren, deren Finanzpolitik er fur Raub und Erpressung 
erklart, stellt er die stadtische Cultur, die trefflichen Gesetze 
und die Friedensliebe der Democratic gegeniiber. 2 Die Haupt- 
stelle fur seine Uberzeugungen hinsichtlich der Fiirsten ist 

1 Darmesteter et Hatzfeld, Litt. Fran$. au XVIsiZcle, p. 24. : Erasme lancait 
aux rois des traits d'une mordante ironie. Quoi de plus violent que 1' Adage 
de 1'Escarbot et de TAigle (Adages, Chiliade III, centurie 7; coll. 709 de 
Petition in folio, de Paris 1589) dans lequel 1'auteur compare les souverains 
a 1'aigle, le premier des oiseaux de proie ? Ces yeux rapaces et me"chants (de 
1'aigle), ce rictus menacant, ces joues horribles, ce front farouche, n'est-ce 
pas 1' image d'un roi plein de magnificence et de majest6 ... A ce cri 
d'aigle la foule entidre tremble, le se"nat s'efface, la noblesse rampe, la jus- 
tice s'assouplit, les theologiens se taisent, les le"gistes approuvent, les lois 
cedent, les constitutions ploient ; droit, religion, justice, humanit^ sont des 
mots sans valeur. 

8 Bezold, Gesch. der deut. Ref. p. 233. Soweit ist der seinem Konige loyale 
Rabelais nie gegangen, wenn auch Hallam's Bemerkung : " Nowhere does 
Rab. satirize the institution of royalty, or the profession of healing, the two 
things in the world for which he seems to have had a real respect," wenig- 
stens in ihrem ersten Teil unrichtig ist, wie bald erscheinen wird. 



RABELAIS AND EEASMUS. 33 

wohl jener Abschnitt im E. M. Die Narrheit spricht : " Schon 
lange habe ich vor, euch etwas von den Fiirsten und Grossen 
am Hofe zu sagen, die mich ohne Falsch und Verstellung mit 
der ganzen Offenheit, die ihrem Range zukommt, verehren. 
Wenn sie auch nur eine halbe Unze Weisheit besasen, gabe es 
dann etwas Traurigeres, etwas Verabscheuungswiirdigeres als 
ihren Stand ? Gewiss wird niemand mehr durch Meineid und 
Menchelmord nach der Krone streben wollen, der aufmerksam 
iiber die ungeheure Last nachgedacht hat, die auf den Schul- 
tern eines guten Landesherrn ruht." Nun kommt die treff- 
liche Aufzahlung der Pflichten eines Konigs, Pflichten die 
Rabelais (Ouvres, III, 1) in seinem kraftigen Lapidarstil in 
der Person seines edlen Konigs Pantagruel als verwirklicht 
darstellt : "... la maniere d'entretenir et retenir pays nou- 
vellement conquestes l n'est les peuples pillant, forpant, anga- 
riant, ruinant, mal vexant et regissant avec verges de fer ; 
brief, les peuples mangeant et devorant . . . Com me enfant 
nouvellement n6, les faut alaicter, bercer, esjouir. Comme 
arbre nouvellement plantee, les fault appuyer, asseurer, de- 
fendre de toutes vimeres, injures et calamites . . . De sorte 
qu'ilz con9oivent en soy ceste opinion n'estre on monde roy ne 
prince, que moins voulsissent ennemy, plus optassent amy. . . . 
Et plus en heur ne pent le conquerant regner, soit roy, soit 
prince, ou philosophe que faisant justice a vertus succeder . . . 
sa justice apparoistra en ce que, par la volunte et bonne affec- 

1 Erasmus billigt Eroberungskriege unter keinen Umstanden ; kaum dass 
er den Glaubens- und Verteidigungskrieg gegen den Tiirken zulassen will. 
Rabelais weist ungerechte Kriege zornig zuriick: "Le temps n'est plus 
d'ainsi conquester les royaumes, avec dommages de son prochain frere 
Christian : ceste imitation des anciens Hercules, Alexandres, . . . est con- 
traire a la profession de 1'Evangile, par lequel nous est command^ garder, 
sauver, regir, et administrer chascun ses pays et terres, non hostilement envahir 
les autres. Et ce que Sarrasins et barbares jadis appelloient prouesses, main- 
tenant nous appellons briganderies et meschancete's." Dennoch ist die Be- 
handlung des kriegsgefangenen Konigs Picrochole, dank dem guten Konig 
Gargantua, ganz verschieden von der des Anarche, bei dem der Lump Panurg 
das Verfiigungsrecht hat. 

3 



34 H. SCHOENFELD. 

tion du peuple, donnera loix, publiera edicts, establira religions, 
fera droit a un chascun." ... So auch Erasmus (E. M.) : 
" Hanget ihm die goldene Halskette um, ein Schmuck, der die 
feste Verbindung sammtlicher Tugenden anzeigt, setzt ihm die 
Krone aufs Haupt, die ihn daran mahnen soil, dass er an 
Heldensinn Alle weit iibertreffen miisse, gebt ihm das Scepter 
in die Hand, das Sinnbild der Gerechtigkeit und eines vollig 
unbestechlichen Herzens, bekleidet ihn schliesslich mit dem 
Purpurmantel, diesem Symbol der gliihenden Liebe zu Staat 
und Biirgerschaft, und das Bild ist fertig ! 

Wenn aber der Fiirst diesen koniglichen Schmuck mit seinem 
wirklichen Lebenswandel vergliche, scheint euch da noch zwei- 
felhaft, dass er iiber seinen Aufputz Scham empfinden und 
furchten wiirde, es mochte irgend ein Spassvogel die an sich 
sehr ernsten Insignien verlachen und verspotten ? " Und dieser 
Spassvogel ist wirklich in Rabelais erschienen, der den ver- 
meintlichen Heroismus und die Landergier des Picrochole und 
seiner Berater in einer herrlichen Satire (Oeuvres, I, 33) ver- 
spottete, den Konig Anarche in Erinnerung an die Konige in 
der Unterwelt (II, 30) l zum crieur de saulce verte machte, mit 
einem alten Hockerweib (vieille Ianterni6re) verheiratete und 
ihn von derselben durchpriigeln liess. 2 Doch gait er ihm in 
diesem Zustande noch in hoherem Grade als Ehrenmann, denn 
in seiner Eigenschaft als Konig. 3 

In der 'I%0vo(f)ay[a halt Erasmus seinem Kaiser Karl V 
einen echten Fiirstenspiegel vor : 4 Die fingirte Rede, die er an 
Karls Stelle an den gefangenen Konig Franz halten wiirde, 
ist ein Muster edler Gesinnung und Friedensliebe. Und was 

1 "... comment estoient traict4s les rois et riches de ce monde par lea 
Champs Elyse'es, et comment ilz gaignoient pour lore leur vie a vilz et salles 
mestiers." II, 31. 

8 " sa femme le bat comme piastre, et le pauvre sot ne se ose defendre, tant 
il est niays." 

3 " ces diables de rois ici ne sont que veaulx, et ne savent ny ne valent rien, 
sinon a faire des maulx es pauvres subjects, et a troubler tout le monde par 
guerre, pour leur inique et detestable plaisir." 

4 " Verum si quis me faciat Caesarem, scio quid sim facturus." 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 35 

ware der Erfolg einer solchen Handlungsweise ! " Quam 
magnificara, quamque plausibilera gloriam haec huraanitas per 
universum orbem pararet Carolo? Quae natio se non lubens 
ta-m humano, tamque dementi principi submitteret ? " Ganz 
dieselben herrlichen Principien eiries Konigs lasst Rabelais 
den Grandgousier in dera Briefe an seinen Sohn (I, 29) aus- 
sprechen, mogen dieselben an die Adresse des K5nigs Franz I 
gerichtet sein oder nicht : " Ma deliberation n'est de provoquer, 
ains d'apaiser; d'assaillir, mais de defendre; de conquester, 
mais de garder mes feaux subjects et terres hereditaires. Es- 
quelles est hostilement entre Picrochole, sans cause ny occasion, 
et de jour en jour poursuit sa furieuse entreprise," . . . nach- 
dem er schon I, 28 die Rustling als erzwungen hingestellt und 
erst alle Mittel des Friedens versucht hat, um seine geliebten 
Unterthanen, die ihn nahren und unterhalten, zu schonen : 
" pour secourir et garantir mes pauvres subjects. Car de leur 
labeur je suis entretenu, et de leur sueur je suis nourry, moy, 
mes enfans et ma famille. Ce non obstant, je n'entrep rend ray 
guerre que je n'aye essaye tons les arts et moyens de paix ; lit 
je me resouls" [contrar entgegengesetzt dem beriichtigten 
"car tel est notre bon plaisir."]. Von dem Schlage des guten 
Grandgousier, Gargantua, Pantagruel miissen die Konige sein, 
von denen das Wort der Pilger in I, 45 gilt : " O que heureux 
est le pays qui a pour seigneur un tel homme." " C'est, dist 
Gargantua, ce que dit Platon, que lors les republiques seroient 
heureuses, quand les roys philosopheroient, ou les philosophes 
regneroient." 

11 Quidquid delirant reges, plectuntur Achivi." Diese ho- 
razische Idee ist auch die des Erasmus. Im Charon, einem 
Colloquium, das dieser schrieb, als der Krieg Karls V im 
Bunde mit Heinrich VIII gegen Franz I am wildesten 
wutete, zeigt er die Schrecken des Krieges fur die Volker : 
" Furiae non minus gnaviter quam feliciter gesserunt suum 
negotium; mil lam orbis partem non infecerunt malis tartareis, 
dissidiis, bellis, latrociniis, pestilentiis, adeo ut plane iam calvae 
emissis colubris sint, . . . Mox ventura est tanta nmbrarum 



36 H. SCHOENFELD. 

multitude, ut verear ne non sufficias omnibus transmittendis . . . 
Tres orbis monarchas capitalibus odiis in mutuum exitium 
ruere, nee ullam orbis Christiani partem immunem esse a belli 
furiis; nam tres illi reliquos omnes pertrahunt in belli consor- 
tium. Omnes esse talibus animis, ut nemo velit alteri cedere 
. . . moliri dira; pestilentiam ubique saevire. Ad haec novam 
esse luem ex opinionum varietate natam, quae sic vitiavit aniruos, 
ut . . . frater fratri diffidat, nee uxori cum marito conveniat." 
Und die Pfaifen schiiren nur noch den Brand, weil die Toten 
grosseren Vorteil briugen, als die Lebenden. (" sunt testa- 
menta, parentalia, bullae, multaque alia non aspernanda 
lucra " . . . " Bellum multos gignit episcopos, qui in pace 
ne teruncii quid em fiebant.") Dazu kommt der Aufruhr und 
die Klagen der Volker ; " Murmurant et civitates taedio 
malorum : conferunt susurros populi nescio qui, dictitantes 
iniquum ut ob privatas iras aut ambitionem duorum triumve 
res humanae sursum deorsum misceantur: sed vincent, mihi 
crede, quamlibet recta consilia Furiae." l Die graphische 
Schilderung der politischen und kirchlichen Lage geht mit 
Karl und Ferdinand streng zu Gericht ; besprieht ironisch 
Franz' I Gefangenschaft, 2 tadelt Karls Expansionsgeliiste, 
[" Carolus molitur monarchiae proferre pomoeria "] : beklagt 
den Bankrott der Hofe und der Volker [" bulimia pecuniarum 
urget aulas omnes], 3 die Bauernaufstande und die, Anarchic, 
den Zerfallder Kirche [" periculosos motus concitant agricolae, 

1 cf. Senatulus : " Videmus, monarchas tot iam annis nihil aliud quam bel- 
ligerari ; inter theologos, sacerdotes, episcopos et populum nihil convenire ; 
quot homines, tot sententiae ; et in his ipsis plus quam muliebris inconstantia.' 

2 " Franciscus hospes est Hispaniarum, nescio quam ex ipsius animi sen- 
tentia, vir certe dignus meliore fortuna." Franz' Behandlung durch Karl 
V findet Er. ebenso unwurdig wie Kab. : "Au cas que les autres roys et em- 
pereurs, voire qui se font nommer catholicques [mit augenscheinlicher An- 
spielung auf Karl V, v. Anm. 4 bei Rathe'ry]. 1'eussent miserablement traicte", 
durement emprisonne 1 , et ran9onne extremement, . . . 

3 Diesen Fehler fasst Rab. eben weniger tragisch auf: " Villain, disons nous, 
parce que un noble prince n'a jamais un sou." " Thesaurier est fait de vilain ; " 
cf. auch Erasm. 'lirirevs &vimros : " Immo nulla est commodior via, quam 
debere quam plurimis," und spater : " Nulli magis obaerati quam principes." 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 37 

nec tot stragibus ab institute deterrentur : populus meditatur 
anarchiam : periculosis factionibus collabitur ecclesiae domus : 
hinc atque hinc distrahitur ilia Jesu tunica inconsutilis."] l 
1st es da ein Wunder, dass Erasmus zu der stupenden re- 
pub] ikanischen Auffassung gelangt: "Fortasse primum fuerit, 
leonem in civitatem non recipere : proximum, sic auctoritate 
senatus, magistratuum, ac civium moderari potentiam illius, 
ut non facile erumpat in tyrannidem (also constitutionelle 
Monarchic das nachstbeste). Sed omnium potissimum, dum 
adhuc puer est, et se principem esse nescit, sanctis praeceptis 
formare pectus illius." (Convivium Religiosum). Das letzere 
ist das Mittel, das Rabelais gewahlt hat, um treffliche Fiirsten 
zu erziehen. Fiir ihn ist das Konigtum der einzige Schutz 
gegen Ubergriffe von innen und von aussen, Hiiter der Moral, 2 
Verteidiger des rechten Glaubens. 3 

Unvergleichlich ist auch bei beiden Autoren die Satire auf 
den Adel und solche, die sich ihrer hohen Geburt riihmen, 
wahrend sie sich an Gaben des Herzens und Geistes gar nicht 
von der Hefe des Volkes unterscheiden ; aber auch darin tritt 
die Satire bei Erasmus starker hervor, der durch seinen Streit 
mit dem Ritter Hutten, durch die schlechte Behandlung seitens ' 
der hohen Herren, die ihn wohl eine Zeitlang liberal unter- 
stiitzen, dann aber fallen liessen, vergassen, ihn so oft zu jenen 
beschamenden, demiitigenden Lobesepisteln zwangen, wahrend 
Rabelais bei den Grossen weltlichen und geistlichen Standes 
Schutz fand gegen die Ketzeranklagen der Sorbonne, des Parla- 
ments, der Geistlichkeit. 

Zu den Toren rechnet also Erasmus diejenigen, welche 
glauben aus besonderem Holz geschnitzt zu sein : " Haud 

1 Uber die Verwilderung der Soldateska siehe Militis confessio und Miles 
el Garthusianus. 

* Z. B. gegen die Hazardspiele : " Vous savez comment Gargantua, mon 
pre, par tous ses royaumes 1'a defendu, brus!4 avec les monies et protraicta, 
et du tout extermine", supprim6 et aboly, comme peste tres dangereuse." 
Ill, 11. 

3 " Par toutes contre"es . . . je feray prescher ton saint ^vangile purement, 
simplement, et entierement." II, 29. 



38 H. SCHOENFELD. 

possum istos silentio praetercurrere, qui quum nihil ab infimo 
cerdone differant, tamen inani nobilitatis titulo mirum quam 
sibi blandiuntur ; alius ad Aeneam, alius ad Brutum, alius ad 
Arcturum genus suum refert : ostendunt undique sculptas et 
pictas maiorura imagines : numerant proavos atque atavos, et 
antiqua cognomina commemorant, quum ipsi non multum 
absint a muta statua . . . et tamen hac tarn suavi philautia 
felicem prorsus vitam agunt, neque desunt aeque stulti, 1 qui 
hoc belluarum genus, perinde ut deos, suspiciunt." 

In derselben Weise, aber ungemein witziger, behandelt Rabe- 
lais den Ahnenstolz in den Stammbaumen des Gargautua und 
Pantagruel mit analogen Bemerkungen iiber adlige und ple- 
beische Geburt : " Pleust a Dieu qu'un chascun scent aussi cer- 
tainement sa genealogie, depuis Farche de Noe jusques a cest 
aage. Je pense que plusieurs sont aujourd'hui empereurs, rois, 
dues, princes, et papes, en la terre, lesquelz sont descenduz de 
quelques porteurs de rogatons et de costrets. Com me, au re- 
bours, plusieurs sont gueux de Phostiaire, souffreteux et miser- 
ables, lesquelz sont descenduz de sang et ligne de grands rois 
et empereurs." ... Ja Rabelais selbst vermeint im Scherz 
'von sehr hohen Herren abzustammen wegen seiner noblen 
Passionen : " Et, pour vous donner a entendre de moy, qui 
parle, je cuide que sois descend u de quelque riche roy, on prince, 
au temps jadis. Car onques ne vistes homme qui eust plus 
grande affection d'estre roy et riche que moy : afin de faire grand 
chre, pas ne travailler, point ne me soucier, et bien enrichir 
mes amis, et tous gens de bien et de savoir." Am widerwar- 
tigsten von alien noblen Passionen der Grossen ist dem zartge- 
sinnten Erasmus das Jagdvergniigen mit seinem verrohenden 
Einfluss : "Ad hunc ordinem (i. e. stultorum) pertinent et isti, 
qui prae venatu ferarum ornnia contemnunt, atque incredibilem 
animi voluptatem percipere se praedicant, quoties foedum ilium 

1 Der Respect der Deutschen vor dem Adel wird in Diversoria lacher- 
lich gemacht : " Solos enim nobiles suae gentis habent pro hominibus, et 
horum insignia nusquam non ostentant ; " eine PersiiBage auf die alte Idee : 
" der Mensch fangt erst beim Baron an." 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 39 

cornuum cantum audierint, quoties, canum eiulatus. . . . De- 
inde quae suavitas, quoties fera lanienda est ! Tauros et verveces 
humili plebi laniare licet, ferara nisi a generoso secari nefas. . . . 
Porro cui contigerit, e bellua nonnihil gustare, is vero existimat 
sibi non parum nobilitatis accedere. Itaque quum isti assidua 
ferarum insectatione atque esu nihil aliud assequantur, nisi ut 
ipsi propemodum in /eras degenerent, tamen interea regiam 
vitam agere se putant." l In die schwa' rzesten Farben ist aber 
sein Griffel getaucht bei der bitter satirischen Beschreibung des 
infolge von Unsittlichkeit rait einer ekelhaften Krankheit 
behafteten Ritters und seiner Heirat im "A7a/i09 Fa/^o? und 
im f l7T7rei5 avnnros. 2 Hier wird spottisch die raubritterliche 
Maxime ausgesprochen : " lam illud equestre dogma semper 
erit tuendum, Jus fasque esse equiti, plebeium viatorem ex- 
onerare pecunia. Quid enim indignius,. quam ignobilem ne- 
gotiatorem abundare, nummis, quum interim eques non habeat, 
quod impendat scortis et aleae ? " Welch' beissende, geistreiche 
Satire ! Ferner giebt Nestorius dem Harpalus Ratschlage, 
wie er sich benehmen muss, um als Ritter zu gelten : 3 "Ni sis 
bonus aleator, probus chartarius, scortator improbus, potator 
strenuus, profusor audax, decoctor et conflator aeris alieni, 
deinde scabie ornatus Gallica, vix quisquam te credet equitem ;" 
spater : " Postremo, quum inundaverit aeris alieni magnitude, 
fictis caussis alio demigra, atque inde rursus alio." 4 Kurz, 
Erasmus giebt hier ein plastisches Bild eines verlumpten, 
heruntergekommenen Ritters, das nur dadurch Einbusse erlei- 
det, dass es auf den trefflicheu Hutten gemiinzt ist. Die 
Satire auf Wappen, Embl^me und Farben ist bei Erasmus in 

1 Die Quelle habe ich in Brant, NS. Absch. LXXIV, zu erweisen versucht, 
cf. Mod. Lang. Notes, June 1892, pp. 345-347. 
2 cf. Strauss, Ulrich von Hutten. 

3 Fast mit denselben Worten characterisirt Erasm. den Ritter in De Re- 
bus ac Vocabulis : " Si nihil bonae rei gerat, si splendide vestiatur, si incedat 
annulatus, si gnaviter scortetur, si aleam ludat assidue, si certet chartis, si 
compotationibus aetatem absumat, si nihil loquatur plebeium, sed arces, 
pugnas, ac bella mera crepet." . . . 

4 Deutliche Auspielungen auf seinen Feind, den edlen Ulrich von Hutten 
u. dessen Wandertrieb. 



40 H. SCHOENFELD. 



demselben Colloquium ('iTTTrev? aviTnros) ebenso witzig be- 
handelt, wie bei Rabelais l (I, 9 u. 10). Nestorius empfiehlt 
dem Harpalus als Wappen drei goldene Gansekopfe in rotem 
Felde, denn er wird, wenn er auch nicht im Kriege gewesen, 
dem Bauern etliche Ganse gekopft haben, und auf dem Helm 
einen schwarzen Hundskopf, und dabei mag er sich einen 
Harpalus, Gauch von Gauchberg-Goldenfels, nennen (" Ergo 
sis Harpalus eques ab aurea rupe "). Die Symbolik der Farben 
verspottet Rabelais doch gewiss in der Erklarung, weshalb der 
Lowe, der doch mit seinem blossen Gebriill alle Tiere erschreckt, 
sich einzig und allein vor dem weissen Hahn furchtet (I, 10), 
und weshalb die Franzosen 2 gern weisse Federn auf ihren 
Hiiten tragen. 

Die Pdbste. 

IJber die historischen Beziehungen des Erasmus zu den Pab- 
sten seiner Zeit hat Karl Hartfelder eine eingehende Studie 
geliefert. 3 Es eriibrigt sich somit, eine eingehende Wieder- 
holung des Gegenstandes, und es kommt nur darauf an, die Sin- 
nesart des grossen Humanisten mit der des Rabelais hinsichtlich 
des Pabsttums zu vergleichen. Wie bereits angedeutet, sind 
beide Manner in ihren Conflicten mit ihrem geistlichen Stande 
und ihren geistlichen Behorden von den Pabsten ihrer Zeit 
geradezu gerettet word en. Das begriindet denn auch natiirlich 
das demiitige, achtungsvolle Entgegenkommen der Suppli- 
canten in ihren Bittgesuchen, und Erasmus hat besonders Leo 
II (1513-1521) Huldigungen, ja sogar Schmeicheleien entge- 

1 Schon I, 8 erwahnt Kab. den King als Emblme des Adels : " Pour ses 
anneaux (lesquelz voulut son pere qu'il portast pour renouveller le signe 
antique de noblesse)." . . . 

*C'est la cause pour quoi Gali (ce sont les Franpois, ainsi appelle's parce 
que blancs sont naturellement comme laict, que les Grecs nomment Gala) 
voluntiers portent plumes blanches sus leurs bonnetz. Car, par nature, ilz 
sont joyeux, candides, gracieux et bien ame"s ; et, pour leur symbole et en- 
seigne, ont la fleur plus que nulle autre blanche, c'est le lys. 

3 Hist. Taschenbuch v. Wilh. Maurenbrecher, VI, Folge, 11, Jahrg. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 41 

gengebracht, die das Maass des Statthaften weit iiberschritten, 
wenn er z. B. den Pabst so unendlich hoch uber die gewohn- 
lichen Sterblichen stellt, wie diese iiber die Tiere, mogen auch 
manche Floskeln nur rhetorisch sein, wie : " Utinam liceat vere 
beatissimis istis advolutum pedibus oscula figere." 

Sonst aber hat Erasmus, wie unzahlige Stellen in seinen 
Schriften beweisen, seinem Freimut und seiner wahren Her- 
zensiiberzeugung in Ernst und Satire die Ziigel schiessen lassen, 
und kaum irgendwo ist die Analogic der Satire bei ihrn und 
Rabelais so vollkommen, wie in der Pabstfrage und der Be- 
handlung der Geistlichkeit iiberhaupt. Die kleinen Historien 
und Anekdoten von personlichen Spassen, die sich Rabelais mit 
Clemens VII u. Paul III 1 erlaubt haben soil, hat Rathery 
in seiner Notiz gliicklich und effectiv abgethan. Aber auch 
er hat im Ernst, 2 aber unendlich ofter in der Satire das Pabst- 
tum einer schneidenden Kritik unterworfen. 

Zunachst wendet sich Erasmus gegen die Infallibilitat des 
Pabstes und die iibermassige, beinah gottliche Verehrung, die 
ihm das Volk angedeihen lasst : " Nam et in pontificem, ut 
hominem, cadit ignorantia personae factive ; " 3 und wieder : 
" Impium est, honores soli Deo debitos transferre in homines, 
et dum impense reveremur hominem, parum revereri Deum ;" 
und ebenso Praef. E. M. : '' Porro nonnullos adeo praepostere 
religiosos videas, ut vel gravissima in Christum convicia ferant 
citius, quam pontificem aut principem levissimo ioco aspergi ; 
praesertim si quid TT/OOS ra a\<f)tra attiuet." Dieseu selben 
Gedanken fuhrt Rabelais in ausserst witziger, drastischer Weise 
aus in IV, 48, wo der Eifer fur den Pabst in Raserei ausartet, 
der Pabst als " 1'Unique," " celuy qui est," 4 " Dieu en terre, 



)) 5 



1 v. Jacob, Notice, pp. 26-27, p. 38. 

8 v. Jacob, Notice, 38-39 und Anm. 1 : Lettres VI et XV & I'6v6que de 
Maillezais. Panurge's Worte enthalten eine Anspielung auf das unsittliche 
Leben mancher Pabste jener Zeit II, 17. 



4 " Ich bin, der Ich bin." Exodus, III, 14. 

5 Die Erwartung der Ankunft dieses Dieu de bien en terre in dem Lande 
der Papimanen wird von Kab. zu einem bitter satirischen Schlag gegen das 



42 H. SCHOENFELD. 

bezeichnet wird, tmd der Fusskuss Gelegenheit zu einer scherz- 
haften Obscoenitat bietet. 

Die zerschmetternde Satire auf Pabste und Cardinale folgt 
der zerschmetternden Satire auf Fiirsten und Grosse im Lob 
der Narrheit : "Ac principum quidem institutum summi pon- 
tifices, cardinales et episcopi iam pridem gnaviter aemulantur ac 
prope superant." (Und das will nach der Darstellung des prin- 
cipum institutum in den grellsten Farben viel sagen !) Nach- 
dem er sodann ihre Pflichten dargelegt, zeigt er den Contrast 
ihrer Handlungsweise. Und wenn die Pabste dem Leben 
Christi nacheiferten, wie unendlich entsagungsvoll ware dann 
auch das ihrige ! Wer mochte dann jene Wiirde mit alien 
Mitteln zu erwerben suchen, und wenn er sie erworben hat, 
dieselbe mit Dolch und Gift und alien moglichen Gewaltmitteln 
zu erhalten suchen ? Aber wie sieht es jetzt aus ? Die Miihen 
und Beschwerden uberlassen sie dem heiligen Peter und Paul, 
die geuug Musse dazu haben ; den Glanz und Genuss aber 
nehmen sie fur sich in Anspruch. In Weichlichkeit und Sorg- 
losigkeit bringen sie ihr Lebeu zu und meinen sich mit Christus 
reichlich abzufinden, wenn sie die Rolle eines Seelsorgers in 
wunderbarem, fast theatralischem Aufzuge spielen, wobei es 
mit den Titeln : " Gottbegnadigter," " Hochwiirdigster," 
" Allerheiligster" und mit Segen und Fluch furwahr nicht 
sparsam hergehen darf. Es ist veraltet und unzeitgemass, 
Wunder zu thun, die Belehrung des Volkes ist zu ermiidend, 
die Erlauterung der heiligen Schrift gilt als Schulfuchserei, 
Beten als zeitraubend, die Thrane der Barmherzigkeit als nied- 
rig und weibisch, Armut als gemein, sich riihren lassen als 
schmahlich und unwiirdig eines Mannes, der kaum den mach- 
tigsten Konigen gestattet, seinen gebenedeiten Fuss zu kiissen, 
sterben endlich ist widerwartig, und ans Kreuz geschlagen 

Ablasswesen benutzt: " O 1'heureuse et desir^e et tant attendue journ^e ! Et 
vous heureux et bienheureux qui tant avez eu les astres favorables, que avez 
vivement en face veu et realement celuy bon Dieu en terre, duquel voyant 
seulement le portraict, pleine remission guaignons de tons nos peches memorable* : 
entemble la tierce par tie, avec dix huit quarantaines des peches oublies .'" Cf. dabei 
Anm. 1, bei Rathe"ry. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 43 

werden, gilt als Schmach. Es bleiben ihnen als Waffen nur 
jene " siissen Segenspriiche/' von denen Paulus spricht, ferner 
das Interdikt, die Amtsentsetzung, die Drohung mit dem Bann, 
die verscharfte Androhung des Bannes, die Verketzerungen, 
die Schreckbilder und schliesslich jener furchterliche Blitz- 
strahl, kraft dessen sie durch einen einzigen Wink die Seelen 
der Sterblichen mit so reissendem Schwunge in den Tartarus 
schleudern, dass sie sogar manchmal auf der andern Seite wie- 
der hinausfliegen . . . Landereien, Stadte, Abgaben, Zolle und 
Giiter l gehoren ihnen als das Erbe Petri, der doch alles ver- 
lassen, um Christo zu folgen. Mit Feuer und Schwert kampfen 
sie zur Wahrung dieses reichen Besitzes und vergiessen Strome 
christlichen Blutes, fuhren die Sache Christi mit dem Schwerte, 
als ware der Heiland zum Schutze und zur Verteidigung der 
Seinen nicht mehr da. (Sodann folgt eine Definition der Greuel 
des Krieges, wie sie plastischer und graphischer wohl nie ge- 
geben worden ist.) Aber trotzdem der Krieg etwas so Grau- 
sames ist, dass er sich eher fur wilde Tiere als fur Menschen 
eignet, so lassen doch einige von den hochsten Priestern alles 
Andere ausser Acht und widmen sich einzig und allein dem 
Kriege. 

Den Pabst Julius satirisirt Eras- Analoge Satire auf AlexanderVI und 

mus ausdriicklich im Coll. Senile, wo bes. den kriegerischen Julius II : "II 

er Eusebius und Pampirus redend me semble que ce portraict (niimlich 

einfuhrt: "Itane religionem vena- das eines Friedenspapstes a la tiare, 

1 Die Habsucht und der Geldgeiz des romischen Hofes jener Zeit wird von 
Rabelais ebenfalls oft angegriffen, z. B. Ill, 42: 

Roma manus rodit, quas rodere non valet, odit. 
Dantes custodit, non dantes spemit et odit ; 
glossa canonica : 

Accipe, sume, cape, sunt verba placentia papae. 

Die Kauflichkeit und Bestechlichkeit wird II, 30 angedeutet, wo Babelais 
den Historiker und Pabstefeind Jean le Maire einfuhrt, "qui contrefaisait 
du pape, et & tous ces pauvres rois et papes de ce monde faisoit baiser ses 
pieds ; et, en faisant du grobis, leur donnoit sa benediction, disant : Gaignez 
les pardons, coquins, gaignez, ilz sont d bon marche. Je vous absouls de pain 
et de soupe [blasphemische Travestie fiir de peine et de coulpe]. . ." 



44 



H. SCHOENFELD. 



bans in bello? quo quid esse potest 
sceleratius ? " " Erat sancta militia." 
" Fortassis in Turcas ? " " Imo sanc- 
tius quiddam, ut turn quidem praedi- 
cabant." "Quidnam?" " Julius Se- 
cundus belligerabatur adversus Gal- 
los."(!) Uber denselben Pabst aussert 
sich Erasmus am Schluss seiner Ein- 
leitung zu einigen von ihm iibersetz- 
ten Lucian-Dialogen : " In praesentia 
quidem in Italia mire frigent stu- 
dia, fervent bella. Summus Pontifex 
Julius belligeratur, vincit, triumphat, 
planequeJuliumagit." Nisard'giebt 
ein treffliches Stimmungsbild des Er- 
asmus, als er wenige Tage vor dem 
Einzuge Julius' II, des Siegers der 
Romagna, nach Bologna kam: "M616 
a la foule du peuple qui battait des 
mains 'au destructeur des tyrans,' il 
dut sourire amerement & 1' aspect de 
cette papautd bottle et e"peronn6e, 
donnant a baiser aux populations 
stupides ses pieds blanchis par la 
poussiere des champs de bataille, 
brandissant I'e'pe'e enguise des cl4s 
de St.-Pierre, et poussant son cheval 
sur les breches des murailles renver- 
se"es pour lui faire honneur. Jaime 
a me le repre'senter, dans la grande 
rue de Bologne, adoss6 contre une 
muraille, envelopp6 dans ses four- 
rures, la figure le'gerement ironique, 
regardant passer le cortege, et me'di- 
tant ses prudentes critiques contre la 
papaut belliqueuse, dont ses adver- 
saires devaient faire plus tard des 
he're'sies dignes du feu. Cette entree 
lui inspira de belles pages sur I'amour 
de la paix. 



& 1'aumusse, au rochet, & la pantoufle) 
fault (i. e. est fautif ) en nos derniers 
papes. Car je les ay veu non au- 
musse, ains armet en teste porter, 
thymbr d'une tiare Persicque. Et 
tout 1'empire estant en paix et silence, 
eux seulz guerre faire felonne et tres cru- 
elle." " Ja, das ist sehr entschuldbar, 
meint der Papimane Homenaz, c'estoit 
contre les rebelles, hereticques, protestans 
desesperes, non obeissans a la saintet6 
de ce bon Dieu enterre. Cela luy est 
non seulement permis et licite, mais 
command^ par les sacres Decretales, 
et doibt & feu incontinent empereurs, 
rois, dues, princes, republicques et a 
sang mettre qu' ilz transgresseront un 
iota de ses mandemens : les spolier de 
lews biens, les deposseder de lews roy- 
aumes, les proscrire, les anathematiser, et 
non seulement lews corps, et de leurs en- 
fans et par ens autres occire, mais aussi 
lews amex damner au parfond de la 
plus ardente chauldiere qui soil en en- 
fer." Diese bittere Satire wird durch 
die unehrlich gemeinte Zustimmung 
des Heuchlers Panurge, der ja vorhin 
die Bemerkung gegen die blutgie- 
rigen letzten Pabste gemacht, nur 
noch verscharft: "Jci ne sont ilz 
hereticques comme fut Kaminagro- 
bis, et comme ilz sont parmi les Alle- 
maignes, et Angleterre. Ihr seid die 
wahren, erprobten Christen ! " Als 
Kamuiagrobis die Monche wie zu- 
dringliche Koter von seinem Ster- 
belager scheuchte, iibernahm Pan- 
urge, der nicht ernst zu nehmen und 
ein compromittirender Anwalt ist, 
etwa wie Sganarelle im Don Juan des 
MoliSre, mit rechtglaubigem Pathos 
die Verteidigung der "guten geist- 
lichen Briider." 



1 Erasme, Revue des Deux Mondes, 1835, vol. 3. 



RABELAIS UND EEASMUS. 45 

Wahrend aber Erasmus seine Satire direkt gegen die schlech- 
ten Pabste richtet, gestaltet Rabelais die seinige nooh viel 
wirkungsvoller durch die iiberaus witzige und geistreiche iro- 
nische Lobrede auf die Decretalen der Pabste, die er dern pabst- 
tollen Homenaz 1 in den Mund legt ; nebenbei fiihrt er einen 
Schlag gegen den Peterpfennig 2 und seine Verwendung und 
gegen die Kraft der Decretalen, "die jedes Jahr mehr als 
400,000 Dukaten aus Frankreich nach Rom ziehen." "Qui 
fait et journellement augmente en abondance de tous biens 
temporelz, corporelz, et spirituelz le fameux et celebre patri- 
moine de saint Pierre? Saintes Decretales. Qui fait le saint 
Siege apostolique en Rome de tout temps et aujourd'hui tant 
redoutable en 1'univers, que tous rois, empereurs, potentats et 
seigneurs pendent de Iny, tiennent de luy, par luy soient 
couronnfe, confirmed, authorises, viennent la boucquer et se 
prosterner a la mirificque pantoufle, de laquelle avez veu le 
protraict? Belles Decretales de Dieu." Und nun enthiillt 
Homenaz ein Geheimnis : " Ce sont les Decretales, sans les- 
quelles periroient les privileges de toutes University's." ; In 
demselben Kapitel legt Rabelais dem Homenaz den furcht- 
baren Fluch in den Mund gegen diese " meschans heretiques 
Decretal ifuges, Decretalicides, pires qu'homicides, pires que 
parricides, decretalictones (/eretW) du diable." 



Satire auf das Klosterwesen und Monchsium, den Aberglauben 
und unbibluche Satzungen. 

Ein ungeheures Feld, ein wahrer embarras de richesse bietet 
sich bei der Durchsicht und Priifung der Werke unserer Au- 
toren zum Zweck ihrer in fast alien Stiicken analogeu An- 
schauung, Gesinnung und Uberzeugung hinsichtlich der geist- 

1 Honorat, Diet, de la langue (foe, " grand et vilain homme, hommasse." 
2 "Sortans du temple, ilz apporterent a Homenaz leurs bassins tous pleins 
de monnoye papimanicque . . . .," um gut zu essen und gut zu trinken, " sui- 
vant une mirificque glosae cached en un certain coignet de leurs saintes 
Decretates," IV, 51. 
3 IV, 53. v. Anm. 7 bei Kath^ry. 



46 H. SCHOENFELD. 

lichen und kirchlichen Zustande ihrer vielbewegten Zeit. Beide 
sind, jeder in seiner Art, geistige Fiihrer : eine neue Weltan- 
schauung, ein neues Lebensideal des Huraanismus und der 
Humanitat leuchtet aus ihren Werken hervor. " Die Kirche 
hatte bisher das Denken durch ihre Dienerin, die Scholastik, 
in Zucht und Banden gehalten, den Sinn fur das Schone suchte 
sie nur aus ihren eigenen Schatzen zu nahren und erdriickte 
ihn lieber, als dass sie ihn aus den Literaturschatzen der 
klassischen Vergangenheit, die nicht ihre eigne war, bereichert 
hatte. Die Werke der Klassik, die wir freilich den Kloster- 
briidern verdanken, so weit sie sie uns eben erhalten wollten, 
wurden nach einem bestimmten Zweck zugeschnitten, nach 
Belieben verkiirzt oder erweitert, verchristlicht und verstum- 
raelt. Dasselbe Dasein, welches die klassischen Biicher in den 
Klostern gefuhrt, lebte ihr Inhalt in den Geistern, oft genug 
waren sie nur ein Spiel in den Handen der Geistlichen der 
vorhurnanistischen Zeit. Die Individualitat des einzelnen 
Menschen wurde unterdriickt, Jeder musste sich als Glied in 
der Kette der kirchlichen Systematik unterordnen, und erst 
mit dern Erbleichen der kirchlichen Sonne trat das Mondlicht 
des klassischen Heidentums, welches lange von ihr iiberstrahlt 
worden, mit seiner ewigjungen Schonheit wieder hervor." In 
den allerersten, allergrossten Original- und Individualkriiften 
jener an grossen Mannern so reichen Zeit des Humanismus 
uud der Renaissance aber, die das Erbe der klassischen Nationen 
antraten, das Kloster und die geistliche Zucht verliessen, Kutte 
und Messgewandt von sich warfen und mit einer neuen und 
selbststandigen Bildung gegen die Scholastik, den klosterlichen 
Zwang, veraltete und verrottete Schaden des geistig siech ge- 
wordenen Mittelalters in die Schranken traten, gehoren die 
grossen Gesinnungsgenossen und Wahlverwandten Erasmus 
und Rabelais. Beide lehnen sich gegen die verzehrende Dicta- 
tur der Kirche und der Scholastik, wie uberhaupt gegen jeden 
geistigen Zwang l auf und suchen den wiisten Schlackenhaufen, 

1 " Parce que gens liberes, bien ne"s, bien instruicts, conversans en com- 
pagnies honnestes, ont par nature un instinct et aiguillon qui tousjours les 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 47 

der von der scholastischen Methode zusammengehauft war, als 
vollig unniitz und schadlich ohne Scbonung wegzuraumen. 
So ist auch die Methode beider zuerst negativ, bevor sie positiv 
sein kann. Erst nachdein er das alte Kloster durch seine Satire 
vernichtet, kann Rabelais das Ideal eines solchen geben, wie 
es sein sollte ; erst nachdem er die schmahlichen, hasslichen 
Friichte des scholastischen Unterrichts bei dem jungen Gar- 
gantua dargethan, giebt er den Contrast als Resultat einer 
vernunftigen humanistischen Erziehung. 

In seinem beriihmten Roman Les Mis&rables (II, 300 
u. 304) spricht sich Victor Hugo iiber das Kloster- und 
Monchstum folgendermaassen aus : " Au point de vue de 
1'histoire, de la raison et de la v^rite", le raonachisme est con- 
damne". Les monasteres, quand ils abondent chez une nation, 
sont des noeuds & la circulation, des 6tablissements encom- 
brants, des centres de paresse ou il faut des centres de travail. 
Le monachisrae, tel qu'il existait en Espagne et tel qu'il existe 
au Thibet, est pour la civilisation une sorte de phthysie. II 
arre~te net la vie. II dSpeuple tout simplement. Claustra- 
tion, Castration. II a 6t6 le fleau en Europe. Ajoutez a cela 
la violence si souvent faite a la conscience, les vocations forcSes, 
la feodalite" s'appuyant au cloitre, Patnesse .... enterrement 
des ames toutes vives. . . . Superstitions, bigotismes, cago- 
tismes, prejuge's, ces larves, toutes larves qu'elles sont, sont 
tenaces & la vie ; elles ont des dents et des ongles dans leur 
fum6e; et il faut les e"treindre corps & corps, et leur faire 
la guerre et la leur faire sans tre~ve ; car c'est une des fatalites 
de 1' humanite" d'etre condamn^e & l'e"ternel combat des fan- 
t6mes. L'ombre est difficile a prendre a la gorge et a terras- 
ser. Un couvent en France, en plein midi du dix-neuvi6me 

pousse S, faits vertueux, et retire de vice : lequel ilz nommoient honneur. 
Iceux, quand par vile subjection et contraincte sont deprime's et asservis, 
detournent la noble affection par laquelle S, vertu franchement tendoient, 
a deposer et enfreindre ce joug de servitude. Car nous entreprenons toua- 
jours choses defendues et convoitons ce que nous est denieV' [ruimus in ve- 
titum], (Oeuvres, I, 57). 



48 H. SCHOENFELD. 



, est un college de hiboux faisant face au jour. Un clol- 
tre en flagrant d6lit d'aseetisme, c'est un anachronisme. Com- 
battons ! " 

Diese modernisirte Auffassung des Kloster- und Monchs- 
wesens findet sich Punkt fur Punkt bei unseren Autoren, und 
auch den Schlachtruf haben beide Manner vor mehr als drei 
und ein halb Jahrhunderten in einer Weise befolgt, die sie 
gar oft an den stets brennenden Scheiterhaufen streifen liess. 
Die tragische Beschreibung des Klosterlebens findet sich oft 
genug bei Erasmus ebenso tragisch, oft aber auch bitter sati- 
risch und rait hohnischer Ironic behandelt, man begreift wohl 
aus den Schilderungen des letzteren und den eigenen Kloster- 
erlebnissen des Rabelais, wie derselbe zu seiner Idee eines 
Klosters gekommen ist, wie er sie am Ende seines ersten 
Buches ausgefiihrt hat. Man kann hier Zug fur Zug die 
Schrecken des Klosterlebens und die Mittel fur die Abhilfe 
all der Ubel bei Rabelais in seinem Idealbilde eines Klosters 
verfolgen. DieWege und Methoden der drei genialen Manner 
sind verschieden, der Geist ist derselbe. Erasmus malt, wie 
Hugo, mit den dunklen Farben der traurigen Wahrheit, der 
letztere malt den Contrast, das Widerspiel des Klosterlebens 
seiner Zeit ein fideles Gefangnis mit feinem Humor und 
Lachen. Aber der Schrecken vor dem Schmachten im Kloster 
und der Widerwillen gegen die alten Erinnerungen malen sich 
sattsam aus den Darstellungen ex contrario. 

Erasmus wendet sich gleichermaassen gegen den Schmutz 
mancher Kloster und besonders Klosterschulen wie gegen den 
verschwenderischen uukirchlichen Luxus anderer. Erasmus 
identificirt sich wohl mit Salsamentarius in der 'l^dvo^a^ia, 
wenn er denselben sagen lasst : "Ante annos trigiuta vixi Lu- 
tetiae in collegio,cui cognomen abaceto [collegium Montis acuti, 
Montaigu]. Ego tamen (quamquam parietes ipsi men tern ha- 
bent theologicam) praeter corpus pessimis infectum humoribus 
et pediculorum largissimam copiam nihil illinc extuli." Dies, 
die Harte der Klosterregeln und die urteilslose Behandlung und 
perverse Erziehung konnte oder musste wohl Resultate zeitigen, 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 49 

wie er sie weiter angiebt : " In eo collegio turn regnabat Joannes 
Standoneus, vir in quo non damnasses affectum, sed indicium 
omnino desiderasses. . . Quod rem aggressus est cubitu tarn 
duro, victu tarn aspero parcoque, vigiliis ac laboribus tarn gravi- 
bus, ut intra annum prima experientia multos iuvenes, felici 
indole praeditos, ac spern amplissimam prae se ferentes, alios neci 
dederit, alios caecitati, alios dementiae, nonnullos et leprae, . . . 
Nee his contentus addidit pallium et cucullam, ademit in totum 
esum carnium. . . Ceterum in morbos, in delirationem, in mor- 
tem his rebus impellere fratrem crudelitas est, parricidium est, 
etc. etc." ] Und solche Kloster finde man iiberall in Hiille und 
Fiille : " Mihi vix contigit ullum ingredi monasterium Car- 
thusianorum, quin illic offenderim unum atque alterum aut 
simpliciter mente captum, aut delirantem." 

Gegen ebendasselbe Kloster Montaigu hat Rabelais seine 
Philippika (I, 37) gerichtet : " Dea, mon bon filz, sagt Grand- 
gousier zu seinem Sohn, nous as tu apport6 jusques ici des 
esparviers de Montagu? 2 Je n'entendois que l tu fisses 
residence." Dagegen verwahrt sich Ponocrates emphatisch : 
" Seigneur, ue pensez pas que je 1'aye mis au col liege de pou- 
illerie qu'on nomme Montagu : mieulx Peusse voulu mettre 
entre les guenaux de Saint Innocent, pour 1'enorme cruault6 
et villenie que j'y ay cogneu. . . . Et, si j'estois roy de Paris, 
le diable m'emport si je ne mettois le feu dedans, et faisois 
brusler et principal et regens, qui endurent ceste inhumanity 
devant leurs yeulx estre exerc^e." Auch sonst greift er die 
Kloster bitter an : " . . . 1'on les [i. e. les moines] rejette 
en leur retraicts ; ce sont leurs convents et abbayes, s6par6s 
de conversation politicque, cornme sont les retraicts d'une mai- 
son." (I, 40.) 

Mit derselben Scharfe jedoch, mit der Erasmus die "Lause- 
schule" und andere Institute der Art angreift, wendet er sich 
wider den unkirchlichen Luxus, der an manchen Klostern 

x Cf. Birch-H. I, 232-233 (Anm.). 
2 v. Anm. 5 bei Rath^ry. 
4 



50 H. SCHOENFEI.D. 

gang und gabe war, 1 wahrend ringsumher das Land verarmte : 
"Unde mihi videntur vix excusari posse a peccato capital!, qui 
sumptibus immodicis aut exstruunt aut ornant monasteria seu 
templa, quum interim tot viva Christi templa fame pericli- 
tentur, nuditate horreant, rerumque necessariarum inopia dis- 
crucientur. Quum essem apud Britannos, vidi tumbam divi 
Thomae gemmis innumeris summique pretii onustam, praeter 
alia miracula divitiarum. Ego malim ista, quae superflua 
sunt, elargiri in usus pauperum, quam servare satrapis ali- 
quando semel omnia disrepturis ; ac tumbam ornare frondi- 
bus ac flosculis : id opinor gratius esset illi sanctissimo viro. 
. . . Quorsum autem attinebat tantum pecuniarum effundere, 
ut pauci monachi solitarii canerent in templo marmoreo?". . . 
( Convivium Religiosum) ; und fast analog ist derselbe Gedanke in 
Peregrinatio Religionis ergo ausgedriickt : " Mihi nonnunquam 
serio venit in mentem, quo colore possint excusari a crimine, 
qui tantum opum insumunt templis exstruendis, ornandis, 
locupletandis, ut nullus omnino sit modus. Fateor, in sacris 
vestibus, in vasis templi, deberi cultui sollemni suam dignita- 
tem : volo et structuram habere maiestatem suam. Sed quor- 
sum attinent tot baptisteria, tot candelabra, tot statuae aureae? 
.... quorsum ille musicus hinnitus, magno censu conducen- 
dus, quum interim fratres et sorores nostrae vivaque Christi 

1 " Quid igitur dicemus de tot monasteriis Conventualium, qui pecunias 
habent, qui potant, ludunt aleam, scortantur, et palam alunt domi concu- 
binas, ne plura commemorem " (Exequiae Seraphicae). Luxus und Habsucht 
sind Zwillingslaster, das letztere war notwendig, um dem ersteren zu froh- 
nen. Amterschleicherei und Bestechung waren an der Tagesordnung : 
"Redis igitur nobis onustus sacerdotiis ? " " Venatus equidem sum sedulo: 
at parum favit Delia. Nam complures illic piscantur hamo, quod dici solet, 
aureo" (Coll. de Captandis Sacerdotiis); und ahnlich im Coll. Senile mit 
scharfer Satire : " Nihil religiosius (! ) ordinibus Mendicantium ; et tamen 
nihil similius negotiationi. Volitant per omnes terras ac maria, multa 
vident, multa audiunt : penetrant omnes domos plebeiorum, nobilium, atque 
regum. At non cauponantur. Saepe nobis felicius!" Im Convivium Reli- 
giosum sagt Timotheus : " Ich meine die Geistlichen und Monche, welche 
um des Gewinnes willen im dichtesten Gedrange der Stadte weilen wollen, 
indem dort der Gewinn zu finden sei, wo das Volk sei." 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 51 

templa siti fameque contabescaut ? " l Hier steht scheinbar 
Rabelais in direktem Gegensatze zu seinem Meister, denn sein 
Idealkloster Thelema ist ja ein architektonischer Prachtbau, 
ausgestattet mit alien Werken der Bildhauerkunst und Malerei. 2 
Aber sein Kloster ist ja kein Kloster im gewohnlichen Sinne 
mehr, sondern ein Musensitz, " ein Menschheitsideal, das er- 
reicht wird in der freien Ausiibung eines durch gute Erzieh- 
ung geregelten Willens," ein humanistisches Phantasiegebilde 
aus der Renaissance. 

Hat iudes Rabelais durch die Thatsache selbst, dass er von 
seiner friihesten Jugend an sich den Klosterregeln nicht anpas- 
sen konnte, 3 sondern stets mit ihnen in Conflict geriet, von 
welchem Orden sie auch iraraer ausgingen, dass er das Klos- 
terleben mit seinen vielen Lastern und Nachteilen fur die 
Erziehung und Bildung unzahlige Male angriff und verspot- 
tete, den indirecten Beweis gegen den Eintritt in das Kloster 
erbracht, so ist Erasmus direct und positiv dagegen aufgetreten. 
In seiner Verteidigungsschrift De Colloquiorum Utilitate sagt er 
deutlich mit Beziehuug auf den unverniinftigen Einfluss, der 
geiibt wurde, um Unmiindige, die den Schritt noch nicht ermes- 
sen konnten, zu veranlassen, das Klosterkleid anzunehmen : 
". . . detestor eos, qui adolescentes aut puellas iuvitis parenti- 
bus pelliciunt in monasterium, abutentes illorum vel simplici- 
tate vel superstitione ; persuadentes eis non esse spem salutis 
extra monasteria. Nisi talibus piscatoribus plenus esset mun- 
dus : nisi innumera felicissima ingenia per istos infelicissime 
sepelirentur ac defoderentur viva, quae fuissent electa vasa 

l ln gleichem Sinne predigt der ehemalige Franciscanermonch Johann 
Eberlin von Giinzburg, ein starker Anhanger Luthers, gegen den Luxus 
der Kirchen, wahrend das Land daran verarme. Janssen, Oesch. des deul- 
schen Volkes, vol. II, 184. 

*Birch-H. I, 272-273 u. Anm. 

8 II avait comment par tre moine et moine "Cordelier. Le se'rieux et 
l'414vation de ses gofits, la Iibert4 naturelle et g^n^reuse de ses inclinations 
le rendirent bient6t un objet d6plac dans un couvent de cet Ordre, en cet 
age de decadence. II en sortit, essaya d'un autre Ordre moins m^prisable, 
de celui des Be"ndictin8, mais ne put s'en accomoder davantage." Sainte- 
Beuve, Causeries du Lundi. 



52 H. SCHOENFELD. 

domini, si iudicio sumpsissent institutum naturae congruens." 
Im Coll. Militis et Carthusiani sagt der Soldat zu dem Kar- 
thauser : "War denn kein Arzt da, den du dein Him hottest 
priifen lassen konnen, bevor du dich kopfiiber in eine solche 
Sclaverei stiirztest? Wozu war es notig, dich vorzeitig zu 
begraben, da du geniigende Mittel hattest, um bequem in der 
Welt zu leben ? Dort bist du wie in eine Hohle eingeschlos- 
sen : fugst du nun noch die Tonsur, das Monchsgewand, die 
Einsamkeit, den bestandigen Fischgenuss hinzu, so ist es nicht 
zu verwundern, wenn du selbst in einen Fisch verwandelt 
wirst. . . . Ich zweifle nicht, dass es dich schon langst reut, 
in das Kloster eingetreten zu sein ; denn ich kenne wenige, 
die nicht die Reue erfasst." Besonders aber behandelt er die- 
sen wunden Punkt in der Virgo Misogamos und in der Pieias 
Puerilis. Es liege eine grosse Gefahr fur die Sittlichkeit in 
dem Kloster. Sicherer seien die Jungfrauen bei den Eltern 
als dort (quarn apud illos crassos, semper cibo distentos mo- 
nachos). Der Abt sei ein wahnsinniger Saufer, Pater Johannes 
besitze nicht einen Funken Bildung und nicht viel mehr ge- 
sunden Verstand, Pater lodocus ist so dumm, dass er, wenn 
nicht das heilige Gewand ihn empfahle, in der Narrenkappe 
mit Schellen und Eselsohren offentlich heruinlaufen wiirde. 
. . . Auch finden sich im Kloster mehr Jungfrauen, die den 
Sitten der Sappho nach leben, als solche, die ihren Geist wider- 
spiegeln. Daher will sich der weise Jiingling, den Erasmus 
in Piet. Puer. als Muster anfiihrt, nicht in die Klosterhaft 
begeben, obgleich man ihn sehr dazu gedrangt hat : " crebro 
sollicitatus sum a quibusdam, ab hoc seculo, velut a naufragio, 
ad portum monasteriorum vocantibus. Sed mihi stat sententia, 
non addicere me vel sacerdotio, vel instituto monachorum, unde 
post me non queam extricare, priusquam mihi fuero pulchre 
notus." T 

1 Eine reiche Zusammenstellung von Ausspriichen des Erasmus iiber 
Monchstum und Klosterwesen bei Stichart, Er. v. Rotterdam. Seine Stel- 
lung zu der Kirche und zu den kirchl. Bewegungen seiner Zeit. Leipzig, 
1870, pp. 92-119. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 53 

Es geniigt, die Inschrift iiber dem Eingangstor zum Kloster 
Thelema genau durchzulesen und die Elemente, die Rabelais 
ausgeschlossen haben will, genau zu verstehen, 1 urn zu finden, 
dass die Auffassung des Erasmus und Rabelais iiber den gegen- 
wartigen Stand der Kloster ihrer Zeit vollig identisch war. 



Um uns nicht auf dem weiten Meer der tausendgestaltigen 
Satire gegen die Monche und die ausschliesslich scholastisch 
gebildeten Theologen bei Erasmus und Rabelais zu verlieren, 
miissen wir uns auf einige Hauptziige beschranken, die beson- 
ders hervorstechend sind, und die ihrem Geist, oft auch ihrer 
Form nach die directe Beziehung und Anlehnung Rabelais' an 
seinen Meister erweisen ; Vollstandigkeit der Wiirdigung der 
unzahligen Ausspriiche unserer Meister, die mit einem unge- 
heuren Wissen ausgestattet aus dem Vollen schopfend gegen 
eine versinkende Zeit ihre Pfeile scharften, wird nicht einmal 
fur moglich gehalten, viel weniger versucht. 

Nachdem Erasmus in der Inquisitio de Fide sein Glaubens- 
bekenntnis abgelegt (" summam catholicae professions, idque 
aliquanto vividius ac liquidius, quam docent theologi quidam 
magni nominis, inter quos pono et Gersonem"), und auch sonst 
auf einem gereinigten, vernunftbegrundeten Gottesglauben seine 
Ethik beruhen lasst, nachdem auch Rabelais sein Evangelium 
vonGott und Menschenliebe verkiindet ["que Dieu ne doit estre 
adore en fa9on vulgaire, mais en fa9on esleue et religieuse "], 
steht beiden Mannern nun das weite Feld des in Aberglauben, 
Stumpfheit und scholastische Tiiftelei ausgearteten wahren,ech- 
ten Christentums zur Satire, zum Angriff offen. 

Schuld an dem Untergange wahrer Frommigkeit sind aber 
die, welche die Hiiter derselben sein sollten : Sunt homunculi 
quidam, infimae quidem sortis, sed tarnen malitiosi, non minus 
atri quam scarabaei, neque minus putidi, neque minus abiecti ; 
qui tamen pertinaci quadam ingenii malitia, cum nulli omnino 
mortalium prodesse possint, magnis etiam viris facessunt nego- 

1 V. die Wurdigung des Klosters Thelema bei Birch-H. I, 236-239. 



54 H. SCHOENFELD. 

tium. Territant nigrore, obstrepunt stridore, obturbant foetore; 
circumvolitant, haerent, insidiantur, tit non paullo satius sit cum 
magnis aliquando viris simultatem suscipere, quam hos lacessere 
scarabaeos, 1 quos pudeat etiam vicisse, quosque nee excutere pos- 
sis, neque conflictari cum illis queas, nisi discedas contaminatior 
(Adagia, Chil. Ill cent VII, 1 ). Ungefahr dieselben Ziige legt 
Rabelais den ungliicklichen Opfern seiner Satire bei und ver- 
scharft den Gegensatz nur noch mehr durch das Gegenbild, 
den braveu, resoluten, lustigen Bruder Jean des Entommeures 
mit seinen Tugenden der Nachstenliebe und ewiger niitzlicher 
Thatigkeit. (Oeuvres, 1, 40 ; cf. Birch-H. I, 234-236). Die 
" Gastrolatres " ( Oeuvres, IV, 58), die Bauchfrohner oder Ma- 
genanbeter, 2 " tous ocieux, rien ne faisans, point ne travaillans, 
poids et charge inutile de la terre ; craiguant le Ventre ofienser 
et emmaigrir," die den Gaster als ihren einzigen Gott anbeten, 
verraten sich leicht unter ihrer durchsichtigen Maske ; gegen 
diese sprichwortliche Faulheit der Monche jener Zeit erhebt 
Erasmus sein "otiuni ceu pestem quandam fugio" (Piet. Puer.) 
zum Princip. 

Den breitesteu Raum nimmt jedoch bei Erasmus wie Rabe- 
lais die Satire auf die Unwissenheit, Bildungsfeindschaft und 
denscholastischen Diinkel der Monche jener Zeit ein. "Wir haben 
bei dem kurzen Abriss der Biographien beider Humanisten 
gesehen, wie die Klassik in den Klosterschulen in vollige Bar- 
barei ausgeartet war, die Erziehung etwa in der Weise gehand- 
habt wurde, wie sie Rabelais beschreibt, und deren Gehalt darin 
bestand, " a entendre les cloches du monastere, les beaux pres- 
chans et les beaux repons des religieux, a voir de belles pro- 
cessions et a ne rien faire, en passant le temps, cornnie les petite 

1 Die monchische Kachsucht erwahrt Erasm. in Exequiae Seraphicac : " Tu- 
tius esse regem quemlibet potentem laedere, quam quemlibet ex ordine Fran- 
ciscanorum aut Dominicanorum." 

2 " Vides as KaKiffTov 6-nplov ta-rlv y yaffr^p" sagt Erasm. in Concio sive M. 
mit Beziehung auf die Monche. " Ad edendum et bibendum plus quam 
viri estis, ad laborandum nee manus habetis, nee pedes." nrwxoir\ovffioi 
Frandscani. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 55 

enfants du pays, c'est a savoir a boire, manger et dormir etc.," 
wie der junge Gargantua unter den Sophisten und Scholastikern 
in seiner Erziehung herunterkommt (" il se conduit deja comme 
le plus cancre et le plus glouton des moines de ce temps-la," 
Sainte-Beuve, Cans.), wie Erasmus den Tod oder Wahnsinn 
als Resultat der kldsterlichen Zucht angiebt. 

Viele Ausserungen des Erasmus und Rabelais l bestatigen 
denn auch den Stand der Bildung der entarteten Pfaffen : 
"Nihil aliud video caussae, nisi quod multi theologi negle- 
xerint et linguarum peritiam, et Latini sermonis studium, una 
cum priscis ecclesiae doctoribus, qui sine hisce praesidiis ad 
plenum intelligi non queant : praeterea quod difficillimum sit 
revellere, si quid penitus i nsederit animo. Porro videas quos- 
dam tantum scholasticis placitis tribuere, ut malint ad ea de- 
torquere scripturam, quam ad scripturae regulam opiniones 
huraanas corrigere " ( Concio sive M.) und weiter : " Non de- 
derunt a puero operam litteris ; nee est illis praeceptorum aut 
librorum copia, et si quid istiusmodi facultatis obtigit, malunt 
abdomini impendere. Sacrosanctam illam vestem 2 existimant 
abunde sufficere et ad pietatis et ad eruditionis opinionem. 
Postremo putant nonnullain esse religionis partem, si cum suo 
Francisco ne Latine quidem loqui sciant. . . . ' 

1 Die Hauptstellen gegen die Unwissenheit der Monche finden sich 
vollzahlig bei Birch-H. I, 40 zahlt alle ihre Siinden auf, die Polemik 
gegen die "moinerie," gegen "tas de villains, immondes et pestilentes bestes 
noires, etc. (Ill, 21) zielit sich durch den ganzen Roman (III, 15. 19; 
IV, 46, 50 etc). 

* v. TlTo>xoir\ov(noi Franciscani : " Sunt qui desperent se posse a morbo re- 
valescere, ni vestiantur cultu Dominicano : imo, qui ne sepeliri quidem velint 
nisi veste Franciscana." "Ista qui suadent, aut captatores sunt aut fatui; 
qui credunt superstitiosi. Deus non minus dignoscit nebulonem in veste 
Franciscana, quam in militari." 

Auch Rab. macht sich iiber die Kleidergebote lustig. " Trinken wir, sagt 
Gymnaste, deposita cappa, ostons ce froc." "Ho, par Dieu, dist le moine, il 
y a un chapitre in statutis ordinis, auquel ne plairoit le cas [Anm. bei Rath4ry]. 
Ich trinke nur um so besser .... und (ironisch) Gott behiitet die Gesell- 
schaft vor Bosem (sc. wenn ich die Kutte anhabe)." cf. Oeuvres I, Prologue : 
" 1'habit ne fait point le moyne." 



56 H. SCHOENFELD. 

Die Monche l sind schuld an detn Reformationssturm : " To- 
tum hoc incendium, per monachos ortum, per eosdern hue usque 
incanduit, quod non aliter nunc quoque conantur exstinguere, 
quam si oleum, quod aiunt, addant camino," (mit Anspielung 
auf die Ketzerbrande). 

Die monchische Ignoranz wird auch im "Synodo Grram- 
maticorum " satirisirt, in dem Erasmus sagt : " . . . rideo 
studium cuiusdam Carthusiani, suo iudicio doctissimi, quiquum 
in Graecas litteras solet stolidissime debacchari, nunc libro suo 
indiderit Graecum titulum, sed ridicule." . . . Bruder Jean 
erzahlt (I, 39) von solch einem weissen Raben von Monch, 
der studiert, im Gegensatz zu den Mitgliedern seines eigenen 
Klosters : " Cognoissez vous frere Claude de Saint Denys? 
Mais quelle moushe Fa picque? II ne fait rien qu'estudier 
depuis je ne scay quand. Je n'estudie point de ma part. En 
uostre abbaye nous n'estudions jamais, de peur des auripeaux. 
Nostrefeu abb6 disoit que c'est chose monstrueuse voir un moine 
savant. Par Dieu, magis magnos clericos non sunt magis mag- 
nos sapientes (Pardieu, les plus grands clercs ne sont pas les 
plus fins. Regniers, Sat. III)." 2 Etwa dieselbe Meinung hat 
der Abt Antronius im Coll. Abbytis et Eruditae, aller Wahr- 
scheinlichkeit nach das Prototyp des rabelasischen. Der Abt 

1 " Sie haben die Welt durch ihre Missbrauche vergiftet und eine Reform 
notig gemacht," sagt Rab. von ihnen II, 29. Pantagruel macht sich anhei- 
schig, sie aus seinem Lande Utopien zu vertreiben : " Je te fais voeu que, par 
toutes con trees tant de ce pays de Utopie que d'ailleurs, ou j'auray puissance 
et autorite', je ferai prescher ton saint evangile purement, simplement, et 
entierement ; si que les abus d'un tas de papelars et faulx prophetes, qui ont 
par constitutions humaines et inventions depravdes envenimg tout le monde, 
seront d'entour moy exterminfe." 

8 Fuhrt uns Erasmus in der hochgebildeten Magdala ein Frauenmuster 
vor, so erweitert Rab. die Forderung einer tiichtigen Bildung auf das ganze 
Geschlecht : wie vorteilhaft sticht z. B. Rab.'s Princip der Frauenerziehung 
ab von Montaigne's engherzigen Ansichten, der selbst das Studium der 
Rhetorik verbieten will, " um nicht ihre natiirlichen Reize unter erborgten 
Formen zu verstecken." Mit Anerkennung spricht sich Rab. iiber die Frauen 
aus, welche sich von den Bildungsidealen der Epoche des Humanismus be- 
geistern lassen. Vgl. daruber Birch-H.'s treffliche Studie, I, 170-177 : Die 
Fran und der Humanismus. 



RABELAIS TJND ERASMUS. 57 

behauptet dort : " Ego nolim meos monachos frequenter esse 
in libris ; " und antwortet auf die Frage der gebildeten Mag- 
dala : " Sed quam ob rem tandem non probas hoc in monachis 
tuis ? " " Quoniam experior illos minus morigeros : responsant 
ex Decretis, Decretalibus, ex Petro et Paulo . . . Quid illi 
doceant nescio, sed tamen non arno monachum responsatorem : 
neque velim quemquam plus sapere quam ego sapiam." Der 
Abt selbst sieht sich am Studium gehindert durch " prolixae 
preces, cura rei domesticae, venatus, equi, cultus aulae." Im 
weiteren Verlauf des Dialoges halt der Abt dafiir, Frauen 
durften kein Latein verstehen, weil dies wenig zur Bewahrung 
ihrer Keuschheit beitriigt. 

Mag. : " Ergo nugacissimis fabulis pleni libri Gallice scripti 
faciunt ad pudicitiam ? " 

Abt : " Tutiores sunt a sacerdotibus (sc. mulieres), si nesciant 
Latine." 

Mag. : " O da ist keine Gefahr . . ; quandoquidem hoc agitis 
sedulo, ne sciatis Latine." 

Sodann schliesst sie mit der echt humanistischen Wendung : 
". . . malim (sc. facultates meas) in bonis studiis consumere, 
quam in precibus sine mente dictis, in pernoctibus conviviis, in 
exhauriendis capacibus pateris;" und fahrt dann fort : " Einst 
war ein ungebildeter Abt ein seltener Vogel, jetzt giebt es nichts 
Gewohnlicheres. . . Wenn Ihr Ignoranten-Theologen Euch 
nicht hiitet, 1 so wird es noch dahin kominen, dass wir Frauen 

1 Welche Bliiten die Ignoranz der Monche zuweilen trieb, ist in der Pere- 
grinatio Religionis ergo ergotzlich zu lesen. Eine mit lateinischen Majuskeln 
geschriebene Votivtafel wird von den Monchen fiir hebraischgehalten (" isti, 
quidquid non intelligunt, Hebraicum vocant "). Nach Erklarung der liicher- 
lichen grammatischen Ungeheuerlichkeit irpwros So-repos fiir Subprior fahrt 
der dummbigotte Ogygius fort, der Subprior babe ihn hoflich empfangen, ihm 
erziihlt, wie viele iiber der Erklarung der Votivtafel geschwitzt haben. So 
oft ein alter Dr. theol. oder jur. gekommen sei, babe man ihn zu der Tafel 
gef iihrt ; der eine habe die Schriftziige fur Arabisch, der andere fiir iniagi- 
nar erklart. Endlich sei einer gekommen, der den mit grossen lateinischen 
Buchstaben geschriebenen Titel gelesen habe. Die Verse waren griechisch 
mit grossen griechischen Buchstaben geschrieben, die beim ereten Anschein 
wie die lateinischen aussehen. 



58 H. SCHOENFELD. 

in den Theologenschulen den Vorsitz fiihren, in den Tempeln 
predigen . . . : schon andert sich die Weltbiihne, eiu neuer 
Morgen tagt, eine neue Welt geht auf ! " 



Bei genauerer Priifung und Vergleichung des erasmischen 
Colloquiums Funus und den Sterbescenen des Raminagrobis bei 
Rabelais, III, 21, 22, 23, finde ich so viele Anklange, dass ich 
jenes Coll. fur die Quelle des Rabelais halte. 

Nachdem namlich Erasmus die letzten Stunden l des Georgius 
besprochen, den Arzten einige Seitenhiebe versetzt, besonders 
aber die Streitigkeiten der Dominikaner, Franziscaner, Augus- 
tiner, Carmeliten etc., die bald in Schlagereien am Totenbette 
ausarteten, die Caeremonien der Beichte etc. (" numquam audivi 
mortem operosiorem, nee funus ambitiosius") verspottet, giebt 
er einen Bericht eines diametral verschiedenen Hinganges, den 
Tod des Cornelius (" ut vixit nulli molestus, ita mortuus est "). 
Dieser bereitet sich still auf den Tod vor, nimmt nur einen Arzt 
(" non minus bonum virum, quam bonum medicum "), thut Be- 
diirftigen Gutes, sorgt fur seine Familie, bestimmt Nichts fur 
das Kloster, lasst nicht einen Monch an sein Bett rufen, em- 
pfangt die letzte Olung, legt aber keine Beichte ab, indem keine 
Gewissensbisse in seinem Gemiite zuriickgeblieben seien, uud 
stirbt leicht und friedlich ("numquam audivi mortem minus 
operosam "). 2 

1 Die Satire auf die Trauerfeierlichkeiten nimmt Erasm. wieder auf im 
E. M.: "Ad hoc collegium (i. e. stultorum) pertinent, qui vivi, qua funeris 
pompa velint efFerri, tarn diligenter statuunt, ut nominatim etiam praescri- 
bant, quot taedas, quot pullatos, quot cantores velint adesse . . . , quam si 
aediles creati ludos aut epulum edere studeant." Cf. auch Exseguiae Seraphicae. 

2 Cf. Conv. Relig. : "At ego quot vidi Christianos quam frigide morientes 1 
Quidam fidunt in his rebus, quibus non est fidendum : quidam ob conscien- 
tiam scelerum et scrupulos, quibus indocti quidam (d. i. Geistliche) obstre- 
punt morituro, pene desperantes exhalant animam. Nee mirum eos sic mori, 
qui per omnem vitam tantum philosophati sunt in ceremoniis ! " Erasmus 
selbst wiinscht in seinem Testament vom 22. Januar 1527, das Ludwig Sieber 
herausgegeben (Basel 1889, Schweighauser, 28 S.), "sein Begrabnis weder 
armlich noch luxuries " und "ritu ecclesiastico, sicut nemo queri possit." 
K. Hartfelder, Berl. PhUol. Wochenschrifl, vom 17, Sept. 1892. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. " 59 

Ganz ahnlich spielt sich die Todesscene bei Raminagrobis 
ab. Pantagruel und seine Freunde fanden den guten Greis im 
Todeskampfe "avec raaintien joyeux, face ouverte, et regard 
lumineux." Ntir entledigt er sich der Pfaffen verschieden von 
Cornelius in rabelasischer Weise : " J'ay ce jourd'hui, qui est 
le dernier et de may et de moy, hors ma maison a grande 
fatigue et difficult^, chasse" un tas de villaines, immondes et 
pestilentes bestes, noires, . . . ., lesquelles laisser ne me vou- 
loient a mon aise mourir ; et, par fraudulentes pointures, .... 
importunity freslonnicques, toutes forgees en 1'officine de ne 
scay quelle insatiability, me evocquoient du doux pensement on- 
quel je acquiesgois, contemplant, voyant, et ja touchant et gous- 
tant le bien et felicite, que le bon Dieu a prepare d ses fideles et 
esleuz, en Vautre vie, et estat de immortalite. Thut nicht, wie 
jene ! Declinez de leur voye, ne soyez a elles (bestes) sembla- 
bles, plus ne me molestez. . . ." 

An dieser Stelle brach Erasmus bei Cornelius ab, denn er 
hatte seinen Zweck erreicht ; Rabelais aber hat noch mehr zu 
sagen, um die Monche abzuthun. Der heuchlerische, aber- 
glaubische Panurge discutirt den "Ketzertod" und riihmt die 
guten "peres mendiahs cordeliers, et jacobins, qui sont les deux 
hemispheres de la christiente'," mit ironischer Heuchelei, welche 
die Satire nur um so scharfer hervortreten lasst. Dagegen 
nimmt der gute Bruder Jean die Ketzerei des Dichters nicht 
so tragisch : " Ilz mesdisent de tout le monde ; si tout le monde 
mesdit d'eux, je n'y pretends aucun interest." 

Ubrigens spielt Rabelais auf Erasmus' 'l^dvo^a^La, wo die- 
ser die Monche so scharf hernimmt, deutlich genug an, wenn er 
den Panurge sagen lasst : " Mais que tons les diables luy ont 
fait les pauvres diables de Capussins, et Minimes ? Ne sont 
ilz assez meshaignSs les pauvres diables? Ne sont ilz assez 
enfume's et perfumes de misere et calamite", les pauvres haires, 
extraicts de ICHTHYOPHAGIE ? " die Absicht der Satire auf 
die TTTo^oTrXouo-iot ist hier evident. 

In Erasmus' Naufragium ist aller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach 
die Quelle zu der graphischen Beschreibung des Seesturmes, 



60 



H. SCHOENFELD. 



der komisch wirkenden Todesangst des Panurge mit seinen 
Geliibden, der gefassten Ruhe des Pantagruel und Bruder Jean 
zu suchen (IV, 18-24). Nur werden alle die in der Angst 
abgelegten Geliibde im Naufragium dem feigen Heuchler Pa- 
nurg zugewiesen. Die Seekrankheit, das Gebet an die heilige 
Jungfrau, die unerfullbaren Versprechungen, das Verlangen 
nach der Beichte, alle diese Ziige finden sich bei Panurge wieder. 



" Unum audivi, erzahlt Adolphus, 
non sine risu, qui clara voce, ne 
non exaudiretur, polliceretur Chris- 
tophoro qui est Lutetiae in summo 
templo, mons verius quam statua, 
cereum tantum, quantus esset ipse. 
Haec cum vociferans quantum pot- 
erat identidem inculcaret, qui forte 
proximus assistebat illi notus, cubito 
tetigit eum ac submonuit. Vide quid 
pollicearis: etiamsi rerum omnium 
tuarum auctionem facias, non fueris 
solvendo. Turn ille voce iam pres- 
siore, ne videlicet exaudiret Chris- 
tophorus: Tace, inquit fatue ; an credis 
me ex animi sententia loqui? Si semel 
contigero terram, non daturus sum 
illi candelam sebaceam." (!) 



"Aderat et Dominicanus quidam. 
Huic confessi sunt qui volebant," 
nachdem ein gewisser Greis Adamus 
aus dem Gerson die fiinf Wahrheiten 
iiber den Nutzen der Beichte ausein- 
andergelegt. 



" Saint Michel d' Aure : Saint Nico- 
las, a ceste fois et jamais plus, betet 
Panurge. Je vous fais icy bon voeu 
et a Nostre Seigneur, [in zweiter 
Reihe !] que si a ce coup m'estes 
aidans, j'entends que me mettez en 
terre hors ce danger icy, je vous edi- 
fieray une belle grande petite chapelle 
ou deux 

Entre Quande et Monssoreau, 
Et n'y paistra vache ne veau." 
Die Pointe versteht sich hier von 
selbst; dass er sein Gelubde nicht 
halten wird, ist klar. Aber er spricht 
es nicht aus, wie der Dummkopf bei 
Erasm., der den heil. Christoph be- 
triigen will. Ubrigens trifil sich 
Panurge mit jenem, wenn er zu dem 
fluchenden Bruder Jean sagt: "Ne 
jurons point pour ceste heure. De 
main taut que vous voudrez. (IV, 19)." * 

Die Beichte drastischer bei Rabe- 
lais: Zalas, frere Jean, mon pere, 
mon amy, confession. Me voyez cy a 
genoulx. Confiteor, vostre sainte 
benediction." 



Man vergleiche auch die Analogic in dem kurzen Gebet des 
Pantagruel, direkt an Gott gerichtet, (IV, 21) mit dem des 
weisen Adolphus, der kein Gelubde ablegt, well er mit den 

1 Bruder Jean hat iiberhaupt ein Faible fur das Fluchen, entsohuldigt es 
witzig 1, 39 ( Ende) : " Ce n'est que pour orner mon langage. Ce sont couleurs 
de rhetorique Ciceroniane." (v. Anm. bei Rath.) 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 61 

Heiligen kerne Vertrage abschliessen will [" do, si facias : aut 
faciam, si facias : dabo cereum, si enatem ; ibo Romam, si 
serves "], sondern sich direkt an Gott wendet [" Nemo divorum 
illo citius audit, aut libentius donat quod petitur"], urn nicht 
wahrend der Unterhandlungen z. B. des heiligen Peter mit 
Gott unterzugehen [" Si cui divo commendaro meam salutem, 
puta Sancto Petro, qui fortasse primus audiet, quod adstet 
ostio ; (welch feine Ironie !) priusquam ille conveniat Deum, 
priusquam exponat caussam, ego iam periero."]. 

1st in diesem Abschnitt, der die wahre Fromrnigkeit in der 
Stunde der Gefahr behandelt und die wahnwitzige Heuchelei 
persifflirt, die Ahnlichkeit der rabelasischen Satire mit der 
erasmischen deutlich genug hervorgetreten, so lasst sich die 
Beziehung der Satire auf alle kirchlichen Einrichtungen, die 
nicht in Gottes Wort wurzeln, bei Beiden genau bis ins Ein- 
zelne verfolgen. 

Zunachst ist das Caelibat beiden Satirikern ein Dorn im 
Auge, weil es gegen die Natur und die menschliche Freiheit 
verstosst. 

In der " *I%Ovo(f)a<yia " sagt Erasmus ausdriicklich : "Matri- 
monii votum est iuris sine controversia divini ; et tamen diri- 
mitur per monasticae vitae professionem ab hominibus reper- 
tam ; " im Oonv. Religiosum: "Paulus vult, unumquemque suo 
frui affectu citra contumeliam alterius . . . Fit enim saepe- 
numero, ut vescens gratior sit Deo, quam non vescens, et diem 
festum violans acceptior sit Deo, quam is, qui videtur observare : 
et matrimonium huius gratius sit oculis Dei, quam multorum 
caelibatus ; " und im weiteren Verlaiif : "Nee enim mihi placet 
eorum sententia, qui fortunatum putant, uxorem habuisse nun- 
quaru : magis arridet, quod ait sapiens Hebraeus, ei bonam 
sortem obtigisse, cui obtigit uxor bona." In alien Colloquien, 
wo Erasmus die Belehrung von Frauen, Jungfrauen, Jiing- 
lingen unternimmt, tritt er als Anwalt einer keuschen, reinen 
Ehe ein, so in der Puerpera, der Virgo pia-oyafjios, Uxor 
/Ae/i-^rt7<x/i09 ; iiberall erscheint ihm die Ehe als das Fundament 
der burgerlichen Ordnung. Rabelais ist durchaus ein warmer 



62 H. SCHOENFELD. 

Verfechter der Ehe, wohl nicht bloss darum, dass er selbst mit 
dem Caelibat in Conflict geraten ist, 1 sondern weil er die Ehe 
fur eine sittliche wie physiologische 2 Notwendigkeit gehalten. 
Keiner hat geistreicher und scharfer die Schaden und Siinden 
markirt, die sich aus dem Caelibat bei dem Priesterstand er- 
geben, als eben er. 

Aber er hat ebenso wie Erasmus ausdriicklich darauf be- 
standen, dass die Verheiratung der jungen Leute von den 
Eltern sanktionirt werden miisse. Es hatte sich namlich 
nach dem canonischen Recht ein Missbrauch ausgebildet, dass 
die Zustimmung der Eltern zur Eheschliessuug ihrer Kinder 
durchaus nicht notig sei. 3 Dagegen wendet sich Rabelais in 
eiuem langen Kapitel (III, 48). " Je n'ay jamais entendu 
que par loy aucune, fust sacre, fust prophane et barbare, ait 
este en arbitre des enfans soy marier, non consentans, voulans, 
et promovens leurs peres, meres et parens prochains. Tous 
legislateurs ont es enfans ceste liberte" tollue, es parens I'ont 
reserve'e," sagt der musterhafte Konigsohn Pantagruel. Ganz 
in demselben Sinne hatte schon Erasmus in der Virg 
die Streitfrage entschieden, indem er den Eubulus (ev 
sagen lasst : " Quae est igitur ista nova religio, quae facit irri- 
tum, quod et naturae lex sanxit, et vetus lex docuit, et Evan- 
gelica lex comprobavit, et Apostolica doctrina confirmavit? 
Isthuc decretum non est a Deo proditum, sed in monachorum 
senatu repertum. Sic definiunt quidam, et matrimonium esse 
ratuin, quod insciis, aut etiam invitis parentibus inter puerum 
et puellam per verba de praesenti 4 (sic enim illi loquuntur) con- 

1 Vide den Abschnitt iiber seinen zweijahrig verstorbenen Sohn The'odule 
bei Kath^ry, Notice, pp. 70-72. Marty-Laveaux, IV, 394. 

3 cf. Oeuvres, III, 4 (sub fine) : die Ehe ist eine Pflicht. " Peine par nature 
est au refusant intermine'e, . . . furie parmy les sens ; " cf. Luthers " melius 
nubere quam uri." 

3 Eath^ry's Anm. 1 zu Oeuvres, IV, 48. Birch-H. I, 251, Anm. 

4 D'apres une ancienne regie de droit canonique la simple declaration, 
faite devant un pretre, par deux personnes, qu'elles entendaient actuelle- 
ment se prendre pour mari et femme emportait mariage, pourvu qu'elle 
fut suivie de la cohabitation. C'est ce qu'on appelait paroles de praesenti. 
Rathe'ry, Anm. 6. zu Oeuvres, IV, 48. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 63 

tractum est. Atqui istud dogma, nee naturae sensus approbat, 
nee veterum leges, nee Moyses ipse, nee Evangelica aut Apos- 
tolica doctrina." Ubrigens wurde der Missbrauch durch das 
Regierungsedict von 1556 und die Verordnung von 1560 auch 
beseitigt. 

Mit dem neunten Kapitel des III Buches beginnt die wich- 
tige Frage, ob sich Panurge verheiraten soil oder nicht, eine 
Frage, so bedeutungsvoll, so sehwer zu entscheiden, dass sie 
erst in der Reise nach dem Orakel zur heiligen Flasche aus- 
lautet und nicht einmal hier ihre Entscheidung findet. Das 
Unsichere liegt aber vorziiglich darin, dass Panurge heiraten 
soil, nicht in der Heirat selbst ; denn Rabelais selbst ist der 
Meinung des Weisen : " L ou n'est femme, j'en tends mere 
families, et en mariage legitime, le malade est en grand estrif. 
[Ubi non est mulier, ingemiscit egens. Vulgata.~\ J'en ay veu 
claire experience en papes, legatz, cardinaux, evesques, abbe's, 
prieurs, prestres et moines." 

Eine Fiille von Untersuchungen sind uber Wesen und Ur- 
sprung dieses Kapitels angestellt worden. Fur uns ist es 
unwesentlich, ob Rabelais die Plaidoyers der Rechtsgelehrten 
Bouchard und Tiraqueau fur und gegen die Frauen in geist- 
reichem Scherz verwendet. 1 

Der Prediger Raulin 2 lasst seinen Pfarrer auf die Frage 
jener Wittwe, ob sie ihren Knecht heiraten soil, in ahnlicher 
Weise antworten, wie Pantagruel auf die des Panurge. Le 
Duchat hat zuerst die Anklange an die Facetiae von Pogge 
und das Echo von Erasmus herausgefunden. 3 Molire hat von 
diesem Kapitel im Mariage force Gebrauch gemacht. 

Die absolute Anlehnung des Rabelais an das Echo des Eras- 
mus in Form und Stoff ist ganz in die Augen fallend. Dieselbe 
Frage " heiraten oder nicht heiraten " wird hier, wie dort ven- 
tilirt, freilich mit geringerer Wortfulle bei Erasmus : 

1 Rathe*ry, Notice, p. 9. 

8 Opus sermonum de Adventu, Paris, 1519. Sermo III. De Viduitate. 
3 Paul Lacroix (Jacob Bibliophile), Anm. 1. zu Rab. IV, 9. Rathe*ry, 
Sclilussanm. zu dem Kap. 



64 



H. SCHOENFELD. 



Erit auspicatum, si uxorem du- 
xero ? Sero. 



Quid si mihi veniat usu, quod his 
qui incidunt in uxores parum pudicas 
parumque frugiferas? Feras. 



Atqui cum talibus morte durior est 
vita. Vita (cave). 



Siccine in rebus humanis daminari 
fortunam f Unam. 



Attamen miserum est homines vi- 
vere solos. *OXo>s. 



"Mais, dist Panurge, si vous cog- 
noissiez que mon meilleur fust tel 
que je suis demeurer, sans entre- 
prendre cas de nouvellete", j'aimer- 
ais mieux ne me marier point." 
"Point done ne vous mariez." 

"Mais si ma femme me faisoit 
coqu, comme vous savez qu'il en est 
grande anne"e, ce seroit assez pour 
me faire trespasser hors les gonds 
de patience." "Ce qu' a autruy tu 
auras fait, sois certain qu' autruy te 
fera." 

" Mais, pour mourir, je ne le voud- 
rois estre. 

(J'aimerais mieux etre mort que 
cocu. Anm. Rath.) 

(7 est un point qui trap me poingt." 
" Point etc." 

"N'estes vous asseure' de vostre 
vouloir ? 

Le point principal y gist: tout le 
reste estfortuit, et dependant desfatales 
dispositions du del" (cap. 10). 

" Voire mais voudriez vous qu'ainsi 
seulet je demeurasse toute ma vie, sans 
compagnie conjugale. Vous savez 
qu'il est escrit : Vae soli. L'homme 
seul n'a jamais tel soulas qu'on voit 
entre gens maries." "Mariez vous 
done." 



Und so liesse sich das ernste Spiel noch waiter fortsetzen, um 
zu zeigen, dass dem Rabelais das Original bestimmt vorgelegen 
haben muss. 1 

1 In dem Volksliede " Der bestandige Freier " findet sich dieselbe Spie- 
lerei : " Andreas, lieber Schutzpatron, | Gieb mir doch einen Mann ! | Riiche 
doch jetzt meinen Hohn, | Sich mein schones Alter an ! 

Krieg ich einen oder keinen f Einen. 
weiter: gefallen? alien. 

kaltich? altlich. 
Gleichen ? Leichen. 
Lange? Enge, etc. 

Fr. K. von Erlach, Die Volkslieder der Deulschen. 
II. Fliegende Blatter meist aus des Knaben Wunderhorn. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 



65 



Ein der scharfsten Satire wiirdiger Aberglaube scheint dem 
Erasmus wie Rabelais das Pilgerwesen zu sein. Zusammen- 
fassend aussert'sich ersterer dariiber wie folgt : l 



" In colloquio de visendo loca sacra 
cohibetur superstitiosus et immodi- 
cus quorundam affectus, qui summam 
pietatem esse ducunt vidisse Hiero- 
solymam : et hue per tanta terrarum 
marisque spatia currunt senes epis- 
copi, relicto grege, qui curandus erat ; 
hue viri principes, relicta familia ac 
ditione ; hue mariti, relictis domi li- 
beris et uxore, quorum moribus ac 
pudicitiae necessariuserat custos; hue 
adolescentes ac foeminae, non sine 
gravi discrimine morum et integri- 
tatis. Quidam etiam iterum atque 
iterum recurrunt, 2 nee aliud faciunt 
per omnem vitam, et interim super- 
stitioni, inconstantiae, stultitiae, te- 
meritati praetexitur religionis titulus, 
ac deserter suorum, contra doctrinam 
Pauli, sanctimoniae laudem aufert, ac 
sibi quoque pietatis omnes numeros 
explesse videtur. . . . Quid dicturus 
(Paulus) de maritis, qui destitutis 
teneris liberis, uxore iuvencula, id- 
que in re tenui, proficiscuntur Hiero- 
eolymam. (Dann folgt das Beispiel 
einer solchen verhangnisvollen Pil- 
gerfahrt.) Clamat Sanctus Hierony- 
mus : Non magnum est Hierosolymis 
fuisse ; sed bene vixisse magnum est." 

Im Coll. De Votis Temere Svsceplis 
bekennt Cornelius, die Torheit habe 
ihn, so wie viele andere, nach Jerusa- 
lem gefiihrt, iiberall habe er Barbarei 
gesehen ; arm und moralisch schlech- 
ter sei er zuriickgekehrt. Sein Mit- 



Die Hauptstelle, wo sich Rab. ge- 
gen die Pilgerfahrten ausspricht, ist 
1, 45 : Die Pilger kornmen von Saint- 
Sebastian bei Nantes, wo sie dem 
Heiligen ihre Geliibde gegen die 
Pest abgelegt haben. Auf die iro- 
nische Frage des Grandgousier, ob 
denn die Pest von dem heil. Sebas- 
tian ausgehe, versichert der Sprecher : 
" Gewiss, unsere Prediger versichern 
es uns." "Ouy, dist Grandgousier, 
les faulx prophetes vous annoncent 
ilz telz abus? Blasphement ilz en 
ceste fa9on les justes et saints de Dieu, 
qu'ilz les font semblables aux diables, 
qui ne font que mal entre les hu- 
mains? . . . Ainsi preschoit un ca- 
phart, que saint Antoine mettoit le 
feu es jambes ; saint Eutrope faisoit 
les hydropiques ; saint Gildas les 
fous ; saint Genou les gouttes. Mais 
je le punis en tel exemple, quoiqu'il 
m'appelast heretique, que depuis ce 
temps caphart quiconques n'est ose" 
entrer en mes terres. Et m'esbahis 
si vostre roy les laisse prescher par 
son royaume telz scandales. Car plus 
sont a punir que ceux qui par art 
magique ou autre engin auroient mis 
la peste par le pays. La peste ne tue 
que le corps, mais ces predications 
diaboliques infectionnent les ames 
des pauvres et simples gens." Auch 
hier wird die Gefahr fur die zuriick- 
bleibenden Frauen und Tochter der 
Pilger freilich mit den drastischen 



l DeColl. Util. 

* Video quosdam septies illo (sc. Eomam) recurrere. Adeo scabies ilia sine 
fine solet prurire, si quern semel invaserit. 

De Captandis Sacerdoliis. 

5 



66 



H. SCHOENFELD. 



rabelasischen Farben, die in solchen 
Fallen ins Obscoene iiberzugehen 
pflegen geschildert. 

Der gute Grandgousier entlasst die 
Pilger mit denselben Belehrungen, 
die wir aus Erasmus ziehen konnen : 
"Allez vous en, pauvres gens, au nom 
de Dieu le createur, lequel vous soit 
en guide perpetuelle. Et dorenavant 
ne soyez faciles a ces ocieux et inuliles 
voyages. Entretenez vos families, tra- 
vaillez chascun en sa vacation, instruez 
vos enfans, et vivez comme vous enseigne 
le bon apostre saint Paid" 



sprecher Arnoldus ist indessen nach 
einem in der Trunkenheit abgelegten 
Geliibde in Rom und Compostella 
gewesen. Nicht Pallas, sondern die 
Moria selbst habe ihn hingefiihrt, 
zumal er eine jugendliche Gattin, 
einige Kinder und einen von seiner 
Arbeit abhangigen Haushalt zuriick- 
gelassen habe. Im Colloquium Se- 
nile sagt Pampirus ironisch : " Tan- 
dem fessus inquirendo (d. i. von 
Kloster zu Kloster die Frommigkeit 
zu suchen) sic mecum cogitabam : ut 
semel omnem sanctimoniam assequar, 
petam terram sanctam, ac redibo do- 
mum sanctimonia onustus. . . Atta- 
men cum Hierosolymam adirem, ad- 
dideram me in comitatum cuiusdam 
magnatis praedivitis, qui natus annos 
septuaginta negabat se aequo animo 
moriturum, nisi prius adisset Hiero- 
solymam. Ac domi reliquerat uxo- 
rem atque etiam liberos sex. . ." Aber 
er selbst sei um ein Betrachtliches 
schlechter zuriickgekommen, als er 
gegangen sei. 

Der lacherliche Aufzug eines solchen Pilgers wird in der 
Peregrinatio Religionis ergo beschrieben : " Menedemus : . . . 
obsitus es conchis imbricatis, stanneis ac plumbeis imaginibus 
oppletus undique, culmeis ornatus torquibus ; brachium habet 
ova serpentum (Rosenkranz, bestehend aus kleinen Kugeln, 
wie Schlangeneier, zum Zahlen der Gebete)." Der so ver- 
mummte Ogygius hat den heil. Jacob von Compostella und 
die Virgo Parathalassia in England besucht ; seine Schwieger- 
mutter hatte namlich das Geliibde abgelegt, dass er, wenn ihre 
Tochter einen Knaben zur Welt brachte, den heiligen Jacob 
personlich besuchen sollte. Der weitere Verlauf dieses Dia- 
loges von dem dankbaren Zunicken des Heiligen, dem Wun- 
derbriefe der Mutter Gottes, der von dem Engel ausgehauenen 
Inschrift ist sehr interessant und ironisch. 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 67 

Die falsche, sinnlose Heiligenaubetung bietet ebenfalls Bei- 
den reichen Stoff zur Satire. Gauze Abschnitte des Narrenlobes 
sind ihr geweiht. " Wenn sie (d. i. die Narren) das Gliick 
gehabt haben, eine Holzstatue oder sonst eine Abbildung ihres 
Polyphem, des heiligen Christophorus, 1 zu sehen, glauben sie 
an jenem Tage vor dera Tode sicher zu sein, oder wenn ein 
Soldat vor dem Bilde der heiligen Barbara sein Gebet ver- 
richtet hat, so hofft er unversehrt aus der Schlacht heimzu- 
kehren. Man ruft auch Erasmus an bestimmten Tagen, mit 
bestimmten wachsernen Weihgeschenken und unter bestimm- 
ten from men Spriichen als einen Heiligen an und erwartet, 
demnachst ein reicher Mann zu werden. Und nun erst ihr 
Hercules, der heilige Georg ! . . . Und weiter, gehort es nicht 
beinahe in dieselbe Kategorie, dass jedes Land seinen beson- 
deren Heiligen hat? Man betet diese himmlischen Herren 
auf die mannigfachste Weise an und teilt ihnen die verschie- 
densten Arten des Schutzes zu : 2 der eine heilt Zahnschmerzen, 
der andere steht den Gebarenden bei ; dieser bringt Gestoh- 
lenes zuriick, jener rettet aus den Gefahren des Schiffbruchs ; 
ein anderer sorgt fur die Sicherheit der Heerden, u. dgl. m. ; die 

1 " Praecipua spes erat in divo Christophoro, cuius imaginem quotidie con- 
templabar." (Sein Bild war im Zelt mit Kohle an die Wand gemalt). 
"Militis Confessio." 

*Bei dem feindlichen Einfall (Oeuvres, I, 27) "wussten die armen Teufel 
von Monchen nicht, welchem ihrer Heiligen sie sich zuerst weiheii sollten." 
Sodann riefen die Feinde unter Bruder Jean's Streichen zu alien Heiligen, 
die er namhaft macht, aber das niitzte nichts. Einige beichteten den 
Monchen, aber als sie durch die Bresche fliehen wollten, totete sie der tapfere 
Jean mit Hohnworten : " die haben gebeichtet und Gnade gewonnen ; fort 
mit ihnen geradenwegs zum Paradies." Also auch die Beichte niitzte den 
armen Teufeln nichts. Als Jean, wie Absalom, an dem Baume hing (I, 42), 
rief er dem Gargantua und Eudemon zu, die wackere Reden fuhrten, statt 
ihm zu helfen : " Vous me semblez les prescheurs decretalistes, qui disent 
que quiconques verra son prochain en danger de mort, il le doibt, sus peine 
d' excommunication trisulce, plus tost admonester de soy confesser et mettre 
en estat de grace que de luy aider." " Quand done je les verray tombe's en 
la riviere et prestz d'estre noys, en lieu de les aller querir et bailler la main, 
je leur feray un beau et long sermon de contemptu mundi et fuga seculi ; et, 
lors qu'ilz seront roides more, je les iray pescher." 



68 H. SCHOENFELD. 

Zeit wiirde mir fehlen, alles aufzuzahlen. Auch giebt es Hei- 
lige, deren Ansehen und Macht sich auf verschiedene Gebiete 
erstreckt ; ich nenne vor allem die Mutter Gottes, die in den 
Augen des Volkes eine fast noch hohere Gewalt besitzt, als ihr 
Sohn. Und um was Alles werden nicht diese Heiligen gebeten? 
Wie konnte ich diese Flut von Aberglauben angreifen ; es ist 
wie eine lernaische Schlange ; mit hundert Zungen und einer 
Stimme von Erz konnte ich nicht die unzahligen Torheiten 
aufzahlen. Die Priester hegen und pflegen indes das Unkraut 
herzlich gern, wissen sie doch recht wohl, welcher Nutzen 
daraus erwachst." 

Sodann giebt Erasmus seine Version der Absolution der 
Siinden : " Lebet in echt christlichem Sinne und euer Ende 
wird ein gesegnetes sein. Subnet cure Vergehen, aber spendet 
nicht uur ein geringes Geldstiick, sondern hasset auch wahrhaft 
das Bose, jammert, wachet, betet, fastet und audert euren ganzen 
Wandel. Folget im Leben dem Beispiel cures Heiligen, und 
ihr werdet euch seine Gunst erwerbeu." 

Aber wie sieht es mit der Beichte und Absolution aus? Beide 
halten von der Beichte, wie sie zu ihrer Zeit geiibt wurde, nicht 
viel. 

" Illi confiteor, qui vere solus re- Rab. satirisirt die Beichte z. B. IV, 

mittit peccata, cui est potestas uni- 49, wo Homenaz den Reisenden er- 

versa, Christo. Is enim auctor est lauben will die Decretalen zu kiissen ; 

omnis boni: sed an ipse instituerit "mais il vous conviendra paravant 

. hanc confessionem, qualis nunc est in trois jours jeuner, et regulierement 

usu ecclesiae, jtheologis excutiendum confesser, curieusement espluchans et 

relinquo. Haec est certe praecipua inventorizans vos peche's tant dru, 

confessio : nee est facile, confiteri qu'en terre ne tombast une seule cir- 

Christo. Non confitetur illi, nisi qui Constance, comme divinement nous 

ex animo irascitur suo peccato. Apud cbantent les dives Decretales que 

ilium expono deploroque, si quid ad- voyez." Vgl. einige Zeilen spiiter 

misi gravius ; clamo, lacrymor, ploro, den schnoden Witz in dem Wortspiel 

me ipsum exsecror, illius imploro des Panurge. 
misericordiam : nee finem facio, donee 
sensero peccandi affectum penitus ex- 
purgatum e medullis animi, et succe- 
dere tranquillitatem aliquam et ala- 
critatem, condonati criminis argu- 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 69 

mentum." Er weist ferner die Beichte 
vor dem Priester nicht ganz zuriick, 1 
glaubt aber, dass nicht Alles eine 
Todsiinde ist, was gegen menschliche 
Einrichtungen der Kirche verstosst. 
Der weise Knabe ist eben religios, 
ohne aberglaubisch zu sein. (Piet. 
Puerilis.) 

In noch hoherern Grade ist die Art der Absolution, des 
Ablasses des Siinden, beiden Mannern ein Dorn im Auge. Es 
ist ja besonders aus Luthers Schriften sattsam bekannt, was 
aus dem Ablass am Ende des XV und am Anfange des XVI 
Jahrhunderts geworden. Erasmus verabsaumt keine Gelegen- 
heit, die Entartung des Ablasses zu brandmarken, und Rabe- 
lais enlehnt der Einrichtung unter anderem das drastisch sati- 
rische Kapitel II, 17: " Comment Panurgegagnaitles par dons." 2 

Am heftigsten lasst sich Erasmus gegen den Ablass, wie er 
damals geworden, im Encomium aus : " Was soil man von den- 
jenigen sagen," bricht er los, " qui magicis quibusdam notulis 
ac preculis, quas pius aliquis impostor, vel animi causa vel ad 
quaestum excogitavit, freti, nihil sibi non pollicentur, opes, 
honores, voluptates, saturitates, valetudinem perpetuo prospe- 
ram, vitam longaevam . . . denique proximum Christi apud 

1 Coronis Apologetica: "Ne mihi quidem ipsi satis adhuc plene constat, 
quod ecclesia definierit, hanc confessionem ut nunc fit, esse ex institutione 
Christi. Sunt enim permulta argumenta, mihi quidem insolubilia, quae 
suadent contrarium." Aber er unterwirft sich der Autoritat der Kirche : 
" Et tamen hunc animi mei sensum ubique submitto iudicio ecclesiae, libenter 
sequuturus, simulatque certum vigilans claram illius vocem audiero. ..." 

* Oder hat E/ab. auch diese Episode direkt aus Erasmus "Peregrinatio Re- 
ligionis ergo " gezogen ? Dort erzahlt Ogygius : " Imo vero sunt quidam 
adeo dediti sanctissimae virgini, ut dum simulant sese munus imponere attari, 
mira dexteritate suffurenlur, quod alius posuerat." Auf den Einwurf des Mene- 
demus : "An non in tales illico fulminaret Virgo ? " erwidert Og. : " Qui 
magis id faceret Virgo, quam ipse pater aethereus, quern non verentur nudare 
suis ornamentis, vel perfosso templi pariete?" Panurge fuhrt dasselbe 
Manover in alien Kirchen von Paris aus, rechtfertigt aber den Diebstahl in 
cynischer Weise : " Car les pardonnaires me le donnent, quand ilz me disent, 
en presentant les reliques a baiser, centuplum accipies, que pour un denier 
j'en prenne cent." 



70 H. 8CHOENFELD. 

superos consessum. . . . Hie mihi puta negotiator aliquis, 
aut miles, aut iudex, abiecto ex tot rapinis unico nummulo, 
universam vitae Lernam semel expurgatam putat, totque per- 
iuria, tot libidines, tot ebrietates, tot rixas, tot caedes, tot im- 
posturas, tot perfidias, tot proditiones existimat velut ex pacto 
redimi, et ita redirni, ut iam liceat ad novum scelerum orbem 
de integro reverti." Noch scharfer tritt die Satire hervor : 
"De Votis Temere Susceptis" Es wird von einem Pilger erzahlt, 
er sei langst im Himmel, denn er habe den Giirtel mit den 
reichsten Indulgenzen gefiillt gehabt. Und der Weg zum 
Himmel war ihm gebahnt, denn er war mit Diplomen genii- 
gend ausgeriistet. Auf den Einwurf, wenn er nun aber einen 
Engel trafe, der kein Latein verstiinde, erfolgt die Antwort : 
Dann miisste er nach Rom zuriickkehren und ein neues Diplom 
holen ; denn Bullen werden dort auch an Tote verkauft. 

In Militis Oonfessio hofft der Soldat, der eben von sich 
eingeraumt, " Plus illic(i. e. in bello) scelerum et vidi etpatravi, 
quam unquam antehoc in omni vita" und vorher: "sceleribus 
onustus redeo" dennoch auf volligen Ablass seiner Siinden bei 
den Dominikanern : " Etiam si Christum spoliassem ac deco- 
lassem (!) etiam largas habent indulgentias et auctoritatem 
componendi." . . . Den Reliquienschwindel entlarvt Erasmus 
besonders in der Peregrinatio und der Inquisitio de Fide. Das 
riesige Glied des Mittelfingers des heiligen Petrus wird gezeigt, 
sodann werden die Pilger zu der Milch der gebenedeiten 
Jungfrau gefiihrt. " O matrem filii simillimam ! ille nobis 
tantum sanguinis sui reliquit in tern's; haec tantum lactis, 
quantum vix credibile est esse posse uni mulieri uniparae, 
etiamsi nihil bibisset infans." Dasselbe gilt von den Kreuz- 
reliquien : " Idem caussantur de cruce Domini, quae privatim 
ac publice tot locis ostenditur, ut si fragmenta conferantur in 
unum, navis onerariae iustum onus videri possint; et tamen 
totam crucem suam baiulavit Dominus." Die Erklarung des 
Ogygius, dass Gott gemass seiner Allmacht das Holz nach 
seinem Willen vermehren kann, weist Menedemus zuriick : 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 71 

"Pie tu quidem interpretaris : at ego vereor ne multa taliafin- 
guniur ad quaestum, etc., etc." 

Gegen das kirchliche Gebot der Fasten hat Erasmus wie 
Rabelais viel zu sagen. Zwar will er nicht das Kind rait dem 
Bade ausschiitten, aber er will Maass und Vernunft dabei 
angewendet wissen : " In Convivio pi*ofano non damno con- 
stitutiones ecclesiae de ieiuniis ac delectum ciborum ; sed indico 
superstitionem quorundam, qui his plus tribuunt quam oportet, 
negligentes eorum quae magis faciunt ad pietatem : damnoque 
eorurn crudelitatem, qui haec exigunt ab his, a quibus ecclesiae 
mens non exigit (mit Anspielung auf seine eigene Constitution, 
welche die Fasten und den Fischgenuss nicht vertragen konnte) : 
item eorum praeposteram sanctimoniam, qui ex huiusmodi re- 
bus contemnant proximum. ." Etwas energischer klingt schon 
der Angriffgegen die Speisevorschriflen in CbronisApologetica: 
" Porro non fit illic mentio de ieiunio, ad quod nos hortatur 
evangelium et apostolicae litterae, sed de delectu ciborum, quern 
palam contemnit in evangelic Christus, nee raro damnant Pau- 
linae litterae : praesertim Jndaicum est superstitiosum. 1 Dicet 
aliquis : hoc est accusare pontificem Romanum, qui hoc prae- 
cipiat, quod damnat apostolus. Pontifex ipse declaret, quo 
animo iubeat, quod non exigit evangelium. . . ." Aber seine 
wahre Uberzeugung erscheint wohl an Stellen, wie die folgende : 
" Cum ieiunio mihi nihil est negotii. Sic enim me docuit 
Hieronymus non esse valetudinem atterendam ieiuniis " (Piet. 
Puer.\ und besonders ironisch in der IxOvo^ayia : " Telum 
ingeus necessitas, grave tormentum fames." 

Rabelais seinerseits hat sich durch die Fastengebote zu jener 
trefflichen Satire auf den mageren Konig Quaresmeprenant 

1 Uberhaupt wirft er den Gesetzen der Juden vor, dass sie mehr die For- 
men, als den Inhalt des Heiligen pflegen : " Sunt enim quaedam praescripta 
Judaeis in lege, quae significant magis sanctimoniam quam praesiant : quod 
genus sunt dies festi, sabbatismi, ieiunia, sacrificia." Seine Meinnng ist : 
" Misericordiam volui, et non sacrificium, et scientiam Dei plus quam holo- 
causta; . . . umbras amplectebantur, rem negligebant" (sc. Judaei). (Conv. 
Rdig.) 



72 H. SCHOENFELD. 

(" Qu. ne designe pas ici, comme & Fordinaire, le mardi-gras, 
mais bien le careme personnifi6. Jacob Bibliophile ") begeistern 
lassen, " confalonnier (Fahnentrager) des Ichthyophages, pere 
et nourrisson des medecins, foisonnant en pardons, indulgences 
et stations : homme de bien, bon catholique et de grande devo- 
tion . . ." (IV, 29) ; " Voyla une estrange et monstrueuse mem- 
breure d'homrne, si homme le doibs nommer " (IV, 32). Auch 
dieser unformliche, unnatiirliche Faster ist dem Rabelais eine 
Ausgeburt der Antiphysis, der Unnatur, welche die Bewunde- 
rung aller hirnlosen, vernunftberaubten Leute erregte, und damit 
ja kein Zweifel iiber seine Meinung iibrig bliebe, verbriidert 
er den Quaresmeprenant rnit den anderen Sohnen der Anti- 
physis, die er wohlgeordnet in Klassen teilt : " les Matagotz, 
Cagotz et Papelars: les Maniacles Pistolets, les Demoniacles 
Calvins, imposteurs de Geneve ; les enraiges Putherbes, . . Ca- ' 
phars . . Cannibales, et autres monstres difformes et contrefaits, 
en despit de nature (Schluss, IV, 32 ; cf. Anm. bei Rathery). 
Man ersieht aus diesen wenigen Belegen, die sich leicht 
vervielfaltigen liessen, dass die Analogien in der Bekam- 
pfung und Verspottung jener Einrichtungen, die der pfaffische 
Gegner des Erasmus zu Ketzereien stempeln will, 1 ihrem 
Wesen, wenn nicht ihrer Form nach so auffallend sind, dass 
teils die Geistesverwandtschaft beider Manner in der Reli- 
gionsanschauung, teils die erasmische Quelle bei Rabelais sich 
von selbst aufdrangt. Auch die Messe gilt beiden Mannern 
durchaus nicht als ein wesentlicher und notwendiger Be- 
standteil der Religion. Erasmus halt die Meinung derer fur 
irrig, " qui se non credant esse Christianos, nisi quotidie Mis- 
sam, ut appellant, audierint." Zwar verdammt er die Ein- 
richtung nicht unter allem Umstanden : " Horum institutum 
equidem non damno : praesertim in his, qui abundant otio, 
quive totos dies occupantur profanis negotiis. Tantum illos 
non approbo, qui superstitiose sibi persuaserunt, diem fore 
parum faustum, nisi fuerint eum auspicati a Missa : et statim 

1 " Jactat ac vociferatur, in libello colloquiorum quatuor esse loca plus 
quarn haeretica: de esu carnium, et ieiunio; de indulgentiis, ac de votit." 
(Coronis Apologetica.) 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 73 

a sacro se conferunt vel ad negotiationem, vel ad praedam, 
vel ad aulani : ubi, si, quod per fas nefasque gerunt, succes- 
serit, Missae imputant" (Piet. Puer.). 

Rabelais seinerseits hat die Messe aus seinem Christentum, 
soweit es aus seinem Roman hervorgeht, praktisch ausge- 
schlossen. "Rabelais ist ferner ein Verachter der Messe. So 
oft Gargantua oder Pantagruel in ernsten, gottesdienstlichen 
Verrichtungen erscheinen, vor der Schlacht, nach gewonnenem 
Siege, vor Antritt der Seereise ist von der Messe keine Rede 
und hat die religiose Feier ganz protestantischen Anstrich." 
(Birch-H. I, 263-264.) 

Auch das ubermassige, sinulose Abbeten von unzahligen 
Gebeteu weisen Beide zuriick : " Praestat enim pauca avide 
[mit Inbrunst] dicere, quarn multa cum taedio devorare" 
(Conv. Relig.); und in der Piet. puerilis: "Oro, sed cogita- 
tione magis, quam strepitu labiorum. . . . Quod si sensero 
vagari cogitationem, lego psalmos aliquot, aut aliud quippiam 
pium, quod animum ab evagaudo cohibeat." 

Rabelais lasst den Gargantua, der nicht schlafen kann, 
durch das Ableiern von Gebeten einschlafern und zwar durch 
Bruder Jean, der ehrlich bekeunt : " Je ne dors jamais bien 
mon aise sinon quand je suis au sermon, ou quand je prie 
Dieu. Je vous supplie, commen9ons vous et moy les sept 
pseaumes, 1 pour voir si tantost ne serez eudormy." L'inven- 
tion pleut tres bien a Gargantua. Et commencans le premier 
pseaume, sus le point de beati quorum s'endormirent et Pun 
et 1'autre (I, 41). Unter seinen scholastischen Lehrern pflegte 
Gargantua jeden Morgen in die Kirche zu gehen mit einem 
ungeheuren Brevier, horte dort an die 26-30 Messen : " in- 
zwischen kam sein Horasbeter, verquaselt wie einWiedehopf 
mit dem mammelt'er all sein Kyrieleisli und kornt' sie so sorg- 
sam aus, dass auch nicht ein einigs Samlein davon zur Erde 
fiel. . . . Mit einem grossen Prast Paternoster ging er im 
Kloster, im Kreuzgang oder im Garten auf und ab und betet 

1 Era-sni. E. M. : " Giebt es wohl torichtere Menschen als jene Frommen, 
die durch Herbeten sieben bestimmter Psalmenverse das Reich Gottes zu 
erlangen hoflen." ... 



74 H. SCHOENFELD. 

ihrer mehr denn sechzehn Klausner an den Fingern herunter " 
(I, 21) (Birch-H. I, 234, nach Regis). 

Aber das sei eben der Fluch des durch den Formen- und 
Formelnkram verderbten Scholasticismus, dass das Wesen der 
Religion in den Formen gesucht wird statt in dem Geist. 1 
Nicht der fallt z. B. von dem Franziscanerorden ab, der ein 
lasterhaftes Leben fiihrt, sondern der, welch er das heilige 
Gewand abwirft (Exequiae Seraphicae) ; " in veste, cibo, pre- 
culis, caeterisque ceremoniis ponitis fiduciam, neglecto studio 
pietatis Evangelicae " (Miles et Garth.). " Itidem videmus, 
multos in tantum fide're corporalibus caeremoniis, ut his freti 
negligant ea, quae sunt verae pietatis " ('I;^0yo$ayia). 2 Hier- 
fiir bringt Erasmus manche anekdotenhafte Belege bei, unter 
anderen jene bekannte Anekdote von der Nonne, die Rabelais 
(III, 19) mit grossem Wohlgefallen verwendet und um einen 
Zug bereichert hat, dass ihr namlich nach der That von dem 
Monche in der Beichte die Busse auferlegt worden sei, nichts 
zu verraten. Mit der eben entwickelten erasmischen Idee 
schliesst das Kapitel in ernsthafter Weise ab : " Je scay assez 
que toute moinerie moins crainct les commandemens de Dieu 
transgresser, que leurs statutz provinciaulx." 

SCHLUSS. 

Das bisher Gebotene diirfte nicht nur die ideelle Wahlver- 
wandtschaft Beider, sondern auch die actuelle Beziehung des 
jiingeren Mannes zu seinem Meister ervviesen haben. Ihre 

J Im E. M. wendet sich Er. mit Bitterkeit gegen den starren Glauben 
("Verum exstiterunt hoc saeculo quidam qui decent, hominem sola fide 
iustificari, nullo operum praesidio," etc.), die als wesentliche Bestandteile 
der Kirche vorgeschriebenen ausseren und ausserlichen Formen: "Rursus 
audio videoque plurimos esse, qui in locis, vestibus, cibis, ieiuniis, gesticu- 
lationibus, cantibus summam pietatis constituunt, et ex his proximum iudi- 
cant, contra praeceptum evangelicum. Unde fit, ut, cum omnia referantur 
ad fidem et caritatem, harum rerum superstitione exstinguatur utrumque." 

'Ibid. "Nunc praeter tot vestium praescripta et interdictas formas et 
colores accessit capitis rasura eaque varia; ne commemorem interim con- 
fessionis onus .... aliaque permulta, quae faciunt, ut ex hac parte non 
paullo commodior videatur fuisse Judaeorum, quam nostra conditio." 



RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. * 75 

weltbevvegende Bedeutung beruht in dem bewussten und beab- 
sichtigten Ziel, das sich Beide gestellt, namlich in der Riick- 
kehr zur Natur auf dem Gebiet aller menschlichen Verricht- 
ungen und geistigen Bestrebungen. Hatte der Druck der 
fuhrenden Elemente in der damaligen Kirche die Mensch- 
heit im Laufe des Mittelalters der Natur entfremdet und im 
triiben Spiegel finsterer Askese und haarspaltender Scholastik 
die physische Natur als ein Zerrbild des Paradieses, die mensch- 
liche Natur, falls sie sich ungezwungerer Heiterkeit, freier 
Forschung, uneingedammtem Denken hingab, als einen Abfall 
vom Glauben dargestellt, so fuhrten unsere beiden Humanisten 
den Gegenschlag, der aber auch die vielen Schaden und Verge- 
waltigungen der Vernunft, wie sie die deutsche und schweize- 
rische Reform zu Wege brachte, bitter aber heilsam traf. Am 
meisten kam der neue Geist den Universitaten zu Gute. Hatte 
sich in der Facultat der Artisten der Unterricht bisher nur 
um den scholastischen Streit der Realisten und Nominalisten 
gedreht, so befiirwortet Erasmus wie Rabelais eine weite und 
weitherzige, undogmatische, unbeschrankte, eklektische Philo- 
sophic ; statt der barbarischen Schulpflege, bei der korperliche 
Ziichtigung eine grosse Rolle spielte, und der mittelalterlichen 
Vernachlassigung der Korperpflege, treten sie fiir die Hu- 
manitat in der Schule ein, befurworten das Princip, dass nur in 
einem reinen Korper eine reine Seele wohnen konne. War die 
Sprachverderbnis bis zum aussersten gestiegen, das Lateinische 
entweder in sinnloser ciceronianischer Nachahmung starr ge- 
worden oder durch maasslose Licenz ausgeartet, 1 so findet diese 
Barbarei ihre Racher in Rabelais, der den sprachverderbenden 
Limousiner geisselt, oder in Erasmus, der den Dunkelmann 
abthut, welcher ausschliesslich nach Cicero seine Phrasen 
drechselt. Drohte das Buchermaterial der Scholastik in der 
Absurditat, in die es am Schlusse der scholastischen Entwick- 

1 Le latin tait comme une langue vivante dont chacun disposait a son gr6, 
usant avec une liberty sans limite du droit de fabriquer les mots et de les 
construire a volont^. Nul n'dgalait le d^dain de nos docteurs pour la gram- 
maire et 1'usage, leur intrepidity a dire en latin ce que le latin n'avait jamais 
dit. J. V. le Clerc, Histoire litleraire, XXIV, p. 268. 



76 H. SCHOEJSTFELD. 

lung versunken war, Alles zu verdummen und das Denken zu 
verkummern, so Hess der Eine in der Aufzahlung der Schatze 
der Bibliothek von St. -Victor, der Andere in gelegentlichen 
Bemerkungen iiber den ' Froschteich des Duns Scotus ' seine 
heilsame Satire spielen. War ferner das Gezank der Schulen 
unertraglich geworden, batten die Dialektiker und Redekiinst- 
ler unter dem erstarrten Formelnkram den Inhalt und Geist 
verloren, so war es wieder Rabelais, der etwa in der Rede des 
Janotusde Bragmardo (1, 18, 19) und der lacherlichen Zeichen- 
casuistik (II, 18 ff.) die scholastische Sophisterei und sinnlose 
Vielwisserei verspottet, dem Sinne nacb ganz wie Erasmus, der 
sicb dariiber so aussert : " Mit diesem und zahllosem anderen 
lappischen Zeug haben sie ihren Kopf so voll gepfropft, dass 
selbst Juppiters Gehirn nicht umfangreicher gewesen sein kann, 
als er, urn von Pallas entbunden zu werden, Vulcans Axt um 
Hilfe anflehte. Selbst icb (sc. die Torheit) muss bisweilen da- 
riiber lachen, wie sich die Gelehrten erst dann als vollkommen 
ansehen, wenn sie ihr garstiges Kauderwelsch ganzlich be- 
herrschen und so confuses Zeug zusammenreden, dass hochstens 
ein Verriickter sie verstehen kann." 

Aus ausserlichen Griinden bleibt es mir versagt, an dieser 
Stelle das gesammelte Material fur ihre Beurteilung der Medi- 
zin und der Arzte, gegen die sie nur ausserst selten satirisch 
vorgehen, zu vergleichen. Aber auch hier sind die Analogien 
auffallend, sowie in der Verspottung der Juristen ("qui jamais 
n'entendirent la moindre loy des Pandectes," II, 10) und juris- 
tischen Facultaten, in denen das canonische Recht alles iiber- 
wucherte, der geistlichen Gerichtsbarkeit, der Streitigkeiten, 
welche die politische Unruhe und die ewigen Kriege f ordern 
(" Sed aequumne tibi videtur, ut ob iurisconsultorum rixas 
et contractuum moras totus orbis tantum perpetiatur mali," 
'I%0vo<l)a<yia) ; denn wie die Barin durch vieles Lecken ihre 
Jungen wachsen und sich entwickeln lasst, so auch die Juristen 
ihre Streitigkeiten und Processe (Oeuvres, III, 42). Indess 
soil dieses interessante Feld fur eine spatere Studie auf bewahrt 
werden. 

HERMANN SCHOENFELD. 



II. THE LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 

Of the main streams of medieval poetry three were so 
seriously checked by the Renascence that they are only at 
the present day beginning to flow again as literary influences. 
They are the Norse Edda, the German Heldensage, and the 
Celtic national cycle. From these abundant sources the 
literature of Europe during the sixteenth, seventeenth, and 
eighteenth centuries drew but little. 

Spenser and Shakespeare, Racine and Moliere, who all were 
sturdy robbers of old plots and incidents, we seldom find 
turning to the Middle Ages for material. Fashion and the 
times pointed to other springs, to the Greek and Latin, and 
then to the Hebrew classics. In the eighteenth century 
recourse was had to them still less than in the two preced- 
ing. When even Dante was unknown to most men and 
unappreciated by all, it could not be expected that people of 
"sensibility" should relish the barbaric utterances of our 
northern fathers. And indeed, considering how recent has 
been the work of editing and translating the manuscripts 
containing these three stupendous bodies of poetry, we cannot 
censure a Voltaire or a Dryden for neglecting them, but can 
only wonder what the accomplished versifiers of their times 
would have achieved with this material, so much more sug- 
gestive than any they employed. Probably nothing of note, 
for it has been reserved to our century to find itself in sym- 
pathy with the eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, and early four- 
teenth. These centuries, the heart of the Middle Ages, were 
an epoch of unconscious self-development, an epoch of bold 
experimentation and independent working-out of native ideas. 
Shut oif from the quarries of the past by an abyss of 
ignorance, the thinkers of that day built on such foundations 
as they could themselves construct. They possessed that 
lightness of fancy, that brilliant self-assertion, which are 

77 



78 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

among the marks of young creative genius in the full con- 
sciousness of its strength and liberty. Apart from their 
deference to the precepts of Aristotle, whom only the most 
learned even half understood, they were bound to no such 
distinct traditions in philosophy, religion, political economy, 
poetics, and all other lines of intellectual effort as were their 
successors of the next age. They were not characterized by great 
respect for authority, since authorities were few and obscurely 
comprehended. They were not much given to dogmatic asser- 
tion. The centuries of creed-making and creed -imposing pre- 
ceded and followed this central period of the Middle Ages, which 
was an epoch rather of ready and fanciful invention, of keen 
delight in artistic construction, of liberty to think. It is a mark 
of wonderful vigor and elasticity that Western Christendom, 
while still under the influence of Germanic and Celtic paganism, 
could assimilate so much as it did of two such diverse and alien 
matters as the learning of the Greeks and of the Arabs. And 
this, during the Crusades, was quickly and gaily accomplished. 
The grotesqueness of medieval art, so often patronizingly 
alluded to by eighteenth-century writers and even by Goethe, 
is but evidence of that exuberant and unreflecting vitality. 

This abundance of life, this zest in expression, manifested 
themselves in all sorts of wayward fashions, very distasteful to 
the more methodical people of the Renascence. In religion 
they gave birth to a multitude of bold inventions, to an extra- 
ordinary development of legends and heresies and cathedrals 
and pious orders. In philosophy the venturesome mysticism 
of Eckart, Tauler, and Suso was tolerated side by side with the 
orthodox system of Thomas Aquinas, anchored to authority at 
every point ; and both in turn left room for the still barer and 
safer scholasticism of Raymond Lully, who taught how to solve 
all the problems of logic and metaphysics by means of a card- 
board machine. In literature but here all was invention, and 
seldom has poetry been so truly a liberal art. No bonds had 
yet been laid on the creative instinct, and even theology, as we 
have seen, had not yet entered the prison-house of either Roman 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 79 

or Protestant dogmatism. Religious and poetical expression 
were still unsevered, as the feelings which prompt them fre- 
quently are ; they are inseparable in Dante, in Saint Francis 
of Assisi, in Saint Catherine of Siena. It is in speaking of this 
period and of medieval literature that Renan eloquently ex- 
claims : Qui osera dire ou est ici-bas la limite de la raison et 
du songe? Lequel vaut mieux des instincts imaginatifs de 
1'homme ou d'une orthodoxie etroite qui pretend rester sensee 
en parlant des choses divines ? Pour moi je prefere la franche 
mythologie, avec ses 6garements, a une theologie si mesquine, 
si vulgaire, si incolore, que ce serait faire injure a Dieu de croire 
qu'apres avoir fait le monde visible si beau, il cut fait le monde 
invisible si platement raisonnable. 

The three streams of poetry which the diverting influence of 
classical models caused to dwindle for four hundred years and 
almost disappear have one common feature : they all arise in 
the remote fastnesses of heathen antiquity, they are all tinged 
with the dark waters of Druidical or Northern lore. The first 
of them, the Norse anthology for the Edda songs can hardly 
be more than fragments of the body of mythology to which 
they bear witness is of greater value than either of the others, 
both intrinsically and for purposes of historical science, com- 
prising the earliest and most complete record we possess of the 
religious system of the primitive Teutonic race. But the day 
of renewed influence for the Edda is only just dawning, despite 
the labors of such popular interpreters as Karl Simrock and 
William Morris. 

Celtic literature, however, has been hitherto the strongest of 
these influencing streams. Through filtration, when it was 
first put into writing, through translation, both medieval and 
modern, through an unperceived power of suggestion in all 
ages, it has aifected European poetry from the Irish coast to 
the shores of the Euxine and from Norway to Spain. There 
has been forever in it a subtle sympathetic appeal to the finer 
poetic sense ; not the sense which Homer satisfies with his clear, 
beautiful, vigorous action, nor that which the Song of Songs 



80 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

soothes with its languorous sweetness, but the nerve that 
vibrates to those delicate, fleeting touches which occasionally 
startle and hold us spell-bound in English poetry as nowhere 
else. We hear this appeal in the unexpected change from the 
tempestuous workings of the first act of Macbeth to the soft 
breath of summer evening, when Duncan, unconscious of his 
doom, casting an untroubled eye up to the heavens, says to 

Banquo : 

" This castle hath a pleasant seat ; the air 
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself 
Unto our gentle senses." 

and Banquo answers : 

" This guest of summer, 
The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, 
By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath 
Smells wooingly here : no jutty, frieze, 
Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird 
Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle : 
Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed, 
The air is delicate." 

We hear it again, but how changed, in Wordsworth's 

" Old, unhappy far-off things, 
And battles long ago." 

And the same strain, just as melancholy, just as suggestive, 
just as haunting, with the same intimate apprehension of the 
workings of nature and the same plaintive yet distinct utter- 
ance, is audible in the ancient ballad of The Twa Corbies. The 
one to the other says of the new slain knight, deserted by his 
false lady fair : 

" Ye'll sit on his white hause bane, 
And I'll pike out his bonny blue een : 
Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair, 
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare." 

The character of the Celts, proud and vindictive, shy and 
elusive, and strangely moved at times with a gay melancholy, 
is plainly discoverable in these passages. Irish wit and Scot- 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 81 

tish music have this character, and I think the Highlander 
and the Breton exhibit it in their lives and speech. The feel- 
ing of interpenetration with external things, the passion for 
beauty which excludes all grossness, the despair of perfection 
which forbids the commonplace, the immanent persuasion of 
natural magic these, then, are some of the marks of that 
Celtic spirit which with fairy lightness winged its unsubstan- 
tial way so fast into men's hearts, eight hundred years ago. 
No poetical influence was at that time half so widespread as 
that which started from Wales. In this fact there is a touch- 
ing vindication of the Celtic race, a recompense to it, in the 
realm of mind, for its long-drawn material defeat. 

The consciousness of this defeat can never have been more 
bitter than at the end of the eleventh century, when the Nor- 
man barons, with appetites whetted in Teutonic England, burst 
through the barriers of the Welsh mountains and all but com- 
pleted the subjugation of that unhappy remnant whom Saxon 
and Dane had spared. The victory of their Saxon conquerors, 
six hundred years before, had been to the Celts at first like 
the going down of the world. It had seemed as if their own 
higher civilization, their new and enthusiastically entertained 
Christianity ought to save them. But nothing had availed. 
Accompanying this overthrow, and doubtless to console them 
for it, there was a revival of national poetry in the sixth cen- 
tury, of which many scattered traces have come down to us. 
Then succeeded an era which, according to the prevailing 
opinion, was one of rapid extinction. We frequently read of 
conquered races being exterminated, and it is generally stated 
that few if any Britons were left in England proper by the 
time of the Norman invasion ; but there is a great deal of 
analogy, besides inherent improbability, against that conclu- 
sion and in favor of the opinion that there is still a consider- 
able element of Celtic blood in the so-called Anglo-Saxon race, 
due to admixture before and during the eleventh century. But 
however that may be, there were free Celts in Wales at the 
6 



82 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

beginning of Norman rule, and in a little more than a hun- 
dred years they had lost their independence. 

And now, at the beginning of the twelfth century, how stood 
the Celtic world ? Whether in Brittany, Cornwall, Wales, Ire- 
land, Scotland, or the Western Isles, they were a crushed, divided, 
and one would suppose humiliated race. But though politically 
almost annihilated, they were by no means humble. They had 
two titles, they thought, to glory. They remembered that they 
were the original possessors of the land. Their sense of antiquity 
was strengthened by a revival, in noble song, of the old heathen 
mythology, just as it had been revived in the days of Taliesin, 
after the Saxon conquest. Secondly, they were conscious of 
being older as a Christian people than either Saxons or Nor- 
mans. They claimed an authority independent of Rome, or at 
least the original Irish church had done so, centuries before, 
and we may be sure the contention was remembered now. The 
Irish church in days gone by had kept alive the purest form of 
Christianity, and maintained the highest scholarship in Europe. 
It had been the great missionary and educational fountain. The 
tendency of the Celts in Great Britain and Ireland has at all 
times been towards separation from the type of worship and 
church government prevailing in England. 

It was after a century of misfortune, when only their faith 
in their destiny and their consciousness of their distinction 
remained, that the Celtic spirit asserted itself. Then was 
manifested the power of a national ideal. To find courage 
for the losing struggle in which they were engaged, and espe- 
cially to console themselves in the day of final disaster, they 
turned again to the songs of their fathers. As a result, not 
only had the Welsh themselves begun to see new meanings in 
their old poetry, but the stories of their heroes were brought 
to the attention of the outside world. Somewhere between 1135 
and 1150 Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote his Historia Britonum, 
a legendary account of the supposed early kings of Britain, con- 
taining the prophecies of Merlin, the record of "the princes 
whose reign had preceded the birth of Jesus Christ, and of 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 83 

Arthur and the princes who had reigned in Britain since the 
incarnation." Geoffrey declared that his book was an exact 
translation of a book in Celtic which Walter, archdeacon of 
Oxford, had brought into JEngland from Brittany. The French 
critic Paulin Paris maintains that the original was more proba- 
bly the Chronicle of Nennius, a Latin work of the ninth cen- 
tury ; but in either case it was the main source of what English 
writers of the twelfth century, such as Henry of Huntingdon 
and William of Malmsbury, knew concerning the legendary 
history of the Celts. The Historia Britonum speedily attained 
a world-wide circulation, and meanwhile the task of arousing 
Celtic resistance went steadily on in Wales. 

The reigns of the two Llewellyns, extending from 1 1 95 to 
1283, were marked by such an outburst of patriotic song as can 
be paralleled only by the Hebrew poetry of the exile. National 
heroes were brought to life again and warlike achievements of 
the great dead kings were invented with a boldness justified by 
the cause, and by the result, for this fervor was not ineffec- 
tual ; the invaders discovered an unexpected resistance and 
were held at bay until the policy and military prowess of 
Edward the First of England compelled an honorable sub- 
mission. In their zeal to inspire courage by means of heroic 
memories from a distant past, the bards of the thirteenth cen- 
tury revived what was left in the Welsh mind of Druidical 
superstition. They often gave to their own exciting compo- 
sitions the authority of poets belonging to the older generation, 
pretending to have found ancient books or to have received 
occult traditions. " Mysterious prophecies," says J. R. Green, 
" floated from lip to lip, till the name of Merlin was heard 
along the Seine and the Rhine. Medrawd and Arthur would 
appear once more on earth to fight over again the fatal battle 
of Camlan. The last conqueror of the Celtic race, Cadwallon, 
still lived to combat for his people. The supposed verses of 
Taliesin expressed the undying hope of a restoration of the 
Cymry." Augustin Thierry remarks (Histoire de la ConquMe 
de P Angleterre) : " The reputation of the Welsh for prophecy 



84 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

in the Middle Ages came from their stubbornness in affirming 
the future of their race." 

It will never be known how much of this poetry was really 
ancient and how much pure forgery. It may be doubted 
whether in those exciting times the bards themselves knew. 
All France and England became acquainted with the Welsh 
and Breton legends and predictions, largely through Geoifrey 
of Monmouth's work, which he revised and augmented from 
time to time, and of which manuscripts were numerous. The 
Historia Britonum, whether based on a Breton or a Latin book, 
derived its material ultimately from Armorican lays and legends. 
The encounter of Breton and Welsh stories and the harmony 
discovered between them concerning events supposed to have 
happened on British soil doubtless confirmed Geoffrey and 
others in a belief that their substance was historically true, and 
gave an impulse to further composition. The story of Arthur 
and his Round Table was accepted with especial readiness. 
" Charlemagne and Alexander, the sagas of Teutonic tribes, 
the tale of Imperial Rome itself, though still affording subject 
matter to the wandering jongleur or monkish annalist, paled 
before the fame of the British King. The instinct which led 
the twelfth and thirteenth centuries thus to place the Arthurian 
story above all others was a true one. It was charged with 
the spirit of romance, and they were pre-eminently the ages of 
the romantic temper." 1 

With characteristic levity the Welsh genius had failed to 
localize the legends. There was nothing in them to disturb 
the conquerors, who were charmed, rather, by their tender 
melancholy. " It is by this trait of idealism and universality," 
says M. Renan, " that the story of Arthur won such astonish- 
ing vogue throughout the whole world." So from this inward 
cause, no doubt, but also from the fact that Brittany too was 
Celtic and both Brittany and Wales were contiguous to great 
nations where French was the language of at least the upper 

1 Nutt : The Legend of the Holy Grail, p. 229. 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 85 

classes, the body of Celtic legend was broken up and carried 
all over Western Europe with amazing rapidity. Thus from 
about 1145, when Geoffrey of Monmouth first opened the door, 
it was not a generation until this legendary matter was incor- 
porated in all the romantic poetry of Christendom, and by the 
end of the century the assimilation was complete. The quick- 
ness and thoroughness of this absorption will be apparent later, 
when I shall present a list of the versions still extant of one 
story for which a Celtic origin is claimed. 

It is only within the last sixty years that the vast body of 
romance which goes under the name of the Legend of the Holy 
Grail has been made the subject either of critical analysis or of 
literary reconstruction. Its earliest students suffered for lack 
of complete texts. Not all of the manuscripts up to that time 
discovered were yet available. Many of the conclusions reached, 
while testifying to great acumen, have been one after another 
proved inconsistent with new-found facts, and thus one of the 
most fascinating of poetical subjects has, from its difficulty, 
become scarcely less alluring as a field of scholarship. Several 
recent publications in particular have rendered untenable the 
views of many authorities still referred to, and have opened 
long reaches of speculation yet untrodden. 

The latest stage of discussion began with the appearance of 
Birch-Hirschfeld's Die Sagevom Oral, in 1877 ; and the most 
recent contributions to it include, besides articles in specialist 
periodicals, the searching and all-embracing work of Alfred 
Nutt in the publications of the Folk-lore Society of England, 1 
and the studies of the Oxford professor of Celtic. 8 

The appearance of so much new and valuable information 
reversing previous conceptions of the legend, justifies an attempt 

1 " Mabinogion Studies," by Alfred Nutt, in vol. V of The Folk-lore Record, 
London, 1882. "The Aryan Expulsion and Return Formula Among the 
Celts," in vol. IV of The Folk-lore Record, London ; "Studies on the Legend 
of the Holy Grail," in the publications of the Folk-lore Society, London, 1888. 

8 Studies in the Arthurian Legend, by John Rhys, M. A., Fellow of Jesus 
College and Professor of Celtic in the University of Oxford. Published at 
the Clarendon Press, 1891. 



ob GEORGE M. HARPER. 

to present synthetically the history of its origin, spread, and 
influence. The accounts given in many popular works are 
seriously misleading. For instance, the article in the Encyclo- 
paedia Britannica, ninth edition, by Thomas Arnold, presents 
an outline which was based largely on the edition of 1876 of 
Paulin Paris' Les Romans de la Table Ronde, and is in accord- 
ance with the view commonly entertained by all except the 
most recent students of the subject. It represents well enough 
the results of investigation prior to the last fifteen years. 
According to it " The ' Saint Greal ' was the name given if 
not originally, yet very soon after the conception was started 
to the dish, or shallow bowl (in French escuelle) from which 
Jesus Christ was said to have eaten the paschal lamb on the 
evening of the Last Supper with his disciples. In the French 
prose romance of the Saint Graal, it is said that Joseph of 
Arimathea, having obtained leave from Pilate to take down 
the body of Jesus from the cross, proceeded first to the upper 
room where the supper was held and found there this vessel ; 
then as he took down the Lord's dead body, he received into 
the vessel many drops of blood which issued from the still 
open wounds in his feet, hands, and side. . . . According to 
Catholic theology, where the body or the blood of Christ is, 
there, by virtue of the hypostatic union, are His soul and His 
divinity." It is then shown that the legend declares this holy 
vessel to have been brought to England and treasured there 
by the descendants of Joseph of Arimathea, who established 
the royal line of Britain. The presence of the vessel in the 
British Church sanctioned the latter's existence and gave vir- 
tue to its eucharist. The writer condenses Paulin Paris' theory 
of the origin of the legend as follows : " The original concep- 
tion came from some Welsh monk or hermit who lived early 
in the eighth century ; its guiding and essential import was 
an assertion for the British Church of an independent deriva- 
tion of its Christianity direct from Palestine, and not through 
Rome ; the conception was embodied in a book, called Liber 
Gradalis or de Gradali; this book was kept in abeyance by 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY QRAfL. 87 

the British clergy for more than three hundred years, from a 
fear lest it should bring them into collision with the hierarchy 
and make their orthodoxy suspected ; it came to be known and 
read in the second half of the twelfth century ; a French poet, 
Robert de Boron, who probably had not seen the book, but 
received information about it, was the first to embody the con- 
ception in a vernacular literary form by writing his poem of 
Josephe d'Arimathe'e ; and after Boron, Walter Map and others 
came into the field." Mr. Arnold himself inclines to think 
that Walter Map, about 1170-1180, connected the story of 
Joseph of Arimathea "with the Grail legend and both with 
Arthur;" and accepts Paulin Paris' now exploded derivation 
of the word Graal, to the effect that " graal is a corruption of 
gradale or graduale, the Latin name for a liturgical collection 
of psalms and texts of scripture, so-called ' quod in gradibus 
canitur,' as the priest is passing from the epistle to the gospel 
side of the altar. The author of the Graal conception meant 
by graal, or graduale, not the sacred dish (escuelle), but the 
mysterious book ... in which he finds the history of the 
escuelle." 

The romances, in prose and verse, which constitute the Grail 
cycle and which were written between the appearance of the 
Historia Britonum and the death of Wolfram von Eschenbach, 
about 1225, are so numerous, so long, so intricate, and so simi- 
lar to each other in detail and general character, that it is no 
wonder there has been confusion ; and I am far from thinking 
that anything like an equilibrium of opinion concerning their 
order of creation is likely to be established soon. Enough has 
been said to account for the suddenness of the phenomena a 
dozen or more romances springing up within a half century, in 
three, or perhaps five languages. I propose further to exhibit, 
with incidental criticisms, the result of the latest work, present- 
ing first the legend in synthetic form. 

Now when the products of recent inquiry are taken and 
weighed, the statement of this interesting case must be some- 
what as follows : There existed among the Celts from pre- 



88 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

Christian times a folk-tale which may be called the Great Fool 
story, and which has been found, in some shape or other, among 
nearly all the peoples of Aryan race. The hero is a boy, usu- 
ally a young prince, born, or at least brought up, in a wilder- 
ness, to escape the jealousy of his dead father's rival. In some 
cases his father was a great hero, in others a god, and generally 
there have been signs and wonders indicating that the boy will 
grow to be a mighty warrior. He is reared by his anxious 
mother in innocence of worldly ways, and consequently, though 
powerful and courageous, appears stupid beyond measure. His 
chief characteristics are his simplicity, strength, boldness, awk- 
wardness, chastity, and ignorance. By some chance, he gains 
knowledge of the outer world, and hastens headlong from the 
sheltering forest and his protesting mother. In the world, none 
is braver or clumsier than he, and his prowess brings him in 
contact with the great of the earth and with monsters. After 
slaying dragons and winning battles he returns to his mother 
and comes back again into his rights. 

This outline is what has been termed the Aryan Expulsion 
and Return Formula. 1 Mr. Nutt claims to have found eight 
stories built on this model in Celtic literature alone. And he 
does not include the Breton tales of Morvan lez Breiz and 
Peronnik (although they are of the same character), because 
their originality has been called in question. 

We know also that the Welsh possessed from time imme- 
morial a body of legend with Arthur for its centre. Whether 
or not the basis of this tradition was to any considerable extent 
historical, the whole matter is undoubtedly Celtic. Thirdly, 
there exist in Irish and Gaelic folklore many references to a 
talismanic spear and cup, the former representing the powers 
of destruction, the latter the powers of healing. In Welsh 
literature the vessel is a magic cauldron which brings to life 
dead bodies that have been thrown into it. There is no longer 
much question of the pagan mythological origin of all these 

1 See von Hahn's Arisehe Aussetzung und Riickkehr Formd. 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAfL. 89 

stories. By some scholars they are even connected with other 
more primitive legends of Eastern origin and held to have been 
originally part of an ancient nature-worship. 

Sensible of their mystery and antiquity, and not too careful 
to offer an explanation of their meaning, the Welsh bards dur- 
ing the Norman conquest revived these slumbering traditions, 
no doubt largely for the patriotic reasons I have mentioned. 
One is tempted to see in the story of the Great Fool, who suffers 
contumely for a season, only to triumph eventually, one of those 
political prophecies with which the bards were wont to stir up 
resistance to the invader. 

There are three jnembers of the Grail cycle of romances 
which bear a striking similarity to each other, and which have 
not been proved to be derived directly from any known source 
or to have been entirely modelled on one another, and which, in 
spite of many efforts to show that they are later, appear all to 
have originated in the latter part of the twelftjmentury. They 
have each been held to be the earliest treatment of the subject 
which has come down to us. They all of them pre-suppose an 
acquaintance with the three traditions just mentioned, and thus 
the opinion is justified that some poet, now forever unknown, 
worked this mythological material into a romance which either 
directly or indirectly supplied three men of three different 
nations with the thread of three closely-related stories. These 
stories are that part of the Conte du Graal composed by \ 
Chrestien de Troyes, about 1190, in French; the English 
metrical romance, Sir Perceval, fbund in the Thornton manu- 
script ; and the Welsh mabinogi, or prose romance, Peredur, 
the Son o/Ewrawc. The Thornton Sir Perceval, a fine old poem 
in racy English, is accessible in the publications of the Camden 
Society, for which it was edited by Halliwell. The Peredur 
is also accessible to English readers in Lady Charlotte Guest's 
Mab inogion. 

I will now give a summary of Chrestien's poem, which has 
never been translated into English. The Knight Bliocadrans 
is slain at a tournament given by the King of Wales and 



90 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

Cornwall. During his absence his wife has borne a son, Per- 
ceval, whom, on hearing the sad news, she takes with her to 
the Waste Forest. She warns him, to preserve him from his 
father's fate, that men in iron armor are devils ; but one day, 
in the joyous springtime, he comes running home to say he has 
met five knights, and that they are angels and not devils. He 
is determined to follow these shining creatures. She pleads 
with him in vain. He has learned from his new acquaint- 
ances that knighthood may be won from King Arthur. So, 
in despair, she makes him a rude dress of leather and gives 
him some curious and enigmatical advice, namely, that if he 
meets a maiden he is to take her ring and girdle, if he can, and 
kiss her if she is willing. He fares forth boldly, leaving his 
mother in a swoon, and the first of his adventures is with a 
maiden whom he discovers in a tent, and from whom he wrests 
kisses, ring, and girdle, as advised. Coming to Arthur's court, 
he bears himself bravely, but boorishly, and is accounted a 
fool for his pains. He sallies out, however, in pursuit of a Red 
Knight who has insulted the Queen. After slaying the Red 
Knight, whose armor he dons and whose steed he mounts, 
Perceval comes to the castle of an old knight, Gonemans, who 
teaches him the arts and manners of a gentleman warrior, coun- 
selling him especially not to be too quick to ask and answer 
questions. After a series of adventures and a love passage 
with Blanchefleur, Gonemans' niece, who dwells in a castle 
a day's journey further on, he sets forth to seek his mother. 
But he has scarcely departed when he meets two men fishing 
from a boat in a river. One of them directs him to his own 
castle, whither Perceval goes alone and with some misgiving, 
as it is hard to find. Suddenly it rises before him. He is 
courteously received, clothed in scarlet, and led into a great 
hall, where an old man lies upon a couch before a fire, with 
four hundred men about him. A young man enters with a 
sword, on which is written that it will break only in one peril, 
and that its maker alone knows. The old man gives it to 
Perceval, as a guerdon from a fair lady, his niece. Another 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 91 

attendant now advances with a bleeding lance. Two other 
men then enter with candlesticks, and a maiden accompanies 
them, bearing a shining gracd. Another maiden carries a plate. 
Though all these objects are borne past him, Perceval essays 
not to ask concerning them, remembering Gonemans' advice. 
Supper is served, the graal re-enters, and Perceval still for- 
bears to ask. After supper he is shown to his chamber. 

On the morrow he finds the castle deserted and silent, and 
his horse waiting for him already saddled. When he rides out 
over the drawbridge the portcullis closes so suddenly that they 
are almost caught. On his journey that day he encounters a 
maiden mourning over a dead knight. When she hears his 
story she tells him that the fisher and the old man on the 
couch were the same ; that he often fished, to forget the pain 
of a spear-thrust through the thighs from which he suffered, 
and that from this he was called the Fisher King. She asks 
Perceval his own name. He is ignorant of it, but she tells 
him he is Perceval le Gallois and should be called Perceval 
the Caitiff, for that if he had asked the meaning of the lance, 
the graal, and the plate, his question would have brought 
health to the king and other benefits. After conducting him- 
self nobly in many more adventures, which are related with 
great breadth of detail, Perceval rejoins Arthur's court at 
Carlion (Caerleon), and is there again reproached for his back- 
wardness in not asking the desired questions. This time his 
accuser is a damsel fouler to view than anything imaginable 
outside hell, and she comes riding into court on a yellow 
mule. If he had asked, the King would have recovered and 
reigned in peace ; but now slaughter and disgrace will come 
upon the land, maidens will suffer shame, widows and orphans 
will increase, and many good knights will lose their lives. 

A long section of the poem is here devoted to the career of 
Gauwain, a knight of Arthur's court, who finally goes forth in 
search of the bleeding lance. Meanwhile Perceval, who has 
wandered to and fro on the earth for five years, doing valiant 
service as a knight, but forgetful of God in his heart, meets, 



92 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

one Good Friday, three knights with their ladies, all dressed 
as penitents. They rebuke Perceval for his irreligion in rid- 
ing armed on that day, and convicted of his sin he hastens to 
a holy hermit, to whom he confesses that he has neglected God 
out of spite and grief at his failure to discover the meaning of 
the graal. The hermit, who turns out to be his uncle, tells 
Perceval that the sin which stands between him and the know- 
ledge of that mystery, and which binds his tongue from asking 
concerning graal and lance, is having caused the death of his 
mother by his desertion of her. From this sin and all others 
his hermit-uncle absolves him, and he rides forth new-conse- 
crated to the quest. The story here returns to Gauwain, and 
Chrestien's portion breaks oif suddenly. 

Its Northern-French continuators wrote later, of course, and 
on plans and from sources different from Chrestien's. Enough 
has been given to show how these early Grail romances treated 
the young Perceval saga and the talismans. The mabinogi and 
the Thornton Sir Pereeval, as has been said, although corres- 
ponding to Chrestien's fragment, the former almost incident 
for incident, cannot be proved to have been based entirely upon 
it. They bear the marks of an equal antiquity, and the Welsh 
story especially is penetrated with a local and racial spirit. 
Here is an episode related in nearly all the romances of the 
cycle, but in none so beautifully and with such richness of detail 
as in the mabinogi ; I quote Lady Charlotte Guest's translation : 
"And in the evening he entered a valley, and at the head of 
the valley he came to a hermit's cell, and the hermit welcomed 
him gladly, and there he spent the night. And in the morn- 
ing he arose, and when he went forth, behold a shower of snow 
had fallen the night before, and a hawk had killed a wild fowl 
in front of the cell. And the noise of the horse scared the hawk 
away, and a raven alighted upon the bird. And feredur (Per- 
ceval) stood, and compared the blackness of the raven and the 
whiteness of the snow and the redness of the blood to the hair 
of the lady that best he loved, which was blacker than jet, and 
to her skin which was whiter than the snow, and to the two red 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 93 

spots upon her cheeks, which were redder than the blood upon 
the snow appeared to be." 

There is another incident in the mabinogi, which bears a 
striking likeness to some of the main features of the Siegfried 
myth in the German Heldensage. Peredur has just overcome 
in single combat a terrible, one-eyed " black man," the father 
of a beautiful maiden, whose sympathies were with the youth- 
ful knight. " l Black man/ cries Peredur, ' thou shalt have 
mercy provided thou tell me who thou art, and who put out 
thine eye.' ' Lord, I will tell thee ; I lost it in fighting with 
the Black Serpent of the Carn. There is a mound, which is 
called the Mound of Mourning ; and upon the mound there is 
a earn, and in the earn there is a serpent, and on the tail of the 
serpent there is a stone, and the virtues of the stone are such 
that whosoever should hold it in one hand, in the other he will 
have as much gold as he may desire.' ' This monster Peredur 
slays, and cuts off its head. Earlier in the same mabinogi 
there is a very similar mention made of what is evidently the 
same serpent, and the fact that the incident has been thus 
divided goes towards proving that the author was following 
two originals of the same story and confounded their several 
relations of one event. We must suppose that at least one of 
the originals was obscure through age or through being in a 
foreign language, or else that one or both of the sources was 
popular tradition. The other mention of a serpent is as follows : 
" Peredur rode forward next day, and he traversed a vast tract 
of desert, in which no dwellings were. And at length he came 
to a habitation, mean and small. And there he heard that there 
was a serpent that lay upon a gold ring, and suffered none to 
inhabit the country for seven miles around. And Peredur 
came to the place where he heard the serpent was. And 
angrily, furiously, and desperately fought he with the serpent ; 
and at last he killed it and took away the ring." 

But this is the Young Siegfried myth ! With a few changes 
of name, we have before us the old German saga of the Rhine - 
gold ! The one-eyed black man recalls Wotan, the dark, one- 



94 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

eyed, blue-cloaked wanderer, of the Heldensage, the Odin of 
the Edda ; the serpent and ring seem unmistakably related to 
the Dragon guarding the Nibelungen ring, which conferred 
wealth upon its possessor ; the beautiful daughter bears a fainter 
resemblance to Briinhilde, and Peredur, not only here, but in 
many other passages in the Celtic cycle, is closely analogous to 
Siegfried. But this ought not to surprise any one who had 
read attentively the story of Young Perceval and his mother 
in the Forest, which already suggests the Horny Siegfried of 
German poetry. There is in the mabinogi, moreover, a sword- 
test similar to that imposed upon the Volsung hero. Peredur 
is challenged to try his strength by cutting through an iron 
staple. He twice partially succeeds, but the severed fragments 
jump together again. The third time they do not unite. Com- 
pare in the Elder Edda the song of Sigurd (Siegfried) the 
Slayer of Fafnir, " Sigurdharkvidha Fafnisbana onnur," and 
its repetition in the Prose Edda. 

It will be seen later that the Knights of the Grail, after 
eating of the food prepared by the holy vessel, became filled 
with more than human knowledge. Thus to Adam and Eve 
came knowledge through eating, and thus Siegfried, after tast- 
ing the Dragon's blood, had power to understand the speech 
of birds. 

Apart from these marks of antiquity, there is something in 
the style of the mabinogi which stamps it as unquestionably 
Celtic in substance, if not in original conception. The follow- 
ing passage is notably delicate, quivering with sensitiveness to 
the impressions made by nature : " And he came towards a 
valley, through which ran a river; and the borders of the 
valley were wooded, and on each side of the river were level 
meadows. And on one side of the river he saw a flock of 
white sheep, and on the other a flock of black sheep. And 
whenever one of the white sheep bleated, one of the black 
sheep would cross over and become white ; and when one of 
the black sheep bleated, one of the white sheep would cross 
over, and become black. And he saw a tall tree by the side 



LEGEND OP THE HOLY GRAIL. 95 

of the river, one-half of which was in flames from the root to 
the top, and the other half was green and in full leaf. And 
nigh thereto he saw a youth sitting upon a mound, and two 
greyhounds, white-breasted and spotted, in leashes, lying by 
his side. And certain was he that he had never seen a youth 
of so royal a bearing as he. And in the wood opposite he 
heard hounds raising a herd of deer. And Peredur saluted 
the youth, and the youth greeted him in turn." 

Whichever of these three versions may be the oldest, and 
no order of priority has yet been established, it seems clear 
that in some such shape as they present them the germs of 
the Legend of the Holy Grail are found. This is proved by 
the immaturity of the ancient elements that occur in them (the 
Young Perceval story, hints of the Grail, allusions to Arthur). 
No one would have written thus vaguely who had before him 
detailed accounts such as the Queste and Robert de Borron's 
trilogy, which Birch-Hirschfeld reckons as the earliest exist- 
ing members of the cycle. Moreover, the mabinogi, the 
Thornton Sir Perceval, and Chrestien's poem are naive crea- 
tions, very simple and antique in spirit, as compared with 
the other romances, which are in a tone of highly developed 
chivalry. 

It is probable that some Norman-English compiler, during 
the time of interest in Welsh affairs under Henry the Second, 
introduced the story to the French-reading world in a version 
which we do not possess. This version Chrestien and the 
authors of the mabinogi and of Sir Perceval used as the chief 
basis for their own. There may indeed have been also an 
independent Latin version, as maintained by the medieval 
romance-writers themselves. The main feature of this origi- 
nal was not the graal, for neither the English nor the Welsh 
version directly mentions such a thing ; it is simply the old 
and widespread folk-tale of the Great Fool, derived through 
Celtic tradition and bearing traces of its passage. There are 
talismans, to be sure, and there are Arthur and his court, but 
these features, while likewise Celtic, are evidently not the core 



96 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

of the romance as thus far developed. The talismans, indeed, 
are not mentioned in the English Sir Perceval. 

Up to this time there has been no evidence that any Christian 
symbolical meaning was attached to the graal, beyond the fact 
that Perceval, as directed by the holy hermit, expected to obtain 
a spiritual benefit if he discovered it and the lance and asked 
concerning them. They are invariably spoken of with awe and 
veneration, but there is still a vast difference between this tone 
and the accents of purely Christian devotion with which readers 
of monkish legends are familiar. It is possible to discern a 
general reference to the crusades, but so indefinite that the ad- 
vocates of a classical origin for these romances (and I believe 
there are two such advocates, the authors of the article 
" Romance " in the Encyclopaedia Britannica) might as easily 
discover allusions to the Quest of the Golden Fleece. 

It is at this stage of development that the legend is released 
from its local and national limitations and begins its progress 
around the world. Just what Chrestien understood by the 
*[ word graal is not clear, but he evidently felt that there was in 
it a mysterious import, and no doubt would have developed his 
idea much further if he had lived to complete his poem. That 
he had no precise conception of its meaning and yet wished to 
appear to have, is evident from his equivocal allusions to it. 

The meaning of the word graal has been the subject of much 
discussion. The romance writers themselves derived it from 
the French verb agreer, ( to please/ or directly from the Latin 
adjective gratus, and frequently spelled it greaus. It seems to 
me that their allusions to this etymology are not merely in the 
nature of puns, but were intended seriously ; it is thus plain 
that they did not know the real meaning of the word. It is 
in fact from the Low Latin gradate, from a diminutive, cratella, 
of the Latin cratera, sometimes craterra, Greek tcparrjp or 
Kparrjpia, ' a mixing-bowl.' There is no reason whatever for 
accepting the explanation, so often put forward, that son greal 
is derived from sang real, the royal blood. For one thing, the 
word graal occurs too often and too early out of connection 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 97 

with the san. A most interesting, but somewhat frail suppo- 
sition, is that which connects gradale, ' a bowl,' with gradale 
or graduate, 'a mass-book' containing responses for the priest 
or choir in gradibus, Paulin Paris, whose acceptance of this 
view is responsible for its general adoption, bases his theory on 
the following passage from the chronicle of Helinandus, a Cis- 
tercian monk in the abbey of Froidmond, in the diocese of 
Beauvais. The chronicle runs down to 1209 and must there- 
fore have been completed not earlier than that year : Anno 717. 
Hoc tempore, cuidam eremitae monstrata est mirabilis quaedam 
visio per Angelum, de sancto Josepho, decurione nobili, qui 
corpus Domini deposuit de cruce ; et de catino illo vel parop- 
side in quo Dominus coenavit cum discipulis suis ; de qua ab 
eodem eremita descripta est historia quae dicitur Gradal. Gra- 
dalis autem vel Gradale dicitur gallice scutella lata et aliquant- 
ulum profunda in qua pretiosae dapes, cum suo jure (in their 
juice) divitibus solent apponi, et dicitur nomine Graal. . . 
Hanc historiam latine scriptam invenire non potui ; sed tantum 
gallice scripta habetur a quibusdam proceribus ; nee facile, ut 
aiunt, tota inveniri potest. Hanc autem nondum potui ad le- 
gendum sedulo ab aliquo impetrare. 1 

Chrestien's poem contains 10,601 verses. It was continued 
to verse 34,934 by Gautier de Doulens, who probably took up 
the work soon after Chrestien's death. In his portion very 
little light is thrown upon the meaning and origin of the graal, 
which, however, has now become manifestly the central feature 
of the poem. We know nothing about this Gautier except 
what the manuscripts of his poem themselves tell us, and they 
merely declare that he was its author, in the following passage, 
verses 33,755-8 (Potvin's edition) : 

Gautiers de Doulens, qui 1'estore, 
Nos a mis avant en memore, 
dist et conte que Perchevaus 
li bons chevaliers, li loiaus. 

1 For a more minute account of what has been written about the etymology 
of the word graal, see Skeat's preface, p. xxxvr, to the Early English Text 
Society's edition of Joseph of Arimathie. 

7 



98 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

Doulens is near Amiens, aud the dialect is Picard. The Conte 
du Graal had other coutinuators, but they were considerably 
later (1216-1225), and there are passages even in the earlier 
portions, those attributed to Chrestien and Gautier, which are 
considered by both Birch-Hirschfeld and Nutt to be late inter- 
polations. The latter says of one of these " interpolations" (the 
passage found in the Berne MS. and incorporated in Gautier's 
section) : " The existence of this fragment shows the necessity 
of collating all the MSS. of the Conte du Graal and the impossi- 
bility of arriving at definite conclusions respecting the growth 

of the work before this is done It is hopeless, in the 

present state of knowledge, to do more than map out approxi- 
mately the leading sections of the work." 

At some point in the period to which Chrestien's poem is 
assigned (1170-1212), there appeared the earliest versions we 
possess of a Christian legend which was destined soon to be 
. combined and inextricably complicated with the story of Young 
Perceval, the talismans, and Arthur's court. One of these ver- 
sions is found interpolated, in several manuscripts, between 
Chrestien's and Gautier's sections of the Conte du Gh'aal. The 
substance of it is as follows (I quote Nutt's summary) : " Joseph 
of Barimacie 1 had a dish made; with it he caught the blood 
running from the Saviour's body as it hung on the Cross ; he 
afterward begged the body of Pilate ; for the devotion showed 
the Grail he was denounced to the Jews, thrown into prison, 
delivered thence by the Lord, exiled together with the sister 
of Nicodemus, who had an image of the Lord. Joseph and 
his companions came to the promised land, the White Isle, a 
part of England. There they warred against them of the land. 
When Joseph was short of food he prayed to the Creator to 
send him the Grail wherein he had gathered the holy blood, 
after which to them that sat at table the Grail brought bread 
and wine and meat in plenty. At his death Joseph begged the 

1 Joseph of Arimathia. Nutt remarks that the form Barimacie bears wit- 
ness to a Latin original, being corrupted evidently from 06 Arimathia. 



LEGEND OP THE HOLY GRAIL. 99 

Grail might remain with his seed, and thus it was that no one, 
of however high condition, might see it save he was of Joseph's 
blood. The Rich Fisher was of that kin, and so was Grelogue- 
Vaus, from whom came Perceval." The date of this passage 
cannot be even approximately ascertained ; but it is not the 
only version of the legend. It is evident from the increased 
attention Gautier pays to the graal that he was acquainted 
with some such account. Besides, he tells that the greaus was 
given by the King of kings as he hung on the Cross, and that 
" the devil may not lead astray any man on the same day he 
sees it." 

But in addition to these witnesses we have a detailed poem 
by Robert de Borron (a reference he makes to his lord, Walter 
of Montbeliard, fixes its date between 1170 and 1212) on the 
early history of the Grail. Here for the first time we enter an 
atmosphere apparently of prevailingly Christian tone. Begin- 
ning with Borron's poem, we have many accounts of the origin, 
the wanderings, the miracles, and the spiritual significance of 
the Grail. They agree substantially to this effect : The Grail 
was the vessel used by Christ at the Last Supper, obtained 
from Pilate by Joseph of Arimathia, who received in it the 
blood from Christ's wounds when our Lord's body was taken 
from the Cross. During a long captivity which he suffered 
for his fidelity, Joseph was fed and comforted by the holy 
vessel, which came to him in his prison, filling it with glorious 
light. Upon his release Joseph brought the sacred emblem 
to England, where he or his descendants founded the British 
church. It would remain in the keeping of Joseph's family 
until a chosen knight should come, to be its king and guardian. 
Some versions relate that the Grail was brought to England 
by Brons, Joseph's brother-in-law ; others that Joseph, after 
bringing it to England himself, confided it to Brons. 

Somewhere about this time, but the dates and order are 
matter of vexed discussion, were written the prose romances, 
the Queste del Saint Graal and the Grand Saint Graal. Robert 
de Borron's poetical romance was originally in three parts, 



100 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

Joseph d'Arimathie, Merlin, Perceval. Of the first part we 
possess nearly all, of the second the beginning ; the third is 
lost ; but of the first two parts and perhaps of all three, there 
have come down to us versions in prose. Furthermore, we 
have another independent prose version, entitled Perceval le 
G-allois, the German poetical version Parzival, of Wolfram von 
Eschenbach, and Heinrich von dem Tiirlin's Diu Ordne, not 
to mention in this connection mere fragments, variants, and 
translations. 

The incidents of the Grail's " early history " are, at first 
blush, similar in character to those of most other monkish 
legends. They furnish a good illustration of how far, at that 
time, the canon of the New Testament scriptures was from 
being established, and with how little compunction medieval 
religious writers sometimes mingled their own inventions with 
the sacred narratives. Statements of canonical and apocryphal 
books are not distinguished from mouth to mouth tradition or 
from sheer fiction. The apocryphal authority most used is the 
Evangelium Nicodemi, which was known and popular in Eng- 
land several centuries before it is mentioned by any continental 
writer except Gregory of Tours. The apocryphal narrative of 
Joseph was also employed, and the Vindicta Salvatoris. The 
accounts of the early history of the Grail are in all but two 
romances bound up with a history of the quest, based upon 
stories of Perceval's youth, the talismans, and Arthur's court, 
which we have seen are of Celtic pagan origin. 

The Queste del Saint Graal, a prose romance attributed in 
the manuscripts themselves to Walter Map, and found gener- 
ally in the same manuscripts with the Lancelot and the Mart 
Artur, is plainly of secondary or tertiary construction, although 
dating from the period 11 90-1 200, and written without know- 
ledge of Borron's poem. Birch-Hirschfeld has done what he 
could to shake the statement that Walter Map was its author. 
I am glad to believe that he has not succeeded. It is a great 
satisfaction to have in the cycle at least one author about whose 
life and character we possess some outside knowledge. Walter 



.LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 101 

Map was born before 1143 and died in 1210. He was one of 
the most versatile writers of his day, a prominent courtier 
under Henry the Second and perhaps also under Richard and 
John, and one of the highest dignitaries of the English church. 
Having been educated at the University of Paris, he was several 
times chosen to fill important political and ecclesiastical posts 
on the Continent. His writings are in French and Latin, 
although he was an Englishman, and probably a native of the 
Welsh border. His most celebrated Latin work, De Nugis 
Ourialium, is a book of personal reminiscences and miscella- 
neous gossip, and shows the immense range of his experience 
and his curiosity in many fields of literary attainment. His 
long sojourns in France, his intellectual eminence, and the fact 
that he was born just when and where he was, make possible 
his having been able at least to know all the legends and 
romances upon which the Queste del Saint Graal is based, and 
to conceive the idea of writing a book which should combine 
them and transfuse them with new spiritual significance. 

Birch- Hirschfeld's chief argument against his authorship 
is that he could not have had time, in his busy life of civil 
and ecclesiastical politics, to compose the vast romances which 
call themselves his. Yet precisely in his travels in France and 
England, and in his diplomatic activity, would he have found 
material for his works, which are chiefly the piling up of ad- 
venture upon adventure, with very little attempt at coordina- 
tion. If a learned and travelled man had kept account of all 
the stories of chivalry that fell under his notice, he might 
quickly and easily have strung them together in his old age. 
Mr. Skeat, in the preface to his edition of the Vernon MS. 
Joseph ofArimathia, printed for the Early English Text Society 
in 1871, takes a view, however, that is entirely too radical, 
especially as it is unsupported by proofs, when he says : " The 
Lancelot of Chrestien de Troyes has been proved conclusively 
by a Flemish scholar, W. J. A. Jonckbloet, to have been 
founded upon the Lancelot of Walter Map ; and in like manner 
I suppose that Chi'estien borrowed his Perceval le Gallois from 



102 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

Map also, iu a great measure. I can see no reason why we may 
not assume Walter Map's romance, of which the original Latin 
version is lost, to have been the real original from which all 
the rest were more or less imitated." He quotes with appro- 
bation Professor Morley's exclamation : " Where was there 
an author able to invent it and to write it with a talent so 'pro- 
digious/ except Walter Map, to whom alone, and to whom 
always, positively, it has been ascribed?" Again Mr. Skeat 
says : " The original Latin text by Walter Map being lost, we 
are left to conjecture what it was like from the various transla- 
tions and imitations of it. And first, there is the Romance in 
French verse, as composed by Robert de Boron about A. D. 
1170." Whether Map learned from Borron or Borron from 
Map, or both, as is more likely, from common sources, the 
Frenchman's poem and the Englishman's Queste are the earliest 
and best presentations of the Early History, or Christian legend, 
of the Grail. The elements of this legend, though old enough, 
far older doubtless than any version we possess, can hardly com- 
pare in antiquity with the pagan mythological sources from 
which sprang the story of Young Perceval. 

It would seem a difficult task to show how the two streams, 
thus starting far apart, one pagan and the other Christian, 
flowed together, blending into the great spiritual legend of 
which the one transcendent outcome is the Grail, the symbol 
of Christ's visible presence and the object of the purest human 
aspiration. It is indeed a problem which has taxed and baffled 
the minds of many scholars. Only of very recent years has 
a solution been proposed which in a measure satisfies the re- 
quirements of probability and is in accord with the great mass 
of other phenomena in comparative literature. This triumph 
'was reserved for students of specifically Celtic mythology and 
folk-lore. If their conclusions appear disappointing to those 
who would fain discover a Christian origin for the noblest of 
medieval legends, on the other hand they must prove gratify- 
ing to all lovers of consistency. What these Celtic scholars 
have done is no less than to show that the real origin of the 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 103 

early history as well as of the quest is Celtic and pagan ! Mr. 
Nutt, whose researches seem to have been inspired and assisted 
by J. F. Campbell's Popular Tales of the West Highlands, finds 
in Bran, the hero of an Irish myth, " the starting-point of the 
Christian transformation of the legend." Brons is no other 
than Bran, who, in Celtic tradition, is " ruler of the other 
world," of Avalon, the land of the blessed, beyond the western 
sea, whither the choicest heroes go questing. In the Christian 
legend the seat of Brons' influence, where he began the con- 
version of the Britons, is Glastonbury, which was one of the 
first centres of Christian influence in Britain. Mr. Nutt asks : 
" Is it too rash a conjecture that the Christian church may have 
taken the place of some Celtic temple or holy spot specially 
dedicated to the cult of the dead and of that Lord of the Shades 
from which the Celts feigned their descent?" 

This is indeed a bold speculation, particularly when we con- 
sider the earliness of Borron's poem and the Queste del Saint 
Graal, and their thorough Christian character, and remember 
also the rapidity with which all subsequent writers accepted the 
Christian-legendary account. I do not see either why Mr. Nutt 
should give so little weight to the early influence of the Evan- 
gelium Nicodemi. His view, however, is consistent with the 
shrewd proposition which he assumes in starting, but happily 
does not lay too much stress upon, viz : that the tendency 
in medieval literature is from the racial-heathen towards the 
Christian-legendary. However valuable this principle, and 
by the analogy of Scandinavian and German literatures it is 
most excellent, the force of Mr. Nutt's argument depends en- 
tirely upon the character of the Celtic folk-stories to which he 
>and Professor Rhys, who follows him enthusiastically, refer. 
The whole field is open only to them and other learned Celtic 
students like them ; but they have provided us samples enough 
to furnish a judgment, and their conclusions on this head must 
be regarded as final in the present state of knowledge. 

We have now reached the following results respecting the 
ultimate sources of the Holy Grail legend : First, the source 



104 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

whence sprang the most beautiful feature, the feature which 
was the most prominent one in early versions, is the Young 
Perceval folk-tale. This story, as found among nearly all 
peoples of Aryan race, is called the Expulsion and Return 
formula, and has been connected by many recent investigators 
with a solar myth, as representing the setting and rising of 
the sun, or a secular myth, as representing the departure and 
return of spring. While the formula is almost universal, the 
particular variety in this case is Celtic. Secondly, the poets of 
the Holy Grail cycle availed themselves of the legends about 
Merlin and Arthur and other figures of Celtic mythology which 
were prominent in the twelfth century. These legends had 
been in part revived, in part forged, in part new created, and 
all for a political reason which the history of Wales makes 
sufficiently clear. Thirdly, there exist, even in our earliest 
versions, mysterious and pregnant allusions to certain objects, 
either pagan talismans or Christian relics ; and in the later 
growth of the legend it is to these that a predominating de- 
velopment is given. The most recent phase of study has been 
the discussion of the complicated problem here presented.: Are 
these objects in their remotest origin pagan or Christian ? Do 
they represent some ancient Druidical usage and was the know- 
ledge of them kept alive through Celtic tradition; or were they 
of monkish creation, the outgrowth of the scriptural and apoc- 
ryphal and legendary accounts of the early Christian church ? 
Now it is evident that if the Christian-origin hypothesis 
were true we should find the sacred objects treated as Christian 
symbols in the earliest as well as the latest versions we possess. 
But such is not the case, unless I am wrong in claiming an ear- 
lier date for Chrestien's poem, the mabinogi, and the Thornton.) 
Sir Perceval than for the works of Robert Borron and Walter 
Map. In the Thornton Sir Perceval there is no mention what- 
ever of sword, lance, spear, dish, graal, or salver, whether as 
Christian relics or as pagan talismans. In Chrestien's portion 
of the Oonte du Graal the mention is not such as to justify the 
Christian-origin hypothesis. Mysterious objects are alluded 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 105 

to in such a way as to indicate that the author did not under- 
stand their nature or significance, or else did not wish yet to 
inform his readers on these points. This has been explained 
by saying that Chrestien was reserving this information for 
the conclusion of his poem, when it was to be introduced with 
some effect of surprise. But Gautier, who continued Chres- 
tien's poem almost immediately and probably had access to 
the same material as Chrestieu, is only a little more definite 
than he, and in the meanwhile the transformation is conceded 
to have begun. In the mabinogi a bleeding spear and a salver 
containing a man's head are introduced, but with no hint of 
their being relics of Christ's passion. Furthermore, Wolfram, 
who based his poem largely on Chrestien's, states explicitly 
that he had another source as well, the now lost Kiot. I 
think Wolfram's declaration worthy of credence, although that 
is a very bold thing to do, since most of his recent critics, and 
the best of them, at that, have denied the existence of this 
Kiot and given the lie to that most worthy and Christian 
knight, Wolfram von Eschenbach, who proudly asserted that 
he was no mere literary man. Now Wolfram, while pene- 
trated to the heart with the most fervent Christian mysticism 
and displaying everywhere his love of allegory and his faith 
in God's special interferences, does nowhere regard the graal 
as the vessel which received Christ's blood. Its significance 
for him is -indeed religious, but he has evidently never heard 
of the origin ascribed to it by the authors of the Joseph, the 
Queste del Saint Graal, and the Grand Saint Graal, by Robert 
de Borron and Walter Map, and all the writers who adopt the 
legendary story. 

In Wolfram's Parzival the graal is a precious stone, yielding 
bounteous store of food and drink ; to it, every passion week, 
flutters down from heaven a doye, which places upon it a holy 
wafer. At the fall of the rebellious angels it was received from 
God by Titurel and his dynasty, and preserved by them in 
Montsalvat, the Grail Castle. It chooses its own guardians, 
a sacred knighthood, vowed to virginity, all except their king. 



106 



GEORGE M. HARPER. 



Anfortas, the maimed king, was wounded not more in body 
than in soul, "for having taken up arms in the cause of 
worldly and unlawful love." Now if Wolfram had any other 
model besides Chrestien, and he says he had Kiot, this ignor- 
ance of his shows that another and still older writer was also 
ignorant of the Joseph legend. Wolfram, discontented with 
Chrestien's lack of moral and religious profundity, protests 
against being considered an imitator of his, and informs us 
that his model was Kiot the Provenpal (or Kiot of Provins). 
There is absolutely no trace of such a poet except in Wolfram. 
Spanish and Proven9al literatures have been searched through 
in vain for evidence of the existence in medieval Provencal of 
a Grail romance. But Wolfram's assertions are too explicit to 
be lightly passed over. Let us take his words in evidence. 

In Parzival, 452, 29, speaking of the pious Trevrezent, a 
hermit whom the hero encounters on his travels : 

an dem ervert nu Parzival 

diu verholnen msere umben gral. 

Swer mich dervon fragte 

unt drumbe mit mir bagte, 

ob ichs im niht sagte, 

umpris der dran bejagte. 

mich batez helen Ky6t, 

wand im diu aventiure geb6t 

daz es immer man gedsehte, 

6 ez d'aventiure braehte . 

mit worten an der msehre gruoz 

daz man dervon doch sprecben muoz. 

Ky6t der ineister wol bekant 
ze D&let verworfen ligen vant 
in heidenischer schrifte 
dirre aventiure gestifte. 
der karakter a b c 
muoser ban gelernet 6, 
an den list von negromanzi. 
es half daz im der touf was bi : 
anders waer diz maer noch unvernumn. 
kein heidensch list moht uns gefrumn 
ze kiinden unibes grales art, 
wie man siner tougen inne wart. 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 



107 



ein heiden Flegetanis 
bejagte an kiinste hohen pris. 
der selbe fise6n 
was gehorn von Salmdn, 
uz israhdlscher sippe erzilt 
von alter her, unz unser schilt 
der touf wart f iirz hellefiur. 
der schreip vons grales aventiur. 
Er was ein heiden vaterhalp 
Flegetanis, der an ein kalp 
bette als op ez wser sin got. 
wie mac der tievel selhen spot 
gefiiegen an so wiser diet, 
daz si niht scheidet ode schiet 
d von der treit die hohsten haut 
unt dem elliu wunder sint bekant? 

Flegetanis der heiden 
kunde uns wol bescheiden 
iesliches sternen hinganc 
unt siner kiinfte widerwanc ; 
wie lange ieslicher umbe get, 
er wider an sin zil gestt. 
mit der sternen umbereise vart 
ist gepiifel aller menschlier art. 
Flegetanis der heiden sach, 
da von er bluwecliche sprach, 
im gestirn mit sinen ougen 
verholenbseriu tougen. 
er jach, es hiez ein dine der gral : 
des namen las er sunder twal 
inme gestirne, wie der hiez. 
' ein schar in uf der erden liez : 
diu fuor uf iiber die sterne h6ch. 
op die ir unschult wider z6ch, 
sit muoz sin pflegn getouftiu fruht 
mit als6 kiuschlicher zuht : 
diu menscheit ist immer wert, 
der zuo dem grale wirt gegert.' 

Sus schreip dervon Flegetanis. 
Ky&t der meister wis 
diz msere begunde suochen 
in latinschen buochen, 
wa gewesen wsere 
ein vole d& zuo gebaere 
daz ez des grales pflsege 



108 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

unt der kiusche sich bewaege. 

er las der lande chr6nica 

ze Britane unt anderswa, 

ze Francriche unt in Yrlant : 

ze Anschouwe er diu maere vant. 

er las von Mazadan 

mit warheite sunder wan : 

umb allez sin geslehte 

stuont da geschriben rente, 

unt anderhalp wie Tyturel 

unt des sun Frimutel 

den gral braeht uf Amfortas, 

des swester Herzeloyde was, 

bi der Gahmuret ein kint 

gewan, des disiu maere sint. 1 

It is scarcely likely that Wolfram could read Provencal, or 
indeed that Kiot wrote in that language. It is probable that 
he used a Northern French dialect, though it is not necessary 
to suppose that the chronicle of Anjou really did furnish him 
anything about the Grail. The fact that he is called Kiot the 
Provenpal would indicate that he did not live in Provence ; else 
why should his nationality be emphasized ? Without denying 
that this story about Flegetanis and Kiot has many elements 
of the fictitious, for the most part it seems to me credible 
enough. Wolfram is almost as serious and reliable as Dante. 
Who would think of disbelieving the Italian poet's downright 
and oft-repeated assertions? And Wolfram insists on Kiot. 
I am not, however, insusceptible to the force of Birch-Hirsch- 
feld's argument that Wolfram, having borrowed wholesale from 
Chrestien, and wishing to draw attention from that fact, pre- 
tended to have a recondite source in Kiot, of whom no trace 
exists, and made as little mention of Chrestien as possible. I 
will admit further that there occurs to me, in support of Birch- 
Hirschfeld's theory, a reason which I have never seen advanced, 
namely that Wolfram has not always wrought with that sad 
sincerity becoming to a medieval religious poet, but indulges 
on every opportunity in his peculiar humor ; his assertion that 

*I have translated this important and interesting passage in Appendix A. 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 109 

he could not read and was no mere literary man may be taken 
as an example, for it is preposterous to suppose that he was 
illiterate, and the connection in which the remark occurs is full 
of repartee with imaginary readers. But just because of these 
readers, he could not have been romancing in so serious a matter 
as the Kiot authorship, for he evidently wrote in anticipation of 
being read by court people of his own acquaintance, who would 
be sure to bring him to book for his statements, as he says certain 
ladies had done once before. 

The Anglo-Norman writers of the Holy Grail cycle also 
insist on certain Latin books, whose existence Mr. Nutt seems 
to scoff at ; and I see no reason to deny that there may have 
been versions in Latin, or in French either, which have been 
lost. 1 Indeed the inconsistency, coupled with similarity, of the 
versions we do possess points irresistibly to such a conclusion. 
There is no use in making the problem harder than it is by 
shutting ourselves up with the versions we have and trying to 
make them fit together, when they absolutely will not fit. If 
ever there was room for the respectful consideration of unknown 
quantities it is here. If ever speculation was justifiable, besides 
being delightful, it is also here. 

Whatever its origin, the Legend of the Holy Grail speedily 
acquired a tone of Christian mysticism. The Grail itself, which 
was so little alluded to at first, grew to a figure of paramount 
importance. An amazing number of versions sprang up within 
a single half-century. Looking at the legend as a supernatural 
being may be supposed to regard all mundane phenomena, 
that is independently of the limitations and order of time, it 
must be admitted that its root and life, its fruit, its purpose, its 
essential principle, its promise for the future, is the beautiful 
idea of a spiritual knighthood, seeking not earthly love and 
favor, but the sacred emblem of our Saviour's sacrifice, the 

1 Again I plead for more faith in MS. statements. MS. 2,455 Bibl. Nat. 
(of the Grand Saint Graal) says: Or dist li contes qui est estrais de toutes 
les ystoires, si come Robers de Borons le translatoit de latin en romans, a 
1'ayde de maistre Gautier Map. 



llO GEORGE M. HARPER. 

miraculous vessel of his immanent grace, the medium of his 
bounty. The lapse of ages has enabled us to look backward 
with somewhat of supernatural freedom from ordinary logic ; 
and we may, without great violence to historical facts, transfer 
the final cause to the position of the formal cause, and declare 
that in this transcendental sense Tennyson and Wagner are 
nearer the truth than Mr. Nutt and Professor Rhys. Yet from 
an every-day point of view the latter, it appears to me, have 
given us at last a sound theory as to the ultimate sources of 
the legend. 

The embodiment of the legend is in the following versions, 
which have come down to us. I have endeavored to arrange 
them as nearly as possible in chronological order, that being, 
however, a matter of much uncertainty. Mr. Nutt's work, the 
most elaborate treatment of the subject, and based on vast 
research, and conducted with judgment and fairness, affords 
authority for most of the table. 

1. Chrestien' s portion of the -Conte du Graal. The Conte 
du Graal is a poem containing over 60,000 verses, of which 
Chrestien de Troyes, a celebrated Northern French poet, wrote 
10,600. Ch. Potvin printed, for the first time, 45,379 verses, 
from a MS. in the library of Mons, Belgium : Le Conte du 
Graal, 6 vols., 8vo. ; Mons, 1866-71. A complete edition of 
Chrestien's works is now being edited by Foerster. Of this 
three volumes have already appeared, containing the Chevalier 
au Lyon and the Erec et Enide; Halle, 1890. Chrestien dedi- 
cates his poem to Count Philip of Flanders, who li bailla le 
livre, gave him the book, upon which it is based. Nutt and 
Birch-Hirschfeld agree in supposing, from references to Count 
Philip, that the work was begun about 1189. Three of the 
continuators of the poem name themselves and claim their share 
of credit for it; one of them, Gerbert, even states expressly that 
Chrestien was prevented by death from proceeding with it : 

ce nous dist Chrestiens de Troyes 
qui de Percheval comencha 
mais la mors qui Padevancha 
ne li laissa pas traire affin. 



LEGEND OP THE HOLY GRAIL. Ill 

2. The mabinogi ofPeredur ab Evrawc, as already explained, 
though probably written later than Chrestien's fragment, is not 
modelled on it necessarily, and is at least equally ancient in con- 
ception and material. It is a Welsh prose romance found in 
MSS. of the end of the thirteenth century, but particularly in 
the Red Book of Hergest, a MS. of the end of the fourteenth, 
preserved in the library of Jesus College, Oxford, from which 
it was printed, in 1838, by Lady Charlotte Guest, in her Eng- 
lish translation of the Mabinogion. 

3. Sir Perceval of Galles, an old English poem, first printed 
by Halliwell for the Camden Society, in 1844, from the Thorn- 
ton MS. of about 1440, bears much the same relation to Chres- 
tien's fragment and to the mabinogi that they bear to each 
other. The Thornton MS. is thought to be a very late copy. 

4. Gautier's portion of the Conte du Graal (verses 10,601 
34,934) was probably written shortly after Chrestien's death. 
The MSS. differ as to Gautier's full name, but probably it was 
Gautier de Doulens (a small town in Picardy, near Amiens). 
He mentions himself in verse 33,755. 

5. The introduction to Chrestien's poem, though purporting 
to be by him, is evidently of later origin than the next 10,600 
lines. It lays great stress on the grail and lance and on the 
Rich Fisher, though not generally in such a way as to imply 
a knowledge of the Christian legend, but rather in the full 
spirit of Celtic pagan folk-lore. There is one reference, how- 
ever, which proves that the author, whoever he was, had begun 
to connect the Druidical symbols with Christian relics. The 
supposed discovery of the lance with which the Roman soldier 
pierced the side of Jesus was one of the great sensations of the 
first crusade. The story as told in Gibbon, chapter 58, is well 
known. The pseudo-Chrestien introduction relates how the 
court of the Rich Fisher was entertained with seven tales, of 
which the seventh and most pleasing " tells of the lance where- 
with Longis pierced the side of the king of holy Majesty." 

6. Robert de Borron's trilogy in French verse, Joseph, Merlin, 
Perceval, of which we have the Joseph and part of the Merlin, 



112 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

was written probably a good while before the close of the 
twelfth century. It bears the signature of genius, and one is 
not tempted to seek for other "sources" than the author's 
originality, except in so far as we know he must have used 
traditions which had long before grown out of the canonical 
and apocryphal gospels. Borron 's poem breathes a spirit of 
profoundest mysticism. For him all incidents of his story 
are fraught with a divine intention, pointing to the spiritual 
reign of Christ. Almost everything he mentions is typical of 
some religious doctrine. Ordinarily in literary criticism it is 
unsafe to yield to a temptation to seek cryptic meanings ; in 
medieval poetry of a religious character, it is necessary to 
exercise the speculative and sympathetic faculties. Borron 
connects the contemplation of the Grail with the celebration 
of the Sacrament of the Supper, and the Sacrament in turn 
typifies the manner and instruments of Christ's death. " No 
Sacrament shall ever be celebrated but Joseph shall be remem- 
bered. The bread and wine are Christ's flesh and blood, the 
tomb is the Altar ; the grave-cloth the Corporal, the vessel 
wherein the blood was put shall be called Chalice, the cup- 
platter signifies the tombstone. All who see Joseph's vessel 
shall be of Christ's company, have fulfilment of their heart's 
wish and joy eternal." But with one side of the matter Borron 
was not so well acquainted, and this is of importance for us. 
He himself declares : 

Je n'ose parler ne retraire, 
Ne je ne le porroie faire, 
(Neis se je feire le voloie) 
Se je le grant livre n'aveie 
Oft les estoires sont escrites, 
Par les grans clercs feites et dites. 
La sont li grant secre" escrit. 
Qu'on nomme le Graal. 

"I dare not speak of nor repeat [Joseph's secret], and not 
even if I wished to do it could I do it, without having the 
great book in which the stories are written, made, and told 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 113 

by the great clerks. Therein are set forth the great secrets 
which are called the Grail." This is the sense in which Paulin 
Paris translates seje le grant livre n'aveie. Mr. Skeat, on p. 
xxxv of his preface to The English Alliterative Poem Joseph of 
Arimathie, published for the English Text Society, objects to 
this rendering, and Mr. Nutt agrees with him, translating the 
sentence thus : "I dare not, nor could not, tell this but that I 
had the great book, &c.," concluding of course that he had the 
book, whereas the inference from the former translation is that 
Robert de Borron believed in the existence of the grand livre 
latin, but did not have it under his eyes. Among the legends 
employed is that of St. Veronica, under the name of Verrine, 
who "wiped Christ's face and thus got the likeness of Him." 
The Holy Grail is called Graal because it is agreeable to all 
who see it. A significant feature is that Alain is commanded 
" to take charge of his brethren and sisters and go westwards," 
to Avaron, which can be nothing else than Avalon, the Ely- 
sian Fields of Druidical mythology. At the close of the Merlin 
occur the words : " And I, Robert of Borron, writer of this 
book, rnay not speak longer of Arthur till I have told of Alain, 
son of Brons, and how the woes of Britain were caused ; and 
as the book tells so must I what man Alain was, and what life 
he led, and of his seed and their life. And when I have spoken 
of these things I will tell again of Arthur." We perceive the 
author's intention of connecting the first Christian church in 
Jerusalem with the church of Britain. The unique MS. is in 
the Bibliotheque nationale, and contains 4,018 verses, of which 
3,514 constitute the Joseph. It has been printed by Furnivall 
for the Roxburghe Club, in two volumes, London, 1861-63. 
The poem is often called the Petit Saint Graal. Nutt holds 
that it remained unknown for many years after its composition, 
since he finds no trace of its influence on romances of later date. 
Birch-Hirschfeld, believing he finds evidence of its influence 
even in the Conte du Graal, makes it the original member of 
the cycle, thus setting up a theory utterly opposed to the one 
we have followed. 



114 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

7. The interpolation already noted and summarized, occur- 
ring in several MSS. of the Conte du Graal, in the midst of 
Gautier's portion. This was evidently written some time later 
than Gautier's portion and inserted into his account to give a 
representation of the Christian legend, which had by this time 
made credit for itself as the true and acceptable early history 
of the mysterious symbols. 

8. An independent ending of Gautier's portion, found in 
the Berne MS., concluding with the following statements (I 
quote Nutt's summary) : " The Fisher King is father to Alain 
le Gros, husband to Enigeus, sister to the Joseph who, when 
Christ's body was taken down from the Cross, had it from 
Pilate as a reward for his services. Joseph had the vessel 
prepared to catch in it the blood from the body ; it was the 
same Jesus had made the Sacrament in, on the Thursday 
before. The Fisher King dies on the third day and Perceval 
reigns in his stead." The author of this fragment must have 
been acquainted with Borron's poem. 

9. The Queste del Saint Graal, a French prose romance, was 
printed for the Roxburghe Club, London, 1864, by Furnivall. 
Although Walter Map's authorship of it is denied by high 
authority, we have seen that the MSS. claim him and that 
there is no sufficient reason to doubt that he wrote it. A 
Welsh version exists, which though differing in many par- 
ticulars from any hitherto discovered French MS., appears 
to be a translation of the Queste. This Welsh version was 
printed, with a translation, by the Rev. Robert Williams, from 
a MS. of the fifteenth century : YSeinl Graal, London, 1876. 

10. The Grand Saint Graal, a French prose romance, printed 
by Furnivall. The Early English Text Society has published 
an English metrical version based on this. French original, by 
Kerry Lonelich, of about the middle of the fifteenth century. 
Both Birch-Hirschfeld and Nutt, in spite of a hint in the 
MS. which might be taken as an ascription of it to Robert de 
Borron, declare that the authorship is unknown. There is 
contemporary evidence (the reference to it by Helindandus) 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 115 

that this romance was known before 1204. Nutt holds that 
our version of the Grand Saint Graal is the result of incor- 
porating an original of that name, now lost, with Borron's poem. 

11. Manessier, a Northern French poet, under the patronage 
of " Jehanne la Comtesse, qu'est de Flandre dame et mestresse," 
took up the Conte du Graal at line 34,934 and finished it at 
line 45,379. Jehanne was sole ruler of Flanders between 1214 
and 1227. 

12. Another conclusion of the Conte du Graal is by Gerbert. 
Birch -Hi rschfeld maintains that this was Gerbert de Montreuil, 
author of the Roman de la Violette, and furthermore that the 
15,000 lines, more or less, here employed were part of a com- 
plete work of his, which was mutilated to furnish an ending to 
the work of Chrestien and Gautier. 

13. Prose adaptations of Borron's trilogy. Their date is 
uncertain, but they were probably written in the first quarter 
of the thirteenth century. Nutt calls the prose romance of 
Perceval (the Didot-Perceval) a sequel to Borron's poem, made 
under the influence of the Conte du Graal and the Queste, or of 
material on which they are based, and maintains that it is later 
than all the other members of the cycle, and cannot therefore 
be used to prove that the third member of Borron's trilogy was 
of such and such a character. 

14. The Parzival of Wolfram von Eschenbach is preserved 
in numerous complete and well-authenticated MSS. It has 
been twice translated from the Middle High German original 
into Modern German verse, by San Marte and later by Simrock. 
Wolfram was a Bavarian and lived probably between 1170 and 
1220. Wolfram's complete works have been published in a 
critical edition by Karl Lachmann, Berlin, 1879 (fourth edition). 

15. Perceval le Gallois, a French prose romance, is held by 
all critics to be of late origin, probably about 1225. There is 
an ancient Welsh translation of it, representing a text diiferent 
from any we possess. 

16. Diu Crdne, by Heinrich von dem Tiirlin, another ancient 
German version, is subsequent to Parzival and based on it. 



116 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

17. Ancient translations: a translation of the Conte du Graal 
into Flemish verse, begun by Pennine and finished, in 1 350, by 
Peter Vorstaert ; another of the same in Icelandic, preserved 
in the Royal Library of Stockholm. There is also in Icelandic 
an ancient short compilation based on the Conte du GraaL 

18. The Morte Darihur, of Sir Thomas Malory, printed by 
Caxton, in 1485, has been the medium through which the 
English-speaking race has derived most of its knowledge of the 
Arthurian romances, including the story of the Grail. It has 
grown out from the obscurer and duller versions of the earlier 
age and by its own popularity doomed them to long oblivion. 
The English poets, and especially Tennyson, have drawn rich 
stores from it. Caxton said that Malory took his matter "out 
of certain books of French and reduced it into English." 
Nevertheless he cannot be denied great originality, both for 
substance arid arrangement, and his style alone, which has at 
all times received praise, would mark him as no mere compiler. 
The editio princeps has been critically studied and republished 
in superb form, with a learned introduction, by H. O. Sornmer, 
3 vols., London, 1891. The bibliographical notes are of great 
value. Malory, who probably completed his work about 1470, 
is, with respect to his attitude towards the Grail material, the 
first of a new class of writers, those who employ it freely, 
though reverently, as substance for original creations, modern 
in form and spirit. Not only Tennyson, but Spenser, Swin- 
burne, William Morris, Matthew Arnold, R. S. Hawker, and 
half a dozen other English poets have essayed this theme of 
the Grail quest, or the kindred themes of Arthur's kingship, 
Lancelot's sin, and the luxurious woe of Tristram and Iseult. 
Mr. Sommer bears witness that the vitality and popularity of 
the Arthurian romances is, however, due .to their internal con- 
nection with the legend of the Holy Grail. "What chivalry, 
with all its warlike prowess, was unable to effect by itself, was 
achieved by chivalry blended with Christianity. As long as 
Arthur's knights vowed themselves solely to worldly adven- 
tures, they were like ordinary men ; but when they entered upon. 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAJL. 117 

the quest of the Holy Grail, the search for the supernatural, the 
struggle for the spiritual stamped upon them immortality." 

At no time since the thirteenth century have more contri- 
butions been made to the legend of the Grail than in our own 
time, a time profoundly in sympathy with that earlier age. 
The works of Tennyson and Wagner, while in so far original 
that they present the most modern conceptions of chivalry, 
morality, and religion, are yet legitimate and generic develop- 
ments of the medieval material. The text of Richard Wagner's 
music-drama Parsifal is based on Wolfram. There could be 
no better preparation for the study of how Wolfram himself 
treated Chrestien's poem or Malory adapted the matter found 
in his " French books," than a consideration of the way in 
which this most modern of poets chose what suited the de- 
mands of his imperious purpose. Mr. H. E. Krehbiel, in his 
delightful Studies in the Wagnerian Drama, has traced for Eng- 
lish readers, but only too briefly, the genesis of Wagner's con- 
ception : how he, at an early point in his career, outlined a 
tragedy, Jesus of Nazareth, and eight years later, in 1856, 
another, The Victors, from a Buddhistic legend. Wagner him- 
self has told us that at this time his mind was possessed by 
the philosophy of Schopenhauer. The theme of The Victors 
was to be abnegation, the voluntary annihilation of life. The 
love of the hero and heroine, Prakriti and Ananda, was to be 
surrendered at the instance of Buddha, and they were to retire 
from the world and live in celibacy. In this tone of mind, 
which was in fact the dominating mood of his art-life, Wagner 
composed Tristan und Isolde; this underlying idea gave birth 
to much of the philosophy of the Nibelungen trilogy ; it is in 
virtue of heroic renunciation that Hans Sachs becomes the 
central figure of the Meistersinger, for dignity and pathos ; 
and the informing idea of Lohengrin, also, is that better than 
all the sunlit joys of life, dearer than woman's favor and men's 
homage, stands the law of obedience to some master who is not 
of this world, and the Swan Knight leaves his Elsa and his 



118 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

fair kingdom for an empire of shadow. It is not enough to 
say that the stuff of all tragedy is just this thing a noble soul's 
voluntary acceptance of the sharp decrees of higher law. The 
individual qualities of Wagner's tragic conceptions are in keep- 
ing with that Oriental philosophy to which Schopenhauer intro- 
duced him. So when, after rejecting both his earlier plans, he 
came to write Parsifal, it is comprehensible enough that the 
result, however Christian the theme and medieval the mate- 
rial, should betray the influence of his besetting thought. 

Now what elements in Wolfram's story lend themselves to 
such change, not to say distortion ? Manifestly the conception 
of the hero's purity. To bring out this quality and make it 
a determining factor of the drama, was therefore a temptation 
Wagner could not resist, although in accomplishing his pur- 
pose he must depart essentially fromWolfram. So the "loathly 
damsel " Kundrie, in Wolfram the Grail Messenger, is endowed 
with supernatural beauty and with powers of magic, is identi- 
fied, moreover, with that Herodias who was doomed to walk 
the earth in fruitless penitence, enticing men to their ruin, 
until some pure soul should resist her unwillingly-exerted 
charms. To unify his plot Wagner made Parsifal's power to 
do this depend on his being touched with pity for Anfortas' 
pains and with horror at the sin of sensuality which had 
brought them upon that suffering Grail King. Wagner did 
no violence to the general spirit of medieval romance, in mak- 
ing celibate chastity the crown of all virtues ; but Wolfram 
was peculiar in differing from his monkish predecessors on just 
this point, for his Parzival is no ascetic. We cannot, of course, 
challenge Wagner's right to re-inspire his material and make 
the flame white or red as he pleased. That he made it white, 
only proves his dramatic vigor and his vast sweep of view in 
the study of sources. For he was writing a medieval drama, 
and surely he produced a more consistent effect thus than 
he would have done had he strictly followed Wolfram. And, 
moreover, the conception of abnegation is not solely modern 
nor Oriental. It is to be found, for example, in the Eddas 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 



119 



and in the Celtic myths of Avalon and the Isles beyond the 
Western Sea. Possibly it has been suggested to all races, at 
all times, by the sight f death in the young and strong. 
Wagner's semi-identification of Parsifal with Christ is a pro- 
ceeding less easily defensible from a dramatic point of view ; 
but in general one may say that this poem is one more evi- 
dence, if any were needed after the Nlbelungen and Tristan, of 
the intellectual supremacy of Richard Wagner. His succes- 
sive conquests of whole territories of obscure myth and legend 
are as remarkable as those of the brothers Grimm themselves. 
The way in which he gathered his substance and harmonized 
it in Parsifal is a grand illustration of the magnetic quality of 
a soul-possessing idea, which draws all things to itself. 

I have been led to accept Nutt's list as the main authority for 
the order of most of the above cited versions from a belief in the 
soundness of his two statements, viz : first, an a priori principle 
that the tendency in bodies of medieval literature is to develop 
from the racial-heathen towards the Christian-legendary form 
and not vice versa ; and secondly, that the poetical motive of a 
search or quest of the grail symbols is of older origin than the 
accounts which various versions give of the Christian origin of 
those symbols. Furthermore, Mr. Nutt has shown that there 
existed in Celtic literature abundant suggestion for a grail-myth 
independent of any Christian source. But it would not be fair 
to omit to say that the views of Birch-Hirschfeld, which are 
the reverse of all this, are more simply and clearly sustained 
than those of Nutt, who seems to labor under his great burden 
of minute information. I cannot profess to be convinced that 
Borron's poem may not have been, after all, as Birch-Hirschfeld 
maintains, written before Chrestien's. The difficulties encoun- 
tered in this investigation impress me with a sense of how little 
the best inductive criticism can achieve when once a few bare 
facts about dates and sources and persons are lost. Birch- 
Hirschfeld, putting Borron first, and showing how, after 
monkish fashion, he wove a tale based on holy scripture and 
apocryphal books, makes Chrestien follow him, while the 



120 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

mabinogi is an imitation of the Gonte du Graal. Everyone 
must admit, however, that the story of Young Perceval and 
many other incidents are of ancient Celtic and non-Christian 
origin. 

But the power of the Christian conception, and also the trend 
of time, making constantly towards Christ, are seen in the sub- 
sequent history of the legend. The poem of Wolfram, later 
and more perfect than the French originals, is no less than 
the story of Mansoul lifted out of grossness, despite dark doubt, 
by aspiration after God as He is manifested in the mystery of 
the Grail. Parzival is a noble forerunner of Faust; it makes 
the same bitter cry for the same sad woes ; it leads through 
unbelief to triumphant faith; it teaches, finally, that spiritual 
attainment cannot be, until the soul forgets herself in humble 
sympathy for the sorrows of others. And this poem of the 
Middle Ages, thus worthy to stand side by side with that 
other great product of the spiritual German nation, contains 
no moral beauties, the germs of which cannot be found in those 
earlier, less serious, less consciously religious Welsh, French, 
and English works. 

The Grail as typifying the sacrament of the supper, and that 
again as symbolizing the continued presence of Christ in the 
world, to help and save this was the final cause, the unac- 
knowledged reason, the unkn.oaijL^ beginning, of the whole 
cycle. It is as if a divine hand had been holding the hands 
of all the writers of these books ; and there can be few plainer 
triumphs of the Christian ideal than this, of having converted 
and drawn unto itself an obscure pagan myth, a stupid and 
unhistorical monkish fiction, many vain and worldly "adven- 
tures," until they appear at last fused into one as Wolfram's 
Parzival, as Tennyson's Holy Grail, as Wagner's Parsifal. 
In whatever shape, of mere frivolous romance, or of mytho- 
logical tradition, or of garrulous monkish invention, the legend 
may have originated, its destiny was, to become increasingly 
moral, to embody a most spiritual religious doctrine ; and 
whether or no its kernel is a survival of Druid ical ceremonies 






LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 121 

and superstitions, its character developed more and more in 
the direction of Christian symbolism. Words alone, beautiful 
as Wagner's are, did not seem to this greatest of modern Ger- 
mans capable of holding the intense fervor of his theme ; and 
the legend has found its latest expression in the latest and most 
wonderful art of man's invention, the music-drama, and in the 
supreme work of that art's first master. Wagner wrote his 
poem in fuller accord with the medieval conception than 
Tennyson, as he was obliged to do in order to preserve the 
sense of objective reality necessary in an acted drama, the 
medieval story being in all points capable of scenic repre- 
sentation. Tennyson, as we know, has transcendentalized it, 
employing the later, Christian-legendary account, and not the 
mythological one. 

" The cup, the cup itself, from which our Lord 
Drank at the last sad supper with his own. 
This, from the blessed land of Aromat 
After the day of darkness, when the dead 
Went wandering o'er Moriah the good saint, 
Arimathaean Joseph, journeying brought 
To Glastonbury, where the winter thorn . 
Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our Lord. 
And there awhile it bode : and if a man 
Could touch or see it, he was heal'd at once, 
By faith, of all his ills." 

What thing the Grail was, Percivale's sister, the ecstatic nun, 
ssays to tell : 

" Sweet brother, I have seen the Holy Grail : 
For, waked at dead of night, I heard a sound 
As of a silver horn from o'er the hills 
Blown, and I thought, ' It is not Arthur's use 
To hunt by moonlight ; ' and the slender sound 
As from a distance beyond distance grew 
Coming upon me O never harp nor horn, 
Nor aught we blow with breath, or touch with hand, 
Was like that music as it came ; and then 
Stream'd through my cell a cold and silver beam, 
And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail, 



122 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

Rose-red with beatings in it, as if alive, 
Till all the white walls of my cell were dyed 
With rosy colors leaping on the wall ; 
And then the music faded, and the Grail 
Pass'd, and the beam decay'd, and from the walls 
The rosy quiverings died into the night." 

No other version equals Tennyson's description of the 
origin of the quest : 

" ' Then of a summer night it came to pass. 
While the great banquet lay along the hall, 
That Galahad would sit down in Merlin's chair. 
And all at once, as there we sat, we heard 
A cracking and a riving of the roofs, 
And rending, and a blast, and overhead 
Thunder, and in the thunder was a cry. 
And in the blast there smote along iho- hall 
A beam of light seven times more clear than day : 
And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail 
All over covered with a luminous cloud, 
And none might see who bore it, and it past. 
But every knight beheld his fellow's face 
As in a glory, and all the knights arose, 
And staring each at other like dumb men 
Stood, till I found a voice and swore a vow. 

I swore a vow before them all, that I, 
Because I had not seen the Grail, would ride 
A twelvemonth and a day in quest of it, 
Until I found and saw it, as the nun 
My sister saw it ; and Galahad swore the vow, 
And good Sir Bors, our Lancelot's cousin, swore, 
And Lancelot swore, and many among the knights, 
And Gawain swore, and louder than the rest.' " 

And so on through those familiar lines describing how Galahad 
attained to perfect vision and Percivale to such a sight that 
henceforth he 

" cared but to pass into the silent life," 

and Lancelot, for his sin, was granted only a terrific glimpse. 

Tennyson's melodious creation is known to all, and haunts 

the memory like one of Dore's dream-cities, with clustering and 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 



123 



forehead-meeting towers. Wagner's is compounded of poetry 
and the indescribable and not-to-be-discussed diviner art of 
music. But Wolfram's Parzival, the only great poem by a 
single known author between the Latin classics and Dante, 
might be described briefly and made to show what pre-Dantean 
medieval art was. I have attempted to translate a few of 
Wolfram's rapid and somewhat uncouth verses. The original 
metre and rhyming system have been for the most part pre- 
served, my aim being as much literalness as is consistent with 
clearness and grace. Indeed, in all but a few passages of over- 
weening tenderness and beauty, Wolfram himself seems to 
aspire rather to force than to elegance, as became a warrior, who 
disclaimed all purpose of trying to win favor by words, 

When Love's the stake and Knighthood plays. 

The poem is in sixteen books of about 1,550 lines each. 
The versification is irregular, iambic tetrameter being, how- 
ever, by far the most frequent form of the verses, which rhyme 
in successive pairs, but not necessarily in couplets : that is to 
say, two rhyming lines belong frequently to different sentences, 
so that the assonance is sometimes purely artificial and void of 
all pleasing effect. 

The first two books, which are considered to have been 
written last, are filled, after a few introductory lines, with the 
adventures of Parzival's father Gahmuret, incidents which 
have no connection with the Grail or any of the leading threads 
of narrative which follow. In the words of prelude, however, 
Wolfram does announce one of the moral motives of his work. 
They begin as follows : 

When doubt a human conscience gnaws, 
Peace from that breast her light withdraws. 
Beauty and ugliness we find 
Even in the bravest heart combined, 
If taint be in him, great or slight, 
As in the magpie black and white. 
Yet ofttimes may he saved be, 



124 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

For both share in his destiny 
High heaven and the abyss of hell. 
But when the man is infidel 
Of midnight blackness is his soul^ 
His course is towards yon pitchy hole ; 
While he of steady mind pursues 
The shining road the righteous choose. 

True to his Germanic blood, Wolfram introduces his hearers 
at once into an atmosphere of moral inquiry, and the-subject of 
his poem is. not mere courtly adventure, tinged with religious 
mysticism, as is the case with the French, Welsh, and English 
versions, but besides this and underlying it, the eternal warfare 
of doubt against the soul's activity. The rest of his introduc- 
tion is broadly executed, being a rambling discourse on fidelity, 
love, and woman, to our ears a strange medley of grave and 
humorous. And then he plunges into the recital of Gahmuret's 
adventures. The fact that they have no essential connection 
with the rest of the poem shows how fond were medieval audi- 
ences of mere narration for its own sake. Wolfram briefly 
praises his unborn hero Parzival, a man of unalloyed courage, 
to whom fear and deceit were unknown, and then tells how his 
father Gahmuret, the younger son of Gandein, king of Anjou, 
enters the service of the Kalif of Bagdad, winning the love of 
the heathen queen Belakane, whom he forsakes because she will 
not become a Christian. He subsequently marries a lady named 
Herzeloide. He is slain in battle, and Herzeloide, hearing the 
news, buries herself in the wilderness of Soltane with her son, 
whom she resolves to protect from his father's fate by keeping 
him in ignorance of chivalry and warfare. 

Then begins the recital proper, the first episode, which I 
have translated, being the idyllic story of ParzivaPs youth, 
told much more fully and picturesquely by Wolfram than by 
any of the other romancers. For the purposes of scientific in- 
vestigation it would be better to consider this incident in one 
of the older accounts, such as the mabinogi, but if we are con- 
cerned to feel the pulse-beat of the highest poetic fervor attained 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 125 

by any of the old writers of the cycle, we must seek it here. 
Indeed, as Wolfram is acknowledged to be the most profound 
and at times the sweetest of the old German singers, and as none 
of his other work equals this episode in tenderness and spring- 
like freshness, it has always appealed to me as the most beauti- 
ful sustained passage in medieval literature previous to Dante. 

Another may with worthier thought 
Of women speak I hate him not ; 
I court their favor everywhere ; 
Only to one no meed I bear 
Of service humble and true; 
Towards her my wrath is ever new 
Since first she harmed me with a lie. 
Wolfram von Eschenbach am I 
Can bear a part in all your songs ; 
And fast, as with a pair of tongs, 
For her I hold resentment hot 
Who such affliction on me brought. 
How can I help but hate her, who 
Gave me such harsh misdeeds to rue? 
Why other ladies hate me then, 
Alack, that is beyond my ken ! 

If their dislike does me no good, 
Still 'tis a proof of wom*anhood, 
And since my words were none too fine, 
To bear the blame be also mine ! 
This shall not soon again befall, 
But if it does I warn you all, 
Good ladies, storm not as before 
My house about my ears. Of war 
I understand the tactics quite ; 
Your foibles and your faults I might 
Too well disclose. But for a pure 
And modest woman I'd endure 
All bitter strife ; to ease her woe 
My heart would fain all joys forgo. 

On broken crutches halts his fame 
Who, angered by his scornful dame, 
Dares to speak ill of womankind. 
And first, that none offense may find, 
With poet's arts I'll not ensnare 
Her who may grant me audience fair. 



126 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

A knight-at-arms am I by birth; 

In me sleep warlike strength and worth ; 

She who might love me for my song 

Would show a judgment sadly wrong. 

For if 1 seek a lady's grace 

And may not go before her face 

With honors won by shield and sword, 

I will not woe her, by my word ! 

No other game can have my praise 

When Love's the stake and Knighthood plays. 

And seeme'd it not flattery 

Of ladies, I should let you see 

Straight to the end of my narration 

And much that's new in the creation. 

If anyone enjoys the tale 

Let him take notice, without fail, 

This is no book. Letters I know not. 

To them for leaven I go not, 

As others use ; and these adventures 

Shall come to end without such censures. 

Rather than have them thought a book 

I'd naked sit, without a smock, 

That is, in a bath-tub 't would be, 

With a bathing-towel to cover me. 

I find the usage much to blame 
Which makes no difference in the name 
Of women false and women true. 
Clear-voiced are all, but not a few 
Quickly to evil courses run, 
While others every folly shun. 
So goes the world, but still 'tis shame 
The bad ones share that honored name. 
Loyal and fair is womanhood, 
When once the name is understood. 

Many there are who cannot see 
Anything good in poverty. 
But he who bears its trials well 
May save his faithful soul from hell ! 
These trials once a woman bore 
And gained thereby of grace a store. 
Not many in their youth resign 
Kiches in life for wealth divine. 
I know not one in all the earth, 
Whate'er the sex or age or birth, 
For mortals all in this agree. 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 127 

But Herzeloide the rich ladie 

From her three lands afar did go 

She bore such heavy weight of woe. 

In her was no unfaithfulness, 

As every witness did confess. 

All dark to her was now the sun ; 

The world's delights she fain would shun. 

Alike to her were night and day, 

For sorrow followed her alway. 

Now went the mourning lady good 
Forth from her realm into a wood 
In Soltane the wilderness ; 
Not for flowers, as you might guess ; 
Her heart with sorrow was so full 
She had no mind sweet flowers to pull, 
Hed though they were and bright, or pale. 
She brought with her to that safe vale 
Great Gahmuret's her lord's young child. 
Her servants, with them there exiled, 
Tilled the scant glebe with hoe and plough. 
To run with them she'd oft allow 
Her son. And e'er his mind awoke 
She summoned all this vassal folk, 
And on them singly, woman and man, 
She laid this strange and solemn ban : 
Never of knights to utter word, 
"For if of them my darling heard, 
And knightly life and knightly fare, 
'Twould be a grief to me and care. 
Now guard your speech and hark to me, 
And tell him naught of chivalrie." 

With troubled mien they all withdrew 
And so concealed the young boy grew 
Soltane's greenwood far within. 
No royal sports he might begin 
Save one to draw the bow 
And bring the birds above him low 
With arrows cut by his own hand, 
All in that forest land. 

But when one day a singing bird 
He shot, and now no longer heard 
Its thrilling note, he wept aloud, 
This boy so innocent yet proud, 
And beat his breast and tore his hair 
This boy so wild vet wondrous fair. 



128 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

At the spring in the glade 
He every day his toilet made. 
Free had he been from sorrow 
Till now when he must borrow 
Sweet pain from birds. 
Into his heart their music pressed 
And swelled it with a strange unrest. 
Straight to the queen he then did run ; 
She said : " Who hurt thee, pretty son ? " 
But nought could he in answer say 
"Pis so with children in our day. 

.Long mused the queen what this might be, 
Till once beneath a greenwood tree 
She saw him gazing and sighing still, 
Then knew 'twas a bird's song did fill 
Her darling's breast with yearning pain 
And haunting mystery. 

Queen Herzeloide's anger burned 
Against the birds, she knew not why ; 
Her serving-folk she on them turned 
And bade to quench their hated cry, 
And chase and beat and kill 
In every brake, on every hill. 
Few were the birds that flew away 
And saved their lives in that fierce fray ; 
Yet some escaped to live and sing 
Joyous, and make the forest ring. 

Unto the queen then spoke the boy : 
"Why do you rob them of their joy ?" 
Such intercession then he made, 
His mother kissed him while she said : 
" Why should I break God's law and rob 
The birds of innocent delight?" 
Then to his mother spoke the boy : 
"O mother, what is God?" 

" Aly son, in solemn truth I say 
He is far brighter than the day, 
Though once his countenance did change 
Into the face of man. 
O son of mine, give wisely heed, 
And call on Him in time of need, 
Whose faithfulness has never failed 
Since first the world began. 
And one there is, the lord of hell, 
Black and unfaithful, as I tell ; 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 



129 



Bear thou towards him a courage stout, 
And wander not in paths of doubt." 

His mother taught him to discern 
Darkness and light ; he quick did learn. 
The lesson done, away he'd spring 
To practice with the dart and sling. 
Full many an antlered stag he shot 
And home to his lady mother brought ; 
Through snow or floods, it was the same, 
Still harried he the game. 
Now hear the tale of wonder : 
When he had brought a great stag low, 
Burden a mule might stagger under, 
He'd shoulder it and homeward go ! 

Now it fell out upon a day 
He wandered down a long wood-way 
And plucked a leaf and whistled shrill, 
Near by a road that crossed a hill. 
And thence he heard sharp hoof-strokes ring, 
And quick his javelin did swing, 
Then cried: "Now what is this I hear? 
What if the devil now appear, 
With anger hot, and grim ? 
But, certain, I will not flee him ! 
Such fearful things my mother told 
I ween her heart is none too bold." 

All ready thus for strife he stood, 
When lo ! there galloped through the wood 
Three riders, shining in the light, 
From head to foot in armor dight. 
The boy all innocently thought 
Each one a god, as he was taught. 
No longer upright then stood he, 
But in the path he bent his knee. 
Aloud he called, and clear and brave, 
" Save, God, for thou alone canst save I ' 
The foremost rider spoke in wrath 
Because the boy lay in the path : 
" This clumsy Welsh boy 
Hinders our rapid course." 
A name we Bavarians wear 
Must the Welsh also bear : 
They are clumsier even than we, 
But good fighters too, you'll agree. 



130 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

A graceful man within the round 
Of these two lands is rarely found. 
That moment came a knight 
In battle-gear dedight, 
Galloping hard and grim 
Over the mountain's rim. 
The rest had ridden on before, 
Pursuing two false knights, who bore 
A lady from his land. 
That touched him near at hand ; 
The maid he pitied sore, 
Who sadly rode before. 
After his men he held his course, 
Upon a fine Castilian horse. 
His shield bore marks of many a lance ; 
His name Karnacharnanz, 
Le comte Ulterlec. 

Quoth he : " Who dares to block our way ? " 
And forth he strode to see the youth, 
/ Who thought him now a god in sooth, 
For that he was a shining-one : 
His dewy armor caught the sun, 
And with small golden bells were hung 
The stirrup-straps, that blithely swung 
Before his greave'd thighs 
And from his feet likewise. 
Bells on his right arm tinkled soft 
Did he but raise his hand aloft. 
Bright gleamed that arm from many a stroke, 
Warded since first to fame he woke. 
Thus rode the princely knight, 
In wondrous armor dight. 

That flower of manly grace and joy, 
Karnacharnanz, now asked the boy: 
" My lad, hast seen pass by this way 
Two knignts that grossly disobey 
The rules of all knight-errantry? 
For with a helpless maid they flee, ' 
Whom all unwilling they have stolen, 
To honor lost, with mischief swollen." 
The boy still thought, despite his speech, 
That this was God, for so did teach 
His mother Herzeloide, the queen 
To know Him by his dazzling sheen. 
He cried in all humility : 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 181 

" Help, God, for all help comes from thee ! " 
And fell in louder suppliance yet 
Le fils du roi Gahmuret. 

"I am not God," the prince replied, 
" Though in his law I would abide. 
Four knights we are, couldst thou but see 
What things before thine eyen be." 

At this the boy his words did stay : 
" Thou namest knights, but what are they ? 
And if thou hast not power divine 
Tell me, who gives, then, knighthood's sign ?" 
" King Arthur, lad, it is, 
And goest thou to him, I wis 
That if he gives thee knighthood's name 
Thou'lt have in that no cause for shame. 
Thou hast indeed a knightly mien." 
The chevalier had quickly seen 
How God's good favor on him lay. 
The legend telleth what I say, 
And further doth confirm the boast 
That he in beauty was the firfet 
Of men since Adam's time: this praise 
Was his from womankind always. 

Then asked he in his innocence, 
Whereon they laughed at his expense : 
" Aye, good sir knight, what mayst thou be, 
That hast these many rings I see 
Upon thy body closely bound 
And reaching downward to the ground ? " 
With that he touched the rings of steel 
Which clothed the knight from head to heel, 
And viewed his harness curiously. 
" My mother's maids," commented he, 
" Wear rings, but have them strung on cords, 
And not so many as my lord's." 

Again he asked, so bold his heart : 
"And what's the use of every part? 
What good do all these iron things ? 
I cannot break these little rings." 

The prince then showed his battle-blade : 
" Now look ye, with this good sword's aid, 
I can defend my life from danger 
If overfallen by a stranger, 
And for his thrust and for his blow 
I wrap myself in harness so." 






132 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

Quick spoke the boy his hidden thought : 
" 'Tis well the forest stags bear not 
Such coats of mail, for then my spear 
Would never slay so many deer." 

By this the other knights were vexed 
Their lord should talk with a fool perplexed. 
The prince ended : " God guard thee well, 
And would that I had thy beauty's spell ! 
And hadst thou wit, then were thy dower 
The richest one in heaven's power. 
May God's grace ever with thee stay." 
Whereat they all four rode away, 
Until they came to a field 
In the dark forest concealed. 
There found the prince some peasant-folk 
Of Herzeloide with plow and yoke. 
Their lot had never been so hard, 
Driving the oxen yard by yard, 
For they must toil to reap the fruit 
Which first was seed and then was root. 

The prince bade them good day, 
And asked if there had passed that way 
A maiden in distressful plight. 
They could not help but answer right, 
And this is what the peasants said : 
"Two horsemen and a maid 
We saw pass by this morning, 
The lady, full of scorning, 
Bode near a knight who spurred her horse 
With iron heel and language coarse." 

That was Meliakanz ; 
After him rode Karnacharnanz. 
By force he wrested the maid from him ; 
She trembled with joy in every limb. 
Her name, Imaine 
Of Bellefontaine. 

The peasant folk were sore afraid 
Because this quest the heroes made ; . 
They cried : " What evil day for us ! 
For has young master seen them thus 
In iron clad from top to toe, 
The fault is ours, ours too the woe ! 
. And the queen's anger sure will fall 
With perfect justice on us all, 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 133 

Because the boy, while she was sleeping, 
Came out this morning in our keeping." 

The boy, untroubled by such fear, 
Was shooting wild stags far and near ; 
Home to his mother he ran at length 
And told his story ; and all strength 
Fled from her limbs, and down she sank, 
And the world to her senses was a blank. 

When now the queen 
Opened her eyelids' screen, 
Though great had been her dread 
She asked : " Son, tell me who has fed 
Thy fancy with these stories 
Of knighthood's empty glories?" 
" Mother, I saw four men so bright 
That God himself gives not more light ; 
Of courtly life they spoke to me 
And told how Arthur's chivalry 
Doth teach all knighthood's office 
To every willing novice." 

Again the queen's heart 'gan to beat. 
His wayward purpose to defeat 
She thought her of a plan 
To keep at home the little man. 

The noble boy, in simplest course, 
Begged his mother for a horse. 
Her secret woe broke out anew ; 
She said : " Albeit I shall rue 
This gift, I can deny him nought. 
Yet there are men," she sudden thought, 
" Whose laughter is right hard to bear, 
And if fool's dress my son should wear 
On his beautiful shining limbs, 
Their scorn will scatter all these whima, 
And he'll return without delay." 
This trick she used, alack the day ! 
A piece of coarse sack -cloth she chose 
And cut thereout doublet and hose, 
From his neck to his white knees, 
And all from one great piece, 
With a cap to cover head and ears, 
For such was a fool's dress in those years. 
Then instead of stockings she bound 
Two calfskin strips his legs around. 



134 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

None would have said he was the same, 
And all who saw him wept for shame. 

The queen, with pity, bade him stay 
Until the dawn of a new day ; 
" Thou must not leave me yet," beseeching, 
" Till I have given thee all my teaching : 
On unknown roads thou must not try 
To ford a stream if it be high ; 
But if it's shallow and clear 
Pass over without fear. 
Be careful everyone to greet 
Whom on thy travels thou mayst meet, 
And if any greybearded man 
Will teach thee manners, as such men can, 
Be sure to follow him, word and deed ; 
Despise him not, as I thee reed. 
One special counsel, son, is mine : 
Wherever thou, for favor's sign, 
Canst win a good woman's ring or smile, 
Take them, thy sorrows to beguile. 
Canst kiss her too, by any art, 
And hold her beauty to thy heart, 
'Twill bring thee luck and lofty mood, 
If she chaste is, and good. 

" Lachelein, the proud and bold, 
Won from thy princes of old 
I'd have thee know, O son of mine 
Two lands that should be fiefs of thine, 
Waleis and Norgals. 
One of thy princes, Turkentals, 
Received his death from this foe's hands ; 
And on thy people he threw bands." 

" Mother, for that I'll vengeance wreak ; 
My javelin his heart shall seek." 

Next morning at first break of day 
The proud young warrior rode away. 
The thought of Arthur filled his mind. 
Herzeloide kissed him and ran behinjd. 
The world's worst woe did then befall. 
When no more she saw young Parzival 
(He rode away. Whom bettered be?) 
The queen from every falseness free 
Fell to the earth, where anguish soon 
Gave her Death's bitter boon. 
Her loyal death 






LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 135 

Saves her from hell's hot breath. 

'Twas well she had known motherhood ! 

Thus sailed this root of every good, 

Whose flower was humility, 

Across that rich-rewarding sea. 

Alas for us, that of her race 

Till the twelfth age she left no trace ! 

Hence see we so much falsehood thrive. 

Yet every loyal woman alive 

For this boy's life and peace should pray, 

As he leaves his mother and rides away. 

In the remainder of the third book and in the fourth, 
Parzival meets with many adventures and incurs a great 
deal of trouble in following his mother's singular advice, and 
reaches Arthur's court only to be laughed at for his out- 
landish garb. But he comes away determined to win a place 
for himself at the Round Table. The counsels of his mother 
are supplemented by the advice of a wise man, Gurnemanz, 
whom he encounters, to the effect that he must never ask 
questions, no matter what may excite his curiosity. His days 
are henceforth spent in riding on in the hope of finding fit 
occasions for exercising his bravery and gallantry. In Book V 
he encounters, one evening, a sad-faced, richly-dressed Fisher 
beside a lake, who directs him to his castle, where he will find 
refreshment. On riding thither Parzival finds grass in the 
court-yard, a sign that no jousting takes place there. He is 
well received and bidden presently to appear before the Fisher- 
King, who turns out to be the old man whom he met fishing. 
Him he finds wrapped in furs upon a couch beside the middle 
one of three great marble fireplaces in the hall. This spacious 
apartment is illuminated by a hundred chandeliers and con- 
tains a hundred other couches, on each of which recline four 
knights. Aromatic wood blazes on the hearths. Parzival 
now is bidden to take his place beside the king. Presently a 
young attendant bears through the hall a long lance dripping 
blood. At this sight all the spectators break forth into cries 
of lamentation. A stately and magnificently-attired band of 



136 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

noble ladies now enter, bearing candles and the appurtenances 
of a banquet. At last appears the queen-maiden Repanse de 
Schoie herself, who for her purity is permitted to carry the 
Grail. This she sets before the king, and retires to the midst 
of her four and twenty virgins. Then a hundred tables are 
brought in and set, on each of which other attendants place a 
bowl of water and a towel for hand-washing. Each table is 
waited upon by four pages, with every mark of religious awe. 
Four wagons roll through the hall with drinking vessels, 
which are distributed to all the tables. A hundred pages 
take from before the Grail white napkins containing bread, 
which they distribute, and from the Grail indeed come food 
and drink to all desiring. Parzival, mindful of Gurnemanz' 
counsel, forbears to ask the meaning of these marvels, and 
remains silent even when the king, presenting him with a costly 
sword, mentions that he is suffering from a grievous wound. 

When the repast is concluded, the food and utensils disap- 
pear in the same order in which they came. There is evident 
disappointment at something Parzival has done or failed to 
do, but he is led away to sleep in a grand chamber, where 
dreams torment him in the night, and where he awakes in 
solitude next day, to find his armor at his bedside and prep- 
arations made for his immediate departure. In vain he calls. 
The castle is empty and silent, and he rides forth at last in 
troubled wonder. A page instantly raises the drawbridge 
behind him and reproaches him for not having questioned his 
host. He presently encounters a lady, who tells him he has 
been on Montsalvat, where no man arrives except unknow- 
ingly. When she learns of his omission to inquire the meaning 
of what he saw, she blames him bitterly for the fatal mistake, 
and he rides sadly away. The king was Anfortas, keeper of 
the Grail. All this, and Parzival's failure to inquire the cause 
of his wound, are announced to Arthur and the knights, on 
Parzival's return among them, by Kundrie l the sorceress, the 

1 There is in this Kundrie, " the loathly damsel," the bearer of the Grail's 
decrees, as treated variously in the different romances, a hint of the Ger- 
manic Walkiire, and more than a hint of Herodias. 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 



137 



dreadful messenger of the Grail. She curses Parzival, who 
in despair, and distrusting even God himself, rides forth once 
more, dedicating his life to the quest of the sacred symbol. 
Those knights whom he overcomes with his spear he sends on 
parole to seek the Grail for him. 

Omitting the long series of adventures by Gawan and others, 
and by Parzival himself, which intervene, we find him in the 
ninth book overcoming a knight of the Grail who has offered 
him battle because he came too near Montsal vat. Parzival takes 
the knight's horse, which wears the sign of the Grail, a dove. 
On Good Friday Parzival turns in at the hut of a hermit, who 
reproves him for his irreligion, and to whom Parzival confesses 
that for several years he has not set foot in a house of God 
because of the hatred he bears in his heart toward Him. The 
hermit instructs him in heavenly matters and especially in the 
history of the Grail, whose divine origin he sets forth. It is 
a rich and wondrous stone, called lapis exillis, endowed with 
miraculous power of sustaining life. It has the virtue of gather- 
ing about it those whom it elects, and by them it is watched. 
Anfortas, king of these knights and chief guardian of the Grail, 
sinned in seeking earthly love, and was sore wounded. Only 
one thing could restore him : spontaneous inquiry into his 
condition by some one who should arrive unwittingly at the 
Grail Castle. When the hermit learns that his guest has had 
this opportunity and failed to accept it, he blames him severely 
and tells him further of the mystic art of the stone : how every 
Good Friday a dove comes down from heaven and places the 
sacramental wafer on it, and how it indicates its chosen keepers 
in a miraculous writing which appears upon its side. 

Fourteen days pass thus in high converse between Parzival 
and the hermit, until the latter absolves the young knight, 
now filled with the one longing to find his name written on 
the divine stone. And in the fifteenth book, while sitting at 
Arthur's Round Table, after many days of weary search, he is 
surprised by Kundrie the messenger, with the news that he has 
been chosen King of the Grail, and that his son Loherangrin 
shall succeed him in that office. He hastens to the Castle, casts 



138 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

himself before the Grail, and asks Anfortas the cause of his pain. 
Instantly the aged sufferer is healed and becomes beautiful as 
sunlight. The former ceremony is repeated with great splendor. 

The poet then relates how Loherangrin was sent as husband 
to the young duchess of Brabant, how a swan drew him to Ant- 
werp in a boat, how the duchess disobeyed his request, which 
was the Grail's command, not to seek to know his origin, and 
how in sorrow he withdrew. 1 

From a poem of 24,810 verses it has been impossible to give 
more than the absolutely essential features referring to the Grail. 
There are long passages which would repay reading even yet, 
either in the original or in Simrock's very literal translation 
into modern German. When we compare the moral elements 
of Wolfram's story with those of the Faust legend as Goethe 
found them, the question arises : What might not a modern 
German poet make of this great epic of faith? Although origi- 
nality of incident may be denied Wolfram, yet it seems to me 
that the spirit of his story, and particularly of the Young Par- 
zival episode, is both personal and national. The recognition 
of a close relation between theology and conduct is one thing 
which distinguishes Wolfram's Parzival from all earlier versions 
. of the legend. 

APPENDIX A. Translation of extract from Wolfram given 
on pages 106-108 : 

From him now Parzival learns the hidden story of the Grail. 
If anyone had asked me about it before, and been angry at me 
for not telling it to him, his grumbling would have been in 
vain. Kiot bade me keep it secret, because the " A venture" 
commanded him to guard it still undivulged ; no one was to 
learn it until in the course of the narration the time came to 
speak of it. Kiot, the well-known master, found in Toledo, 

1 This request and its consequence, like Parzival's refraining to ask concern- 
ing Anfortas and the troubles caused by his not doing so, point to the ultimate 
connection between this romance material and the fairy literature not only of 
Europe, but of Asia. 



LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 



139 



lying thrown away, and in heathen writing, the story which 
treats of the Grail. He must first have been acquainted with 
the characters A, B, C, without necromancy. The grace of 
baptism stood him there in good stead, or the story would be 
still untold. No heathen art could e'er avail us to disclose 
what is revealed of the Grail's character and power. A 
heathen, Flegetanis, was held in esteem for his rare arts. 
A seer, he descended from Solomon, arriving from Israeli tish 
blood ages ago, before baptism was our shield against the tor- 
ment of hell. He wrote about the Grail's history. He was 
a heathen on his father's side, this Flegetanis, who still prayed 
to a calf as if it were his God. How dare the devil work such 
contempt on such wise peoples ? Will the hand of the All- 
highest, to whom all wonders are manifest, not deign to keep 
them from it ? Flegetanis the heathen could announce to us 
well the outgoing course of all the stars and their future return 
how long each has to go till we see it at its goal. Human 
fate and being are to be read in the march of the stars. Flege- 
tanis, the heathen, when he turned his gaze toward heaven, 
discovered mysterious lore. He spake thereof with hesitating 
tongue : There is a thing called the Grail. In the stars found 
he its name written as it is called. "A company which flew 
again to heaven, whether drawn home by grace or disfavor, 
left it on the earth. Then baptised fruit [Christians] tended 
it with humility and pure discipline. Those men are always 
worthy who are required for the Grail's service." Thus 
Flegetanis wrote of it. Kiot, the master wise, began to seek 
in Latin books where there could ever have been people worthy 
the honor of tending the Grail and nourishing chastity in their 
hearts. He read the national chronicles in Britain and else- 
where, in France and Ireland, until he found the story in 
Anjou. There in unfailing truth he read about Mazadan, and 
found all written correctly about his race ; and on the other 
hand how Titurel and his son Frimutel delivered the Grail 
to Anfortas, whose sister was called Herzeloide, by whom 
Gahmuret had a child, of whom these stories tell. 



140 GEORGE M. HARPER. 

APPENDIX B. Meaning of the name Fisher King. 

I must beg attention here for a speculation of my own, which, 
oeing nothing more, should not be allowed to affect the ques- 
tions still at issue regarding the origin of the legend, especially 
as Professor Rhys and Mr. Nutt, with something more than 
speculation, have developed an entirely contradictory idea. 
They connect the episodes of the Fisher King, and this appel- 
lation itself, with a number of Irish stories, for which great 
antiquity is claimed, and which do indeed seem related to the 
pagan mythology of Scandinavia. But it has occurred to me 
that the fishing of the king may have been attributed to him 
because of his name, and that the names Roi P^cheur and Fisher 
King are only old translations of the word Herodius, which 
itself was wrongly written for Herodes. Attention was long 
ago, in Germany, called to the numerous allusions to St. John 
the Baptist that occur in the Grail legends. San Marte and 
Simrock, fifty years ago, pointed out the resemblance between 
the Grail knights (in Wolfram called Templeisen) and the 
Templars, who were accused of worshipping a miracle-working 
head. In the mabinogi the Grail is a salver containing a man's 
head floating in blood. Wagner's treatment of Kundrie is not 
far from what seems to have been an idea hovering in the minds 
of some of the earliest creators of the legend, namely that she 
was Herodias, or possibly the daughter of Herodias, pursued by 
a "cruel immortality." Let us suppose that the "great Latin 
book," or some lost Latin original, contained the word Herodes 
where we find roipdcheur in the French. A slovenly or officious 
copyist might easily make it Herodius. Another copyist or a 
translator, taking this for a name derived from a common noun, 
might translate it into French. Herodius is the name of a bird. 
It occurs twice that I know of in theVulgate : in Deuteronomy 
14, 16, where the English has "the little owl," and in Psalm 
104 (Vulgate 103), 17, where the English has "stork." The 
exact meaning of herodius is unknown, but it would not be 
strange if this copyist or translator had rendered it by roi 
p&cheur, English kingfisher. 

GEORGE MCLEAN HARPER. 




MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA, 



1893 



(VOL. vm, 2.) 



NEW SERIES, VOL. I, 2. 



III. THE HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE 
POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS IN ITALIAN. 

INTRODUCTION. 
The Possessive Pronouns existing in literary Italian are : 



mio 


MEUM, 


mi&i 


MEI, 


tuo 


TUUM, 


turn 


TUI, 


suo 


SUUM, 


suoi 


8UI, 


nostro 


NOSTRUM, 


nostri 


NOSTRI, 


vostro 


VOSTRUM, 


vostri 


VOSTRI, 



mm 


MEAM, 


mie 


MEAE, 


tua 


TUAM, 


tue 


TUAE, 


sua 


8UAM, 


sue 


8UAE, 


nostra 


NOSTRAM, 


nostre 


NOSTRAE, 


vostra 


VOSTRAM, 


vostre 


VOSTRAE. 



These literary forms, as given, are found in the earliest texts. 
But a mere casual reading of the texts will reveal also many 
variants; this makes evident the fact that a succession of stages 
or steps was gone through before the above forms were adopted 

141 



142 



L. EMIL, MENGER. 



as the regular ones. The simplest method to be followed in 
discovering what these successive stages of development were 
must be to begin with the earliest texts in which the variants 
were sometimes the rule, and follow the occurrence of these 
variants in chronological order down into those texts in which 
they are exceptions ; thus finally arriving at literary monu- 
ments in which no variants occur, but where they have been 
merged completely into the prevailing literary forms. 

Such a study involves the investigation of one of the most 
interesting and difficult questions of Italian Philology ; namely, 
the development of the Latin hiatus vowels E and u. 

In the course of a research carried on as just suggested are 
discovered irregular forms which appear and disappear without 
any apparent preceding stage, and leaving no successors on their 
disappearance. At a certain time in the history of the Italian 
language there is a frequent use of the anomalous mia, tua, 
sua; they are found with the plurals of masculine and femi- 
nine nouns alike. This is the sole marked irregularity in 
the use of plural Possessive Pronouns in Italian, and for a 
full understanding of the general subject of the pronoun in 
this language, the appearance of these abnormal forms must be 
accounted for. 

The study thus divides itself into two parts : first, it must 
be determined what the irregular forms are ; they must be ex- 
plained and eliminated ; then the development of the regular 
forms can be discovered. A division of the material within 
these limits is carried out in the following monograph. In 
Chapter I the irregular mia, tua, sua, and all irregular uses of 
the Possessive Pronouns connected with these forms, are con- 
sidered. In Chapter II the regular. developments are taken 
up which can be understood only when definite hiatus laws for 
E and u have been established, so that in this chapter (II), 
in addition to the Possessive Pronouns, all words in which 
these hiatus vowels occur are studied. When, from a considera- 
tion of all the phenomena, the laws of growth are discovered, 
these laws are applied to the development of the Possessive 






ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 143 

Pronouns which are thus seen to evolve regularly and accord- 
ing to fixed principles from the Latin. 

The following texts have been examined ; they comprise the 
works of Tuscan authors for a period of three hundred years, 
from Guittone d'Arezzo (1250) to Torquato Tasso (1595). As 
it may be of interest to students of Italian to know where cer- 
tain rare editions which are included in this Bibliography were 
found, I will state that all such works mentioned were con- 
sulted in the Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris. There also are 
to be found the works of the early Italian grammarians who 
will be quoted in the course of this monograph. The authors 
will be referred to hereafter as A, B, C, etc., according to the 
letter of the alphabet placed in front of their names. 

A. Guittone d'Arezzo : (In) Rime di diversi antichi autori 
Toscani in dieci libri raccolte. Venegia, 1532. 

B. Chiaro Davanzati : (In) Collezione di Opere inedite o 
rare, in, 1-177; 261-265; 387-389. 

C. Cino da Pistoja : Le Rime di Messer Cino da Pistoja, 
ridotte a miglior lezione da Bindi e Fanfani. Pistoja, 1878. 
Also in A. 

D. Riccomano Jacopi : Libro della Tavola di Ric. Jac., 
edited by Carlo Vesme, (in) Archivio Storico Italiano, 3 a serie, 
Vol. xvm (1873). 

E. Dante da Maiono : In A, pp. 74-90, 134, 138, 140, 141. 

F. Albertano di Brescia: Volgarizzamento dei Trattati 
Morali di Albertano Giudice di Brescia. Fatto innanzi al 
1278. Trovato da S. Ciampi. Firenze, 1832. 

G. Ricordi di una Famiglia Senese del secolo decimoterzo 
(1231-1243). Pub. by G. Milanesi in Archiv. Stor. Ital. 
Appendice, Vol. V. Firenze, 1 847. 

H. Ranieri Sardo : Cronaca Pisana di Ran. Sar., Dall' 
Anno 962 sino al 1400. Pub. by F. Bonaini in Archiv. Stor. 
Ital. Vol. vi, parte 2 a , pp. 73-244. Firenze, 1845. 

I. Fiore di filosofi e di molti savi, attribuito a Brunette 
Latini. Testo in parte inedito, citato dalla Crusca, e ridotto a 



144 



L. EMIL MENGER. 



miglior lezione da Antonio Cappelli. (In) Scelta di curiosit& 
letterarie o rare, Vol. LXIII. Bologna, 1865. 

J. Lettere Volgari del secolo xni, scritte da Senesi. Pub. 
by Paoli e Piccolomini in Scelta ecc., cxvi. Bologna, 1871. 

K. Dodici Conti Morali d'Anonimo Senese. Testo inedito 
del secolo xni, pub. da Zambrini. Scelta ecc., ix. Bologna, 
1862. , 

L. Conti di Antichi Cavalieri. (In) Giornale Storico della 
Letteratura Italiana, Vol. HI, pp. 192-217. Torino, 1884. 

M. Le ciento Novelle Antike. Bologna (Gualteruzzi), 1 525. 

N. La Tavola Ritonda, o Flstoria di Tristano. Pub. in 
two vols. by F.-L. Polidori in Collezione di Opere inedite o 
rare. Bologna, 1864. 

O. Guido Cavalcanti : Le Rime di Guid. Cav. Testo 
critico pubb. dal Prof. Nicola Arnone. Firenze, 1881. Also 
in A. 

P. Dante : Le Prime Quattro Edizione della Divina 
Commedia letteralmente ristampate per cura di G. J. Warren, 
Baron Vernon. Londra, 1858. 

Q. Petrarca : Rime di Pet. 2 vols. Padova, 1819. 

R. Jacopo di Pistoja : Statuti dell' Opera di S. Jacopo di 
Pistoja, volgarizzati 1'anno MCCCXIII da Mazzeo di Ser Giovanni 
Bellebuoni, con due inventarj del 1340 e del 1401. Pubb. da 
S. Ciampi. Pisa, 1814. 

S. Bindo Bonichi : Rime di Bind. Bon. da Siena. Scelta 
ecc., LXXXII. Bologna, 1867. 

T. Guido da Pisa : II Libro chiamato Fiore d'ltalia. 
Bologna, Oct. 25, 1490. 

U. Ricordi di Miliadusso Baldiccione de' Casalberti. Pubb. 
da Bonaini e Polidori in Archiv. Stor. Ital. Appendice, Vol. 
vm, pp. 17-71. (First record 1339, last 1382.) Firenze, 1850 

V. Boccaccio : (1) L'Amorosa Fiammetta di Messer 
Giovanni Boccaccio. Vinegia, 1575. (2) Ameto, over Com- 
edia delle Nimphe Fiorentine compilata da Messer Giov. Bocc. 
Venegia, 1534. (3) II Decamerone di Messer Giov. Bocc. 
Venetia, 1471. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 145 

W. Giovanni Florentine : II Pecorone. 2 vols. Milano, 
1804. 

X. Fazio degli Uberti : Opera di Faccio Degliuberti Fio- 
rentino Chiamato Ditta Mundi. Venetia, 1501. 

Y. Forestani : Storia d'una Fanciulla Tradita da un suo 
Amante. Di Messer Simone Forestani da Siena. Ed. da 
Zambrini. Scelta ecc., vi. Bologna, 1862. 

Z. Sercambi : Novelle di Giovanni Sercambi. Ed. da 
Alessandro d'Ancona. Scelta ecc., cxix. Bologna, 1871. 

A A. Sacchetti: Novelle. 3 vols. Milano, 1804. 

BB. Zenone da Pistoja : La Pietosa Fonte. Ed. da Zam- 
brini. Scelta ecc., cxxxvu. Bologna, 1874. 

CC. Lamenti Storici dei secoli xiv, xv e xvi. Raccolti 
di Medin e Frati. Scelta ecc., ccxix. Bologna, 1887. 

DD. I Cantari di Carduino ; giuntovi quello di Tristano 
e Lancielotto. Pubb. per cura di Pio Rajna. Scelta ecc., 
cxxxv. Bologna, 1873. 

EE. Leon Battista Alberto : Hecatomphila di Messer L. 
B. Alb. Vineggia, 1534. 

FF. Gambino d'Arezzo : Versi. Ed. da Gamurrini. 
Scelta ecc., CLXIV. Bologna, 1878. 

GG. Pulci : I Fatti di Carlo-magno e de' suoi Paladani. 
Opere del Morgante. Date in luce per Pulci. Venetia, 1481. 

HH. Poliziano : Stanze, POrfeo ed altre Poesie. Milano, 
1808. 

II. Burcelo : Li Soneti del Burcelo Fiorentino. Veniegia, 
1477. 

JJ. Lorenzo de' Medici : Poesie. Firenze, 1859. 

KK. Bojardo : Orlando Innamorato (Berni's Rifacimento). 
4 vols. Milano, 1806. 

LL. Bernardo Bellincioni : Rime. Ed. da Fanfani. Scelta 
ecc., CLI. Bologna, 1876. 

MM. Benvenuto Cellini : Opere. 3 vols. Milano, 1806. 

NN. Ariosto : Orlando Furioso. 5 vols. Milano, 1812. 

OO. Machiavelli : Opere. Milano, 1804. Vol. I, II 
Principe ; Vol. vm, Commedie. 



146 L. EMIL MENGER. 

PP. Pietro Bembo : Opere. Milano, 1808. Vol. i, Gli 
Asolani. 

QQ. Trissino : Opere. Verona, 1729. 

RR. Leonardo Salviati : Opere. Milano, 1809. Vol. i, 
Commedie. 

SS. Torquato Tasso : II Goffredo. Vinegia, 1580. 

TT. Batecchio, Commedia di Maggio. Composto per il 
Pellegrino Ingegno del Ftimoso della Congrega de' Rozzi. 
Scelta ecc., cxxn. Bologna, 1871. 

UU. Giosue Carducci : Studi Letterari. Livorno, 1874. 



CHAPTER I. 

IRREGULAR FORMS OF THE POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS WITH 

ESPECIAL REFERENCE TO THE TWO-GENDER 

PLURALS mia, tua, sua. 

1. Collection of all irregular uses in texts examined. 

I do not hold the opinion that irregularities which occur in 
the singular had anything to do with corresponding ones in the 
plural ; that, for instance, mia in mia cavallo (supposing such 
an example to exist) had anything in common with mia in mia 
cavalli. But such an opinion has been expressed. Schuchardt, 
in writing of a kindred topic, says : 1 " Gelegentlich der Formen 
mia, tua, sua, mochte ich hier eine Frage vorbringen die aller- 
dings mit der Hauptfrage Nichts zu thun hat. Ich finde 
uberall nur von ihrer pluralischen Verwendung gesprochen ; 
ich habe mir aber vor fast einem Vierteljahrhundert in Rom, 
allerdings nicht aus gehorter Rede, und auch nicht aus Belli, 
sondern aus andern Schriften in romischer Mundart Falle wie 
fijo mia, er nome sua, a commido sua, lo sposo mia, u. s. w. auf- 
gezeichnet. Kommt nun Solches wirklich in der Volkssprache 
vor?" 

l Literaturblait, Dec., 1891, col. 413. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 



147 



Masc. Sing. 
" Plu. 


Fern. Sing. 
" Plu. 


" Sing. 
" Plu. 


" Sing. 
" Plu. 


" Sing. 
" Plu. 


" Sing. 
" Plu. 



Now, to ascertain the truth of the connection, if any exist, 
between singular and plural irregularities of the kind under 
discussion, I have noted all irregular uses occurring in the 
singular as well as in the plural and treated them in the first 
part of this essay, where I have attempted explanations of them. 
I then show that these irregularities in the singular cannot be 
the origin of like irregularities in the plural, nor those in the 
plural the origin of corresponding forms in the singular. My 
plan is to mention in chronological sequence all the texts I have 
consulted giving the irregularities in the following order : 



First Person, 
u 

Second Person, 
u 

Third Person, 

a 



The discussion of these pronouns is reserved until the full 
list of texts has been examined wherein all forms are omitted 
that are not concerned in the development of mia, tua, sua. 
(A few texts will be mentioned in which no irregularities occur, 
but these authors are given to show the extent of the occurrences 
in the period of time represented by the texts quoted as bearing 
directly on my subject.) 1 

A. In the few pages of this collection which contain the 
poetry of Guittone no irregularities occur. 

B. This author sometimes uses the atonic forms mi' (masc. 
and fern.) and su' (masc.). tuo = tuoi: p. 68, li tuo JUgli. 
suo = suoi: p. 14, li suo filgli ; p. 167, i suo sembianti. 

C. mie' = miei: p. 4, occhj mie'. tuo = tuoi: p. 229, de' 
tuofigli. suoi = sue : p. 81, In quelle parti, chefuron gict sum. 

D. suo' = suoi : p. 1 , suo' santi. 

l Nostro, etc., vostro, etc., are directly from NOSTRUM, etc., VOSTBUM, etc., 
with no intervening stage in the development, and they will therefore not 
be mentioned again. 



148 L. EMIL MENGER. 

E. No irregularities. 

F. tu' = tuo: p. 10, tu' viaggio. tuo tua: p. 51, la tuo 
volonia. tuo' = tuoi : p. 6, i tuo' faeti ; p. 47, li vecchi tuo'; 
p. 65, tuo' aversarii; p. 66, tuo' nemid; p. 73, tuo' consigli. 
tuoi = tue: pp. 15, 27, le tuoi parole. su'suo: p. 36, su' 
abitamento. suo' = suoi: p. 19, li suo' capelli. suoi = sue: 
p. 76, per suoi parole. 

G. No irregularities. 

, H. su'=sua: p. 161, colla su' arme. suoi = sue: p. 84, 
le suoi rughe; p. 86, le suoi intrate, le suoi castetta; p. 94, le 
suoi genii ; p. 95, a suoi spese; p. 114, di suoi cose. 

I. No irregularities. 

J. No irregularities. 

K. No irregularities. 

L. mei = miei, p. 211. swot = sue : p. 205, le cose suoi. 
suoe = sue: p. 208, ossa suoe. 

M. No irregularities. 

N. mie' = mia : pp. 479, 486, 487, per mie' fe. suo' = 
suoi: p. 78, suo' baroni; p. 284, suo' fratelli ; p. 324, suo'Jigli. 

O. mi' = mio : p. 24, mi' parere ; p. 43, mi' core. mie = 
mio: p. 65, mie spirito (variant). iu' = tuo: pp. 14, 61, tu' 
pensamento ; p. 71, tu' amore. su' = suo: p. 15, su' riso ; p. 
16, su' valore; p. 18, su' viso, etc., su' thus occurring sixteen 
times. suo = sua : p. 4, suo virtu e suo potenca (variant). 
mie' = miei : p. 64, mie' martin ; p. 74, mie' foil occhi. One 
of the manuscripts from which variants are given (Laurent. B. 
xv cent.) reads mia in the following cases where the editor has 
adopted miei for the published text : pp. 20, 26, occhi mia ; 
pp. 35, 48, mia spiriti ; p. 64, mia desiri. Several other vari- 
ants read mei in these instances. 

P. mei = miei: Inf. I, 23, parenti mei; xrv, 6 ; xxxi, 33, 
occhi mei; xxvi, 41, mei compagni; Purg. I, 6, 29 ; IV, 29 ; 
x, 39 ; xxi, 42 ; xxiv, 34, occhi mei ; I, 38, mei passi ; ni, 
41, peccati mei; xvn, 4, mei compassi; xxxi, 5, frati mei; 
xxvn, 23, mei saggi; xxvm, 20, prieghi mei; Par. xvn, 37, 
mei carmi ; xxin, 27 ; xxvi, 38 ; xxvn, 4 ; xxx, 25 ; xxxi, 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 149 

47, occhi mei. mie = miei : Inf. x, 28, mie popoli ; xv, 32, 
orecchie mie; xviii, 14; xxv, 49, occhi mie; xxvi, 41, mie 
eompagni; xxxin, 13, mie fgliuoli ; Purg. I, 6; vni, 29; x, 
39, occhi mie; I, 38 ; XXV, 42, mie passi; XI, 21, mie maggiori; 
xni, 38, mie anni; xxiv, 48, mie dottori; xxx, 47, prieghi 
mie ; xxxi, 8, mie desiri ; Par. xiv, 26, 28, occhi mie ; iv, 3, 
mie dubi ; xvi, 10, mie blandimenti; xvr, 15, mie maggiori; 
xvii, 37, mie carmi; xxiv, 20, mie concepti; xvii, 29, mie 
piedi. toi = tuoi: Inf. xx, 34, toi ragionamenti ; xxil, 11, 
toi concepti. tui = tuoi : Inf. x, 14, maggior tui. tuo = tuoi : 
Inf. v, 39, tuo marriti; xxvi, 2, tuo citadini; xxx, 40, tuo 
fratelli ; Purg. I, 28, tuo regni ; vi, 37, tuo gentUi ; xi, 47, tuo 
vicini; xin, 7, tuo raggi; Par. xi, 7, tuo pensieri; xxi, 6, 
occhi tuo ; xxvin, 20, tuo diti. tuoe = tue : Inf. n, 46, parole 
tuoe. soi = suoi: Inf. I, 19, soi pensier ; IX, 38, soi termini; 
XI, 14, soi beni; XIX, 11, soi conforti; Xix, 12, soi torti; XXIII, 
18, soi pie; xxix, 14, soi conversi; Purg. iv, 41, atti soi; vn, 
44 ; xxvii, 42 ; xxi, 37, occhi soi; Par. xv, 12, occhi soi. 
sui = suoi: Inf. II, 26, cerchi sui; in, 21, inimici sui; IX, 
corpi sui. suo = suoi: Inf. IV, 20, suo nati; xix, 11, suo 
conforti; Purg. I, 12, suo capelli; in, 6; VI, 19, suo raggi; 
xxi, 12, suo pie; xxvn, 18, occhi suo; xxvii, 36, suo belli 
occhi ; xxix, 4, suo passi ; Par. xvi, 20, suo figli ; XX, 3, suo 
died-; xxm, 1, suo nati; xxxi, 23, suo meriti; xxxn, 2, 
suo piedi. suoe = sue : Inf. xin, 34, suoe spalle. suo = sv# : 
Inf. xiv, 12, suo schieri; Purg. iv, 7,'suo spine; ix, 13, suo 
braccia; xxvin, 9, suo picciol onde ; Par. vri, 37, le suo vie. 
A variant to Purg. ix, 13, reads le sua braccia. 

Q. mie' = miei: I, 162, mie' ajfanni; u, 196, mie' ingegni; 
mie' arti. tuo' = tuoi: II, 12, tuo' ingegni; n, 144, tuo' piedi. 
suo' = suoi: I, 35, suo' laudi; II, 176, suo' argomenti. 

R. miei = mie : p. 2, alle miei mani. 

S. tuo = tua: p. 201, la tuo derrata. tuo' = tuoi: p. 185, 
tuo' scalzi. su' = suo: p. 174, su' or. su'=sua: p. 1, su' 
arte. sua = suoi : p. 42, sua fatti (variant). 

T. mei = miei occurs twenty times. 



150 L. EMIL MENGER. 

U. mio = mia : pp. 29, 30, metd mio (on both pages occurs 
also metd, mia). miee = mie : p. 25, nipote miee. suoe = sue : 
p. 63, suoe spesie. 

V. Fiammetta. mei = miei: p. 23, mei conforti; p. 138, 
mei danni. mie = miei: p. 136, mie desideri. tuo = tuoi: p. 
32, tuo sudditi. suo = suoi : p. 43, suo homeri. 

Ameto. mie = miei: p. 8, mie aspetti. mei = miei: p. 31, 
desiderij mei. tuo = tuoi : p. 24, tuo versi. suo = suoi: p. 42, 
suofrutti; p. 78, suo eompagni. sua = sue: p. 56, lesua coma; 
p. 57, le labra sua. 

Decamerone. mei = mid occurs eleven times. miei = mie : 
Lbj 3, 1 le miei novelle. tuoe = tue : Yiiij, tuoe node, tuoe pro- 
messioni. suo = suoi : Cb, suo discendenti ; H, suo officiali. 
suoe = sue : Zb, suoe robe. 

W. No irregularities. 

X. mie = mia : giiij 8, la mie speranza ; qiiij 2, la mie 
guida. mi = mia : hiiij, mi voglia. mie = miei occurs seven 
times (cf. aiiij 6, bij, eij, fij, giiij, kij, Oiiij 8), and mei = miei 
twenty-two times (cf. Aiiij 7, Bj, ciiij, diiij 9, etc.). miei = 
mie: eiiij 2, le miei confine; iiiij 2; kj, le miei giente; kij, li- 
magine miei; Eiiij, siiij 4, le parole miei; t, le miei guide. 
me = miei : eiij, i me danni. me = mie : diiij 6, le me ziglia. 
tuo = tuoi : C, tuo brevi prologi. sue = suo : fij, al sue desio ; 
Oiiij 8, el sue nome; ciij, el sue grembo. sua = suo : giiij, per 
sua dardano; Dj, el maschio sua. suo = suoi occurs twenty- 
four times (cf. diiij, eiij, fiiij, hj, etc.). sue sua: diiij 2, la 
sue spoglia; hiiij 6, la sue lucie; &iiij 2, la sue virtu. suo = 
sua: giiij 6, ogne suo virtu; hiij, la suo matricola; miij 2, ogni 
suo empresa; piiij 2, suo arte; piiij 8, suo posta; uiiij 3, suo 
giorna; 9j, suo pincerna; Jfciiij 7, la suo tromba. suoi = sue: 
siiij 3, le suoi schiumi; tij, le suoi confini; z, suoi pendice. 
suo = sue: diiij 6, le suo porti; tiiij, le bataglie suo; fiiij, le suo 

1 In looking for this reference it will be necessary to count three pages 
forward from the folio lettered Lbj. This system is observed in giving 
references to all editions divided according to folios. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 151 

sorte; niiij, le suo arte; piiij 7, qiiij, le suo cose; qj, le suo ripe; 
siij, le suo parole; tiiij 6, le suo rene; 9iiij 6, le sorette suo. 

Y. mie' = mid : p. 35, passi mie'; p. 42, i mie? giorni. 
tuo = tuoi : p. 44, tuo' paesi. 

Z. miei = mie: p. 109, de' miei robe; p. 240, le miei 6ri- 
^ae. tuoi = tue: p. 240, rfeW opere tuoi; p. 98, tuoi gioie. 
suoi = sue: p. 11, suoi gare; p. 169, /e suoi ingiwie; p. 170, 
Ze suoi infinite (cose); p. 84, e suoi Jigliuole; p. 176, Ze suoi 
scritture; p. 228, /e suoi ferre; p. 260, le suoi genti; p. 260, le 
suoi brigate. 

A A. mie? = miei: n, 13, mie' di; 11, 211, mie' signori. 
mia = miei: i, 139, i /a#i mia; II, 248, certfi mia fatti; m, 
179, a mia parenti. mia = mie: n, 77, e mm forme; ill, 6, 
mia dipinture; in, 217, e canii mia. tuo' = tuoi: 11, 122, 
con uo' strufinacci. suo' = suoi: I, 76, suo' parenti; i, 77, 
uo' vicini; i, 198, suo' daz/y ill, 185, SMO' pari; ill, 336, 
SMO' casi. sua = suoi: i, 6, sudditi sua; I, 124, sita cavalli; 
i, 200, sua fatti; in, 251, swa panni. sua = sue: n, 98, fe 
carne swa. 

BB. wwV = miei : p. 55, e' mie' chiovi. tuo = fata . p. 6, 
la tuo moneta; p. 39, tuo misericordia ; p. 71, la, tuo gran cor- 
tesia; p. 60, la tuo mente; p. 81, la tuo beatrice. tuo = tuoi: 
p. 59, tuo disii. suo' = suoi: p. 35, di suo' guai; p. 70, ne 
suo' versi. su'=sua: p. 16, la su' arte. suo = sua: p. 4, 
suo ira; p. 53, suo possa; pp. 45, 85, 88, la suo vita; p. 79, 
la suo ghirlanda; p. 68, la suo gran chiarezza; p. 71, la suo 
vista; p. 80, la suo luce; p. 86, suopartenza; p. 89, suo volonta; 
p. 89, SMO bocca; p. 90, suo bilancia. suo = sue: p. 83, stto 
cose. 

CC. tuo' = tuoi: p. 266, li tuo' dolci occhi. 

DD. mie mio: pp. 5, 12, mie padre. mie = mia: pp. 
14, 26, mie madre; p. 17, mie sorella; p. 49, mie vita; p. 52, 
mie leanza; p. 59, mie spada. tuo = tua: p. 13, tuo nazione, 
tuo madre, tuo condizione; p. 18, tuo sorella; pp. 32, 58, tuo 
bontade; p. 52, tuo contrada; p. 54, tuo presenza; pp. 58, 62, 
tuo vita ; p. 61, fato posanza. suo = sua: p. 4, suo gente; p. 



152 L. EMIL MENGER. 

12, suo baronia, suo madre; p. 17, suo arte; p. 20, suo corte; 
p. 25, swo virtue; p. 35, SMO gara; p. 43, swo ciera ; p. 51, suo 
parte; p. 54, suo via; p. 61, suo spada. suo = suoi: p. 13, 
suo fratei; p. 14, suo baroni. suo = sue: p. 9, suo gioie; p. 
17, suo voglie. 

EE. mei = miei: p. 2, me* amori; p. 3, me* errori; p. 15, 
mei sospiri; p. 16, md pensieri; p. 21, me* ma/*; p. 27, amic* 
met. uo = fato* : p. 6, tuo doni. suo = suoi : p. 26, suo crucd. 

FF. mi' = mio: p. 173, al mi' ingegno. mie' miei: p. 
2, m*V pensieri; p. 20, wwV mirti; p. 89, m*V toscani; p. 180, 
m*V martiri. su' = sua: p. 29, /a sw' razza. suo' = suoi: p. 
68, suo' gesti. su' = sue : p. 20, tulte su' piaghe. 

GG. mei = miei: fo. e 4, me* compagni. mie = mid: fo. 
a 3, miefratelli. tuo = tua : fo. i 3, o^m cosa sia tuo ; fo. a 4, 
wo vilania. tua = tue : fo. d, atte tua mura. suo = sua : fo. 
a 4, suo coda. suo = suoi: fo.'b 1, suo fratei: fo. e 2, swo 
baroni ; fo. e 4, swo tradimenti ; fo. i 3, suo suggecti. 

HH. mie' = miei : i, 6, mie' versi. 

II. wite = mio : fo. eq 6, un mie sonetto. mei = miei : fo. 
cq, mei occhi; spiriti mei; fo. diij, signor mei; fo. dq 2, w#i i 
me*/ fo. g, parenti mei; fo. r, occ/w me*; fo. gq 9, mei amid. 
mie = miei : fo. hq 5, mie detti. mia = mie : fo. bq 6, le parole 
mia. tuo = tuoi : fo. gz, tuo belli occhi. tua = tuoi : fo. eq 8, 
tua sdochi. suo = suoi : fo. c, suo fior ; suo gred. sua = 
suoi : fo. dq, sua panni. sua = sue : fo. fq 6, le sua alia. 

JJ. mie' = mid: p. 241, mie' giovenchi. md = mid: p. 
133, i pensier md. mia = mid: p. 118, a' pianti mia; p. 70, 
occhi stanchi mia; p. 244, de? fatti mia. mia = mie: p. 372, 
le membra mia. tuo' tuoi: p. 239, tuo' pagliai; p. 249, tuo' 
begli occhi; p. 361, tuo' prieghi; p. ,377, tuo' fratelli. tua = 
tuoi: p. 255, i colpi tua. tua = tue: p. 241, le tua bestie. 
suo' = suoi : p. 302, suo' anni. suo' = sue : p. 292, suo'foglie. 

KK. mia = mio : xn, 66, alcun tempo mia (rhyme). 
md = mid: LIII, 18, md baroni. tu' = tuoi: xxvii, 37, de' 
tu' occhi. 

LL. mia = mie : p. 38, ossa mia. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 153 

MM. mia = miei: i, 12, 203, 222, 426 ; n, 127, 159, 362, 
t casi mia; I, 39, 60, 60, 72, 349, 354, 363 ; n, 198, 295, 296, 
300, 413, 308, 379, i mia danari; I, 43, 44, 46 ; n, 71, awer- 
sarj mia; i, 54; II, 202, mia pari; i, 54; 11, 195, 303, 317, 
mia disegni; i, 60; n, 295, mia scudi; i, 62, mia affhri; I, 
62; n, 12, 491, mia figliuoli; i, 83, studj mia; n, 380, mia 
studj ; n, 478, mia danni; I, 393; II, 299, mia dispiaceri; i, 
327, 392, miaferruzzi; I, 254, 293, 385, nemid mia; i, 204, 
236, 383, 396 ; n, 108, 167, 191, 248,/atft mia; i, 434, 438 ; 
Ji, 307, mia ocehi; i, 422; n, 110, mia libri; I, 422, mia 
uomini; I, 164, 232, 236, 261, 262, 263, 386, mia nemid; i, 
384, 384, 385, 415 ; n, 56, 113, 400, mia servitori; I, 99, mia 
acdari; i, 115, 252, 253, 288, 300, 307, 310, 312, 317, 353, 
363, 400, 410, 413 ; n, 132, 233, mia amid; i, 132, mia soffi- 
oni; i, 190, mia a/anni; I, 194, 460; n, 31, 68, 100, 170, 
195, 279, 292, 349, mia lavoranti; i, 287, mia ferri; i, 295, 
mia scoppietti; I, 295, mia modelletti; i, 310, mia piedi; i, 
315, mia stivali; I, 317 ; n, 147, mia conoscenti; i, 339, mia 
Italiani; i, 347, 350, 351, 358, 384 ; n, 20, 22, 23, 27, 56, 71, 
112, 116, 120, miagiovani; I, 361, mia cavalli ; i, 369, signori 
mia; II, 291, signori mia; n, 97, 274, mia travagli; n, 114, 
occhi mia; II, 124, mia fatti; 11, 154, 356, mia salarj ; n, 
162, mia spiriti; n, 178, mia compagni; n, 181, mia ribaldi; 
n, 193, 234, mia bisogni; II, 199, miapensieri; n, 202, pari 
mia; n, 211, mia allevati; n, 282, mia panni; n, 285, mia 
piatti; n, 286, mia eonati; n, 319, 320, mia bastoni ; n, 367, 
mia anni; n, 379, mia ajuti; II, 452, mia debitori; mia eredi. 

mia = mie : i, 25, mia belie- ; mia sorelle ; I, 338, cose mia ; 
i, 390, mia lenzuole ; n, 73, mia teste ; II, 74, mia forme ; II, 
125, mia mani; n, 274, mia nepotine. 

tua = tuoi : i, 24, figliuoli tua ; i, 29, tua disegni ; I, 60, tua 
scudi; I, 218, /a#i tua; I, 251, casi tua; n, 481, tua bisogni ; 
n, 482, tua piaceri. 

sua = suoi : i, 63, sua atti ; i, 68, 394, 403, 404, sua gen- 
tiluomini; I, 97, 253, sua amid; 1, 112, sua capitani; 1, 156, 
sua a/anni; sua scritti; I, 271, casi sua; I, 284, sua ferri; 



154 



L. EMIL MENGER. 



I, 305, bisogni sua ; I, 173, 220 ; II, 234, sua danari ; I, 217, 
sua birreschi ; I, 220 ; II, 295, sua scudi; I, 331, sua domestici; 

I, 302, ornamenti sua ; i, 368, sua caporali ; i, 370, sua regni ; 
i, 379, vizj sua ; I, 388, medici sua; I, 388, 403, 439, 448, sua 
servitori; I, 390, tutti i sua-; I, 412, amid sua; I, 452, segreti 
sua; n, 377, sua piedi ; n, 394, sua lavoranti; n, 442, sua 
eredi; n, 12, 461, suafigliuoli; n, 44, 377, sua cortigiani; 

II, 57, sua ribaldj ; n, 303, sua segretarj ; II, 117, 117, nemici 
sua; ii, 169, tempi sua; n, 202, sua pari; n, 445, sua voca- 
boli ; n, 486, sua confini ; in, 238, sua squadratori ; in, 248, 
248, sua moddli. 

sua = sue: i, 256, cose sua; n, 30, lettere sua; n, 109,/a- 
eende sua. 

NN. mie' = miei : v, 27, li mie' uguali ; xxxvni, 84, mie' 
figli. toi = tuoi: xxxv, 43, toiprigion (variant). tuo' = tuoi: 
xxin, 73, tuo' vestigi; xxxvm, 63, tuo' infiniti. (A variant 
reads here tui.) suo' = suoi : xxv, 49, suo' begli occhi (vari- 
ant) ; xxv, 5, suo' amid (var.) ; xxxix, 33, suo' amid (as a 
variant to this appears sua) xxxi, 82, suo' amid ; XLJ, 49, 
suo' amori. sui = suoi: iv, occhi sui; xvil, 114, cavalieri 
sui; xvin, 153, tutti i sui-; xxm, 22; xxxvii, 36,fratelli 
sui; xxxi, 35, cugin sui; xxxin, 18, servitori sui; xxxiv, 
82,fattisui; XLIV, 59, affanni sui; XLV, 44, de' sui-. soi = 
suoi : xxxin, 1 24, soi baroni. 

OO. mie' = miei : p. 276, mie' affanni. mia = miei : p. 
257, mia desiderj ; p. 257, mia martiri; p. 396,pensier mia. 
tuo' = tuoi : p. 394, tuo' accenti. tua = tuoi : p. 260, tua con- 
fofti; p. 393, tua lumi. 

PP, QQ, RR, no irregularities. 

SS. tuo = tua : p. 8, guerra tuo* suo' = suoi : p. 4, suo' 
fanti; p. 28, suo' mali; p. 43, suo' error; p. 52, suo' cast. 
su' = suoi : p. 4 9, de' su' offid. 

TT. mie mio: p. 63, mie male; p. 73, un mie pari; p. 
78, el mie martire; p. 104, mie padron; mie difetto ; p. 105, 
mie canto. mie = mia: pp. 56, 64, 75, 85, la mie manza; p. 
62, mie vita; p. 86, mie dama; p. 88, mie persona; p. 104, 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 



155 



mie moglie ; mie colpa. tuo = tua : p. 58, tuo betta manza ; p. 
85, la tuo speranza; p. 87, tuo voglia ; pp. 92, 98, tuo valentia ; 
p. 96, tuo moglie. tuo = tue : p. 87, le tuo spatte. suo = sua : 
p. 63, la suo vita. suo' = suoi : p. 88, e' suo' fatti. suo' = 
sue: p. 76, le suo' mercanzie. 

UU. mie' = mio: p. 415, un mie' sparvier ; p. 427, 'I mie? 
sparvero ; p. 428, 'I mie' diffetto ; p. 437, '/ mie' amore. mie' = 
mia : p. 408, mie' compagna ; p. 437, mie' donna. tuo' = tua : 
p. 435, di tuo' biltate. suo' = sua : p. 428, suo' tana; p. 436, 
suo' pena. suo'=sue: p. 425, di suo' penne; p. 442, le suo' all. 



Resume. 

The following Table gives a resume of the examples of 
irregularities noted above. The capital letters refer to the 
authors, the numerals to the number of times a given irregu- 
larity occurs in the author mentioned. Where forms were 
printed with the apostrophe, these are placed first ; the corres- 
ponding form without the apostrophe to the right of that 
with it. 

mi' = mio, B, O2, FF1. 

roi j = mia, B. mi = mia, X2. 

me = miei, XI. 

me = mie, XI. 
tu'= tuo, Fl, O2. 
tu'=tuoi, KK1. 
w'=suo, B, Fl, O2, SI. 
su'=sua, HI, SI, BB1, FF1. 
8u'=suoi, SSI. 
m'=8ue, FF1. 



mie'= mio, UU4. 
mie'= mia, N3, UU2. 

tuo' = tua, UU1. 



mie = mio, Ol, DD2, III, TT6. 
mie = mia, X2, DD6, TT6. 
mio = mia, U2. 
tuo = tua, Fl, SI, BBS, 



156 



L. EMIL MENGER. 



suo'= 



DD11, GG2, SSI, TT6. 
sue = suo, X3. 
sua = suo, X2. 
sue = sua, X3. 

sua, UU2. mo = sua, O2, X8, BB11, DD11, GG1, 
TT1. 



me = 



miei, El, LI, P22, T20, V14, X22, EE6, GG1, 118, 
JJ1, KK1. 

miei, 01, O2, Q3, Y2, AA2, BB1, FF4, HH1, JJ1, 
NN2, OO1. 

miei, P25, V2, X7, GG1, III. 

tuoi. F5, P10, Q2, SI, Y2, AA1, CC1, FF1, JJ4, 
NN2, 001, TT1. 

tuo = tuoi, El, 01, V2, XI, BB1, EE1, III. 
8uo'=suoi, Dl, Fl, N3, P14, Q2, AA5, BB2, FF1, JJ1, 
NN2, SS4, TT1. 

suoi, B2, V5, X24, DD2, EE1, GG4, 112. 



me= 



me 
tuo' 



suo = 



tuoi 

suoi 

miee 

tuoe 

suoe 

tuo 

suo' 

suo 



= mie, Hi, VI, X5, Z2. 

= tue, Fl, Z2. 

= sue, 01, Fl, H6, LI, X3, Z8. 

= mie, Ul. 

=tue, P1,V2. 

= sue, LI, PI, U1,V1. 

tue, FF1. 

sue, JJ1, TT1, UU2. 

sue, P6, X9, BB1, DD2. 



ma 
tua 
tua 
sua 
sua 



= miei, O3, AA3, JJ3, MM157, OO3. 
= mie, AA3, III, JJ1, LL1, MM8. 

tuoi, III, JJ1, MM7, OO2. 

tue, GGl, JJ1. 

= suoi, SI, AA4, III, MM51, NN1. 
= sue, P1,V2, AA1, III, MM3. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 157 

2. Irregularities in the Singular discussed. 

If we view the irregularities occurring in the singular as a 
whole, three general reasons for them suggest themselves. 

First, it is to be remarked that in the greater number of 
cases the masculine is used for the feminine form (cf. Table, 
suo == sua, tuo = tua, etc.). In the plural the feminine is 
never used for the masculine. When the indefinite tuo', suo', 
as used for masculine and feminine alike (cf. Table, tuo = tuoi 
and tue, suo = suoi and sue), take on again the full forms tuoi 
and suoi for the masculine, not only are the regular tue, sue 
not adopted for the feminine in all instances, but tuoi, suoi are 
used for feminine as well as masculine (the same remark applies 
to miei; cf. Table, miei = mie; tuoi = tue; suoi = sue). We 
may say then that mio, tuo, suo, are used for mia, tua, sua (and 
this use includes the largest part of the irregularities) and thus 
follow this seeming general tendency to adopt masculine for 
feminine. 

Secondly, the irregularities may have arisen from a desire 
(on the part of the writer or speaker) to indicate the sex of the 
possessor by using the masculine or feminine pronoun with 
regard to the possessor and not to the gender of the object 
possessed. In DD, where the masculine form is so often used 
for both genders, the desire to differentiate sex may well be the 
reason for the masculine form, since, with few exceptions, the 
irregular possessives refer to characters of the male gender 
(Carduino, Tristano or Lanciel lotto), there being few other per- 
sonages mentioned. Thus, in speaking of Carduino's mother, 
the writer uses (p. 12) suo madre, corresponding to English 
" his mother," whereas, if he had referred to the heroine's 
mother, he would doubtless have said sua madre, " her mother." 
Or, again, such a use might have arisen in constructions such 
as are found in H, cf. p. 114, di suoi cose, o danari o panni, 
where the objects implied in the cose (panni and danari) are 
both masculine and the speaker probably in anticipation of 
their gender used the masculine suoi. Again, it. would be 
2 



L,. EMLL MENQER. 

natural for irregularities to arise where there was a habit of 
separating the pronoun from its noun, as may be noted in S : 
p. 65, guai a chi nel tormento, sua non puo spander voce ; p. 
82, molto ho cercato e suo non trovo nome ; p. 83, et tua tad 
sentenza. 

Thirdly, an explanation that might apply to all irregularities 
of the kind under discussion would be to take as points of de- 
parture the remnants of the atonic forms mi', tu', su', which are 
sometimes found in literary productions and are constantly used 
by the people. We may assume that when a consciousness was 
aroused of the incorrectness of certain pronominal uses termina- 
tional vowels were added (to mi', tu', sw'), but the speaker, being 
unaccustomed to proper grammatical forms, added these vowels 
at random, and hence the confusion of genders. 

Any one of these suggestions might explain, in a general way, 
the beginnings of abnormal forms, and once introduced, their 
use would naturally be extended ; but I think the following 
statement will account for the origin of the peculiarities under 
discussion in a more satisfactory way. 

mie = mio and mia ; mio = mia. 

In N, where the examples of per mie' fe were noted, the 
editor (Parodi) says the mie' is an abbreviation of the ancient 
*miea. Where mie' is used as masculine, then, it was evidently 
in the mind of the writer that it was an abbreviation of *mieo. 
The scholar Carducci had such a form in mind when he wrote 
the form with the apostrophe (cf. UU). In a discussion of 
these and other shortened forms one must suppose that the 
original was with an apostrophe ; to think otherwise would be 
to become involved in inextricable difficulties. Thus mie' as 
an abbreviation of mie-o and mie-a would naturally be used 
for masculine and feminine alike. 1 An explanation of mio 
(== mia) follows here, for just as the abbreviated form mie' was 
used for both genders, so, when the regular mio was again 

1 Cf. p. 155. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 159 

adopted for the masculine, the difference in termination was 
sometimes overlooked, and we find it used occasionally for the 
feminine also. A speaker who had been accustomed to using 
mie' as an indifferent form for masculine or feminine would 
be likely to use the regular mio and mia indifferently also ; we 
find mia used for mio only once, however, and then for the 
sake of the rhyme (cf. KK). 

tuo = tua; suo = sua. 

I think this use arose from a confusion with tuo', suo', as 
representing tuoi, tue, suoi, sue. We find these forms, tuo', 
suo' (written as often without as with the apostrophe) used 
promiscuously for masculine and feminine (tuoe and suoe, 
written in full, occur in L, P, U and V, cf. Table). It is 
easily conceivable how such a form, used thus for three parts 
of the possessive, the masculine singular and masculine and 
feminine plural, should have been adopted for the fourth 
(the feminine singular). I am convinced that this supposi- 
tion represents a highly probable mode of development of 
these abnormal constructions, for we find that in the same 
texts in which tuo, suo are used for one form of the possessive 
(the feminine singular, for example) they (tuo, suo) are also 
used for the other two forms, the masculine and feminine 
plural [cf. Table. In BB, DD, TT, X, for example, suo is 
thus equivalent to suoi, sue (under the form suoe) and sua]. 

sue = suo and sua; sua = suo. 

These three irregularities are found in one and the same 
text (X) a fact which indicates that they were peculiar to 
this author rather than in general use (contrary to the pecu- 
liar uses just noted which seem to have been quite widely 
diffused ; cf. Table). This writer also used mie thus indis- 
criminately for masculine and feminine, and may have carried 
its last vowel, -e, to sue, or, since we have suo used for sua, 
and sue, we expect an interchange in the opposite direction, 



160 L. EM1L MENGER. 

where sue is used for sua and suo. I think any idea that this 
suo was a remnant of suoe was lost with the majority of writers, 
for we find it in many texts written without an apostrophe 
before masculine and feminine nouns alike. Thus used, there 
was evidently no consciousness of any correctness of termina- 
tion, and one is not surprised to find it employed for all forms, 
nor, on the contrary, to see other forms substituted for it. 

I do not claim that these suggestions are more than possi- 
ble explanations of the beginnings of the irregular forms under 
discussion. No one would suppose that in the mind of the 
average speaker there was an idea of the existence of any ety- 
mological ground for the irregularity he was employing. 

I have offered no phonetical explanation because I cannot 
conceive of one. The fact that masculine singular forms pre- 
dominate does not necessarily indicate a disposition toward the 
use of -o terminations ; for, to prove such a tendency in the 
language would involve a demonstration that parts of speech 
other than the singular possessive pronouns terminated thus 
irregularly in -o, and I do not think that such a phenomenon 
can be proved for the Italian. In addition to this, although 
the masculine form is used in the majority of cases yet other 
forms occur too often to admit of the possibility of such an 
explanation even for the possessive pronouns. 

a. Irregularities in the Singular have no explanation in com- 
mon with that for the irregular plurals mia, tua, sua. 

It was observed in the beginning of this essay that I do not 
believe in any connection between the irregularities in the 
singular just spoken of, and like ones in the plural mia, tua, 
sua, which remain to be discussed.' My reasons for this con- 
clusion are, 

First, if mia, tua, sua are to be explained as extensions from 
the singular to the plural, it will have to be shown that they 
were so often used in the singular^for the masculine, as well 
as for the feminine, that they were finally adopted as the 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 161 

general forms for both genders and numbers of the possessive 
pronoun on account of this frequency of usage. But, as shown 
above (cf. Table), the opposite is the case, the masculine being 
the form most generally used, and, if such an extension had 
been carried out, mio, tuo, suo would have been the forms 
adopted, and not mia, tua, sua. Mia occurs only once for 
mio (UU) and, in this instance, for rhyme ; sua for suo, only 
twice (X). Also, because of the infrequency of such occur- 
rences, it would be very difficult to prove that the irregularity 
originated in the singular, a fact which must be established 
if it is asserted that it was extended from singular to plural. 

Secondly, considering the mixture of forms noted in the 
Table, it is natural to suppose that, for example, as suo was 
used for sua, suoi and sue, so sue might be used for suo, sua, 
suoi, and sua for suo, suoi, sue ; that is, there was a promiscu- 
ous interchange of forms, and finally, for some reason, sua 
predominated (and similarly mia predominated over mio, mie, 
miei, and tua over tuo, tue, tuoi) ; hence these forms as found 
in so many texts. But the fact that effectually annuls such a 
supposition is, that by comparison of texts where mia, tua, sua 
(plurals) are found with those where irregularities in the singu- 
lar occur, we discover that only two of the texts containing the 
mia, tua, sua forms have any irregularities in the singular (O 
and II ; cf. Table). In these two authors the plural forms can 
arise from no mixture with the singular, for the irregularity 
referred to in the singular is in the use of mie for mio and suo 
for sua (where in mie, mio, mia is not in question) ; and even if 
sua was used for suo, there would be no connection between it 
and sua of the pluraal (= suoi or sue). 

If these two objections just given were not sufficient of them- 
selves to militate against any supposable analogy of singular 
and plural irregularities, either by extension from singular to 
plural, or by crossing of singular and plural, I should still fail 
to see the necessity of casting about for such an explanation 
when these forms (mia, tua, sud) can be logically accounted for 
as plurals. And now, assuming it as pretty well settled that 



162 L,. EMIL MENQEB. 

the singular plays no part in the development of such plural 
forms (mia, tua, sua), I shall proceed to discuss them. 

3. Notice taken by early grammarians of the irregular 
plurals, mia, tua, sua. 

The first notice of them that I find is in the work of Mutio. 1 
In discussing the Florentine as a model form of speech the 
writer says (p. 12) : " Ma per Dio veggiamo ancora un poco, 
quanto sia vera, che essi da' padre e dalle madre piccioli fan- 
ciulli la buona lingua apprendano. In quel libro del Tolomei 
lodansi le piu Toscane citta" di Toscano si da loro questo vanto, 
che parlano, piu che le altre Fiorentinamente. Et dicesi in 
Firenze : I versi mia (etc., enumerating a number of similar 
irregularities) nelle quali non si serva ne numero, ne genere, 
ne desinenza, ne forma di diritto parlare." 

Again, a notice of them is found in a work by Beni ; 2 the 
writer mentions defects of the Florentine speech and says (p. 
42) : " Sicom anco il dir dua per due ; mia, tua, sua per mie, 
tue, sue," etc. 

4. Explanations offered by later grammarians. 

Among the more modern grammarians we find these peculiar 
forms first mentioned by Blanc. 3 He says (p. 277) : " Statt 
miei, tuoi, suoi; mie, tue, sue, liebten die Alten, besonders die 
Florentiner, mia, tua, sua." He gives three examples without 
comment. 

Diez, 4 Gram, n, 90, takes no notice of them, except in a 
footnote referring to the passage in Blanc just quoted. 

Korting 5 does not mention them. 

^Sattaglie di Hieronimo Mutio, per difesa dell'Ilalica lingua. Vinegia, 1582. 
8 Paolo Beni, L'Anticrusca overo II Paragone dell'Italiana Lingua. Padova, 
1612. 

3 Orammatik der Italianischen Sprache. H*alle, 1844. 

4 Grammaiik der Romanischen Sprachen, 4 te Auflage. Bonn, 1876. 

8 Encyclopcedieund Methodologie der romanischen Philologie. Heilbronn, 1886. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 163 

The only writer who has spoken of them at length is 
d'Ovidio, who in the Archivio Glottologico Italiano (ix, 1886 : 
footnote, p. 54), says : " Ognun ricorda i plurali ambigeneri 
mia, tua, sua, del toscano antico e moderno : forme popolari, 
comparse solo sporadicamente e timidamente, in tutti i tempi, 
nella lingua colta, e pur di vita tenacissima. lo vi ho sempre 
ricouosciuto una bella continuazione del neutro plurale latino. 
Una ipotesi, fonetica, potrebbe sorgere a contrastare la nostra 
spiegazione morfologica dei plurali mia ecc. La grammatica 
neo-latina, e la dialettologia italiana in ispecie, ci da copiosa 
messe di -a epitetici oppur sostituentisi ad altre atone finali. 
Gia finora ne siam venuti dando, a piu riprese, parecchi begli 
essempj, e qui possiam aggiungere il milan. indova (= dove), 
lad. nua, abruzz. donna (=donde), leccese fraima (=fratelmo). 
Or, data questa tendenza all' -a, niente, si potrebbe dire, di 
piu naturale che i pi. fern, mie, tue ecc. direttamente, e i msch. 
rniei, tuoi ecc. mercd 1'apocope dell' -i e la ritrazion dell' accento 
fattisi mie', tuo' ecc., si riducesser tutti a mia, tua ecc. Sen- 
nonchS, appunto la tendenza all' -a per ogni altro paese 6 stata 
dimostrata che per la Toscana ! E se mie' ecc. si fosse per sem- 
plice vezzo fonetico fatto mia ecc., non si capirebbe come questo 
vezzo non attaccasse anche le voci del singolare ! L'essere sem- 
plici plurali quelli, 6 prova che 1'origiu loro & schiettamente 
morfologica." 

a. Further suggestions which are unsatisfactory, mei > mia 
by analogy to lei > lia. 

Meyer-Liibke, It. Gr., 1 375, after quoting from this state- 
ment of d'Ovidio, makes another suggestion to the following 
effect : out of the shortened forms mie', tuo', suo', as used for 
both genders, the full forms miei, tuoi, suoi were developed and 
used for both genders (cf. Table). Now, just as these full two- 
gendered forms originated in the masculine plural, so mia comes 
from the masculine plural form mei, and then is used for both 

l ltalienische Grammatik. Leipzig, 1890. 



164 



L. EMIL MENGER. 



genders similarly to miei, tuoi, suoi. (Instances of mei used 
for the feminine may be found in Crestomazia, 1 p. 148, line 119, 
le mei vertude ne le mei force; line 120, le mei mani. But 
occurrences of it have not been noted in Tuscan texts ; the 
selection from which the examples just given were taken, is in 
old Venetian). The author's explanation of mia is as follows : 
" Wie in toskanischen Mundarten lei zu lia wird 2 so konnte 
mia aus mei auf lautlichem Wege entstanden sein, und ware im 
xiv bis xvi Jahr. auch in die Litterarsprache, wenigstens in 
die Prosa, gedrungen." My objection to this theory is : mei 
and lei as phonetical elements are not analogous, and the -ei in 
the two words cannot be supposed to have undergone a like 
development because of the difference in the preceding con- 
sonants, m and L In X, fo. &iij, occurs the form glia where 
I mouille was probably the factor which raised e to i, and the 
development of lia < lei (no matter at what stage of the lan- 
guage) always went hand in hand with the pronunciation of I 
as a mouille element ; it is impossible to omit the i in pronuncia- 
tion in removing the tongue from the mouille to a lower posi- 
tion. 3 Further proof that ia < ei is due to the preceding I 
mouille is found in the fact that no example of ei > ia is noted 
in other words ; for example, ria (= rei\ dia (= dei, DEI), sia 
(== sei, SEX) do not exist. 4 [Dialectic sia (2nd. pers. sing. Pres. 
Subj.) and conditionals in -ria (for -rei) cannot be adduced as 
established illustrations of the phonetic change under discussion 
since there is no objection to supposing the former < V. L. 

^Crestomazia Italiana dei Primi Secoli. Per Ernesto Monaci. Fascicolo 
Primo. Citta di Castello, 1889. 

*An example of such a lia may be seen in Orestomazia, p. 22, line 114. 

8 It will probably be objected to this that the process was the reverse of what 
I have indicated and that / did not become / mouill^ until after e had become 
i. If this is true, i is the factor that developed I mouille", not I mouille the 
one which developed i. The question cannot be decided until something 
more definite is known as to the history of this peculiar form lia. 

4 On p. 178 will be found an example of diadei (DEBES), which would 
be a closer analogy for mei than lei is. But it probably owes its existence to 
a confusion with the Subjunctive Present dia<.dea<.deva. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 165 

SEAS, and the latter had its origin in Imperfects in -eaJ] A 
further objection to mia < mei is evident in tua, sua, unless 
these forms be regarded as analogical to mia; but I can scarcely 
believe that forms of the second and third possessive pronoun 
are developed by analogy with a like form of the first person. 

b. Result of position in stress-group. 

Again, I have taken as my norm the precept of Neumann : * 
"Wir miissen stets einen Satz im Auge behalten : ein Wort 
entwickelt sich nie an sich, sondern stets nur gemass der Stel- 
lung, die es im Satzzusammenhang einnimmt. So kann ein 
Wort, resp. die Silbe eines Wortes in verschiedenem Satzzu- 
sammenhange oft ganz verschiedene Betonung haben, es kann 
einmal den Hochton, ein ander Mai Nebeuton oder gar keinen 
accent haben, wodurch naturgemass eine verschiedene Lautent- 
wicklung bedingt ist." I have tried to apply this principle in 
accounting for the development of mia, tua, sua; for example, 
in MM, where such numbers of these irregular pronominal 
forms occur, of the whole number of mia combinations found 
(in masc. plu.) one hundred and thirty are before the noun, 
twenty-seven after it. Of the feminine plurals (mia) six are 
before the noun, two after it ; of tua (masc. plu.) three are 
before the noun, four after it ; of sua (masc. plu.) thirty-six 
are before the noun, fifteen after it ; of sua (fern, plu.) the 
three forms found are after nouns. But these proportional 
uses show nothing, since the occurrence of more irregular 
forms before than after the noun simply agrees with the con- 
struction of the regular forms. By glancing at the Table (p. 
156) it will be observed that while the number of poets who 
employ these peculiar forms is greater than that of the prose 
writers, yet the use of them is so limited that no conclusion 
can be drawn from a study of the metre, rhyme, etc. It is 
evident, therefore, that the position of mia, tua, sua in the 
sentence does not assist in discovering their origin. 

1 lAteraturblaU, in, 467. 



166 L. EMIL MENGER. 

c. Phonetical reductions. 

The phonetical development of these forms, as mentioned 
by d'Ovidio (cf. p. 163) was not satisfactory to him, since he 
saw at once the inconsistency of positing that for the plural, 
mie', tuo', suo' were reduced to mia, tua, sua, but the singular 
forms, mio, tuo, suo, remained unaffected. I think if such a 
reduction had taken place, the reduced forms would have been 
mi, tu, su, and not with an -a borrowed elsewhere, that is, 
reduction would have induced a shortening of the forms, not 
merely a change of final -e to -a. There is such a mi found. 
In O (p. 56, line 10, note) the editor (Prof. Nicola Arnone) 
says : " II mi non 6 che tin' abbreviazione di mie'', " the sen- 
tence in which the mi, spoken of by him, occurred was " da li 
occhi m[e'] passd, etc." Such a reduction of mie'^> mia will 
be still more difficult to prove, when the examples of an oppo- 
site reduction on p. 176 are considered ; we there observe many 
instances of the first and third person present Subjunctive sia 
reduced to sie; so that mie, as used in the feminine singular 
for mia, might have been originally a reduction of the latter; 1 
but for the opposite mtV> mia the only analogy found is that 
of die DIES> dia, but in this case the change is due to rhyme. 

d. Mia adopted from a confusion of mie'= miei and mie'= 

mia (Sing.). 

The form mie' (= *miea ?) noted above (cf. Table) might 
have had some influence in producing the irregular mia. On 
the supposition that it (mie} existed by the side of the short- 
ened form of the masculine plural (mie') there might have 
arisen in the minds of the people using them a confusion as 
to the difference of gender and number of the two. Thus, on 
analogy to the masculine MEUS a MEA was formed out of which 
developed *miea, while out of the regular MEA a mia also 
existed. We would then have : 

1 Cf. p. 158. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 167 

Masc. Plu. mid mie', 

Fern. Sing. *miea mie' mia. 

Now, when mie' (fern.) ceased to be used and mia was the 
only form existing, the masculine plural mie' (= same as femi- 
nine mie' which is supposed to be used no more, but is replaced 
by mia) might also have been changed to mia on account of 
this confusion of mie' (fern, sing.) and mie' (masc. plu.). This 
explanation I would regard as preferable to that of a phoneti- 
cal reduction of mie' to mia, since in the latter case the -a has 
to be explained (a thing not satisfactorily done up to the 
present), whereas on my supposition there is a crossing of two 
forms, one of which already had the -a. Given this analogi- 
cal effect as a starting point, might not subsequent speakers, 
having lost sight of its origin (as a crossing with feminine 
singular mia) have looked upon this mia (== mie' masc. plu.) 
as a feminine also used indifferently for the masculine plural ? 
Then tua, sua, feminine singulars of the second and third per- 
sons were adopted in the same manner for masculine plurals? 
The extension of the use (of mia, tua, sua) from masculine to 
feminine plural would be rendered all the easier from the fact 
that so many feminine plurals also ended in -a (from the Latin 
Neuters). The objection might be raised to this supposition 
that these forms, mia, tua, sua, are not also extended to the 
singular mio, tuo, suo, but the analogical development sug- 
gested above is sufficient answer to this ; I changed the -e of 
mie' (miei) to -a from the crossing of this form with an original 
-a (mia); and tua, sua followed by analogy to this. Hence it 
would be inappropriate to ask of me why tuo (sing.) does not 
go into tua as well as tuo' (tuoi). This development would 
also have the merit of being evidently an early one, and there- 
fore capable of accounting for an early appearance of mia, 
tua, sua. 

Though I hold this explanation of the phenomena before 
us to be more plausible than those offered up to the present, 
yet it is unsatisfactory also to me, for while it explains mia, 



168 L. EMIL MENGEB. 

it does not explain tua, SIM, which have to be supposed as 
analogous to mia: the latter supposition is contrary to my 
assumption (cf. p. 165) that analogy plays no perceptible part 
in the development of the forms under discussion. 

Resume of unsatisfactory explanations. 

After this brief review of opinions touching the development 
of the forms under discussion, I hold that the following explana- 
tions of mia, tua, sua are unsatisfactory for the reasons given 
above. 

1. That they are extensions of irregularities in the singular. 

2. That mia was developed from mei and then used for both 
genders as miei, tuoi, suoi once were so used. (This I consider 
as the strongest phonetical explanation suggested, but the pho- 
netic improbabilities that led me to reject it strengthens more 
firmly my confidence in the explanation given below.) 

3. That the irregularities may have developed by virtue of 
their position in the sentence, as tonic or atonic, before or after 
the noun (or otherwise). 

4. That mie*, tuo', suo', (= miei, tuoi, suoi) were reduced 
phonetically to mia, tua, sua. 

5. That on account of a confusion in the use of mie' (miei) 
and mie' (*miea ?), when mia was adopted as the only form of 
the feminine singular, mie' of the masculine plural was likewise 
reduced to mia. 

5. Mia, tua, sua are remnants of the Latin Neuter Plural. 

What explanation, then, remains ? A phonetical develop- 
ment is doubted ; analogy is not admitted ; therefore, the origin 
must be morphological, and the only morphological explana- 
tion tenable is that mia, tua, sua rest on the old Latin Neuter 
Plural. Strengthening such a supposition is the fact that we 
find many remnants of the old Latin Neuter in the noun 
present in the texts examined ; for example, in H, pp. 86, 98, 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 169 

101, castella; T, ossa; V, Ameto, p. 56, le sua oorna; p. 57, 
le labra sua; EE, p. 21, dua ciglia ; GG, fo. q 2, dua braccia; 
fo. d, le tua mura; II, fo. fq 6, le sua alia; JJ, p. 372, le 
membra mia ; LL, p. 38, ossa mia ; MM, I, 390, mia lenzuola. 
In F, p. 23, occurs tucta chotai chose. Neuter plurals of the 
Latin were preserved in Italian as feminine plurals when they 
had collective significations, 1 and it may be seen from the ex- 
amples just cited that mia, tua, sua are found before such nouns. 
I think that the existence of the irregular sua in Dante (Purg. 
ix, 13, le sua braccia), where it has this collective signification, 
settles beyond doubt the origin of the form as a Latin Neuter 
Plural. What strengthens the supposition that this is a Latin 
form is, that Dante employs the Latin sui also. 2 Now, from 
their (mia, tua, sua) use before original Latin neuters with 
collective meaning, they were next employed with words, not 
derived from Latin neuters, but yet having a dual significa- 
tion ; for example, in A A, in, 179, mia parenti; JJ, p. 70, 
occhi mia; MM, I, 310, mia piedi; mia (due) giovani, etc. 
Many of the forms noted in MM were used in connection 
with dua; in fact I think there must have been a strong 
analogy between these pronominal forms and dua, since as 
neuters they would often have a dual signification, and in 
addition to this here is a word (dua) whose formation is quite 
like that of tua, sua. Dua is used in O, GG, II, JJ, LL, 
MM and NN, and it is to be noted that in all of these texts 
the irregular mia, tua, sua occur, and especially that dua does 
not occur earlier than these forms do, but they (dua, mia, etc.) 
seem to appear together and to be used side by side, and that 
in the same texts Latin neuter plurals of nouns are pre- 
served. Thus all these phenomena (dua; mia, tua, sua; and 
the nouns) appear as a revival of the Latin Neuter under the 
influence of which all these forms seem to have arisen about 
the same time; the other forms parallel to mia, tua, sua 

*Cf. Meyer-Liibke, It. Or., ^329 and 341. 

* Cf. Zehlc, Laut- und Flexionslehre in Dante's Divina Commedia. Marburg, 
1886, p. 13: " Neben luoi, suoi stehen bei Dante die Latinismen sui and TUI." 



170 L. EMTL MENGEB. 

strengthen the supposition that these (mia, tua, sua) too are 
neuter plurals and not mere isolated examples. Lastly, from 
the use of these pronouns before original neuters with collec- 
tive signification ; then before nouns, not neuters but having 
such signification, they were used indiscriminately before sub- 
stantives of all kinds, regardless of their meaning. 

a. Time of appearance ; originated among the people ; extent 
of employ ; conclusion. 

As may be seen from the Table (p. 156) the forms under dis- 
cussion are found in texts before Dante ; from the nature of 
their origin (as Neuter Plurals) we would naturally expect a 
line of direct transmission from the Latin ; the fact, therefore, 
of their occurrence in the oldest texts is further proof of their 
origin from the neuter. Diez l remarks : " Von einem Alti- 
talienischen im Sinne des Altfranzosischen kann keine Rede 
sein ; die Sprache des xm Jh. unterscheidet sich nur durch 
einzelne, namentlich volksmassige Formen und Worter, nicht 
durch grammatischen Bau, von der Spatern." The same 
applies to mia, tua, sua; they were first used by the early 
writers who employed them conscientiously as neuter plurals; 
from these neuter forms their use was extended by the people, 
with whom the forms have been in vogue ever since, appear- 
ing from time to time in literary productions. 

Did these forms originate with the writers, and were they 
carried from them to the people, or was the reverse the case ? 
Castelvetro, speaking of other words, 2 says : " Conciosia cosa 
che i popoli non prendano i vocaboli da poeti & spetialmente 
da simili a Dante & al Petrarca & a tali quali ha poeti la lingua 
nostra, che a pena sono letti & intesi degli 'ntendenti huomini 
con molto studio. Non trassero dunque i nostri poeti le pre- 
dette parole da volumi de provenzali, ma della commune usanza 
del parlare italiano." I think these remarks apply also to 

1 Gram, i, 79. 

8 Oorretione dalcune cose del dialogo delle lingue di Varchi, et una giunta al 
primo libra delle prone di M. Pietro Bembo. Basilaea, 1572 ; p. 175. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 171 

mia, tua, sua, and for two reasons : first, their existence in the 
Latin, and appearance later in early Italian necessarily indi- 
cates their preservation by the people during the time for 
which we have no texts; and secondly, because, as may be 
seen from the Table, they were used most frequently by 
popular writers. 

Extent of employ. The proportion in MM, where the great- 
est number of these irregular pronouns was found, is as follows : 

miei, 54 times, mia (=miei), 157 times. 

tuoi, 8 " tua ( turn), 7 " 

suoi, 68 " sua (= suoi), 51 " 

mie, 189 " mia (= mie), 8 " 
tue, 17 " 

sue, 145 " sua (= sue), 3 " 

I have marked both regular and irregular forms through- 
out my reading, and I may give those of V as an example of 
the small proportion of irregular to regular constructions. In 
this author we find the regular 

mid, 211 times; mie, 144 times. 

tuoi, 96 " tue, 57 " 

suoi, 461 " sue, 244 " 

(Irregular forms from V have been given above, p. 1 50.) A 
like enumeration for the other texts would show a similar 
proportion. 

Meyer-Liibke, after making his suggestion as to the develop- 
ment of mia (cf. p. 163) remarks : ' " Genaue Untersuchungen 
iiber die Verbreitung von mia in alter und neuer Zeit werden 
dariiber Auskunft geben." He and all other writers on the 
subject treat this irregularity as specifically Florentine. I 
have made the research he asked for, and among Florentine 
writers of four centuries, with the results indicated above. 

1 /(. Or. $ 375. 



172 L. EMIL MENGER. 

CHAPTER II. 

REGULAR FORMS OF THE POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 

A. TONIC E AND i IN HIATUS; mio ; mid. 

1. Previous treatment of hiatus E. 

This subject has been treated, according to my knowledge, 
as follows : Meyer-Liibke says : l " Im Hiatus steht fur e vor 
i der Diphthong ie, vor den anderen Vokalen i ohne Riick- 
sicht darauf ob e, e oder i zu Grunde liege : mio, mia, mie : 
miei, dio, rio, di und dia, zio, sia, pria, via, io, cria. A Is 
Buchworter sind reo bei Brunetto und Dante, rie, rea bei 
Dante zu betrachten. Beachtenswerth sind ven.-pad. pria 
neben piera (PETRA), drio Cort." Again: 2 " Vortonvokale 
im Hiatus sind selten, meist sind i, E und u in dieser Stellung 
schon im Vulgarlateinischen zu i, u geworden, daher furs Itali- 
enische, Konsonanten. In Buchwortern oder bei sekundarem 
Hiatus bleibt meist der Vokal unverandert, doch zeigt e vor 
o and e Neigung zu i zu werden : Hone, niente aber reina." 
Further, d'Ovidio : 3 " I im lateinischem Hiat beharrt als i 
oder wird wieder zu i : via, sia, pria, d% vom arch, die, die.. 
(Indirekt gehort auch brio hierher, das von brioso EBRIOSUS 
abstrahiert wurde)." Again : 4 " Es giebt eine Reihe Worter, 
die den Diphthongen nicht haben und die doch nur volkstum- 
lich sein konnen : sei Verb, sei Zahlwort, e EST. Sei Verb, 
welches ES ist mit vorgeschlagenem von sono, lautete einst 
siei; das erste i wurde ausgestossen durch Dissimilation und 
auch in Folge haufiger proclitischer Stellung desWortes; das- 
selbe gilt von sei SEX, obschon es ein tosc. siei nicht giebt. Die 
Proclisis erklart auch e EST." Also : 6 " Eine eigene Gruppe 

'/<. Gr. 96. *Ibid. $141. 

* In Orundriss der Romanischen Philoloyie. Herausg. von Gustav Grober. 
Strassburg, 1888. i, 503, <j 15. 

'Gmmdrist, I, 512, 2 26. *Qrundris8, I, 514, \ 29. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 173 

bilden die Worter, in denen E im Hiat steht : dies wurde zuerst 
zu ie und verengte sich dann unter dem Einfluss des Hiats zu 
i: dio=*dieo DEUS, arch, rio REUM, arch, cria CREAT, mio, 
mia, mie MEUS, io *EO. Gelehrt oder halbgelehrt sind dagegen : 
dea, del, reo, crea. In miei MEI behauptete sich ie = E unter 
dem Einfluss des Schlussvokals." Finally Caix remarks : l 
" Tutto questo c'induce a concludere che nella prima lingua 
poetica Ie forme con e dovettero essere di gran hmga Ie piu 
frequenti. Ma nel Toscano fin dai piu antichi documenti non 
s'incontrano che forme con i. Dante scrisse Deo solo in rima 
e il Petrarca raramente meo. Da notare e solo quanto a REUS 
che rio e del verso, e reo della prosa." 

These quotations include many words which will come up 
for discussion in the present division of this monograph ; their 
occurrence, as well as other forms to be considered, is repre- 
sented as follows in the texts consulted : 

io, A20, 2 B133, C rule, 3 D5, E20, F rule, Gl, H4, 111, 
J110, K161, L4, N rule, O26, P rule, Q rule, Rl, S16 ; rule 
in T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z, AA, BB, EE, FF, GG, HH, JJ, 
KK, MM, NN, OO, PP, QQ, RR, SS. 

eo, A57, B26, E75, Fl, L14, O4, 81, XI. 

mio, A13, B59, C rule, E6, F rule, Gl, 12, J15, K46, 
L4, N rule, O5 ; rule in P, Q, 8(7), T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z, 
AA, BB, CC, DD(19), EE, FF, GG, HH, JJ, KK, LL, 
MM, NN, OO, PP, QQ, RR, SS, TT(8). 

meo A38, B32, E76, L2, CC1, XI. 

. mia B126, C rule, E48, F rule, 13, Jll, K21, O rule, P 
rule, Q rule, Rl, 81, Tl ; rule in U, V, X, Z, AA, BB(32), 
DD(13), EE, FF, GG, HH, KK, MM, PP, TT. 

mea, El, X2. 

} Oriyini delta Lingua Poetica Italiana. Firenze, 1880. $ 14. 

* The numeral following a capital letter represents the number of times 
a form occurs in the given author. 

3 'Rule' indicates that a given form is found to the exclusion of variants 
of the same. 
3 



174 L. EMIL, MENGER. 

mie B5, Gl, J2, K3, M2, Rl, T12, U2, V144, X rule, 
Y2, Z7, AA16, BB1, CC5, DD1, EE25, FF13, GG34, JJ24, 
LL8, MM189, SS20, TT3. 

dio Al, B20, C rule, D2, E2, F rule, Gl, H14, 19, J42, 
K153, L4, M30, N rule, P31, Q rule, E2, S2 ; rule in T, U, 
V, W, X(10), Y, Z, A A, BB, DD(4), EE, FF, HH, JJ, KK 
(51), LL, MM, NN(135), PP, SS. 

deo A12, BIO, E4, Lll, PI, 1 XL 

dia (= fern, of dio), XI, 2 FF1. 3 

dee (= fern. plu. of dio) P2, 4 V4, 5 Y rule, LL2. 

no, B3, El, F rule, K2, N rule, P2, 81, V2, X14, Z rule, 
AA rule, BB2, CC1, FF2, GG7, HH rule, JJ5, KK10, MM 
rule, NN44, PP rule, SS5, TT2. 

reo, A2, B12, Nl, P7, V8, X14, FF6, GG6, 114, JJ1, 
NN4, SS4. 

Ha, B4, F rule, HI, K2, N rule, P5, SI, VI, X3, A A 
rule, BB1, FF1, GG3, HH rule, JJ3, KK11, MM rule, 
NN37, PP rule, SS4, TT1. 

rea, El, N2, PI, V13, X9, BB2, CC1, FF2, GG5, III, 
KK1,NN26, SS13. 

rie F rule, HI, Kl, N3, NN3. 

ree Ml, N2, PI, NN4. 

>, B5, El, Ol, XI. 

feo Bl, 6 HI. 

pio O, T,V, SS. 

pia, Y. 



mei, All examples of this have been given above (cf. 
Table, p. 156). 

miei A2, B4, C rule, F rule, J4, K4, L3, M9, N22, O10, 
Rl, 81, V211, X rule, Y8, Z8, AA44, BB7, CC11, DDl, 

1 Purg. xvi, 35 : reo : feo. * fo. hiij : profecia : maria. 

3 p. 184 : Singular mia madonna ed alma dia. These are the only exam- 
ples found of dia; in all other cases the Latin deo. is preserved. 
* Purg. xxxir, 3 ; Par. xxvin, 41. 
& Ameto, pp. 11, 65, 86. p. 121: reo: feo. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 175 

EE20, FF15, GG28, HH rule, JJ70, KK35, LL8, MM54, 
NN44, PP rule, SS28, TT5. 

dei, L4, P4, Xll, Y6, BB1, LL6, NN10, SS rule. 

dii, K2, PI, 1 T71, V124, 2 X2, Yl, BB5, EE1, OO. 

rei, B3, 14, K2, LI, Ml, Tl, V rule, X6, FF4, TT1. 

rid, F9. 

ru, PI. 8 

lei, Bl, Cl, F rule, LI, O rule, T, X rule. 

lid, Gl, 4 Jl, 5 K2, LI, 6 Nl, 7 TT4. 8 

sd (=ES), Cl, P, Fl, V rule, X, Y rule, Zl, II rule, 
LL3, SSrule, FF1. 

siei (==sd, ES), Jl. 9 

piedi (= PEDES), H, 14, U rule, X. 

pid, H2, J2, K3, X3, TT rule. 

pei, XI. 

dei (= DEBES), C5, F112, Ml, N2, Ol, P, T3, V rule, 
X3, Z rule, GG4, 10 LL1, SS4. 

did (= dd, DEBES), K6. 11 



se' (=sd, ES), F20, Nl, 12 Ol, P, SI, Zll, BB1, CC1, 
FF1,GG, LL, TT1. 
see (= sd), N3. 13 
sie (=sd), F8, 14 P2, 16 VI, 16 TT2. 17 

I Also pii (plu. of pio) : Purg. xxi, 24; Par. ix, 26. 

* dei occurs also in V. 3 Inf. xxil, 22: desii: rii: parlvi. 

4 p. 35. p. 41. p. 198. T p. 3. 

8 pp. 56, 59, 80 (liei: miei), 109. In this author occur also, p. 76, cosliei: 
piei; p. 78, cosliei: miei; p. 82, coliei. 

9 Cf. Creslomazia, p. 161, line 10. Same line, ttliei. 

10 Here also debi; cf. fo. b 3. 

"First example is on p. 28. Occurrences of giudei, sei (SEX), bei (6m) 
have been noted, but they do not occur in any of the texts examined, under 
diphthongized forms. 

II p. 267. "pp. 69, 215. 

14 First ex. p. 5. ]i Purg. xxv, 11. 

16 .Decani, fo. Bb: tu sie il ben venuto. 

17 p. 86 : tu sie la ben trovata ; p. 87 : sa' che tu. sie si crudel. 



176 L. EMIL MENGER. 



2 



sie (= 1st pers. Subj. Pres.) , TTl, 1 PI. 2 

sie (= 2nd pers. Subj. Pres.), P3, 3 V5, 4 II2, 5 TT4.< 

sie (= 3rd pers. Subj. Pres.), PI, 7 V3. 8 

isia (=sis), PI. 9 

fdi(=8ei, ES), V2, 10 Z1. U 



dia (= 3d. pers. Subj. Pres. of dare), C rule, Fl, HI, J7, 
Kl, Nl, Rl, T rule, DD3, KK6, TTl. 

dea (= 3d. pers. Subj. Pres. of dare), B3, DJ, M3, 12 N2, 1S 
P2, u V6. 15 

dii (= 2nd. pers. Subj. Pres. of dare), VI. 16 

die (=3d. pers. Subj. Pres. of dare), DDL 17 

1 p. 55 : d'onorar un tal giorno non sie ingrato. 

2 Purg. xx, 14: prima che (to) sie morto. 

3 Purg. xvi, 5 : Guarda, che da me tu non sie mozzo ; Par. xv, 16 : bene- 
detto sie tu; Par. xxix, 22: sie (tu) certo. 

4 Decam. fo. C (twice) ; fo. Lb; fo. Miij ; fo. Y. 

5 fo. ez: fa (tu) che non sie polaco ne tedesco; fo. fq. 8: Fiolo mio, sie 
vago du dire cosa ecc. 

6 p. 58: che tu non sie veduto; p. 78: che tu sie nostra ; vogliam che tu 
sie la nostra dama ; p. 86 : che tu sie benedetta. 

7 Purg. xx;x, 36 : Perche sie colpa. Sie is the reading of three of the 
Mss., sia that of one. 

8 Decam. fos. Cij ; Cbj6; Xiij. 

9 Purg. xx, 4 ; one Ms. here reads : maladetta ,sia tu, the three others sit. 

10 Decam. fo. Obj 2 : quanto tu sii da me amata ; A meto, p. 78 : tu sola sii 
donna di me. 

11 tu sii la ben tornata. Cf. here It Torto e il Diritto del non si Pub, dato in 
yiudicio sopra molte reyole della lingua Italiana. Esaminato da Ferrante Lon- 
gobardi. Roma, 1655, p. 77: Tu sii e tu sia si dice ugualmente bene ne 
tempi che cotal terminatione ricevono. E simile delle altre maniere de' 
verbi che '1 soffrono ; avegna che alcuni scrittori e infra gli altri il Boccaccio 
habbiano piu volentieri finiti cosi fatti tempi delle seconde persone in t 
cbe in a. 

14 pp. 25,35. 13 pp. 50, 457. 

14 Inf. xxxni, 42: Innanzi ch'Atropos mossa le dea; Purg. xxi, 5: Dio 
vi dea pace. 

15 Decam. fo. Jbj 8, 9 : Dio gli dea il buon anno ; Dio mi dea la gratia sua ; 
fo. Hjv : se Dio ti dea buona ventura, etc. 

lt Ameto, p. 50 : innanzi che tu dii materia di turbamento. 

17 Dio ti die grazia. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 



177 



deano (= 3d. pers. Phi. Subj. Pres. of dare)) VI. 1 
stia (= 3d. pers. Pres. Subj. of stare), Bl, II, Kl, Rl,Ti. 
stea (=3d. pers. Pres. Subj. of stare}, B2, M2, 2 P5, 3 V10, 4 
KK1. 5 

stii (= 2nd. pers. Subj. Pres. of store), BB1. 6 
steano (=3rd. pers. Plu. Subj. Pres. of stare), VI. 7 



deve,C2, SI, T4, SS3. 

dee (=deve),B2, 07, D9, E2, F6, H3, 116, M3, N30, 
P, R4, S7, Tl, Vrule, XI, AA2, FF1, GG4, KK6, LL6, 
SS5. 

de (= deve)E7, C5, Dl, F68, H6, Nl, P, 86, T5, U rale, 
XI, Z8. 

de (=dei, DEBES), F28, Zl. 8 

di (= deve), N. 9 

die (= deve),G rule, 10 J7, K12, 11 N3, 12 82, T9, EE1. U 

l Decam. fo. Db'j 2. 

*pp. 10, 13 : non piaccia che 1'anima stea in prigione. 
3 Inf. xxxiu, 41 : Come il mio corpo stea ; Purg. ix, 48, Quando a cantar 
con organ! si stea ; Purg. xvn, 28 : Se i pie si stanno, non stea tuo sermone ; 
Par. ii, 33 : Fa che * * * ti stea un lurae ; Par. xxxi, 15: E spera gi& ridir 
com' ello stea. 

, *Ameto, p. 39 : che seguer i suoi piacer, convien che stea 
A tal dover con 1'animo suggetto, 
Che quel che se non vuole, altrui non den. 

ibid. p. 43 : voi dovete imaginare come egli stea. ibid. p. 61 : 

Et di quel caldo tal frutto si crea 
Che se ne acquista il conoscere iddio 
Et come vada, & venga, & dove stea. 

ibid. p. 77 : sia adunque * * * et dea al vero effetto. Decam. fo. Hbj 4 : luna 
qui si stea dentro ; also fos. Pbj 2, Qbj, Xiij, Yb, Aaiij, Aabj 9. 
6 xxix, 26. 6 p. 8 : non vo' che lu stii. 

I Decam. fo. Xiij. "p. 61. 

9 p. 24: vostra fine non dp essare There is a note to this as follows 
Intendi, df per die, o dee, o de?. Come qui presso ed altrove : de' essare. 
10 deve, dee and de' do not occur in this text. 

II First example, p. 36. 

14 p. 12: si die pensare; p. 34: gli porti '1 censo che gli die dare; p. 37 : 
uomo die morire. 13 che die venire. 



178 



L. EMIL MENGEK. 



die (= del), K4. 1 

dea (= deva), 81, FF2. 2 

dia (= devd), S4. 3 

dia (= dei),Tl* 

dei (= deve), F7. s 

deono (= devono),T>l, H4, J3, Nl, V rule, Z2. 

diano (=devono) } LI. 6 

dieno (= devond), PI. 7 



dia (= DIES), DD2. 8 

Die (= Dio, DEUS) DD1,' TT1. 10 



feme, I, Ml, N3, Ol, P5, T8, X, Y, BB rule, GG22, 
SS3, LL5. 

?me,N15, PI, Tl, CC1, GG51. 

leoni, Ml, Nl, T3, GG2, SSI. 

lioni, N13, GG5. 

leale, Al, Bl, El, M rule, N49, S rule, FF rule. 

J An evident contraction of diei. 

s p. 100: dea: Citerea; p. 120: come dea far chi vuol prender dottrina. 

3 The variants of different Mas. of the canzoni of this author read alter- 
nately dee, die, dia and dea. The two latter are equivalent to deve in mean- 
ing, but the -a shows that they must be substitutions of Subjunctive for 
Indicative. 
' 4 priego che tu mandi colui che tu dia mandare. 

5 p. 9: parolle non dei usare chi, etc. p. 12: ti dei muovere; p. 66: s'ella 
si fae si come non dei; p. 66: (egli) non dei curare. Aside from any pho- 
netic reason that may be assigned for this form, a reasonable explanation 
may be found in the indiscriminate use of dei for both second and third 
person singular. On the same page occurs a direct admonition: "<unon 
dei, ecc.," and immediately afterward follows an indefinite statement: " egli 
non dei, ecc." 

6 p. 200 : le gioie che d'amore diano venire. 

7 Purg. xiu, 7 : Esser dien sempre li tuoi raggi duci. In various texts 
occur the forms beo (bevo), creo (credo), veo (veggio). In N are many examples 
of bee, bea (cf. pp. 158, 471) which are always printed with the circumflex 
accent, b&, bea, as is also d$e. 

8 p. 5 : dia : mia ; p. 31 : dia : partia ; die also occurs in a few cases. 
' p. 15 : Die ti mantenga. 

10 p. 72: che Die gli dia. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 179 

,ljl, N26. 

leali, N14. 

liali N10. 

leanza, El, Cl, El, N4. 

lianza, N6. 

reale, rule in H, I, N(3), T, BB, FF, SS. 

reame, Cl, H rule, J10, M4, Nl, rule in T, V, X, Z. 

tomeamento, N35, PI. 

torniamento, N22, PI. 

neuno, F rule, 17, J27, K9, L2, M3, N14, VI, Z13. 

niuno, Cl, H28, 127, M18, N100, T16, V4, Zl, EE, II 
rule. 

neuna F rule, 14, J13, K7, L4, N32, Z3. 

niuna H8, 124, M8, N102, F5, EE rule. 1 

neente, Cl, K3, Ml 5, S3, Z15. 

nienteC, H3, 18, K5, S10, rule inV, X(2), Y, Z(20), FF, 
II, LL(1). 



The examples given above (pp. 173-179) will now be used 
in the consideration of three questions which arise in a study 
of hiatus E : 

Does hiatus prevent the development of i]> ef 

Does hiatus close E, thus making it i ? 

Does hiatus prevent the development of E> ie f 

2. Does hiatus prevent the development of T> e? 

Where i is found alike in a Latin and Italian word, has it 
been preserved in the latter directly from its Latin form, or 
has it first developed into e (as it does in positions other than 
hiatus) and then been raised again to i? In a treatment of 
this question, the following words must be considered : brio, 
dia and die, pio, pria, quia, sia, stria, via. 

1 The proportional use in the Bandi Lucckexi del sec. XIV, Bologna, 1863, 
is: neuno, 42, neuna, 118. 

niuno, 9, niunu, 3. . 



180 L. EMIL MENGER. 

brio (< EBRIO, ARE).' 

This word does not occur as breo. 

dia and die (= DIEM). 

That this word passed through an e- stage (*de, *ded) is 
hardly probable ; a comparison with other Romance languages 
indicates that it did not thus develope in a part of the field, at 
least; for it is found preserved in Sardinian (die), Provencal 
(dis, dia), Old French (die) and Spanish (dia). 

pio (= plus). 

Corresponding to this is pio, Span.,pra-s Prov., and no pre- 
ceding e- stage is to be supposed for either of these languages. 

pria ( PR!A). 

This word exists only in Italian, and no preceding *prea 
has been noted for it. 

quia (= QU!A). 

It is hardly to be questioned that quia is a preservation of 
the Latin form. 

sia (= SIM and SIT). 

In this set of Tuscan texts examined by me, no form sea 
occurs. It is remarkable that authors who use dia and dea 
(dare), stia and stea (stare) 2 should seem to recognize sia as 
the only form for this verb; the fact that dea and stea are 
found in the earliest texts and as late as Bojardo, while sea 
does not so occur, seems to indicate that, for the Tuscan, sea 
never existed. The parallelism does not appear between the 
Tuscan and northern dialects, such as will be noted in the case 
of hiatus tf . 3 The latter developed o in both of the territories 
just indicated but e out of hiatus I is found only in the North. 4 

1 Ascoli, Archiv. Olot. Ital., in, 455. * Cf. p. 176. * Cf. p. 201. 

4 Examples of sea may be found in the Crestomaziu : pp. 86, 1. 44 ; 102, 1. 
20; 105, 1. 147; 112, 1. 113; 113, 1. 134; 135, 1. 15; 137, 1. 28; 141, 1. 87 ; . 
145, 1. 14, 20; 146, 1. 41, 48, 55; 147, 1. 65, 66. A statement as to the dis- 
like of the Tuscan for the e-forms is found in Ampliatione della lingua wlgare 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 



181 



This word should not be included in the examples given by 
Meyer-Liibke, 1 for from his rule we are to understand that 
all words mentioned there passed through an e-stage. The 
explanation of the word as given in 448 contradicts this sup- 
position, however, and seems to imply that the I is supposed 
to have remained: "Der Konjunktiv sia erklart sich aus 
alterem SIM durch Anfugung des Konjunktiv -a." 

stria (= STR! A). 

The i is kept here also in Fr. strie, 2 Span, estria. 

via (= V!AM). 

Via and sia are parallel in their development. Fr. voie, 
soil leave no room for doubt that for this language there was 
a preceding VEA, SEAT (later veie, seit > voie, soit). But for 
the Tuscan no vea is found. 

These examples show that in Tuscan no e-stage is to be 
supposed for words which have lived on with primary hiatus i. 

To this list must be added words that have originally Latin 
1, which is retained in both primary and secondary hiatus : zio 
(*TH!UM), stio (AESTIVUM), vie (VIVE), no (poetic form of rivo 
< RIVUM). 

Also to be added are sio (botanical), ghio (maritime), trio, 
dia ('divine/ Par xiv, 11 ; xxm, 36 ; xxvi, 3), spio andfio. 
The germanic/e/m gave in Italian fio andfeudo, and the e in 
the example offeo (cited above, p. 174) was probably introduced 
from analogy tofeudo. 

Thus, the answer to our first question (Does hiatus prevent 
the development of >e?) must be given in the affirmative; 

by M. Vitale Papazzoni. Venetia, 1587, p. 5 : " Deo. per dia dal Verbo dare, 
usano alcuni modern! contra '1 commun' uso degli altri, & non so perche. 
N io per me lascierei il mio & degli altri solito dia, salvo se non volessi 
parer piu tosto Napolitano che Toscano o Lombardo ragionevole." 

ft. Gr. \ 96. Rule quoted above, p. 172. 

2 cf. Soheler, Dictionnaire d' Etymologic Fran^aise. 3me Ed. Paris et Brux- 
elles, 1888. p. 476. 



182 



L. EMIL MENGER. 



the Tuscan treats alike I and 1 in hiatus, since it preserves 
both of them. 1 



3. Does hiatus close E, thus making it i? 

This question has been considered by d'Ovidio, 2 and his 
conclusion is (p. 37) : " Nessun certo esempio, adunque, ci 
occorre di e da E lat , o di e romanza qualunque, che si chiuda 
in i per Piato." A difficulty arises here because of the lack of 
examples of original Latin hiatus E, the rule being, as given 
by Seelmann: 3 "Kiirzung von vocalen konnte erfolgen, wenn 
denselben direct andere folgten." There is one case, however, 
of e in secondary hiatus before e, with the result that it was 
raised to i; this e (afterward i) was also long, and hence could 
not have been diphthongized (>*e) and reduced later to i. 
This example is die (= dee = deve, cf. p. 1 77). It is treated 
by d'Ovidio, but the only example of its occurrence which he 
found was that from "un autico testo/orse fiorentino." Caix 4 
mentions "die, dia-no accanto a dea, forma del conjiuntivo che 
in Guittone vale anche per 1'indicativo," and again (p. 220) 
"in Barberino tanto dea, quanto dia e dieno occorrono piu 
volte." The examples gathered from our texts show a more 
extended use of the forms than these quotations would indi- 
cate. For die there can be but one explanation ; its Latin 
original was DEBET and hence the tonic E never diphthong- 
ized ; the immediate predecessor of the present form was dee, 
and the hiatus position of e is the only cause which suggests 
itself for the raising of this e to *. Similarly in the plural, 

1 None of the words thus far treated are covered by Meyer-Liibke's rule 
(It. Gr. \ 96) since the beginning of the rule "Im Hiatus steht fur e"- 
implies that all words mentioned under it were either originally E or e < I ; 
in either case, he supposed an e-stage to have preceded any later change. 
The rule would even seem to imply that the I in *THIUM developed *zto, 
then 2to, as this example is found among those given under the rubric. 

8 Arch. Glot. It. ix, 35-37. 

3 Die Aussprache dea Latcin. Heilbronn, 1885, p. 79. 

4 Origin!, p. 219, \ 215. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 



183 



apart from the variants of the ending -ono ; as, -ano or -eno, 1 
the change of e> i is due to hiatus position. 2 The form di' 
(= dee) as found in N in the construction di'essare might seem 
to have developed in pretonic position (in which position every 
E > i; 3 as, misura < MENSURAM, sictiro >< SECURUM), and if 
die is understood to have thus developed, hiatus would not 
enter here into consideration. But the tendency for pretonic 
E to become i was a popular one, and if the e in dee had thus 
become i, the resultant form that would have been used most 
frequently and been preserved, would be die, not dee, just as 
we have misura, sicuro and many similar words with i, not e. 
The fact that dee has always been the more common form 
indicates, therefore, that die is not a development due to pre- 
tonic position, but that the word developed independently, 
the first e becoming i because of its hiatus position. 

Dea, stea (< dare, stare) may have developed later into dia, 
stia through the closure of e > i in hiatus, but these words 
cannot be adduced as reliable examples of such a change, since 
it is probable that they became dia, stia, by analogy to sia ; 4 
reciprocal influences of DARE, STARE and ESSERE forms con- 
stantly occur in the Romance languages. 

a. Further proof of e > i in hiatus : conditionals in -ria. 

We must here consider conditionals in -ria instead of -m, 5 
the former being < the Infinitive with Imperfect ofavere; the 
latter (-rei) offers nothing for consideration in connection with 
the present topic (of e being raised to i by hiatus). The suc- 
cessive stages of development of this -ria formation may be 

1 And in F -leuno is found. 

* IHeno is not to be supposed as analogical to forms like sieno or condi- 
tionals like sarieno, for in these cases the preceding stage was nia.no, suriano; 
the point to be noted in dieno is not the ending -eiio but the fact that e>i 
before this ending, however the latter may have originated. (Cf. Orundriss, 
i, 540, | 94 : 1st ea ia von einem konsonanten gefolgt, so ensteht daraus ie 
also aviu, avieno, etc.") 

Cf. Meyer-Liibke, It. Or. \ 123. 

4 Cf. Meyer-Liibke, It. Or., \ 461. 5 Ibid., ft 403, 404. 



184 L. EMIL MENGER. 

traced in our texts. First, in L, we find the Imperfect alone 
used for the Conditional (p. 203) : " chesso dicea quelli ke 
ftigera delabatallia non ftigera daJicani, ke le sue carne facia 
alituastini magiare ; " (p. 208) : " el medico di Pirro venne 
a Fabritio celatamente e disseli ke selli livolea dare cotanto 
avere chelli ucidea Pirro." The next step was -rea, which is 
found represented in the same text (L) in forms such as mecta- 
rea (p. 200), piaccierea (p. 202), averea (p. 211), sirea (p. 212). 
The last stage was -ria. This form is found as follows : l 
All, B77, C44, E29, K2, L9, N42, O12, P69, S24, T15,V74, 
X7, Y8, Z24, BB7, CC2, DD4, EE1, FF1, GG34, 116, LL8, 
SS21, TT5. Is this an example of hiatus e (-red) raised to i 
(-rid) ? If we accept the testimony of Castelvetro we must 
answer in the negative. In his work cited (p. 170) p. 190 he 
is discussing a number of words which, according to Bembo, 
Petrarch took from the Proven9al, among them havia, solid, 
credia; of these he observes : " Niuno nega, che non sia uso 
della Provenza il dire havia, solia, credia, ma cio non basta a 
provar lo 'ntendimento del Bembo. Adunque bisognerebbe 
che egli potesse negare con verita, che fosse o fosse stato uso 
d'una buona parte d'ltalia mai, & spetialmente della patria 
mia, nella quale non solo si dice havia, solia, credia, ma anchora 
haviva, soliva, crediva, donde e non di Provenza 1'hanno prese 
& il Petrarca & Dante & gli altri poeti Italiani." If the Im- 
perfect was in this form in (-ivd) at the time of its junction 
with the Infinitive to form the Conditional, there would be no 
further explanation necessary for the -ria. 2 But an observance 
of imperfects occurring in our texts shows that forms in -ia 
were exceptional ; if the latter had been the prevalent form 
(instead of -ed) his explanation would have been accepted and 
numerous subsequent discussions avoided. Nor is it to be sup- 

1 The numerals to the right of author mentioned refer, as usual, to the 
number of times this form occurs in the given author. 

8 And Castelvetro in his Conditional gives Infinitive with -IBAM, etc. Cf. 
Modern Language Notes, vn, 243 : " Lebrija and the Romance Future Tense " 
(A. M. E .). 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 185 

posed that avea, etc., when joined to the Infinitive, became 
avia, etc., by analogy to Imperfects of the fourth Conjugation 
(in -id), for the number of verbs in the latter is too small, as 
compared with those in the other conjugations, to have exer- 
cised such an influence. D'Ovidio suggests * that aveva being 
a " voce servile" when joined to the Infinitive might have 
undergone an alteration (> (av)ia) which it did not suffer when 
used alone ; in this connection it is to be remarked that the 
majority of words found under this form of the conditional 
(-rid) in our texts are words frequently used ; such as, saria, 
potria, avria, vorria, dovria, anderia,faria, verria, etc., which 
would support his suggestion ; for, naturally, words most fre- 
quently used are the first to be affected by phonetic changes, 
and the change from -rea to -ria may have begun with these 
vocables. If we admit that the change thus took place, the 
cause of the variation is still a question; and until a better 
reason is offered the phenomenon may well be attributed to 
the raising of e to i by hiatus. Why then did not the e in the 
syncopated imperfects, such as avea, dovea,facea, vedea, etc., 
also become t? The following is offered as a possible explana- 
tion (which, as far as I know, has not hitherto been suggested) 
for this anomaly, and also helps to establish the probability of 
the raising of e to i in the Conditional : in searching for like 
developments where e>i, our attention is attracted to a cer- 
tain set of words, now definitely fixed in form, which represent 
the lost stage of growth preceding the final development. These 
words had originally e -(-Vowel, but they now have i -f Vowel, 
and for this reason their development may be compared with 
that of the Conditional (-rea > -rid) : Hone (LEONEM), niuno 
(NEC -+- UNUM), niente (NEC +*ENTEM), and similar. Here 
the regular products are represented by neiente (B13, El, 
F14), beiendo (N), beiamo (II), leiale, (R), Tarpeia (P). Such 
variants [that is, those with an i between e and o (uj] do not 
occur for Hone, niuno. Does this not show a difference 

l Arch. Glot. It., ix, 35. 



186 L. EMIL MENGER. 

between the quality of the e (i) before o and u and that of 
the e before a and e, or that there was an uncertainty in the 
latter case (evidenced by the writing ei) which was not felt 
in the former? If so, is not the following suggestion as to 
these words justifiable? Before o and u (leone, neuno) e passes 
directly to i, all traces of the intervening consonant (c) in the 
latter word being lost; before a and e uncertainty prevails 
as to the pronunciation before the adoption of the i; this un- 
certainty is represented by the writing of both vowels, ei (neiente, 
leiale, beiamo). Now where the intervening consonant definitely 
drops, the e brought before e, a, developes into i (niente, Hale) 
where it sometimes disappears (beamo), again does not (bevamo), 
the consciousness of use of the consonant prevents the develop- 
ment of e >> i in the cases where it is dropped [hence we have 
beo (bevo), creo (credo), veo (veggio), etc.]. Now, if we apply 
this to the development of the Imperfect (aveva) and the Con- 
ditional (avn'rt), the v of the former is never forgotten, and a 
collection of comparative uses of -eva and -ea terminations in 
our texts shows the two side by side, no author employing the 
-ea to the exclusion of the -eva form. It was not to be expected 
that e in the latter (-eva) should develope i, the only case in 
which it might be expected to do so being when the v drops; 
but the v does not drop leaving -ea as the only form, so that 
even when -ea is used, the consciousness of the -eva is never 
absent from the mind of the speaker and prevents the develop- 
ment of -ea > -ia otherwise to be expected, since the speech- 
consciousness with reference to -ea was exactly the same as that 
of -eva. It is therefore no argument against this theory (namely, 
hiatus raises e > i) that avea, dovea, etc., do not develop avia, 
dovia, etc. But if this v was present to prevent said change 
(-ea > -id) in the Imperfect when used alone, the condition was 
altered when the same Imperfect, avea, was joined to the In- 
finitive to form the Conditional. No Tuscan text shows the 
form dovreva. A few dialects may show such forms, 1 but they 

1 Of. Grundrits, i, 544, \ 103 : " Dialekte bewahren i Sg. noch rein : bresc. 
bol. portareve." 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 



187 



were at no time the rule, nor was it natural that they should 
be, for such a form was cumbersome and liable to reduction. 
It is not claimed, however, that such Conditionals (in -rid) 
originated in the Tuscan ; whatever may be their source, the 
fact still remains that they are found in Tuscan only as -rea 
and -ria; whenever they were introduced they were subject to 
phonetic tendencies already existing in Tuscan, and the pho- 
netic trend that may explain -rea > -ria is the raising of hiatus 
e to i ; no traces of the (once) intervening v are preserved ; our 
consciousness of its presence, if it existed, has been lost. As 
a resume we have : Conditionals in -ria are examples of the 
raising of hiatus e (-rea*) to i (-ria) ; the difference between its 
development (> *a) and that of similar forms with an original 
intervening v (-eva, -evo, etc,) being, that in the Conditional the 
v was dropped early and definitely, in the other cases it has 
been preserved up to the present time. Even when it was 
dropped, the consciousness of its presence in the form allied to 
it (with v) prevented the usual hiatus development of e > i. 
The fact, therefore, that in our texts words which, for the most 
part, have preserved their v do sometimes (after the fall of the 
v) develope e > i is a strong proof of the phonetic tendency 
just noted ; such words are die (= dee = deve) and imperfects 
like credia, avia (A), volia ( J), paria (Purg. II, 18), solia (S), 
tenia, rompia, paria (T), tenia, sapia (X), prendia, rendia, volia, 
avia (DD), avia, facia, credia, riprendia (FF), facia, dicia, avia 
(GG), etc. ; in these instances, in spite of the corresponding 
forms aveva, credeva, etc., avea, credea, etc., show the tendency 
to raise the e > i in hiatus and develope avia, credia, etc. 

Our second question (Does hiatus cause e to become i) is, 
then, answered in the affirmative, except for the cases to be 
considered in our next question. 



4. Does hiatus prevent the development of E^>ie f 

There is no doubt as to this development of E when found 
before i: miei, riei, liei, costiei, siei (ES), did (DEBES). The 



188 L. EMIL MENGER. 

last example (diet) which is < del (from DEBES), with an origi- 
nal long E, seems to indicate that all e's when brought before 
i could be treated as open and diphthongize. In the next 
following section of this essay the same phenomenon will be 
met with in respect to hiatus o << u, which diphthongizes before 
i (noi>rmor, soi^>suoi); it appears, therefore, that for the 
Italian no exception to hiatus rules need be made for these 
words, but examples show that in this language o and e are 

treated as o and e when before i. 1 Here, then, the Italian 

t i ' 

oifers a divergence from the general rule for such vowels : 
" Des voyelles qui ne furent en contact qu' a la suite de lois 
phonStiques propres au latin vulgaire conservfcrent la nuance 
en rapport avee letir ancienne quantite ; ainsi on eut jus de 
ivus, SIAT de SIT, EO de EGO," 2 the divergence being that 
when an i directly follows o or e these vowels may become 
open, though they were originally long. 

a. Does MEUS > mieo ? 

Is e before a, e, o, diphthongized as is the case before *? 
The Tuscan texts show no certain example of such pro- 
cedure. D'Ovidio (1. c.) supposes diphthongization in these 
cases, and remarks that io, mio, dio, etc., are reductions 
from *ieo, *mieo, *dieo, etc. As a confirmation of this 
supposition he finds several parallel cases ; namely, pria 

< *priea < piera < pietra ; arria < *arriea < arrieri ; hue 

< buoe < BOVEM. The first two examples are not taken 
from Tuscan texts, and it is to be questioned whether the 
last one is not analogical. In treating mz'o, hue, as reductions 
of *mieo,*buoe, it must be asked why the plural miei, buoi re- 
tained its full form and was not reduced to mii, bui ; and if 
these two, mii, bill (which do occur), are such reductions, why 
was the full form also retained for the plural and only the re- 

'Cf. p. 197. 

* Grammaire des Langues Romanes, par W. Meyer-Liibke. Paris, 1890, I, 
246, I 276. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 189 

duced form for the singular? No explanation for this fact has 
been offered, as far as I am aware, and no parallel phenomenon 
exists in the language. If *mieo,*buoe ever existed, the plurals 
miei, buoi would certainly have a tendency to keep them on 
account of similarity in form, just as mii, dii, rii, etc., are formed 
according to mio, dio, rio, etc. This crossing of forms is a 
strong principle in the language and has its weight in a dis- 
cussion of the present question (of the existence of a *mieo) 
for example, in the present tense of essere, we find siete built 
up according to siei; siemo, according to siete; 1 in the nouns, 
we find the plural uomi formed on uomo, and the singular 
nomine on uomini. 2 On this principle, then, of crossing or 
assimilation of singular and plural forms one expects mii formed 
on mio and such a form is found. On the other hand, one 
expects also *mieo formed on miei. But the fact that no such 
form (*mieo), if it ever existed, remained, although it had this 
principle of form association (similarity to miei) to preserve it, 
is strong evidence of the non-existence of *mieo at any period 
of the Tuscan. 

5. Do the texts examined contain sufficient material for 

explanations of all foiins studied without 

recourse to constructive forms? 

If the statement of the non-existence of a given form be 
characterized as untenable since the texts examined begin only 
with the middle of the thirteenth century leaving unrepre- 
sented the products of the language of the several preceding 
centuries when the language was in its formative state, it may 
be urged in reply : I believe it is better to accept the expla- 
nation of a given phenomenon with what proof for it may be 
found in existing products, than to cast about for uncertain 
explanations based on uncertain (constructive) forms. Besides-, 
it is claimed in this essay that the language of the texts exam- 

1 Cf. Meyer-Lubke, It. Or., \ 447. 'Ibid., \ 339. 

4 



190 L. EMJL MENGEK. 

ined contains sufficient material for the explanation of all the 
forms studied ; if this material agrees with that which proba- 
bly existed in the postulated language of the three or four 
centuries preceding these texts, so much the better ; if not, it 
must be accepted as our norm until more is known regarding 
the possible developments of said postulated speech. It is a 
fact that where a number of varying forms of one and the 
same word has been found, it has been possible, for the most 
part, to establish a logical connection between these different 
forms, to discover which was the oldest, which the intermediate 
growth that preceded the final resultant form now found in the 
modern language. Thus, for the Conditional we have avea 
-avrea -avria, for the explanation of which (avrid) there is no 
need of an intermediate borrowed form ; in the next section 
I shall show that the texts indicate like conclusions for the 
second possessive pronoun, TUI -loi -tuoi, where the last form 
is the outgrowth of the first two ; similarly, in products where 
only two stages are represented it is reasonable to explain for 
the most part the second as the outgrowth of the first. 

Applying these remarks to the case in hand, we find eo, io; 
meo, mio ; deo, dio ; reo, rio mea, mien ; mee, mie, etc., with no 
probable intermediate stage 1 to indicate that they ever existed 
as diphthongized forms in the Tuscan. Under our second 
question it was shown to be probable that hiatus can raise e > 
i ; we find here forms with e, again with i, and the conclusion 
naturally follows that these words also are illustrations of the 
principle of hiatus e >> i ; thus understood, there is no necessity 

1 The form mie' has been noted as occurring in the Tavolu Ritonda in the 
expression per midfd, where it was supposed to be equivalent to an old *miea. 
It is a curious fact that the same locution occurs several times in Cellini. 
Now it is not to be supposed that the latter had any idea of an old *'miea 
when he used mie', for two hundred and fifty years had elapsed since the 
writing of the Tavola and the form had disappeared in the meantime. But 
there is a fact that may account for its use by both, without supposing it 
equivalent to *miea; that is, both were French imitations. Cellini often 
uses French expressions; why these authors supposed this mie' (=mia) to be 
the Italian equivalent of the French possessive, however, is not apparent. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 191 

for supposing an intermediate *mieo, or any similar constructive 
form. It was stated above that the Tuscan dislikes such a form 
as *mieo (cf. p. 189). If the pronoun is supposed to have ex- 
isted under this form, it constitutes an exception to the develop- 
ment to be expected, for the E in MEUM in Vulg. Lat. is long. 1 
But if mio is taken as from meo, it agrees with the development 
of dee (DEBET) > die, described above, and no exception need 
be made for it, nor for the similar dio, rio, etc. 

The answer to the third question (Does hiatus prevent the 
development of e > ie) is represented in resume by the follow- 
ing statement : When the e is before i it diphthongizes even 
if from an original E ; but before a, e, o, the treatment is the 
same as that noted under 3 (p. 182), that is e > i. 

6. Conclusions. 

1. Latin I and I occurring in Tuscan in hiatus position are 
both retained ; no example where the latter (i) has given e has 
been found in hiatus : *THiUM>2io; PlUM>pw>. 

2. e and e in Tuscan, before i give the same result, -ie, the 
e being treated as e in hiatus before this vowel (i) ; both are 
diphthongized : DEBES > del > did; MEI > mid. 

3. e before the other vowels (a, e, o) is close and hence 
never diphthongizes, but is raised to i in hiatus: dee > die; 
meo > mio. 



It was my original intention to give here all words in the 
language in which hiatus e or i occurs, in positions other than 
those considered above. Such has been done for hiatus o and 
u (cf. p. 205) ; but the number of these words amounts to nearly 
four thousand, and lack of space does not permit their being 
printed here. My plan was to arrange them according to the 
system followed for hiatus u and o (p. 205) : those with i cor- 
responding to the latter in u, those with e corresponding to 

1 Cf. Meyer-Liibke, Or. d. Langues Rom., i, \ 276 : " Ie singulier MEUS se 
rfcgle sur Ie pluriel MEI." 



192 L. EMIL MENGER. 

the latter in o. As u -f Vowel is the rule, so is i + Vowel in 
all positions, and the proportional relations of the two sets 
are e+Vowel: i+Vowel = o+ Vowel: w-f Vowel. Words 
with e + Vowel are mostly " mots savants " or borrowed. The 
list of this set (e -f- Vowel) is swelled by numbers of terms that 
belong to special professions ; as, medicine or law, or special 
sciences. These terms, of course, never underwent popular 
phonetic development. Opportunity may offer to publish 
these lists at some time in the future. 



B. TONIC U IN HIATUS; tuo ; tuoi; suo; suoi. 
1. Previous explanations. 

Several explanations have been offered as to the development 
of tuoi, suoi. One is that quoted (p. 1 98) from Meyer-Liibke : * 
" duoi et suoi * * * * pourraient reposer sur DUOS, suos." 
Phonetically this would be regular, according to the principle 
announced by d'Ovidio : 2 " Im Auslaute verstummt s, ent- 
wickelt aber nach betonten Vokalen ein i: dai, assai, noi,poi." 
But there are two grave objections to tuoi < TUOS, suoi < suos. 
The first is, that to suppose the Italian forms derived from the 
Latin accusative is contrary to the law of preservation of the 
Latin accusative plural in other instances, notably in nouns. 
Cf. Meyer-Liibke : 3 " Der Nominativ pluralis der ersten und 
zweiten lateinischen Deklination ist geblieben : -e kann nur auf 

l Or. d. Lang. Rom., I, \ 276. 

*Gh-undriss, i, 532, 74. Cf. Meyer-Liibke, It. Gr., 270. 

3 Il. Or., \ 321 . I have taken the liberty here of correcting this section as 
it reads in Meyer-Liibke's Grammatik; it stands there: "-e kann nur auf -AE, 
-i auf -A. zuriickgehen, da -AS zu -e, -OS zu -o geworden ware." " -i auf -A " is 
incorrect since the Nona. Plu. of the second Lat. Decl. in -i is referred to, and 
the meaning is evident : just as -AE (of the first Decl.) > -e, so -I (of the second 
Decl.) >-i; "da -AS zu -e" evidently does not express the author's meaning, 
for if -AE > -e and -AS > -e this would not show in itself whether the Ace. or 
Nom. of the Latin was preserved in Italian. But -AS >-i regularly ; cf. ibid., 
\ 106, AMAS>-es>-i. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 



193 



-AE, -i auf -i zuriickgehen, da -AS zu i, -os zu -o geworden 
ware. In den andern Klassen sind Nominativ und Accusativ 
gleichlautend, kommen also nicht weiter in Betracht." Tuus, 
suus were declined according to the second Lat. Decl., and here, 
as with nouns, we expect the Latin Nominative Plural TUT, 
sui to be preserved in Italian, and not the Accusative TUOS, 
suos. Again, a fact points still more strongly against the 
derivation of tuoi, suoi from the Latin Accusative in that the 
possessive pronoun of the first person (miei) can come only 
from the Latin Nominative Plural MEI; MEUS was likewise 
declined according to the second Latin declension, and it would 
be inconsistent to maintain that MEI was preserved in one case, 
while TUOS, suos were kept in the other. We have another 
objection in that the derivation of tuoi, suoi from TUOS, suos 
would make triphthongs of the Italian forms, the i < s count- 
ing as a syllable (cf. assai, piui- PLUS). Rhymes gathered 
from any Italian poet would prove this to be impossible, 
since tuoi, suoi always count as two syllables, and, if they 
were triphthongs, they could not be made to rhyme with 
noi, voi, etc., which rhymes are of frequent occurrence. For 
example, in Cino da Pistoja, in the strophe preceding that 
quoted (p. 197) are the lines: 

" In quelle parti, che furon gia suoi, 
Quando trova il Signer parlar di voi." 

P. D. Bartoli observes with reference to vuo'=vuoi: 1 "Questo 
into' per vuoi cui non v'6 chi contradica come mal accorciato, 
mi ricorda Finsegnarsi da alcuni vuoi, suoi, tuoi, miei, esser 
Trittonghi ; il che se fosse, come potrebbono accorciarsi piu 
de' Dittonghi, de' quali confessano non potersi? E pur tutto 
di scriviamo, e bene, tu vuo', i suo', a' mie'. Oltre di ci6, se 
fosser trittonghi, non potrebbon farsi due sillabe come pur gli 
ha tante volte il Petrarca in rima con noi, voi, poi: e miei con 
lei, dei, vorrei. Ben puo il verso restrignere le lor due sillabe 

1 DM Ortografia Italiana. Koma, 1670, p. 101. 



194 L. EMIL, MENGER. 

in una, ma seuza pregiudicio del poterle usare ancora per quelle 
due sillabe che pur sono : e se due sillabe adunque non un 
trittongo." 

A second explanation of tuoi, suoi is that given by Diez : l 
" Der diphthongierte plural miei weckte den Diphthong auch 
in luoi, suoi, der eigentlich nicht regelrecht ist." Just above 
this he observes : " Die nach mio geformten tio und sio finden 
sich." If the singular, formed on mio, is tio, sio, would not 
the plural formed on miei be similarly tiei, siei? 

We have a third explanation by Korting : 2 "Abnorm sind 
die Pluralbildungen tuoi, suoi; vermuthlich sind sie aus Sg. 
tuo, suo, durch Anfugung eines i nach Analogie der substau- 
tivischen Plurale auf -i enstanden." An analogy such as is 
here noted is impossible, since the plural of masculine sub- 
stantives in -o is formed by replacing the -o by an -i. One 
does not decline amico *amicoi, but amico amid. On the 
same principle a plural formed on the singular tuo, suo, would 
be tui, sui; the latter forms do occur and are possibly con- 
structed in this way. Furthermore, if such an explanation 
as this were accepted, we should have to explain also why 
mio did not give *mioi just as tuo > tuoi. 

An explanation of tuoi, suoi which is based on a study of 
the history of hiatus u will now be attempted. 

2. Uses in texts consulted. 

We find in Latin TUI, sui ; in Italian tui, sui; toi, soi; tuoi, 
suoi. The first two (tui, sui; toi, soi) are used only sporadi- 
cally, the last (tuoi, suoi) prevail as the regular developments 
from the Latin. If we consider the three different forms, what 
were the successive stages of development that culminated in 
tuoi, suoi ? 

In our texts we observe the following uses : 3 

1 Gram, n 4 , 90. * Encyc. in, 652. 

3 tuo', suo'; tuoe, suoe are given above (p. 156). 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 195 

tuoi, suoi: A, B, C, D, F, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, K, S, 
T, U, V, X, Y, Z, A A, BB, CC, DD, EE, FF, GG, II, LL, 
SS, TT. 

tue, sue: B, C, F, G. H, I, J, K, M, N, O, P, T, V, X, Y, 
Z, AA, BB, CC, DD, EE, FF, GG, II, LL, SS, TT. 

duoi: L, N, T,V, EE, GG, LL, OO. 

due : B, F, G, H, I, J, K, M, N, O, T, V, X, BB, EE, GG, 
LL, SS. 

8<ri. G, I, J, L, O, P, T,V, X, GG, NN. 

toi: P, T,V, X, LL, MM. 

doi: L, N, T, X, EE, LL, SS. 

sui: C, K, N, O, P,Y, X, FF, KK;NN, SS. 

tui: P,Y, FF, GG. 

dui: I, N, T,V, X, Y, BB, KK, LL, SS. 

muoi (= M5 VES) : P. 

puoi (= POTES) : F, I, J, K, O, P, S, V, W, X, Z, CC, EE, 
FF, GG, LL, SS. 

puoi (= POST) : G, J, K, P, T, V. 

vuoi (= VOLES) : P, S, T, V, W, X, Z, BB, EE, FF, LL, 
88. 

buoi (= BOVES) : H, P, V, X, GG. 

nuoi (= NOS) : P, Y. 

vuoi (= vos) : P, EE, GG. 

moi (= MOVES) : P. 

poi (= POTES) : P, T, V, X, II. 

voi (= VOLES) : P, I, Y, X, EE, GG, II, LL. 

boi (= B6vEs) : P, T, X. 

nui (= NOS) : C, P, Y, GG, LL, NN, SS. 

vui (= vos) : C, O, P, T, X, LL, NN, SS. 

bui (= B5VES) : X, BB, KK. 



toa, soa : P, T, X. 
toe: V. 

soe: T,Y, X, GG. 
doe: L, T. 



196 



L. EMIL MENGER. 



3. Development of toi, soi. 

The latter part of Meyer-Liibke's rule quoted (p. 172) is of 
no assistance here : " Ebenso haben wir nur u und uo bei den 
velaren Vokalen : fui, cui, grue, due, tuo, tua, tuoi, hue, altrui" 
Caix observes : * " u (tonico) diviene o come nell' uso gen- 
erale romanzo : croce, giovane, sopra. Ma grande divergenza 
e nei riflessi dei bisillabi suus, TUUS, DUO, FUI. Da una parte 
la tendenza al suono chiuso da tuo, due, in corrispondenza con 
mio, dio ; dalP altra la preferanza pel suono aperto da to (too), 
so (soa), doe,foi, in corrispondenza con meo, deo, eo. Dove 
cioe prevale la formula e" si prefer i see o v , e dove prevale i* si 
preferisce u v . Anche qui e da avvertire che le due formule 
erano largamente diffuse, ma che la formula con o pare essere 
stata la piu generale. Ma nel siciliano, e nella gran maggio- 
ranza dei mss. toscani la formula con u e la sola in uso. 
Tantoche si dice, per la stessa tendenza non solo suo, tuo, ecc.,. 
ma anche bue (= BOVE)." 

We thus have in toi, soi i( la preferanza pel suono aperto." 
This phenomenon is encountered in Provencal, 2 where we 
know it is directly from TUI, sui, for the oblique forms, teus, 
seus (<TUOS, suos) also exist. 

As to how this toi, soi developed from TOI, sui, a compari- 
son with the corresponding forms in French may give us some 
light. Neumann remarks with reference to o : 3 " Im Latein- 
ischen existirt neben einander NOVUS und DENUO (aus DENOVO) 
ersteres die betonte, NUO in letzerem die in unbetontem Zu- 
stande entwickelte Form desselben Wortes. Auch fur das From 
poss. (TUUM und SUUM) wird es im Lat. zwei verschiedene For- 
men, je nachdem es betont oder unbetont war, gegeben haben. 
Nach dem Klass. Lat. Muster NOVUS DENUO werden die- 
selben gew'esen sein *TOVUM, *SOVUM, TUUM, SUUM.' M This 

* Grundriss, i, 626, 65. 



I 0rigini, \ 55. 

3 Literaturblalt, 1882, col. 468. 

4 Cf. Schwan, Grammatik des Altfranzosischen. 
I 21, 2 ; 33, 2 and 409, 3. 



2te Aufl. Leipzig, 1893. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 197 

observation is made in explanation of the Old French tuen, 
suen, where the 6 before u (by fall of the v) > o and diph- 
thongizes. Might not Italian toi, soi have similarly derived 
from *T6vi, *sovi ? A seeming corroboration of this suppo- 
sition is the fact that in T bovi and boi exist side by side. 

Whether it was through the medium of a *tovi, *sovi or not,, 
the development of u > o in hiatus as well as before conso- 
nants is not difficult of comprehension, for the use of the two 
(it and o) by the early poets shows that there must have been 
a marked resemblance in the phonetic value of these vowels. 
On this poiut is the testimony of Celso Cittadini who observes 
in regard to u > o : l " Non essendo veramente u altro che un 
o, o si pur simigliantissimo ad esso, la onde appo i nostri antichi 
rimatori era fatto rimar con o, facendo, per caso, risponder lui 
a voi, lurne a nome; e simili altri come in particolar leggiamo 
appo Dante Alighieri nel sonetto che incomincia ' L'anima 



mia:' 

"Dicendo : io voglio Amor cid che tu vuoi, 
E piange entro quell'hor, pregando lui." * 

E cosi nel sonetto 'Pieta e merce' fa rimar: oolui: voi: poi 
E Guido Cavalcanti nella sua nobil Canzone d'Amore: comet 
nome : costume." Similar rhymes may be found in GG, fo. h 
lui : fui : suoi. 

4. o before i > o and diphthongizes. 

Were tuoi, suoi developed directly from toi, soi ? The ex- 
amples, as given above, go to show this to be the case. Such 
a statement, of course, seems directly contrary to acknowledged 
hiatus laws, because in toi, soi the o is close and as such could 
not diphthongize, and Meyer-Liibke 3 regards this vowel de- 
velopment as an exception, since after giving the law [E + i > 

1 Origini della volgar Toscana favella Siena, 1604, p. 16. 
* I had noted the same example in C, where it is placed among the rhymes- 
of Cino da Pistoja. 
3 Or. d. Lang. Rom. I, \ 276. 



198 L. EMIL MENGER. 

e, + A > e ; 6 + u>p, + A, i>o (w)] he observes : " Mais 
ces lois ont 6t6 troubles dejft dans le Latin vulgaire : le siugu- 
lier MEUS se rgle sur le pluriel MET, et le pluriel soi sur le 
singulier sous." From this remark one might suppose that 
the writer holds suoi to be < soi, but he evidently does not 
consider the form thus developed, since (1. c. 279) he remarks : 
" Nous avons pour u du latin vulgaire DUAS, SUAS, ital. due, 
sua; duoi et suoi sont douteux puisqu'ils pourraieut reposer 
sur DUOS, suos." But this exception for toi, soi does not cover 
all the words which we have noted with uo before i, notably 
nuoi, vuoi (= noi, voi = NOS, vos) ; and the fact seems to be 
that when o occurs before i, whether after the fall of a V 
(*TOVI, *sovi) or not (noi, voi), it becomes open and diph- 
thongizes. 1 A safer statement than this one would be : nuoi 
and vuoi are exceptional forms, and, after accepting the expla- 
nation of the o in soi as given above, we have all words in this 
category with an o, soi, toi (analogically) ; poi (POTES), poi 
(POST), voi (VOLES), boi (boves) have original p; nothing, there- 
fore, hinders here the diphthongization. Perhaps the writers 
who used nuoi, vuoi, employed them along with noi, voi, just 
as they did toi, tuoi; soi, suoi. While such explanations of the 
irregularity (-o > -MO) may be safer, yet it is claimed in this 
monograph that there is sufficient evidence to make it very 
probable that o and e before i diphthongize regularly. 

5. Influence of v element. 

What part did V play in the development of the words in- 
dicated ; and where o + v + i occurred, did the o diphthongize 
before or after the fall of the v? On this point evidence seems 
to be contradictory. D'Ovidio observes : 2 " Auch im Hi at 
blieb der betonte Vokal nicht unverandert. Die Vergleichung 
mit anderen romanischen Sprachen und ital. Dialekten lehrt, 

1 Cf. above p. 188, where the example of diei (=dei=DEBEs) seems to 
indicate that e also (before t) becomes open and diphthongizes. 
*Gnmdriss, I, 525, % 52. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 199 

das mio, hue einst *MIEO, *BUOE lauteten. Jene schon vulgar- 
lateinischeu *MIEO, *BUOE erlitten nun die verschiedensten 
Schicksale; bald wurden beide vereinfacht, wie im Toskan- 
ischen, jedoch nur im Singular." 

Did not the -uo develop from BOVE >*BUOVE >*BUOE > 
hue? To suppose that the v fell and the o > u on account of 
hiatus would be contrary to what we find in Old French buef, 
Spanish buey, Provenpal buous. Similarly in the plural, Was 
not the development BOVES > bovi > buovi > buoi f Such a 
form, buovi, is recorded. 1 If the V fell before this development 
of -o (> -uo}, the latter (according to hiatus law quoted above, 
p. 198) would become o, and we would not expect it to diph- 
thongize. But on the supposition that the diphthongization of 
noi, voi > nuoi, vuoi is original (not analogical to tuoi, suoi), there 
is no reason why boi should not have a similar development. 

If now a v- stage may be supposed for all the words under 
consideration the toi, soi, boi can be treated as further reduc- 
tions : thus *TOVI > *TUOVI > tuoi > toi (and soi, boi in like 
manner). But this supposition is untenable ; the word puoi < 
poi < POST shows the contrary to be the case ; there is no pos- 
sibility that any phonetic element was ever introduced between 
the o and i here ; the o = original o. Of the two forms poi and 
puoi there is no question as to the poi being the original one 
and this seems to point to a similar development of tuoi t suoi < 
toi, soi (not < *TUOVI, *suovi). 2 The conclusion, then, as to 
V is : There is evidence of the development of 6 > uo before 
V and that the V afterward fell (buovi > buoi) ; but, taking this 
word, the form boi cannot be supposed as a further reduction 
from buoi because a comparison with puoi < poi < POST, where 
poi is the immediate background of puoi, shows that boi also 
probably preceded buoi. Again : buovi occurs 3 and cannot be 

l Zeitschrift fur Bom. Phil., IX, 542. 

8 In FF, p. 125, is found suoli (S&LES); in BB, pp. 34 and 60, occurs toi 
(TOI/LES) these forms are mentioned for comparison. 

3 Cf. in P voli (VOLES) Inf. xxix, 34 ; suoli (SOLES) Inf. iv, 6 ; duoli (DOLES) 
Inf. xxi, 44. 



200 L. EMIL MENGER. 

disregarded ; we must, then, if we maintain the priority of boi 
and acknowledging buovi, admit a parallel development of two 
forms from the Latin, both resulting in the same product (buoi) 

in Italian. Thus B(5vES > bovi > ** u m \ > buoi. 

boi ) 

6. o before a, e, o > u. 

How does the development of the singular bue compare with 
that of the plural just described ? Is the process here : BOVEM 

^ z. ^ *buove 1 ._ *buoe } ^ , ,. 

> bove < V > /7 > > bue? Another question arises 

s boe ) (boe) ) 

here : Does o before e diphthongize (6oe> *buoe) after the fall of 
the v (both forms *buoe<^*buove and *buoe<^boe being reduced 
afterward to bue), or is the o raised to u by hiatus before e f 
This is difficult to answer from the fact that examples of buove 
and boe have not been found. 1 But there is no reason why bove 
should not have given *buove >*6itoe> bue, so that we have to 
consider only bue < boe. From a comparison with words of 
similar development we observe the following : boa, canoa, eroe 
have kept o ; bua, prua have developed o > u. Boa is a 
zoological term ; canoa is spoken of by Scheler 2 as follows : 
" Les mots esp. et it. canoa, angl. canoe sont tires de candoa 
de la langue des Carai'bes ; " eroe is < HEROEM ; bua is < B5o 
ARE ; 3 prua is <*PRODAM. 4 The appropriate form here is 
bua < BO-, and it furnishes a parallel for the raising of o > u 
in hiatus. For boe > *buoe there is no parallel. Examples of 
tuoe, suoe have been given above, 5 but they are easily explained 
as analogous to the masculine tuoi, suoi; that is, a full feminine 
form tuoe, suoe was constructed to correspond to the masculine 

l bue occurs in T, X, GG, II, LL; bove in T, X; bo in LL (p. 184: che 
come il bo la notte voi facciate). 

1 Did. d'Et. Fr., p. 86: canot. 

3 K6rting, Latdnisch-romanisches Worterbuch. Paderborn, 1891. col. 127, 
no. 1288. 

4 And is Genoese. Meyer-Liibke, It. Gr., p. 42, \ 59. 

5 Cf. p. 156. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 201 



tuoi, suoi. For the singular, therefore, as for the plural, bue 
may be 1 

*buoe } 



may be the result of two forms, *6woe or boe ; bove > > > 



,, , > > bue. 1 
(boe) j 

The final application of this example to the development 
of tuoi, suoi is as follows : First, it shows the varying treat- 
ment of o according as it occurs before i or e } giving -uo (buoi) 
in the first case, being raised to u (bue) in the second ; secondly, 
it shows that toi, soi must have preceded tuoi, suoi, just as boi, 
poi preceded buoi, puoi ; the form puoi < poi < P&ST where 
no product like *puovi is possible, shows that the development 
of tuoi < toi and of suoi < soi may be independent of *TOVI, 
*sovi ; the non-occurrence of tuovi, suovi indicates the same 
thing. The development of noi, voi > nuoi, vuoi from a close 
vowel (o) evidences a strong tendency to diphthongization when 
o occurred before i, so that the preferable development of tuoi, 
suoi would seem to be : TUI > toi > tuoi ; sui > soi >> suoi. 
The forms toi, soi as existing to-day in dialects of North Italy 
have morphologically a close o, whether they come directly 
from TUI, sui, or from *TOVI, *sovi, 2 so that for their further 
development into -uo in Tuscan it may be necessary to accept 
the exception noted above (p. 198) " le pluriel soi se regie sur 
le singulier sous." 

a. tui, bui, nui, etc. 

All of this points very clearly toward TUI > toi > tuoi, and 
this development destroys the likelihood that toi is a reduction 
of tuoi, a suggestion by d'Ovidio : 3 " il toi, soi in quanto si trovi 
in testi italiani, di qualunque regione, 6 proprio certo che metta 
capo a TUI, o non piuttosto a tuoi TUOS ? " The forms poi 

J In N (p. 2) occurs Id due (=ld dove). Here the process was probably 
dove > doe > due. 

'For in the latter case, after the fall of the v, the 6>p. Cf. Hiatus law, 
p. 198. 

*Archiv. Olot. /to/., IX, 44, note 1. 



202 L. EMIL MENGER. 

puoi cited above show which was the original ; also according 
to the development * of *buoe > hue, a reduced form of tuoi 
would be tui. This leads to the question as to what these 
forms, tui, sui, dui, nui, vui, bui, are. The quotation cited from 
Zehle (p. 169) was to the effect that tui, sui are Latinisms in 
Dante ; again a suggestion has been made that they are plurals 
formed on the singular tuo, suo by changing -o > -i, the usual 
manner of forming plurals of substantives in -o (p. 194). 
D'Ovtdio remarks : 2 " In tui, sui, ace. a tuoi, suoi = TVos, suos, 
non so se s'abbiano a vedere degli assottigliamenti fonetici, o 
delle continuazioni populari delle forme nominativali latine, 
o meri latinismi, o mere formazioni fatte sui sing, tuo, ecc., 
com' e mil" The six words just mentioned (tui, sui, nui, bui, 
vui, dui) have been treated under other forms (as toi, tuoi, voi, 
vuoi, etc.) as parallels in development ; this would indicate that 
in their treatment under this form (-ui) all should in like 
manner be classed together, and if they are thus considered, 
no one of the explanations suggested up to the present time 
will account for all these forms, but only for tui, sui, dui. 
Nui, vui, bui cannot be latinisms, they cannot be plurals formed 
on a singular *nuo, *vuo, *buo ; it is hardly probable that by 
a phonetic reduction from tuoi, etc., the unaccented vowel u 
should have been preserved, nor would this explain nui, vui, 
since nuoi, vuoi are rare forms. Granted the explanation as 
noted below for such products, they all fall under a like treat- 
ment and also agree with the development of their fuller forms, 
tuoi, etc. According to the law for hiatus (cf. p. 198), 6 -f- 1 
> o or u ; in looking upon the u in tui, bui, etc., as a variation 
of o [TOI > toi (tui)~\, we have a logical explanation for the 
whole set. What renders this still more probable is the fact, 
that words with an original o poi (POST), poi, (POTES), voi 
(VOLES) do not occur under the forms pui, vui. (Excepting 
an isolated example .of piue in FF, p. 98 ; and pui occurs in 
C a few times for the sake of rhyme). 

'Which was suggested by d'Ovidio, cf. p. 199. 
2 Arch. Olot. It., ix, 40, note 2. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 203 

As a result of the preceding discussion it appears that the 
three forms tui, toi, tuoi are to be explained as follows : tui 
is not a latinism, nor a reduction < tuoi, nor formed on the 
singular tuo, but a variant of toi; toi is not a reduction of 
tuoi, but from TUI directly or through the medium of *Ttivi, in 
either case with an o ; tuoi is not < TUOS, but < toi, TUI. 
The differentiation of the Italian from the other Romance 
Languages consists in the development of this o > uo before i, 
for by the side of words for which analogy can be found (soi : 
sous) exist noi, voi > nuoi, vuoi with no such supposable anal- 
ogy. All the forms : toi, soi, doi, boi were originally with o, 
for the u in the variant tui, etc., could not be from an o. Either 
nuoi, vuoi must be analogous to tuoi, suoi, or words like poi, 
voi, p6sT, V6LES with an original 9 must have influenced other 
words in -oi because of the similarity in form of poi, voi, etc., 
with the words in -oi (toi, soi, etc.), so that all were diphthong- 
ized alike ; this seems the preferable explanation, if it is not 
considered that p may become o before i and then diphthongize. 

b. tuo, suo; tue, sue, etc. 

The feminine forms toe, soe, doe, etc., have a development 
parallel, up to a certain point, with that of the masculines ; 
that is, they may be taken as directly from TUAE, or from 
*ToVAE. 1 Out of toe, etc., develops tue, 2 etc., just as hue is < 
boe. Similarly in the singular too, toa; soo, soa first developed 
<*TOVUM, *TOVAM ; *s6vuM, *SOVAM ; 3 then the o in too, toa; 
soo, soa was raised to u by hiatus before o and a and the forms 
became tuo, tua; suo, sua. Or too, toa; soo, soa came directly 
from TUUM, TUAM ; struM, SUAM, which is more probable, it 
having been shown (p. 201) that a v-stage is unnecessary. 



1 For AE>e, cf. Meyer-Liibke, It. Or. 106: "AE [atonic] wird e: le aus 
ILLAE, etc." 

* Or one might easily see here a feminine plural formed on the singular tua. 
3 Cf. Oreslomazia, p. 126, line 234, where one Ms. reads sovofilio, another suo. 



204 L. EMIL MENGER. 



C. TONIC U IN HIATUS. 

Having thus disposed of hiatus u, it is not difficult to formu- 
late a law for the words in which u occurs, for these (as well 
as those with u) are few ; their occurrence in the list of texts 
examined proves that, for the Tuscan, u in hiatus remains u : 
cui, fui, lui, costui, grua. 1 These words never give in Tuscan 
coiffoi, loi, costoi, groa ; such forms are avoided, for instance 
in C (p. 28) occur the rhymes altrui: lui: vui: pui; p. 74, 
vui: altrui: sui: fui; p. 116, colui: vui: lui: sui ; p. 119, 
pui : lui, where original voi, poi, soi are changed to vui, pui, 
sui in order to rhyme with fui, lui, instead of changing the 
latter to */oi, *loi to rhyme with voi, poi, soi, which indicates 
a strong tendency to preserve the u. 

Conclusions. 

From all the discussion given above the following points 
may be postulated : 

1. All words with tonic o -{- i diphthongize (soi > swot); 
noi > nuoi, etc.) ; other forms (lui, fui, cui, etc.) do not diph- 
thongize ; therefore, before diphthongization takes place, an o- 
stage is to be supposed. This o- stage (toi, soi, etc.) appears in 
Tuscan ; it is a logical explanation, therefore, to derive tuoi, 
woi, etc., from it. 

2. There must be reason why other words (lui, fui, etc.) do 
not pass through this o- stage; this cause is attributed to the 

1 Perhaps also frui FRUCTUS should be mentioned here ; it occurs in P, 
Par. xix, 1, rhyming with cui: lui. One exception to the rule just given is 
found; in FF occurs fuoi: p. 118: non so si /wot portato o s'io sognai; p. 
127: io fuoi falconier del re; p. 127: di Capouana fuoi; p. 129: i' fuoi 
Sanese ; p. 130: i' fuoi quel Baldassare ; p. 131 : i' fuoi bon soldata, etc., pp. 
133, 135, 136, 138, 145, 161. But foi does not occur here or elsewhere, and 
fuo-i must be considered as analogical to vuoi (VOLES), puoi (POTES), which 
are of frequent occurrence in this author. 

2 Does this not prove, so far as Italian can show, that u in cui is long? 
cf. Korting, Wtb. no. 6570. 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 



205 



varying quantity of the original Latin vowel, it being long in 
lui, fui, etc. Hence, in Tuscan, Latin u in hiatus remains 
unchanged. 

3. Latin tt for hiatus position develops in Tuscan into p, 
just as it does in other positions : TUAM > toa; TUI > toi, etc. 
Both this o < u and original o (noi NOs) before i may diph- 
thongize, since, in Tuscan, e and o are treated as e and o before 
this vowel (i). If such a development (o > wo) is looked upon 
as doubtful, toi, soi, etc., may be considered to have developed 
by analogy to poi < POST, voi > VOLES, etc., words exactly 
similar in form and with original o; the analogy having 
worked, all alike give -uo : puoi, vuoi, tuoi, suoi. 

Before a (tua), e (tue, bue < 6oe), o (tuo), o is raised to u. 



The following lists show the relative proportion in the use 
of hiatus u or o in words not treated in the preceding pages. 
a indicates any vowel. The dash ( ) is used to indicate syl- 
lables that follow or precede the accent. 



ua- 
abiluale 
abituare 
accentuate 
accenluare 
adduare 
affettuare 
affettuoso 
affituale 
affluenza 
affluire 
aggraduirsi 
aliluoso 
amminuire 
annuale 
annuire 
attenuare 
attuale 
aAtuare 

5 



babbuino 

baluardo 

betzuino 

bezzuarro 

bruire 

buaccio 



buino 

casuate 

censuale 

censuato 

circomfluenza 

circuire 

confluente 

confluenza 

congruente 

congruenza 

const ituire 

construire 



contribuire 

conventuale 

euccuino 

defluire 

deostruire 

destituire 

destruente 

diluire 

diminuire 

dislribuire 

duale 

duello 

duino 

eccetuare 

effetuale 

effetuare 

estenuare 

evacuare 

eventuate 



206 



L. EMIL MENGER. 



ftuire 


proventuale 


od- 


fluttuare 


pruina 




fruire 


puntuale 


benzoato 


fruttuare 


quattriduano 


benzoino 


fruttuoso 


questuare 


boaro 


genuino 


residuare 


boato 


gesuita 


residuals 


doana 


graduare 


restituire 


eroessa 


graduire 


retribuire 


eroina 


graduate 


ritual* 


eroismo 


gratuire 


ruina 


gioire 


gruale 


nitre 


incoata 


gruino 


sensuale 


moine 


imbuire 


sinuoso 


oboista 


impetuoso 


situare 


piroetta 


importuoso 


sentuoso 


poema 


incestuare 


sostituire 


poeta 


incestuoso 


spirituale 


proavo 


incruenlo 


statuare 


roano 


individuate 


statuale 


soatto 


individuare 


statuino 


strettoino 


induare 


statuetta 




infatuare 


statuista 


ua 


influenza 


statuire 




inftuire 


stenuare 


abituatezza 


insinuare 


strettuate 


accuorare 


instituire 


stribuire 


annualmenle 


instruire 


suino 


arduamente 


intellettuale 


suismo 


assiduamente 


intuire 


taccuino 


attualmente 


intuarsi 


tatuaggio 


buacciolo 


irruenza 


tatuarsi 


casualmente 


luttuoso 


testuale 


congruamente 


manuale 


tortuoso 


diminuimento 


menstruate 


triduano 


distribuitare 


mensuale 


tumultuare 


druidessa 


minuale 


tumultuoso 


dualismo 


minuire 


untuoso 


duellare 


montuoso 


vacuare 


eceettuatiw 


mutuante 


vacuetto 


effettualmente 


ostruire 


virtuale 


estenuativo 


perpetuate 


virtuoso 


fluitare 


perpetuare 


visuaie 


gesuitajo 


perpeluanza 


volutuoso 


gesuitare 


prostituire 




gesuittssa 






ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PROSTOUNS. 



207 



gradualmente 


ineroicare 


questuazione 


illuiare 


introitare 


situazione 


indimdualismo 


ioideo 


sontuosamente 


individualmente 


mastoideo 


spiritualizzare 


inftuitore 


metalloidale 


stenuazione 


intellettualmente 


morroidale 


tortuosamente 


intuitivo 


orioepia 


tumultuosamente 


manualmente 


poemetto 


vacuazione 


melifluamente 


poesia 


volutluosamente 


mutuamente 


poetare 




perpetualmente 


poelire 


oa - 


pituiiaso 


poetino 




precipuamente 


romboidale 


alcoolizzare 


pruinoso 


salamojare 


eroicamente 


puntualmente 


sojare 


eroicizzare 


restituimento 


stoicismo 


moineria 


rtstribuimento 


tifoideo 


mmniere 


rilualismo 




poetizzare 


ritualista 


ua 


proemiale 


ritualmenle 




proemiare 


ruinare 


affettuosamente 


proemizzare 


sensualismo 


attenuazione 


stoicamente 


sensualisla 


attualitate 




sensualmente 


attuazione 


ua 


sostituitore 


circuizione 




spiritualismo 


duellatore 


affetuevole 


8piritua(ista 


eccetiuazione 


affituario 


spiritualmente 


effettuazione 


annuario 


statualmente 


e/ettunsamente 


attuario 


atenuativo 


estenuazione 


buaggine 


strenuamente 


flultuazione 


censuario 


superfluamente 


fvrtuitamente 


diminuibile 


tenuemenle 


fruizione 


druidico 


virtualmente 


yradualamente 


elettuario 




graduazione 


gesuitico 


oa 


impetwsamente 


insinuabile 




incestuosamente 


pecuaria 


boarina 


individuazione 


residuario 


coitaso 


insinuazitme 


sanluaria 


concoidale 


intuizione 


statuaria 


conoidaie 


luttuosamente 


tumultuario 


convoitoso 


menstruazione 


usufruttuario 


emorroidale 


mostniasamente 


usuario 


epizoozia 


mutuazione 


voluttuario 


incoativo 


puntuazione 





208 



L. EMIL MENGER. 



od 

uloetico 

doario 

ndetico 

poetico 

proavolo 

proemio 

zedoaria 

ua 

duellario 

graduatorio 

mutualario 

pituilario 

vacuatorio 

oa 

emorroidario 

ua 

gesuilicamente 
gesuitofobia 
istuilivamente 
santuariamente 
spir itiudizzamento 
turn ultuariamente 



ua 



ajfluere 

cercuito 

druido 

fortuito 

gratuito 

iniuito 

pituita 

ruere 



6a 



allantoide 



androide 


sckifanqja 


aracnoide 


schizzatojo 


asteroide 


scoccatojo 


axtroite 


scolatojo 


benzoico 


scorcitojo 


cissoide 


scorificatojo 


coito 


scorsojo 


cometoide 


scoriicatojo 


concoide 


scotitojo 


conoide 


scriltojo 


coliloide 


seccatojo 


emorroidi 


segnatqjo 


eroico 


serbatojo 


eroide 


sferratqja 


introito 


soja 


ioide 


sonatojo 


jaloide 


spanditqjo 


lombricoide 


spazzatojo 


metalloide 


speynitojo 


morroidi 


spianalojo 


Mai 


spiccialojo 


odontoide 


spogliat&jo 


romboide 


stoja 


sesamoide 


squartatojo 


sferoide 


stendilqjo 


stoico 


streltqja 


Irapezoide 


strozattqjo 


zoilo 


svegliatyo 


addirizzatojo 


svernutojo 


beverat&jo 


tayliatojo 


pas to/a 


temperatojo 


pensatojo 


tenitojo 


riserbatojo 


tettoya 


ritenitojo 


tiratojo 


salamoja 


loccatojo 


saldatqjo 


torcitcgo 


salitojo 


trapanatojo 


scaldatqjo 


trebbiatojo 


scalzatojo 


ucellatoio 


scannalqjo 


varalojo 


scappatoja 


vassojo 


scaricatqjo 


volyitojo 


scaltatojo 


voltqjo 



ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 



209 



-- ua 



annuo 

arduo 

assiduo 

congruo 

cospicuo 

fatuo 

individuo 

ingenuo 

lituo 

mellifluo 

menstrua 

nottua 

perpetuo 

perspicuo 

precipuo 

proficuo 

promiscuo 

queslua 

residua 

sperpetua 

statua 

strenuo 

superfluo 

tenue 

lonitruo 

treguo 

triduo 



oa 



alcool 

aloe 

protonoe 



ua- 



arduitcL 

assiduitd 

congruitd 

cospicuitct 

fatuitil 

gratuitd 

ingenuitd 

perpetuitd 

perspicuitci 

strenuitd 

tenuitd 

vacuitd, 

veduitd 



ua 

casucdUdi 
dualitci 
eventualiHi 
fruttuositd, 



impetuositd, 

importuositd, 

individuality 

intellettualitci 

manualitct 

montuositd, 

mostruositd 

perpetualild 

promiscuositct, 

puntualitd, 

sensualitct 

sinuositcL 

sontuosilcL 

spiritualitd, 

tortuosita 

untuositd 

ventuositd, 

virtualita 

voluttuositct, 



ua 
insinuabilitd 



o'e 



evoe 
oboe 
siloe. 



Louis EMIL MENGER. 



IV. THE ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON 
PROSE. 

I. INTRODUCTION. 

(a) Few subjects connected with Anglo-Saxon prose have 
been so persistently slighted as that of the position of words 
and clauses. The grammars either omit it entirely or touch 
upon it only in the most vague and general terms. No mono- 
graphs treating the whole subject in all its periods and aspects 
have yet appeared, Kube's dissertation l being the only attempt, 
so far as I know, to investigate the word-order of even a single 
monument of Anglo-Saxon literature. But this work, though 
valuable, is awkwardly arranged, and devotes too little pro- 
portionate space to the subject of dependent clauses, the element 
of Anglo-Saxon word-order which offers the greatest contrast 
to modern English and which is therefore the most interesting 
as well as the most important. Kube's results are further 
vitiated by his having selected a monument written at long 
intervals apart and therefore incapable, if treated as a single 
synchronous work, of exhibiting any successive changes in 
word-order, or the word-order of any fixed date. 

A more suggestive study than Kube's is that of Ries. 2 The 
latter not only treats the relative positions of subject and predi- 
cate as exemplified in Old Saxon, but mingles much else that 
is of value to the student of word-order in general. 

For the general student, however, the most suitable book 
is that of Weil. 3 This work, whether one agrees with all the 
conclusions or not, is rightly called in the words of the trans- 
lator, " a lucid and systematic introduction to the study of the 
whole question." 

1 Die Wortstellung in der Sachsenchronik, (Parker MS.), Jena, 1886. 

2 " Die Stellung von Subject und Pradicatsverbum im Heliand," Qudlen 
und Forschungen, XLI. 

3 The Order of Words in the Ancient Languages compared with the Modern 
(translated from the French by Super, 1887). 

210 



ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 



211 



The extensive bibliography which Schultze J is able to give 
of previous investigations into the word-order of Old French 
shows that, in this language at least, scholars have not been 
slow to appreciate the importance of word -order in its general 
relations to syntax. Special prominence is also given to this 
subject in the last edition of Allen and Greenough's Latin 
Grammar (1891), Part n, Chapter vi. The first chapter of 
Ccesar is translated and an attempt made to illustrate the 
various shades of thought indicated by the position of words 
in the original. "This subject has only just begun to receive 
the consideration it deserves." (Preface.) 

The aspect of Anglo-Saxon word-order most urgently call- 
ing for treatment is the rhetorical aspect. There are three 
norms in the word-order of every language : 2 (1) The syntactic, 
or grammatical, used as a "means of indicating grammatical 
relations ; " (2) The rhetorical, used as a means of indicating 
the " relative weight and importance intended by the author ; " 
(3) The euphonic. The last concerns poetry and may here be 
omitted, but Anglo-Saxon, a highly inflected language, could 
better employ position for rhetorical purposes than modern 
English; but what were the emphatic places in an Anglo- 
Saxon sentence ? Were they the first (pathetische Stellung) and 
the last (signifikante Stellung)? Goodell admits the former for 
Greek but denies the latter. He declares that the tendency 
to emphasize by finalizing " prevails in French," is less potent 
in German, and that " possibly the tendency in English is due 
partly to the influence of French." 

I shall not enter upon these rhetorical questions, 3 but I wish 
to emphasize the fact that till statistical results have been sifted 
rhetorically they can not have their full value, for there is a 
rhetorical as well as a syntactic norm. 

1 " Die Wortstellung im altfranzosischen direkten Fragesatze," Herrig'a 
Archiv, LXXI ; cf., also, Thurneysen's " Stellung des Verbums im Altfran- 
zosischen," Zeitschrift filr romanische Philologie, XVI. 

* See Goodell's " Order of Words in Greek," Trans. Am. Phil. Association, 
xxi, 1890. 

3 Of., however, Ries, p. 2, for authorities on Die Voranstellung des Wichligen. 



212 



C. A. SMITH. 



(6) The results obtained in the following dissertation are based 
equally on a study of Alfred's Orosius and ^Elfric's Homilies. 
The figures following the citations from the Orosius refer to 
page and line of Sweet's Edition for the Early English Text 
Society, 1883; those following the citations from the Homilies 
refer to volume and page of Thorpe's Edition for the ^Dlfric 
Society (2 vols.), 1844, 1846. 

When the order of words is the same in both, illustrative 
sentences are given only from the Orosius. The Homilies are 
cited for differences, and for the illustration of principles not 
sufficiently exemplified in the Orosius. 

By keeping the two sets of citations thus distinct, I have tried 
to bring out more clearly the growth of Anglo-Saxon word-order 
in the tenth century toward the norm of modern English. 

In this discussion my effort is, as was Kube's, to find the 
syntactic norm. Although, for example, I give statistics for 
all possible positions of the dependent verb, whether influ- 
enced by rhetorical considerations or not, it is not to be inferred 
that occasional non-final dependent verbs in the Orosius show a 
tendency necessarily in conflict with the finals. In the following 
sentences, for example, Alfred, evidently for rhetorical reasons, 
places his dependent verbs immediately before the marvels that 
follow, so that nothing may check the full effect of his figures : 

an cild geboren, ]?set hsefde in fet and in handa and in eagan 
and in earan 220, 14. 

for ]>on heo [an nadre] waes hund twelftiges fota lang 174, 16. 

Yet if these examples are to be counted at all in a statistical 
enumeration, made to find out what the position of the verb is 
in the majority of cases, i. e. what the syntactic (grammatical) 
norm is, they must stand in a seeming conflict with the usual 
norm in the Orosius which is that a dependent verb is final. 
Both of them, however, are perfectly normal. They are the 
exceptions that prove the rule, the difference being that they 
follow a rhetorical norm while the final verbs follow a syn- 
tactic norm. 

JElfric has a finer feeling for rhetorical effects than Alfred. 
Inversion, for example, in a dependent clause is rarely found 



ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 213 

in Anglo-Saxon prose, yet JElfric in the following sentence skil- 
fully employs it as a means of preserving the preceding word- 
order and bringing out the contrast and balance between "arleas- 
nysse" and "deaS." He is speaking of Stephen's death : 

Swipor he besorgade )>a heora synna |>onne his agene wunda ; 
swtyor heora arleasnysse^ J?onne his sylfes dm3 (b) ; and rihtlice 
swtyor, for]?an ]>e heora arleasnysse w fyligde se eca dea$, and 
J>a3t ece lif fyligde his dea]>e m I, 50. 

In the two following sentences the pronominal objects (see p. 
220 (2)) follow their verbs, so as to preserve the balance of the 
clause immediately preceding : 

He [se deofol] and his gingran awyrdaj/ a) manna lichaman (b) 
digeliice (c) J>urh (d) deofles (e) crseft (f) , and geha3la]/ a) hi (b) openlice (0) 
on (d) manna (e) gesihj>e (f) I, 4. 

He (a > bser (b) J>aet cild fo) , and }>a3t cild (a > bser (b) hine (0) 1, 136. 

Under the head of " Transposed Order " (see p. 235 (d)), I 
have summed up the chief occasions when transposition is not 
observed with its usual frequency, but have left untouched the 
changes brought about by rhetoric. The syntactic norm must 
be clearly established before a rhetorical norm can be thought 
of, for the latter is largely a simple inversion of the former. 
If it be established, for example, that the usual position of 
pronominal objects is before the verbs that govern them, it fol- 
lows that any other position must by its very novelty arrest 
attention and make for emphasis, whatever Goodell may say 
of the logical or psychological aspects of the question. 

(c) "Can the numerous translations of Latin works, espe- 
cially the translations of Alfred, be regarded as faithful repre- 
sentations of the natural utterance of the translators? There 
seem to be strong reasons for answering this question in the 
affirmative, with certain limitations." l Wack 2 corroborates 
Sweet and adds : " Einfluss des Lateinischen auf die Sprache 
der Uebersetzung lasst sich weder im Wortschatz noch syntact- 
ischer Beziehung nachweisen." And again, " Wahrt Aelfred 

'Sweet, Introduction to dura Pastoralis (E. E. T. Soc.J. 
* Ueber das Verhdltnis von Kb'nig Aelfreds Ueberselzung der Oura Pastoralis 
zum Original. Greifswald, 1889. 



2J4 



C. A. SMITH. 



also der Uebertragung durchweg die Freiheit tmd Herrschaft 
der germanischen Form." 

Speaking of the Orosius, " the only translation of Aelfred's 
which from the similarity of its subject admits of a direct 
comparison," Sweet l says : " We find almost exactly the same 
language and style as in the contemporary historical pieces of 
the Chronicle." 

Though the Voyages of Ohthere and Wulfstan exhibit marked 
variations from the general order of other portions of the 
Orosius, I see no reason for crediting the Latin with any note- 
worthy influence. Whatever the influence may have been, it 
must have been exerted in behalf of finalizing the verbs, both 
in dependent and independent sentences ; but I find only one 
sentence in which this influence seems exerted the first 
sentence in the book. The Latin is : Majores nostri orbem 
totius terrae, Oceani limbo eircumseptum, triquadrum statuere. 
The Anglo-Saxon : Ure ieldran ealne pisne ymbhwyrft pises 
middangeardes, cwaep Orosius, swa swa Oceanus utan ymb- 
ligep, pone (man) garsecg hateft, on ]>reo todaeldon. 8, 1. 
Here "on ]>reo todaeldon," appearing at the end of a long 
independent sentence, corresponds exactly in position to " tri- 
quadrum statuere," and is the most violent transposition that 
I have noted. 

It is, perhaps, needless to say that the influence of Latin is 
plainly seen in the blundering awkwardness of many passages 
in the Orosius. 2 Sentences illustrating this are necessarily 
long, and the subject does not fall within the province of this 
paper, but the sentence beginning 106, 7 and that beginning 
212, 14 will give a general idea of the incompleteness and 
clumsiness to be found in Alfred's frequent and vain attempts 
to pit the looseness of Anglo-Saxon against the compactness 
of Latin. In 136, 32 the attempt is made to compress two 
Latin sentences into one, but in none of these is the word- 
order abnormal. 

1 Page 40 of Introd. to Cura Pastoralis. 

2 Cf. Schilling's dissertation : Konig Alfred's Angelmchsische Bearbeituny 
der Weltyeschichte des Orosiv* (Halle, 1886), p. 9. 



ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 



215 



The question of Latin influence does not enter into the 
Homilies except where JElfric occasionally quotes Scriptural 
Latin and adds immediately a literal translation. In such cases 
there is noticeable at times a tendency to conform the word- 
order as closely as possible to the Latin, 1 so as, apparently, to 
impress the hearer with the fact that he is listening now not, 
as heretofore, to an interpretation of inspired thought, but to 
the inspired thought itself, dressed as far as possible in its native 
garb. E. g. He [Lucas] cwa?]?, Postquam consummati sunt 
dies octo, etc. pa3t is on ure gej>eode, .ZEfter pan }>e wserou 
gefyllede ehta dagas, etc. I, 90. Such inversion, as noted before, 
is rare. In the Gospel of Luke (u, 21) the order is, .ZEfter }>am 
J>e ehta dagas gefyllede wa3ron, and ^Elfric himself observes 
this order in the following example, where the Latin order is 
exactly as before : Cum uatus esset lesus, etc. pa |>a se Haelend 
acenned wees, etc. I, 104. In the Gospel of Matthew the order 
is the same, though the words are different (Mat. II, I). 2 

(d) Using the terms employed by Whitney in his Compen- 
dious German Grammar, I divide order, as related to subject 
and predicate into (1) Normal, (2) Inverted, and (3) Transposed. 
(1) Normal order = subject -{- verb. (2) Inverted = verb -j- 
subject. (3) Transposed = subject ....-{- verb. 

It is only when the last division is viewed in relation to 
other sentence members besides the subject and predicate, that 
the propriety of a special designation is seen ; for subject and 

1 JElfric, however, is almost entirely free from the examples of forced order 
so frequently occurring in the Anglo-Saxon Gospels. Cf. the following, taken 
from the Notes to Bright's Gospel of St. Luke in Anglo-Saxon, pp. 109, 110 : 

Luke 1, 27 (Clementine Vulgate) : Ad virginem desponsatam viro, cui nomen 
erat Joseph, de domo David, et nomen Virginia Maria. 

Anglo-Saxon Gospel: to beweddudre fjemnan anum were, >ses nama wses 
losep, of Dauldes huse ; and Jjaere faemnan naina waes Maria. 

JElfric, Horn. I, 194: to Sam msedene >e wses Maria gehaten, and heo 
asprang of Dauldes cynne, bses maran cyninges, and heo waes beweddod J>am 
rihtwisan losepe. See also Notes in, 4, 5; xi, 11, 12. 

The "paving letters" in the Rule of St. Benet (E. E.T. Soc. No. 90) would 
throw invaluable light on this subject if we had the original instead of a 
much mutilated copy. It is at present, however, impossible to rearrange 
the Latin words in the original alphabetical order of the " paving letters." 



216 



C. A. SMITH. 



predicate follow the order observed in (1), though the predi- 
cate comes last as related to its modifiers. 

For the component parts of the compound tenses, I use 
" auxiliary " for the first member, " verb " for the second. 
Though not so exact as "personal verb" for the first, and 
" non-personal verb " for the second, or " Hilfsverbum " and 
" Hauptverbum," these terms have the merit of greater 
brevity, 1 and are equally self-defining. 

By " dependent order " and " independent order," I mean 
the order in dependent sentences and independent sentences. 
When the term " verb " is used alone, it means a simple (non- 
compound) tense, which is always personal. 

These respective orders will now be taken up in detail. 



II. NORMAL ORDER. 

Independent sentences. 
Subject -j- verb -{- verb modifiers. 

(a) By verb modifiers are meant accusative objects, dative 
objects, predicate nouns and adjectives, prepositional phrases, 
and adverbs. Of this order in general Ries remarks : " Die 
Voranstellung des Subjects ist im Indogermanischen, soweit 
die historische Kenntniss reicht, der Grundtypus der Wortfolge 
und ist soweit mir bekannt mit alleiniger Ausnahme des 
Keltischen, in alien Zweigen des Sprachstammes herrschend 
geblieben " (p. 9). 

This sequence is employed in Anglo-Saxon for independent 
affirmative sentences. 

(1) With simple tense: 

paet Estland is swyfte mycel 20, 14. 2 

1 This can hardly be claimed for Ries's substitution of " irregular-gerade 
Folge " for " Inversion," p. 2, though in other respects the term is a 
happy one. 

* Arabic figures in every case show that the Orosius is referred to. Roman 
and Arabic, for volume and page, indicate the Homilies. 



ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 217 

and se nimft J>one laestan dsel 21, 3. 

He wses of Sictlia J?a3m londe 54, 17. 

(2) When the verb is a compound tense the auxiliary fol- 
lows the order of the simple tense noted above, the second 
member following immediately, medially, or finally. When 
the adverbial designations are numerous, or of various kinds, 
the verb either immediately follows its auxiliary or takes a 
medial position among the adverbial designations. This is 
often a matter of rhetoric (of emphasis) and is the principle 
involved in the distinction between loose and periodic sen- 
tences. The language had not yet developed a norm and was 
thus more flexible in this respect than modern German. The 
final position of the second member, is, however, the most 
common if the modifiers are few. 

In the following examples I shall quote inverted as well 
as normal sentences, for as far as the relative positions of 
auxiliary and verb are concerned, they are not to be dis- 
tinguished. 

(a) Verb immediately following auxiliary : 

ponne sceolon beon gesamnode ealle fta menn $e swyftoste 
hors habbaiS 20, 33. This triple verb is evidently bunched 
together so that " $e " and its clause may immediately follow 
" menn ; " but had there been no following clausal modifier of 
" menn," the order would more probably have been, ponne 
sceolon ealle iSa menn beon gesamnode. See p. 240 (4). 

Seo hsefde gehaten heora gydenne Dianan j?aet, etc. 108, 16. 

he wolde abrecan Argus pa burg 158, 31. 

nu we sindon cumen to paern godan tidun 182, 14. 

-ZEfter psem wordum Pompeius wearS gefliemed mid eallum 
his folce 242, 12. 

Antonius and Cleopatro hseldon gegaderod sciphere on ]>aem 
Readan Sse 246, 19. 

(6) Verb medial : 

pset tacen wearS on Roman um swipe gesweotolad mid ]>a3m 
niiclan wolbryne 86, 23. 

Ic haBbbe nu gessed hiora ingewinn 88, 28. 



218 



C. A. SMITH. 



and nseron on hie hergende butou J>rie dagas 92, 36. 

He wearj> }>eh swipor beswicen for Alexandres searewe |?onne 
124, 18. 

He wses on iSaam dagum gemaersad ofer ealle o]>ere cyningas 
154, 25. 

He W33S eac on J^sem dagum gleawast to wige 154, 32. 
(c) Verb final : l 

and Gallie waaron aer siex mona'S binnan J>sere byrig hergende 
and J>a burg baernende 94, 1. 

and unease mehte aar aanig fysetn Gallium oiSfleon of>]>e 
oShydan 94, 10. 

J?a hie ne mehton from Galliscum fyre forbaarnede weorj>an 
94, 14. 

pa wseron ealle ]>a wif beforan Romana witan gelaftede 
108, 31. 

nu ic wille eac j^aas maran Alexandres gemunende beon 
110, 10. 

and j?a3r waas his folc swa swi$e forslagen ]>set etc. 244, 10. 

(6) The position of datives (nouns and pronouns). 

(1) The substantival dative, unless influenced by rhetorical 
considerations, stands between the verb and the direct object, 
as in modern English. 

Ohthere ssede his hlaforde, ^Elfrede cyninge, ]>a3t, etc. 17, 1. 
(This clausal object makes the above position necessary in this 
case). 

Romane gesealdon Gaiuse luliuse seofon legan 238, 16. 

JEfter ]>33rn Romane witan Claudiuse J;one hunger 260, 2 1 . 

he gesealde Ualente his brewer healf his rice 288, 11. 

He gesealde Persum Nissibi ]m burg 286, 26. 

and betahte his twsem sunum |;one onwald 294, 30. 

In the following sentence, the two appositive modifiers force 
the indirect object after the direct : 

he sealde his dohtor Alexandre psern cyninge, his agnuru 
raaage 118, 27. 

1 Earle notes a survival of this order in the legal diction of Modern Eng- 
lish (English Prose, p. 87). 



ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 219 

(2) The pronominal dative, however, comes between the 
subject and the verb. 

He him pa gehet 114, 25 and 27. 

and him bebead 114, 30. 

Hie pa sume him getygiSedon 118, 15. 

He pa Alexander him anum deadum lytle mildheortnesse 
gedyde 128, 14. 

and hi him paet swipe ondraedan 138, 5. 

he him 1 pa to fultume com 140, 22. 

and hi him gefylstan 162, 20. 

and him pset rice geagnedan 224, 20. 

Roruane him gepancodou 224, 32. 

There are many sentences in which the pronominal dative 
is drawn after the verb through the influence of a following 
word or phrase upon which the dative is dependent rather 
than upon the verb : 

and gesetton him to cyningum twegen Hasterbalas 210, 26. 

and he wearS him swa grom 260, 22. 

he geceas him to fultume Traianus pone mon 264, 18. 

But when dependent solely on the idea contained in the 
verb, the pronominal dative comes between the subject and 
the verb. Only nine variations are to be found in the Orosius 
(17, 9; 20, 1 ; 20, 4; 178, 18; 258, 28; 274, 14; 284, 5; 
292, 28 ; 296, 5), and in some of these it is impossible to tell 
whether the dative is a modifier of the idea contained in the 
verb, the verbal modifier, or in the union of the two. Of 
course the dative after a preposition is here excluded. 

^Elfric is not so consistent in this respect as Alfred, his 
sequence being more modern. In a portion of the Homilies 
equal to the Orosius, there occur 86 pronominal datives, of 
which 64 precede the verb, 22 follow, a ratio of about 3 to 1 

an Adam him eallum naman gesceop I, 14. 

God him worhte pa reaf of fellum I, 18. 

1 Here "him" is governed by "to fultume" rather than by "com." 
Most sentences of this sort observe the following order: he )>a com him to 
fultume. See below. 



220 



C. A. SMITH. 



Drihten him andwyrde I, 126. 
But, 

We secgap eow Godes riht I, 5(5. 

(c) The position of direct objects (nouns, clauses, and pro- 
nouns). 

(1) Nouns and clauses follow the substantival dative if there 
be one; 1 if not, they follow the verb but precede all other 
verbal modifiers. 

Philippus gelsedde fird on Lsecedemonie and on Thebane 
118, 24. 

Alexander hsefde gefeoht wr$ Porose ]>aem, etc. 132, 16. 

pa brohton Romane pone triumphan angean Pomp, mid, 
etc. 234, 27. 

and mon towearp pone weal niper o)> pone grund 238, 12. 

(2) The pronominal direct object precedes the verb, 
he hine oferwann and ofsloh 30, 11. 

hy genamon Joseph, and hine gesealdon cipemonnum, and 
hi hine gesealdon in Egypta land 34, 2 (a fine illustration of 
all the preceding). 

he hi pser onfenge, and hi pser afedde 36, 11. 

and se cyning Hasterbal hiene selfne 2 acwealde 212, 7. 

he ]>a hiene selfue forbsernde 52, 7. 

feng Titus to Romana onwalde, and hine ha3fde n gear 264, 1. 

feng Lucius Antonius to rice, and hit hsefde xin ger 268, 
26. (This oft repeated clause, " and hit hsefde " or " and hiue 
hsefde," representing various Latin equivalents in the Orosius, 
never varies its order.) 

Only four variations from the usual order are found in the 
Oroaius (82, 18; 226, 10; 284, 28; 294, 28). 

jElfric, in a portion of the Homilies equal to the Orosius, 
employs 108 pronominal accusatives, of which 88 precede the 
verb, 20 follow, a ratio of about 4J to 1. 

1 For examples, see p. 218 (1). 

2 The preference for this interposed position, both in the Orosius and the 
Homilies, is not shown so decidedly by these intensive forms, " him selfum " 
and " hiene selfne," as by the simple forms. Cf. exceptions under both heads. 



ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 221 

and he hi laedde ofer sae . . . . and he hi afedde I, 24. 

and he hine lufode synderlice I, 58. 

God on swefne hi gewarnode I, 78. 

pa tungel-witegan .... hine gemetton mid paere meder I, 
116. 

But, 

Stacteus .... astrehte hine to Johannes fotswa)>um i, 68. 

(cC) In imperative clauses with the subject unexpressed, pro- 
nominal objects, both dative and accusative, follow the verb. 

Orosius (only one such construction) : GesecgaiS me nu Ro- 
mane, cwseft Orosius, 194, 24. 

Homilies: pes is min leofa Sunu .... gehyraj? him 1, 104. 

Syle us to-daeg urne dseghwamlican hlaf. And forgyf us 
ure gyltas .... Ac alys us fram yfele I, 258. 

The reason why pronouns prefer the initial positions in a 
sentence is to be sought, I think, in the very nature of pro- 
nouns. They are substitutes not merely for nouns, but for nouns 
that have preceded them in the paragraph or sentence. All 
pronouns are, thus, essentially relative; and just as relative 
pronouns proper follow as closely as possible their antecedents, 
so personal pronouns, partaking of the relative nature, partake 
also of the relative sequence. 

As to whether an adverb should precede a prepositional 
phrase, or vice-versa, it is purely a matter of relative em- 
phasis. As in modern English, there was, and could be, no 
syntactic norm. 

III. INVERTED ORDER. 

Independent sentences. 

Verb -\- subject. 

(a) When a word, phrase, or clause, other than the subject 
or a coordinate conjunction, begins the sentence, provided it be 
a modifier of the verb, the verb may be drawn after it, and the 
subject made to follow. 
6 



222 C. A. SMITH. 



Inversion presents itself under two entirely distinct aspects : 

(1) As a means of more closely uniting the inverted sentence 
with the preceding (by such words as " J>a," " j?onne," etc.) ; 

(2) As a means of relative stress (as e. g. when the direct object 
begins the sentence). The one conduces to compactness and 
continuousness ; the other, to emphasis and effectiveness. 

Inversion is by no means consistently employed in Anglo- 
Saxon prose ; hence I have avoided stating the principle in a 
dogmatic way. Generally speaking, it may be said that the 
Orosius, on account of its narrative nature, employs inversion 
for the first mentioned purpose oftener than the Homilies', while 
the Homilies, on account of their expository nature, furnish 
more examples of inversion for purposes of rhetorical stress. 

Kube finds the same dearth of inversion in the Chronicle, 
"her" when initial being followed by the normal more fre- 
quently than by the inverted order. The same may be said 
of " sefter ]>sem " 1 in the Orosius. Kube thinks that the fre- 
quent repetition of " her " had weakened its inverting power. 
" Es wurde ihm [dem verfasser] gleichsam zu einer einleitenden 
formel, nach der er seinen satz baute, wie er jeden anderen ohne 
diese formel" gebaut haben wurde" p. 8. "^Efter J>sern," how- 
ever, is not of frequent occurrence in the Orosius, while " j>a " 
and "jjonne" are ; yet inversion after " .ZEfter |>sem" is as rare 
as it is frequent after "]>a" and "ponne." It must be remem- 
bered that the essence of inversion is the closeness of interde- 
pendence between verb and initial word. Consistent inversion 
would assume that this union is constant and indissoluble, o 
that to mo've a verbal modifier to the beginning of the sentence 
must necessarily move the verb with it. But this cannot be 
true where constructions are as yet unfettered by traditional 
forms. The relation between verb and verbal modifier is not 
constant, but varies in degree even with the same words. 
Rhetoric, again, has kept the language from crystallizing into 
hard and merely mechanical forms of construction. 

1 JEfter baem }>e " is, of course, an entirely different construction, and intro- 
duces only dependent clauses. 






ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 223 

111 the following sentences, for example, 

Maximianus he sende on Affricam 280, 2. 

Constantius he sende on Gallic 280, 3. 

Galerius he sende on Perse 280, 8. 

one feels the superior distinctness with which these names are 
contrasted, not only by their being placed first but equally by 
their not drawing (though they are direct objects) the verb 
with them. The reader naturally pauses briefly after each 
name ; but had the verb immediately followed, i. e. had 
inversion taken place (" Max. sende he," etc.), there would 
have been no room for a pause. In these cases, therefore, 
rhetoric has disturbed what must still be called the usual norm. 

(6) The chief cases of inversion are, 

(1) By a word : 

pa for lulius to Rome 240, 15. 

peer hsefdon Roruane sige, and J>ser wses Gallia ofslagen 
232, 11. 

Si]>]>an for lulius on Thesaliam 240, 29. 
Ne wene ic, cwseft Orosius 92, 18. 
Unease rnseg mon .... gesecgan 128, 20. 
ponne is J>is land 19, 16. 

(2) By a phrase : 

For hwi besprecaiS nu men 54, 33. 

Eac buton J>gern yfele nahton hie na}>er, etc. 92, 33. 

.<Efter his fielle wearS J?ara casera msegiS offeallen 262, 5. 

(3) By a clause : 

JEr $89m iSe Romeburh getimbred waere . . . ., ricsode 
Ambictio 36, 4. 

Ic watgeare, cwseft Orosius, 42, 1. 

.ZEr Jjsem J?e Romeburg getimbred waere .... ws ]>sette 

Pel. and Ath winnende wseron 56, 6. (The inverted 

subject is here the whole clause introduced by " J>aette "). 

Inversion caused by an initial dependent clause is not 
frequent in Anglo-Saxon ; for most dependent clauses, when 
they precede independent ones, have some correlative word to 
introduce the latter (J;a . . . . j;a, J>onne .... J>onne) : 



224 



C. A. SMITH. 



ponne he J>a oferswiiSed haefde .... )>onne dyde he, etc., 
112, 23. 

Here the inversion in " dyde he " is caused by the second 
"]>onne," not by the preceding clause. Such clauses were 
weaker in inverting power than either single words or phrases. 
The fact that it contained a separate subject and predicate 
gave the initial clause a certain independence, an isolation, a 
power to stand alone, and thus widened the breach between it 
and the verb of the succeeding clause which it limited. No 
better proof of this could be given than the tendency to sum 
up and reinforce the weakened effect of the preceding clause 
by some correlative or connective word. The interdependence 
of the two clauses was not strongly felt. Rask l correctly 
states the principle as follows : 

" In genera], however, as in English, the consequent propo- 
sition is not distinguished by any sign, not even by the order 
of the words, the subject being also here placed before the 
verb." " But when the particle of time, ]>a or )>onne, is 
repeated before a consequent proposition, the subject usually 
follows the verb, as in German and Danish." 

Erdmann, 2 discussing a principal clause (Nachsatz) preceded 
by a dependent (Vordersatz), says: " Im Nhd. scheint die 
Voranstellung desVerbums im Nachsatze iiberall herrschende 
Regel geworden zu sein ; nur nach concessiven Vordersatzen 
unterbleibt sie oft, indem diese trotz ihrer Satzform fur sich 
als selbstandige Ausrufe gefasst werden und der Nachsatz 
dann (oft mit rhetorischer Pause) ganz ohne Riicksicht auf 
sie seine eigene Wortstellung bewahrt." What is here said of 
concessive clauses is true largely of all Anglo-Saxon dependent 
clauses in their effect upon succeeding clauses. 

JEfter J>aem ]?e Philippus haefde Ath. and Thes. him under- 
iSieded, he begeat, etc., 112, 8. 

and raj>e ]>ses J>e hie togsedere coman, Romane haefdon sige, 
160, 3. 

l Ang. Sax. Gram, (translated by Thorpe, 1830), Fourth Part, pp. 118, 119. 
' 2 Grundziige der deutschen Syntax, $ 207. 



ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 225 

Ac raj>e )>ses J>e Hannibal to his fultume com, he gefliemde 
ealle J>a consulas 190, 5. 

In the Voyages of Ohthere and Wulfstan, there are three 
initial dependent clauses without a succeeding correlative, and 
none of them causes inversion (18, 15; 21, 12; 21, 15). 

(c) There are no instances in the Orosius of inversion to 
express condition, concession, or interrogation, and only two 
instances of inversion to express command or permission (100, 
27; 182, 16). 

The Homilies, however, show that the genius of the language 
allowed inversion for all the above purposes. 

(1) Condition : 

Ea|;e mihte }>es cwyde beon Isewedum man mini bediglod, 
nsere seo gastlice getacning I, 94. 

(2) Concession : 

Beon ]>a maBdenn snotere, beon hi stunte, eallie hi moton 
slapan on J>aem, etc. n, 566. 

(3) Interrogation : 

Eom ic hit, Drihten? n, 244. 
and gesawe J?u Abraham ? n, 236. 
Petrus, lufast J>u me? n, 290. 

ne ondra3tst Jm J>e God? n, 256. (The negative invariably 
precedes in such sentences). 

(4) Command : 

The Lord's Prayer furnishes many examples (i, 258) : 
GebiddaJ) eow, Sy ]>in nama gehalgod, Cume J>in rice, Sy pin 
wylla, etc. 

Ne ete ge of ]>am lambe n, 264. 

(As before, the negative must precede). 

ne beo ge bitere n, 322. 

Ne bere ge mid eow pusan u, 532. 

Ne gecyrre ge naenne mann n, 534. 

There are a few cases in which the subject precedes : 
Ic wylle ; and Jni beo geclronsod I, 122 
paet so}>e Leoht .... onlihte ure mod n, 294. 
pu soplice cy]> )>ine gesihj>e n, 342. 



226 



C. A. SMITH. 



In the following sentence, the two orders are combined : 
JElc sawul sy underfeed healicrum anwealdum ; pset is, Beo 

selc man underfeed mihtigran men ]>onne he sylf sy. n, 362. 
The occasional occurrence of inversion in dependent clauses 

will be treated under the proper head. See p. 241. 



IV. TRANSPOSED ORDER. 1 
Dependent sentences. 

(1) Subject verb. 

(2) Subject verb -f- auxiliary. 

(a) Before taking up dependent sentences in detail, I wish 
to give the commonly accepted view in regard to the modern- 
izing influence of French upon Anglo-Saxon transposition. 
This is best stated as well as exemplified by Fiedler and Sachs. 
The following is quoted from a paragraph headed, " Einfluss 
des Franzosischen auf die Wortstellung im Englischen : " 2 
" Wichtiger als alle die genannten Veranderungen, welche das 
Franzosische im Englischen hervorgebracht hat, ist die Ver- 
anderung der Wortstellung. Um nicht weitlaufig zu werden, 
beschranken wir uns, dieselbe an Beispielen klar zu machen. 

Gif weofod]>en be boca tsecinge his agen lif rihtlice/ac%e. 

Si un pre"tre rdgle sa vie sur les prescriptions des livres. 

Ipa. Darius geseah, pat he oferwunnen beon wolde. 

Lorsque Darius vit, qu'il serait vaineu." 

(I omit as unnecessary the German and English equivalents 
given by Fiedler and Sachs, as well as their numerous other 
examples.) 

1 Various explanations of Transposition have been offered, but the question 
is still unsettled. Cf. Wunderlich, Der deutsche Salzbau, 91 seq; Wacker- 
nagel, Indogermanische Forschungen I, 333 seq ; Erdmann, Qrundzuge der 
deutschen Syntax, \ 216, 3. 

3 Wissenschaftiiche Grammatik der englischen Sprache, I, 27. 

Meiklejohn gives the same view (English Language, Part in, cap. in, $ 11). 



ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 227 

The lessons which they draw from such citations may be 
easily inferred ; but is the claim a true one, that the resem- 
blance between French and English order is due to the influence 
of Norman French ? The following results, it seems to me, 
settle this question in the negative : 

A. 

If the verb be a simple tense, the following scheme repre- 
sents all possible relative positions, whether with or without 
a direct object : 

(1) Verb final. 

( verb (with or without object) : 

I ]?e j>aes yfeles ordfruma wses 40, 16. 

(2) Verb non-final. 

f object -f verb : 

6 < for j>on )?e he monege anwealdas . . . geeode on ]>sem east- 

l londum, 150, 16. 

f verb + object : 

I ]>set punor toslog heora hiehstan godes hus lofeses 160, 18. 
, f verb (no object) : 

\ J>aet he bude on ]?8em lande 17, 2. 

B. 

If the verb be a compound tense, the following scheme repre- 
sents all possible relative positions of its two members and the 
direct object : 

(1) Verb final. 

( object -f aux. -f- verb : 
I }>a he hiene .... hsefde gelsedd 286, 17. 
f aux. -f object + verb : 
I for J>on ]>e hie . . . . hsefdon gewinn up ahsefen 278, 22. 



228 



C. A. SMITH. 



f aux. -f verb (no object) : 

\ j^aet hie sceoldon .... besincan 160, 29. 



(2) Aux. fined. 

, f object -f verb -j- aux. : 

\ hu he hiene beswican mehte 52, 4. 

f verb -f- object -f- aux. : 

\ Does not occur in Or. or Horn. 
/. ( verb + aux. (no object) : 

\ hwaer .... hweol on gongende waeron 38, 34. 



(3) Aux. -\- verb non-final. 

f object + aux.-j- verb : 

\ j>aet he ... gewinn mehte habban wi$ hiene 240, 8. 

C aux. -f- object -+ verb : 

A< ac sona swa G. haefde . . . fultum . . . gelsedd angean 
I Marius 230, 2. 

aux.-J- verb -j- object : 

for J>on j?e elpendes hyd wile drincan waatan 230, 26. 

aux.+ verb .... (no object) : 

aer he ut wolde faran to gefeohte 232, 4. 



(4) Verb -j- aux. non-final. 



aux 



f object + verb 
k-l ]?eh pe hie hit 

I 232, 27. 
7 ( verb + object + aux ..... : 

\ Does not occur in Or. or Horn. 



. cyj>an ne dorsten for )>ara senatum ege 



( verb + aux.+ object : 

I gif hie gernunan willaiS . . . unclaennessa 64, 14. 
( verb + aux ..... (no object) : 

1 raj>e |>ses J>e . . . |?set spell cuiS weariS Cartainiensium 170, 4. 

I have noted according to these schemes 500 dependent 

clauses from the Orosius, none being omitted unless it con- 



ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 229 

tained simply a subject and predicate (as, " ser hio gefeolle " 
252, 7) and thus had the final position forced upon its verb. 
Of these 500, 314 have simple tenses, of which (see scheme A.), 

259 follow order of a 

9 " " " 6 

14 " " " c 

32 " " d 

Of the 500, 186 have compound tenses, of which (see 
scheme B.), 

4 follow order of a 
20 " " " 6 
27 " " " c 
31 " " " d 

" " " e 
80 " " " / 

1 " " " g 
1 " " " h 
3 " " " i 

8 " " "j 
1 " " k 

" " " / 

1 " " m 

9 ' " " n 

These results show that if the verb be a simple tense, Alfred 
prefers to place it at the end, 82% being found in this posi- 
tion. .If a compound tense, the auxiliary follows the verb 
proper and occupies the extreme end position, 59% (viz. classes 
d and/) following this order. 

But these figures show more. An examination of scheme 
A shows that while 259 verbs (class a) are transposed, 
46 (classes c and d) follow normal order (the order of inde- 
pendent sentences); while 9 show a mingling of the two 
norms. 



230 



C. A. SMITH. 



In scheme B, 111 clauses (classes d and /) show complete 
transposition, 47 (classes b and c) assume normal order, while 
28 show again a mingling of the two orders. 

Thus there is already a movement in Early West-Saxon to 
abandon transposition in dependent sentences and to assume 
normal order instead. By the Mid. Eng. period, transposi- 
tion had disappeared entirely, 1 dependent sentences being 
leveled under the order of independent. " In der altesten 
englischen Prosa aus der ersten Halfte des 13. Jahrhunderts 
ist die Konstruktion bereits vorzugweise frauzosisch " (Fiedler 
and Sachs, 29). This is true, but the point I here empha- 
size is that, while the influence of French powerfully aided 
the movement against transposition, it did not create the 
movement, but only fostered it. The following statistics 
from the Homilies prove that in a century after Alfred's 
day and more than half a century before the Norman Con- 
quest, normal order had already practically triumphed over 
transposition. Of 314 simple tenses taken, as in the Orosius 
by pages from the Homilies, 

1 55 follow order of a 
20 " " " 6 
67 " " " c 
72 " " " d 

Of ^Elfric's 186 compound tenses, 

3 follow order of a 



21 " 

48 " 

15 " 

" 



" 6 

" c 

" d 

" e 



1 The following line (No. 7827, Harl. MS., Cant. Tales) is cited by Prof. 
Child in his Observations on the Lang, of Chaucer and Gower, " Peculiar Order : " 

" Of all this thing, which that I of have sayd." So rare a survival, how- 
ever, does not at at all disprove my statement. 



ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 231 

38 follow order of/ 

1 " " " g 

4 " " " h 

17 " " i 

33 " " " j 

I " " " A; 

" " " I 

" " " m 



H 



n. 



Here, while there are no majorities, 155 simple tenses (class 
a) are transposed, 139 (classes e and d) follow normal order, 
while 20 show a mingling. 

Of the compound tenses, 69 (classes b and c) assume normal 
order, 53 (classes d and/) show complete transposition, while 
64 show a mingling of the two. 

(6) Before taking up dependent clauses separately, I wish 
to note the occasional occurrence of transposition in inde- 
pendent clauses. In the Orosius this is found most frequently 
in the so-called progressive forms of the verb, and in such 
cases the auxiliary follows the verb proper and occupies the 
extreme end position, thus exhibiting both marks of complete 
transposition. 

and hi J>a x gear ymbe )>a burg sittende waeron and feoh- 
tende 50, 12. 

pa folc him betweonum ful x winter J>a gewin wraciende 
wseron 50, 20. 

ac Romane mid hiora cristnam .... ]>owiende waeron 64, 10. 

Hie J>8er ]>a winnende waeron 66, 21. 

Hio mid Jjaem .... farende wses 76, 27. 

Sona aefter jjsem heora ]>eowas wr$ )>a hlafordas winnende 
wseron 86, 29. 

Though these progressive verbs employ transposition most 
consistently, it is not confined to them. When not due to 
rhetorical causes, an explanation of transposition in inde- 
pendent sentences may often be found in the law of analogy. 



232 



C. A. SMITH. 



(1) The analogy of dependent sentences ; (2) The analogy of 
independent sentences with pronominal datives or accusatives. 

(1) and genamon* anne earmne mon him to consule, ]>ser he 
on his secere eode b , and his sulh on handa ha3fde c , and si]>j>an 
to Fulcisci J>aeni londe ferdon d , and hie ut forleton" 88, 7. 

In this example, d is the verb of an independent clause, yet 
this verb follows two dependent final verbs (6 and c) and is by 
analogy, I think, drawn into a final position. The verb e is 
also final and independent, but could not take position before 
"hie" (its direct object) without violating a sequence which, 
as before shown, is most consistently observed by Alfred. 

Ne wene ic . . . . |>set ic hie on J>isse bee geeudian maege ; 
ac ic oj>ere anginnan sceal 94, 16. 

I do not think that "wene" extends its influence to the 
second predicate, but rather that the latter is drawn into the 
dependent (transposed) order by the magnetism of " geendian 
maege." 

The following is a fine illustrative sentence : he )>a wende on 
]>a ane ]>e him |?a getriewe wseron, and heora burg gefor, and 
Jjget folc mid ealle fordyde, and heora hergas towearp, swa he 
ealle dyde ]>e he awer mette 112, 36. (Cf. also 160, 30). 

(2) By recurring to the citations given in the treatment of 
pronominal datives and accusatives, pp. 219, 220, and noting 
how frequently these pre-posed pronouns draw other words 
with them, one sees that a norm already existed in Alfred's 
prose for finalizing the verb even in independent sentences. 
One more citation will suffice : 

Hie for J^sem hie gebulgon. and }>a burg forleton, and mid 
eallum heora fultume Romane sohton 92, 10. 

Here " gebulgon," which occupies its usual position, has set 
the fashion for the two following verbs. 

Many similar cases could be given, though I by no means 
limit the influence of these pronouns to sentences in which 
they occur in juxtaposition to independent sentences. 

(c) The two schemes for dependent sentences given under 
A. and B. include a count of all classes, temporal, local, rela- 



ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 233 

live, comparative, clauses of degree, causal, conditional, final 
and result clauses, concessive, indirect affirmative, indirect 
interrogative, and indirect imperative. I note no difference in 
any of these clauses as regards relative frequency or infrequency 
of transposition, except the three last named, which I reserve 
for special treatment later on. 

As the difference between Alfred's word-order in dependent 
clauses and that of .SClfric has already been discussed, the 
following treatment is based wholly on the Orosius. In each 
case the list of introductory particles is exhaustive. As the 
word-order in the Voyages of Ohthere and Wulfstan is more 
like that of JElfric than of Alfred, I shall for each class of 
clauses give the order peculiar to this portion of the Orosius. 1 

(1) Temporal clauses : ]>a, ser, j>onne, hwilum . . . ]>aet, ]>a 
hwile J>e, o]>, J>y . . J?e, si)>J>an, ser J>aem ]>e, sona swa, gemong 
]>sem ]?e, mid J>sem ]>e, raj>e )>es }>e. 

No hard and fast line can be drawn between temporal and 
relative clauses. They are often one and the same (cf. the 
frequent " J;e's " in temporal introductory words), but I regard 
the clause as temporal whenever the adverbial idea seems more 
prominent than the adjectival. (It hardly need be said that 
" J>a " and " J^onne " often mean " then " not " when," that 
" )>a3r " often means " there " not " where," and so for other 
introductory words. In such cases they have nothing to do 
with dependent clauses, and have already been treated under 
Inverted Order.) 

o]> hie binnan |>aere byrig up eodon 90, 30. 

Gemong J>aem J?e Pirrus wrS Romane winnende waes 160, 6. 
(Cf. also 158, 16; 56, 17; 214, 16.) 

The most frequently occurring temporal clause in the Oro- 
sius is "^Er \>sem J>e Romeburh getimbred wsere" with the 
number of years. Almost every chapter of every book begins 
with it or its later substitute "^Efter }>8em ]>e R. getimbred 

1 March (Gram, of the Ang.-Sax. Lang.) has based his discussion of Arrange- 
ment (p. 214) chiefly on this portion of the Oroi and Alfred's prefaces. 



234 



C. A. SMITH. 



wses." These clauses occur 91 times, and only twice is the 
order of auxiliary and verb reversed, " wses getimbred " 
occurring in 270, 5 and 278, 6. 

In 0. and W. ( Voyages o/Ohthere and Wulfstan) the tendency 
is to finalize, but 4 of the 5 compound temporal clauses have 
aux.-f verb instead of verb + aux. 

(2) Local clauses : bser, hwser. 

hwser bara wigwsegna hweol on gongende wseron 38, 34. 

bser nan mon ser ne sibban mid firde gefaran ne dorste, buton 
Al. 150, 19(172, 19; 214, 5). 

There is but one example in 0. and W: bser hit smalost 
wsere 18, 32. 

(3) Relative clauses : be. 

Unless " se, seo, bset " was clearly relative, I have excluded 
the clause. The position of the verb in the Oroslus is the best 
criterion ; but to use this criterion when the position of the 
verb is the thing sought would, of course, be illogical. When 
coupled with " be'" it is relative, and often when preceded by 
a preposition, which "be" never admits in the Orosius (Cf. 
164, 23; 174, 9). Nor have I included cases of supposed 
omitted relatives, for in such cases it is as easy to suppose an 
omitted demonstrative as an omitted relative (Cf. 96, 10 ; 170, 
31). 

be hy msest bi libbaj> 30, 10. 

be baes cristendomes wiberflitan sint 84, 26 (98, 18 ; 194, 29). 

Of the 16 relative clauses in 0. and W., 5 have independent 
order. 

(4) Comparative clauses : bonne. 

for ban be he brycj> swibor on bone subdsel J>onne he do on 
bone norbdeel 24, 26 (a good example of order influenced by 
balance). 

bonne hio ser .... ware 40, 25 (210, 24; 220, 16 ; 222, 
1 ; 224, 33). 

There is but one comparative clause in 0. and W: bonne 
senig man ofer seon maege 19, 19. 

(5) Clauses of degree and manner : swa. 



ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 235 

swa hit ssr waes 40, 1. 

swa hi mon sy^an het Persi 40, 34. 

It is only when " swa " is doubled, " swa .... swa " or 
" swa swa," that the clause is properly one of degree rather 
than manner. E. g. in the following and in all those from 0. 
and W: 

gesecgan swa monigfeald yfel swa on J>sern J?rim gearum 
gewurdon 128, 20. 

Of the 6 in 0. and W., 5 follow normal order. 

(6) Causal clauses : for J?aem, for ]>sem )>e, for J>on, for ]>on 
)>e, pset (21, 15), uu. 

for pon hy hyre nane bysene ser ne cu]>an 30, 23. 

nu ic longe spell habbe to secgenne 94, 16. (164, 21 ; 250, 31). 

Of the 6 causal clauses in 0. and W., 5 have normal order. 

(7) Conditional clauses : gyf, gif, buton, swelce, gelicost 
J>8em )>e. 

buton hie on heora wifa hrif gewiton 54, 4. 
swelce hie of o]?erre worolde come 92, 31. 
(170, 11; 214, 24; 286, 15). 

The 2 in O. and W. (19, 13; 21, 12) are more transposed 
than normal. 

(8) Final and Result clauses : J>88t, to pon ]>set. 

}>8et he eal pset land mid sweflenum fyre forbsernde 32, 9. 

]>set he his modor siege on his brewer gewrecan mehte, 150, 34. 
(240, 19 ; 294, 24). 

Only one result clause occurs in 0. and W. (21, 17); the 
verb is final, but aux. precedes verb proper, thus producing a 
mingling of the two norms. 

(9) Concessive clauses : }>eah, J>eah pe, ]>eh, J>eh ]>e, J>a. 
J>a hio hit purhteon ne mihte 30, 22. 

]>eah hit wind oj>)>e saes flod mid sonde oferdrifen, 38, 36. 
(120, 17 ; 232, 27 ; 256, 6). 

0. and W. : ]>eah man asette twegen fsetels full eala]> oj>j>e 
wseteres^l, 15. 

(d) The three dependent clauses which I have called indi- 
rect affirmative, indirect interrogative, and indirect impera- 



236 



C. A. SMITH. 



tive, following respectively verbs of saying, asking, and com- 
manding, differ from all other dependent clauses in having 
been once independent themselves. They fall therefore under 
the head of oratio obliqua, and are substantives while all other 
dependent clauses are adverbs or adjectives. This substantival 
trio shows a frequent tendency to return, in regard to position 
of words, to its original independence, and thus to dispose its 
words according to oratio recta rather than to the demands of 
oratio obliqua. Of the 500 clauses counted from the Orosius, 90 
consist of substantival clauses introduced by " )>set." Of these, 
44 have compound tenses, 46 simple. Of the simple tenses 
(see p. 227), 

21 follow order of a 
2 " " " 6 
9 " " " c 

14 " " " d 

Of the compound (see p. 227 seq.), 



" b 
" e 
" d 



11 " 

17 " 

7 

" 
3 " 

1 

" 

1 " 

2 " 
" 
" 

" " " m 

" " n 



" k 
" I 
" 



Thus it is seen that a minority of these " ]>set " clnuses fall 
in the predominating classes of dependent clauses, viz., a for 



ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 237 

simple tenses, d and / for compound ; while the majority are 
found in those classes which, with more or less faithfulness, 
follow the normal instead of the transposed order. 

As was to be expected, the tendency in oratio obliqua clauses 
to revert to the normal order is far more marked in the Homi- 
lies than in the Orosius. Of the 500 clauses counted from the 
Homilies, 96 consist of substantival "pset" clauses. Of these, 
50 have simple tenses, 46 compound. Of the simple tenses, 

13 follow order of a 

7 " " " b 

15 " " " c 

15 " " d 



Of the compound,. 



follow order of 'a 

8 " " " b 
7 " " " c 
2 " " " d 

" " " e 

1 tt a f 

I " " " g 

" " " h 

9 " " " i 
11 j 

" " " k 

" " " I 

" " m 



The existence, then, of this group of substantival clauses, 
but especially the indirect affirmative clauses, which even in 
Alfred's time resisted transposition and reverted to their origi- 
nal normal order, was, I believe, an important though hitherto 
overlooked factor in the ultimate disappearance of transposi- 
7 



238 C. A. SMITH. 

tion and the triumph of the normal order in all dependent 
clauses. The frequency of these " j>set " clauses is attested by 
the figures just given, 90 in the Orosius, 96 in the Homilies. 
No other dependent clause approaches this ratio. 

Briefly stated, then, the leading difference between the word 
order in Anglo-Saxon and that in Middle English or Modern 
English is found in the frequent transposition occurring in 
Anglo-Saxon dependent clauses. But this transposition had 
already, even in the period of Early West-Saxon, begun to 
show signs of decay, and, in the Late West-Saxon period, was 
fast disappearing. This was due, I think, chiefly to the fol- 
lowing three causes : (1) The greater simplicity of the normal 
order ; (2) The norm set by independent clauses and the con- 
sequent levelling of dependent clauses under this norm ; (3) 
The norm set by indirect affirmative clauses, which gradually 
spread to other dependent clauses. 

The introduction of Norman French only consummated 
these influences. 

Ries, p. 66 (see p. 210), finds that in the Heliand indirect 
affirmative clauses take the normal order, provided the intro- 
ductory word be omitted; and Erdmann, p. 194 (see p. 224), 
remarks that, "Im Mhd. und Nhd. haben solche satze stets 
die einfacheWortstellung nach Typus I : ich weiss, er lohnt es 
ihm." This corroborates the view that I have been urging, yet, 
in many cases at least, the clause ought not to be considered 
dependent when " ]>set " is omitted, the omission serving rather 
as- an evidence that the thraldom of the verb of saying has 
ceased to be felt. The author has taken the narrative into 
his own hands. In the Voyages of Ohthere and Wulfstan, for 
example, if " sa3de " be as exacting as the Latin " dixit," one 
would have to consider no clause independent except the few 
that have this very " ssede " for their predicate. This is clearly 
not the case. When I speak, therefore, of " J>set " clauses, I 
mean those clauses preceded by " pat " expressed, not under- 
stood. 

(1) Substantival " J>set " clauses : 



ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 239 

Jjaet hi gesawon marines blod agoten 30, 8. 

J>set waes Jjaet forme ]>2Qt hyra wseter wurdon to blode 36, 25. 

The preceding sentence is the first of the ten plagues. 
Throughout them all the normal order is preserved. 

}>8et hit wses Godes stihtung 252, 29. 

Jjset hio wsere mid gimstanum gefrsetwed 252, 27. 

jjset hie woldon j>a onwaldas forlsetan 280, 20. 

pset he hine mehte Isedan Jmrh ]>aet westen 286, 16. (For 
transposed order, see 128, 5 ; 174, 24 j 244, 17.) 

Of the 15 " })set " clauses in 0. and W., but one transposes : 

j>set he ealra Nor]?monna nor]?mest bude 17, 1. 

(2) Indirect interrogative clauses : 

hu, for hwy, hwy, hwser, hwelc, hwe]>er : 

to gesecgenne hu monege gewin sij>]>an waeron betuh M. 
and C. and S. 52, 8. 

on hu micelre dysignesse men nu sindon on J>eosan cristen- 
dome 136, 17. 

for hwy hie noldon gej?encan ealle ]>a brocu 224, 27. (For 
transposed order see 164, 28 ; 202, 33 ; 260, 6.) 

There are but 3 such sentences in 0. and W., all with sim- 
ple final verbs. 

(3) Indirect imperative clauses : J>set : 

He .... biddende wa3s .... pset hie and Lac. mosten wi$ 
Persum .... sumne ende gewyrcan 82, 22. 

bsedan ]?set him mon sealde senne cucne mon 102, 28. 

onbudon .... ]>set he come mid feawum monnum to Rome 
240, 2. 

bebead .... |?set hie simle gegripen ]?8es licgendan feos 
260, 31. (For transposition see 82, 21; 98, 14; 164, 27; 
176,2; 178, 18.) 

No imperative clauses occur in O. and W. 

The last two classes of sentences, (2) and (3), do not follow 
the normal order as consistently as do indirect affirmative 
clauses. It is to be remembered that these two classes had 
not the same original order in oratio recta that the affirmative 
clause had. E. g. " He cwseiS J>set he bude on," etc., was 



240 



C. A. SMITH. 



originally " Ic bue on " = normal order. But " Lncinius 
behead j^set nan cristen mon ne come on," etc., was originally 
" Ne come nan cristen mon on," etc. = inverted order. So 
also the interrogative clause was originally inverted. All 
had their verbs, therefore, near or at the beginning of the 
sentence and thus are fortified, as it were, against transposi- 
tion ; but the original affirmative norm proved most potent, 
for it had both subject and predicate already in the normal 
order, while the two latter classes had to re-invert before 
assuming the normal order. 

(4) A fourth cause that operates against transposition is the 
tendency to bring modifying and modified words as closely 
together as possible. This can occur only when the second 
dependent clause modifies some word in the first other than 
the predicate. The disturbance is thus limited practically to 
relative and comparative clauses. 

Relative clauses : 

for ]>on ]>e se cyning ne gemunde ]>ara monigra teonena )>e 
hiora seg]>er .... gedyde 52, 21. 

Here " gemunde," the predicate of the first dependent clause, 
could not take its usual order in the Orosius without separat- 
ing " teonena " and " ]>e" modified and modifying words (cf. 
also 112, 24; 196, 18; 258, 27; 296, 23). 

Comparative clauses : 

and for iSon ]?e sio sunne ]>ser gaeiS near on setl ]>onne on 
o$rum lande 24, 17. Here, for the same reason as above, 
"gse]?" could not come between "setl" and "]>onne" without 
separating two intimately connected ideas (cf. 52, 1; 192, 28; 
192, 33). 

(5) Another dependent clause which violates the usual final 
position of the verb in the Orosius is the relative clause having 
as its predicate some form of " hatan." The complementary 
noun ends the sentence "]?e man haet Euxinus" being the 
norm and not " ]?e man Eux. hset." In the first 28 pages 
of the Orosius, the geographical portion, in which this clause 
most frequently occurs, there are 58 instances of " J>e " with 



ORDER OP WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 241 

" hatan," and in 44 of these the normal order is used instead 
of the transposed. Cf. also the invariable " pe oj>re noman 
hatte" with the noun added. E. g. "J>e oj>re noman hatte 
Curtius" 102,30. 

In a portion of the Homilies equal to the Orosius, the rela- 
tive clause with " hatan " occurs 32 times ; 30 of these follow 
the Alfredian type and thus resist transposition. 

(6) Instead of the transposed or normal order, inversion is 
sometimes found in dependent clauses and is produced by the 
same causes that produce it elsewhere ; viz., by some sentence 
member, other than the subject, following the introductory 
particle. It is not of frequent occurrence in the Orosius or 
the Homilies. 

)?onne J>ser bi]? man dead 20, 20. 
J>set J>8er com hagol 38, 8. 

oj> )>ara Persea wses ungemetlic wsel geslaegen 80, 25. 
J>aette on anre dune neah Romebyrig tohlad seo eorj>e, and 
waes byrnende fyr up of J^sere eor)>an 160, 23. 

(7) When there are many verbal modifiers, or when the 
idea contained in the verb is distributed (as by "ge . . . . ge," 
" ne . . . . ne "), the verb prefers a medial position and often 
immediately follows the subject. 

gif hie gemunan willaiS hiora ieldrena unclsennessa, and 
heora wolgewinna, and hiora monigfealdan unsibbe, and hiora 
unmilt sunge j?e hie, etc. 64, 14. 

The predicate might have been placed after the first or second 
of these objects, but could hardly have occupied a final position. 
The relative clause (see p. 240) is also a disturbing element in 
the above sentence. 

buton j?8em j?e mon oft hergeade aegj^er ge on hie selfe ge on 
heora land set ham 90, 25. 

swa .... |7set hie na|>er nsefdon si)>J>an ne heora namon ne 
heora anweald 98, 7. (Cf. also 98, 22 ; 184, 2.; 190, 7 ; 240, 
28 ; for this principle as well as the disturbing influence of a 
relative clause, see 38, 9 ; 82, 18.) 



242 C. A. SMITH. 

These seven cases, then, are the leading instances in which 
both Alfred and .ZElfric most consistently reject the transposed 
order in dependent sentences. Most of them are general causes, 
applicable to all Anglo-Saxon prose, and thus constitute links 
in the chain of influences which more and more circumscribed 
the sphere of the transposed order and extended that of the 
normal, or more natural and logical, order. 

(e) In the Orosius, pronominal datives and accusatives pre- 
cede the subject of the dependent clause as frequently as they 
follow it, there being no prevailing norm. 

Pronouns precede subject : 

o]> him Pilatus oubead 254, 23. 

|>aet hiene monige for god haefde 254, 24. 

o)> him }?a biscepas saedon 114, 3. 

oj> ]>8et him on se miccla firenlust on innan aweox 32, 8. 

peah hit wind oj>|?e saes flod mid sonde oferdrifen 38, 36. 

swa hit Gaius ge]?oht hsefde 258, 19. 

Pronouns follow subject : 

]?set ic hie . . . geendian msege 94, 17. 

]?e ]>a Finnas him gylda]> 18, 16. 

]>e he him onwinnende wses 30, 5. 

o]> hie him peer eard genamon 44, 27. 

]>sette J>a earman wifmen hie swa tintredon 48, 13. 

)>eh ]>e hie hit openlice cy}>an ne dorsten 232, 27. 

In the Homilies, these datives and accusatives follow the 
subject more often than they precede it. Here, as in every 
case, the Homilies mark an advance toward a freer and more 
natural order, in this case the order found in independent sen- 
tences. Out of 72 datives, 52 come between the subject and 
the verb, 20 precede the subject. Out of 98 accusatives, not 
one precedes its subject. 

A peculiarity of the Orosius, not shared by the Homilies, is 
the invariable position of the indefinite " mon " after pro- 
nominal datives and accusatives. 

}>a3t hie mon oferswtyan mehte 160, 4. 

hwse);er hiene mon . . . geflieman mehte 192, 15. 



OEDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 243 

Ac ba hit mon to him brohte 242, 18. 
baet him mon sealde senne cucne mon 102, 28. 
be him mon gebead 94, 27. 
baet him mon geswicen hsefde 52, 6. 
for bsern be him mon . . . forwiernde 78, 9. 
Cf. these with " baet mon ba beowas freode," in which the 
object is not a pronoun but a noun. 



INDEX. 

I. INTRODUCTION. PAGE. 

(a) Previous investigations 210 

(b) Purpose of paper 212 

(c) Influence of Latin 213 

(d) Definition of terms 215 

II. NORMAL ORDER. 

(a) Simple and Compound tenses 216 

(b) Datives! (1) Substanti l 218 

98 1(2) Pronominal 219 

, % . .. /(I) Substantival 220 

(c) Accusatives < ; 

1(2) Pronominal 220 

(d) Pronominal objects in imperative clauses. 221 

III. INVERSION. 

(a) In general 221 

f By a word 223 

(b) I By a phrase 223 

( By a clause 223 

(c) To express: 

(1) Condition 225 

(2) Concession 225 

(3) Interrogation 225 

(4) Command 225 

IV. TRANSPOSITION. 

() Counter influence of French 226 

(6) Transposition in independent clauses 231 

(c) Dependent clauses separately treated 232 

(d) Disturbing influences in transposition 235 



244 C. A. SMITH. 

PAGE. 

(1) Indirect affirmative clauses. - 

(2) Indirect interrogative clauses. I 238 

(3) Indirect imperative clauses. J 

(4) Relative and comparative clauses 240 

(5) Relative clauses with "hatan" 240 

(6) Inversion in dependent clauses 241 

(7) Multiplicity of verbal modifiers 241 

(e) Pronominal datives and accusatives 242 

C. ALPHONSO SMITH. 



PUBLICATIONS 

OF THE 

MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA, 

1893. 



(VOL. vin, 3.) 



NEW SERIES, VOL. I, 3. 



V. THE ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN MIDDLE 
AND MODERN ENGLISH. 

INTRODUCTION. 

There is much divergence of opinion among scholars as to 
the naming of the main periods of the English language, and 
hardly any two agree in regard to the limits of each period. 
But in treating of the absolute participle, an arbitrary division 
must be made according to the occurrence and development of 
this form in the language. The following division into three 
periods will therefore serve our purpose : 

Anglo-Saxon to 1150; 
Middle English 1150 to 1500; 
Modern English 1500 to the present. 

For the Anglo-Saxon period the subject of the absolute 
participle has received full and scientific treatment at the 
hands of Morgan Callaway, Jr., in his dissertation (Johns 
Hopkins University), The Absolute Participle in Anglo- 
Saxon, Baltimore, 1889. This admirable monograph has 

245 



246 c. H. ROSS. 

already received its meed of praise from scholars both in this 
country and abroad, and it takes rank as one of the most 
important contributions to the much neglected subject of 
English syntax. Callaway treats thoroughly of the occur- 
rence, the uses, the origin, and the stylistic effect of the abso- 
lute participle in the whole range of Anglo-Saxon literature. 
He also discusses the origin of the construction in the other 
Teutonic languages, thus showing appropriate breadth of 
treatment. It is hardly necessary to add that this disserta- 
tion has served as a model for the present monograph in its 
general features. 

Definitions of the absolute participial clause are not want- 
ing, but the most comprehensive one yet given is that of 
Callaway : " When to a substantive not the subject of a verb 
and dependent upon no other word in the sentence (noun, 
adjective, verb, or preposition) a participle is joined as its 
predicate, a clause is formed that modifies the verbal predi- 
cate of the sentence and denotes an accompanying circum- 
stance," as in : " The train having gone, I returned home." 

The following texts have been read : 

(a) MIDDLE ENGLISH : 

1. Anc. Riwle = Morton, The Ancren Riwle. Camden 
Society, London, 1853. 

2. Ballads Child, English and Scottish Ballads. 2 vols. 
Boston, 1885. 

3. Caxton = Hazlitt, Paris and Vienna. Roxburghe Li- 
brary, London, 1868. 

4. Oh. Astrol. = Brae, The Treatise on the Astrolabe. Lon- 
don, 1870. 

5. Oh. Boeth. = Furnivall, Chaucer's Boece. Chaucer 
Society, London, 1886. 

6. Ch. Melib. = The Tale of Melibeus, in Morris's Chaucer, 
in. 139-197. 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 247 

7. Ch. Person = The Persones Tale, Morris, in. 263-368. 

8. Ch. Poems = Morris, Chaucer's Poetical Works. 6 vols. 
Xondon, 1888. 

9. Constance l = The Story of Constance. Chaucer Society : 
Originals and Analogues, London, 1872. 

10. Fortescue = The Difference between an Absolute and 
Limited Monarchy. London, 1714. 

1 1 . Gamelyn = Skeat, The Tale of Gamelyn. Oxford, 1 884. 

12. Gower = Pauli, The Confessio Amantis. 3 vols. Lon- 
don, 1857. 

13. Hampole = Perry, English Prose Treatises of Richard 
Rolle de Hampole. EETS., London, 1866. 

14. Havelok 1 = Skeat, The Lay ofHavelok the Dane. EETS., 
London, 1868. 

15. Hoccleve= Furnivall, The Minor Poems. EETS., Lon- 
don, 1892. 

1 6. Horn = Morris, King Horn, in Specimens of Early 
English, I. 237-286. 

17. James 1= Skeat, The Kingis Quair. Scottish Text 
Socy., Edinburgh, 1884. 

18. Juliana = Cockayne, The Liftade of St. Juliana. EETS., 
London, 1872. 

19. Landry ^Wright, The Book of the Knight of La Tour- 
Landry. EETS., London, 1868. 

20. Langland = Skeat, The Vision of William concerning 
Piers the Plowman. 2 vols. Oxford, 1886. 

2 1 . Malory = Wright, The History of King Arthur. 3 vols. 
London, 1866. 

22. Mand. Hall. = Halliwell, The Voiage and Travaile oj 
Sir John Maundevile. London, 1869. 

23. Mand. l = Warner, The Buke of John Maundeuill, with 
French original. Roxburghe Club, Westminster, 1889. 

24. Paston = Gairdner, The Paston Letters. 3 vols. Lon- 
don, 1872. 

25. Pecock = Babington, The Represser of Over Much Blam- 
ing of the Clergy. Vol. I. London, 1860. 



248 c. H. ROSS. 

26. Romaunt = Morris, The Romaunt of the Rose, in his 
Chaucer, vi. 1-234. 

27. Wyclif Pr. = Arnold, Select English Works. Vol. I. 
Oxford, 1869. 

28. Wyclif 1 = Forshall and Madden, The Holy Bible. Vol. 
IV. Oxford, 1850. 

29. York Plays = Smith, York Mystery Plays. Oxford, 
1885.. 

(6) OLD FRENCH : 

1 . Constance 2 = Brock, The Life of Constance, from Trivet's 
Anglo-Norman Chronicle. Chaucer Society, London, 1872. 

2. Havelok 2 = Wright, Le Lai d'Havelok le Danois, in 
Gaimar's Anglo-Norman Metrical Chronicle. Caxton Society, 
London, 1850. 

3. Landry 2 = de Montaiglon, Le Livre du Chevalier de la 
Tour Landry. Paris, 1854. 

4. Mand. z = See Mand. 1 in (a) MIDDLE ENGLISH. 

5. Map = Furnivall, La Queste del Saint Graal. Rox- 
burghe Club, London, 1864. (English in Malory, in. 51-187.) 

6. Melib. 2 = Histoire de Mellibee, in Le Menagier de Paris, 
I. 186-235. Soc. des Biblioph. Fran9., Paris, 1846. 

7. Roman = Michel, Le Roman de la Rose. 2 vols. Paris, 
1864. 

(c) ITALIAN: 

Fil. = II Filostrato, in Opere Volgari di Giovanni Boccaccio, 
vol. xin. Firenze, 1831. (English in Chaucer's Troylus and 
Oryseyde.} 

(d) MODERN ENGLISH: 

1. Addison = Green, Essays. London, 1890. 

2. Arnold = Essays in Criticism. 1st and 2nd Series. New 
York, 1888. 

= Poetical Works. London, 1890. 

3. Bacon = Morley, Essays. London, 1883. 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 249 

4. Berners = Lee, Huon of Bordeaux. Vol. I. EETS., 
London, 1882. 

5. Birr ell = Obiter Dicta. 1st and 2nd Series. New York, 
1890. 

6. Blaekmore = Lorna Doone. 3 vols. New York, 1891. 

7. Browne = Greenhill, Religio Medici. London, 1889. 

8. Browning, Mrs. = Aurora Leigh. New York, n. d. 

9. Bunyan = The Pilgrim's Progress. New York, n. d. 

10. Burke = Payne, Reflections on the Revolution in France. 
Oxford, 1888. 

11. Cooper = The Spy. Troy, 1886. 

12. Daniel = Haslewood, A Defence of Ryme. London, 
1815. 

13. De Quincey = Morley, Confessions of an English Opium- 
Eater. London, 1886. 

14. Dickens = David Copperfield and Pickwick Papers. 
Boston, 1887. 

15. Dry den = Arnold, An Essay of Dramatic Poesy. Ox- 
ford, 1889. 

= Christie, Select Poems. Oxford, 1883. 

16. George Eliot = Romola. New York, n. d. 

17. Fielding = The History of Tom Jones. 2 vols. New 
York, 1879. 

18. Forster = The Life and Times of Oliver Goldsmith. Vol. 
i. London, 1854. 

1 9. Franklin = Montgomery, Autobiography. Boston, 1891. 

20. Froude = Ccesar. New York, 1887. 

21. Goldsmith =TheVicar of Wakefield. New York, 1882. 

= Dobson, Selected Poems. Oxford, 1887. 

22. Gosson = Arber, The Schoole of Abuse. London, 1868. 

23. Gray = Gosse, Letters. Vol. I. London, 1884. 

24. Greene = Ward, Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay. Ox- 
ford, 1887. 

25. Hawthorne The Scarlet Letter. Boston, 1889. 

26. Holmes = The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table. Bos- 
ton, 1889. 



250 



C. H. ROSS. 



27. Hooker = Morley, The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity. 
Pref. and Bk. i. London, 1888. 

28. Hughes = Tom Brown's School Days. New York, 1888. 

29. Irving = Oliver Goldsmith. New York, 1859. 

= Knickerbocker's History of New York. Phila., 

1873. 
= Conquest of Granada. Chicago, n. d. 

30. Jefferson = Autobiography. New York, 1890. 

31. Johnson = The History of Rasselas. New York, 1882. 

32. Jonson = Morley, Discoveries. London, 1889. 

33. Latimer = Morley, Sermons on the Card. New York, 
1886. 

34. Lewes Life of Goethe. London, 1864. 

35. Lodge = Morley, Rosalind. New York, 1887. 

36. Lowell = Among my Books. 2 vols. Boston, 1890. 

37. Lyly =. Arber, Euphues : The Anatomy of Wit. Lon- 
don, 1868. 

38. Macaulay = Essays. Vol. I. New York, 1885. 

39. Marlowe = Ellis, Plays. London, 1887. 

40. Marprelate = Petheram, Martin Marprelate Tracts 
(Epistle, Epitome, and Hay any work for Cooper). London, 
1842-45. 

41. Milton = Morley, English Prose Writings. London, 
1889. 

= Browne, English Poems. 2 vols. Oxford, 
1887. 

42. Mitchell = Reveries of a Bachelor. New York, 1889. 

43. Moi*e = Lumby, History of King Richard III. Cam- 
bridge, 1883. 

44. Murfree = The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains. 
Boston, 1889. 

45. Nashe = Grosart, Martin's Month's Minde, in The Com- 
plete Works of Nashe, i. 141-205. 1883-84. 

46. Palgrave (ed.)= The Golden Treasury. London, 1890. 

47. Parkman = Montcalm and Wolfe. Vol. i. Boston, 
1884. 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 251 

48. Pepys = Braybrooke, Diary. Vol. I. London, 1889. 

49. Pope = Ward, Essay on Man and The Dundad. Lon- 
don, 1889. 

50. Rives = Barbara Dering. Philadelphia, 1892. 

51. Ruskin = The Seven Lamps of Architecture. Chicago, 
1889. 

52. Scott = Ivanhoe. New York, 1883. 

= Montgomery, Marmion. Boston, 1891. 

53. Shakespeare = Rolfe : Twelfth Night, Merchant of Venice, 
As You Like It, Troilus and Oressida, King Henry IV, Pts. I 
and n. New York, 1890. 

54. Sidney = Morley, A Defence ofPoesie. London, 1889. 

55. Spenser = Child, The Faery Queene. Bk. I. Boston, 
1855. 

56. Stevenson = Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 
and Prince Otto. New York, 1887. 

57. Swift = Morley, A Tale of a Tub. London, 1889. 

58. Thackeray = Henry Esmond and Vanity Fair. New 
York, 1885. 

59. Walpole = Yonge, Letters. Vol. i. New York, 1890. 

60. Walton = Morley, Lives of Donne, Hooker, Wotton, and 
Herbert. London, 1888. 

61. Whipple = Recollections of Eminent Men. Boston, 1886. 



I. HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE ABSOLUTE 
PARTICIPLE IN MIDDLE ENGLISH. 

In giving his results as to the occurrence of the absolute 
participle in Anglo-Saxon Callaway says [1. c. p. 51 (3)] : 

" Though seemingly frequent in some of the closer Anglo- 
Saxon translations from the Latin, the absolute participle 
occurs there chiefly in certain favorite phrases. In the freer 
translations the absolute participle is less frequent, is found 
mostly in certain collocations, and, moreover, wavers between 
an absolute and an attributive use. In the more independ- 



252 



C. H. EOSS, 



ent literature the absolute participle is practically unknown. 
Hence the absolute construction is not an organic idiom of 
the Anglo-Saxon language." 

If this is the condition of the construction in Anglo-Saxon, 
what is it in Middle English ? A brief examination of the occur- 
rence of the absolute participle in this latter period will show 
whether or not it has become an organic idiom of the language. 

I divide Middle English into two periods : 

1. 1150-1350; 

2. 1350-1500. 



1. 1150-1350. 

The results in this period were so barren that only a small 
portion of the literature was read. This, however, was repre- 
sentative. 

The Ancren Riwle. 

One example of the absolute participle : 
306 "pe sorie sunfule thus biset, hwu schal him peonne 
stonden?" 

St. Juliana. 

One example of the absolute participle : 

54, 4 " Te edie meiden . . . Com baldeliche forS biuoren 
J>ene reue . . . hire nebscheft schininde." The same construction 
occurs in the corresponding MS., Bodl. 34. 

The other texts of this period Havelok, King Horn, Ham- 
pole, and Gamelyn do not contain a single example of the 
absolute participle. 

2. 1350-1500. 
Chaucer's Poems. 

Chaucer shows in his poetry a florescence of the absolute 
participle during the second half of the fourteenth century. 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 253 

But when we consider how much he wrote, what influences 
dominated him, and how comparatively few examples he fur- 
nishes of the construction, it will be seen how foreign the idiom 
was to the Middle English writer. 

(a) Present participles (14) : 

II. 70 " Smokyng the temple, . . . 

This Emelye with herte debonaire 
Hir body wessch." 
rv. 1 20 "Sche, this in blake, likynge to Troylus, 

Over alle thinge he stode for to beholde." 
FiL I. xxx. 1 "Piacende questa sotto il nero man to 
Oltre ad ogn' altra a Troilo . . . 
Mirava di lontano." 

rv. 130 "Biwayllynge in his chaumber thus allone, 
A frende of his that called was Pandare, 
Come ones unwar." 

FiL II. i. 1 "Stondosi in cotal guisa un di soletto 
Nella camera sua Troilo pensoso, 
"Vi sopravvenne un troian giovinetto." 

iv. 301 "Lyggynge in oost 

The Grekes stronge aboute Troye town, 
Byfel," etc. 

FiL IV. i. 1 "Tenendo i Greci la cittade stretta 
Con forte assedio ; Ettor . . . 

fe' seletta," etc. 

Other examples: 11. 237, 300, 302, 311, m. 69 (2 exs.), 
240, iv. 296, v. 233 (2 exs.). 

(6) Past participles (15) : 

n. 14 " The cause i-knowe, 

Anon he yaf the syke man his bote." 
IV. 305 "The cause itolde of hire comynge, the olde 

Priam 

Let here-upon his parlement to holde." 



254 



C. H. BOSS. 



Fil iv. xiii. 3 "Trattatori: 

I quali, al re Priamo, il suo talento 

Dissero, 

. . . onde un parlamento 
Di cio si tenne." 
rv. 337 "Thise wordes seyde, she .... 

Fil gruf." 

Fil. rv. cvi. 1 " E questo detto, ricadde supina." 
rv. 347 " She lay as for dede, 

Sire eyen throwen upwarde to hir hed." 
Fil. rv. cxvii. 7 "E Troilo guardando nel suo aspetto, 

E lei chiamando, e non sentendo. udirsi, 
E gli occhi suo velati a lei cascante." 
V. 56 " Than wene I that I oughte be that whyght ; 

Considered thys" etc. 

Fil. vn. liv. 4 "lo 

Avrei ragion se di te mi dolesse ; 
Consider ando," etc. 

Other examples : n. 364, iv. 54, 205, 262, 265, 309, 352, 
V. 160, 310 (2 exs.). 

Doubtful examples (9) : n. 9, 75, 78, 86, 365, in. 124, 136, 
iv. 54, 209. 

Chaucer's Boethius. 

Ch. Boeih. 2. 5 u I sawh . . a woman hyr eyen brennynge 
and deer seynge " = Lot. Bk. I. Pr. 1. 4 "Visa est mulier 
. . . oculis ardentibus, et . . . perspicaeibus." Other examples 
(6) : Ch. Boeth. 5. 16 (Lot. Bk. i. Pr. 3. 1), 6. 1 (Lat. Bk. I. 
Pr. 3), 9. 14 (Led. Bk. i. Pr. 4), 69. 6 (Lat. Bk. m. Po. 9. 23), 
86. 21 (Lat. Bk. iv. Pr. 1. 35). 

In Chaucer's Boethius there are eight absolute participles, 
which eight correspond to seven ablatives absolute in the Latin ; 
in 5. 16 the two participles are synonyms. Hence we see that 
every absolute participle in Chaucer's Boethius is due to an 
original ablative absolute. In the Latin there are altogether 
sixty-six ablatives absolute : seven are rendered as above, and 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 255 

the remainder are otherwise used by him. He almost studi- 
ously avoids the use of the absolute participle. 

Chaucer's Tale of Melibeus. 

Ch. Melib. 184 "He schulde nought be cleped a gentil 
man, that, . . . alle ihinges left, ne doth his diligence to kepe 
his good name " = Melib. 2 225 " II ne doit pas estre dit gen- 
tils horns, qui toutes autres choses arriere mises, . . . n'a grant 
diligence de garder sa bonne renommee." Other example : Ch. 
Melib. 194 (Melib. 2 233). 

Chaucer's Persones Tale. 
No example found. 

Chaucer's Astrolabe. 
One example occurs : 34. 

Langland's Vision. 

Three examples are found in the B-text : xni. 280, xvn. 
212, xix. 162. This last example is doubtless due to the 
ablative absolute in the Vulgate John, xx. 26. 

The Romaunt of the Rose. 

Only one example : 

Romaunt, 6123 " I wole and charge thee, 

To telle anoon thy wonyng places, 
Heryng ech wight that in this place is." 

Roman, 11157 1 " Convient-il, .... sans faille, 

Que ci tes mansions nous somes 
Tantost oians trestous nos homes." 

1 Michel's numbering with his error of 600 lines corrected. 



256 



C. H. ROSS. 



Oians is the same as a preposition here, being equivalent to 
ooram. 

Wyclif's Prose Works. 

In considering the absolute participle in Wyclif a sharp line 
of distinction must be drawn between his original English 
works and his translation of the Vulgate. In the former the 
construction is so rare that not a single example was found in 
Arnold's first volume l ; in the first version of the latter the 
construction is very common. An examination of its occur- 
rence in the Gospels shows how very slavish was this translation. 
Out of the two hundred and seventeen ablatives absolute in 
these Gospels the Anglo-Saxon translator rendered only sixty- 
six into the dative absolute. But Wyclif went further than 
this : in his translation there are one hundred and eighty-eight 
absolute participles (fifty-three of which are certainly datives 
absolute) corresponding to one hundred and eighty- seven abla- 
tives absolute. 2 It is a noticeable fact that Purvey, in his 
revision of Wyclif's translation only a few years after, did 
away with almost every absolute participle. Skeat's 3 remark 
(p. xi) is eminently just : " Wycliffe's literal translations are 
somewhat awkward, and are hardly intelligible; whereas 
Purvey's paraphrases, though less literal, convey just the 
sense required in the English idiom." One example will 
suffice to show this : 

1 Only one volume of Wyclif was read on account of the extreme scarcity 
of examples. The same was the case with Pecock. 

8 Comparative Table of Absolute Participles in Wyclif s and the Latin Gospels. 

LATIN. WTCLIP. 

Matthew, 64 62 

Mark, . . 46 49 

Luke, 65 65 

John, 12 12 

Total, 187 188 

3 Skeat,W.W. : Introd. to Forshall and Madden's^ew Testament of Wyclif e 
and Purvey. Oxford, 1879. 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 257 

Mark, i. 32 

Vulgate. " Vespere autem facto, . . . afferebant ad eum 
omnes male habentes." 

Wyclif. " Forsothe the euenynge maad, . . . thei broughten 
to him alle hauynge yuel." 

Purvey. " But whanne the euentid was come" etc. 

Gower. 

Thirteen examples of the absolute participle : I. 27 (2 exs.), 
115, 217 ; n. 150, 370 ; m. 62, 200, 260, 287, 339, 358, 363. 

Mandeville. 1 

Mand. Hall. 2 " It is the Herte and the myddes of all the 
World ; wytnessynge the Philosophere, that seythe thus " = 
Mand. 2 1 .25 " Ceo est luy corps et ly mylieux de tote la terre 
de monde, et auxi, come dit le philosophe" Other examples (5) : 
Mand. 1 19.22 (Hand. 2 has finite verb), Mand. Hall. 40 (Mand 2 
20.45), Mand. 1 45.25 (Mand. Hall. 91 Mand. 2 has preposi- 
tional phrase), Mand. Hall. 234 (Mand 2 has finite verb), 
Mand. 1 121.6 (Mand. 2 has adverbial predicate). Mand. 1 45.25 
is really due to direct influence of the Vulgate or AVyclif 's trans- 
lation of the same ; cf. John, xx. 26. The same is the case with 
Langland B. xix. 162 (C. xxii. 167). 

Hoccleve. 

Thirteen examples of the absolute participle : 24, 59, 87, 
110 (2 exs.), 140, 148, 165, 171, 211 (2 exs.), 221, 222. 

The Paston Letters. 
One hundred and eleven examples of the absolute participle. 

1 It is now held by scholars that Mandeville was not the translator of the 
English work that bears his name ; but for convenience' sake I shall give his 
name to this work. 



258 



C. H. ROSS. 



La Tour-Landry. 

Landry 1 17 " Ther was moche speche, manifolk susteninge 
to take the elder " = Landry 2 26 " Y fut assez parle de chas- 
cune d'elles, et y eut asses qui soustenoient a prandre Painsnee." 
Other examples (2): Landry 1 98 (Landry 2 152), 174 (Lan- 
dry 2 250). 

The Story of Constance. 

Constance 1 246 "All thing lefte, he shall putte hymselfe 
before the kyng of England " = Constance 2 47 " Totes autres 
choses lessetz, se meit de-u-aunt le Roi dengleterre." Another 
example : Constance 1 242 ( Constance 2 doubtful). 

York Mystery Plays. 
No example of the absolute participle. 

James I. 
Two examples of the absolute participle : st. 64.6, 104.1. 

Pecock. 

Seven examples of the absolute participle in the first volume : 
49 (2 exs.), 80, 204 (2 exs.), 242 (2 exs.). 

Malory. 

Twenty-four examples of the absolute participle: I. 119, 
168, 178, 185, 186, 187, 274; n. 63, 83 (2 exs.), 192, 230, 
232 (2 exs.), 276, 346; ra. 29, 128 (Map 153), 143, 248 
(2 exs.), 257 (2 exs.), 302. 

Fortescue. 
Two examples of the absolute participle : 108, 136. 



ABSOLUTE PAETICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 



259 



Paris and Vienna. 

Fifteen examples of the absolute participle: 10, 20, 25, 37, 
39, 40, 46, 48, 66, 67, 72, 74 (2 exs.), 75, 81. 

Ballads. 

Eleven examples of the absolute participle : i. 65, 86, 91 
(2 exs.), 181 ; n. 68 (2 exs.), 104, 223, 301, 385. Three of 
these 86, 91 (2) occur in a ballad of which the date is 1596. 

Having gone through the Middle English texts that were 
read and having noted the occurrence of the absolute participle 
in them, it is time to seek for the origin and the cause of the 
development of this construction in Middle English. Before 
entering upon this discussion, however, it may be best to notice 
the remarks of Einenkel 1 on the origin of the construction. 
He says (p. 69) : 

" Das AE .... eine Nachbildung des lateinischen Ablativus 
absolutus besass und zwar in seinem absoluten Dativ. Es ware 
nun von vornherein das Natiirlichste gewesen, wenn die Ent- 
wickelung der betreffenden ME Formeln von der Basis dieser 
einheimischen absoluten Construction ausgegangen ware. Ab- 
gesehen jedoch davon, dass die rnit Hiilfe von Participien 
gebildeten Formeln nur einen kleinen Teil der hier in Frage 
kommenden Formelarten darstellen, so spricht zunachst gegen 
eine Weiterbildung dieses AE absoluten Dativs der Umstand, 
dass im ME, wo fast unter alien Umstanden der Dativ mit 
Hiilfe der Proposition to aufgelost werden kann, die absolute 
Construction wol durch after, with, nie aber mit Hiilfe der 
Proposition to umschrieben wird. Ferner war der AE abso- 
lute Dativ eine fast ausschliesslich gelehrte Redeform und auch 
als solche durchaus nicht in so haufigem Gebrauche, dass sie eine 
langere Lebensdauer hatte haben oder einen tieferen Einfluss auf 
die Weiterentwickelung der Sprache hatte ausuben konnen. 

1 Einenkel, E. : Streifziige durch die mittdeng. Syntax. Minister, 1887. 



260 C. H. ROSS. 

" Wir sehen also, trotz des gewiss starken und nachhaltigen 
Einflusses des lateinischen Ablativus absolutus, der einer der- 
artigen Aenderuug zweifellos hinderlich sein musste, 1st der 
AE absolute Dativ dennoch zu Gunsten des Afranz. ^bsoluten 
Accusatives aufgegeben worden." 

The criticism to be made on Einenkel's statements is that 
the same rule is applied to the whole of Middle English. On 
the contrary, it is necessary to divide the period (as I have 
done in discussing the separate texts) into two parts, in each 
of which we see different influences at work on the develop- 
ment of the absolute construction. The first extends to about 
the middle of the fourteenth century. In this period, as is 
seen by the infrequency of occurrence, the construction is prac- 
tically non-existent, especially in the poetry ; and where it does 
occur in the prose, it is so sporadic that we must, I think, trace 
this occurrence not to any influence of Old French, but rather 
to a survival of the Anglo-Saxon construction. If this is not 
allowed, then we must trace the construction to a slight Latin 
influence that was present in English at the time by reason 
of the cultivation of Latin literature. The occurrence of the 
construction is so infrequent that it is almost impossible to 
find the cause of its origin. French had not yet exerted any 
appreciable influence in this direction ; for, as Louusbury * says 
(p. 42), " we have .... the singular spectacle of two tongues 
flourishing side by side in the same country, and yet for cen- 
turies so utterly distinct and independent, that neither can be 
said to have exerted much direct appreciable influence upon 
the other, though in each case the indirect influence was great." 
It is, therefore, safe to conclude that in our first period of Middle 
English we have an absolute participial construction that is most 
likely a survival of the Anglo-Saxon dative absolute. 2 

1 Lounsbury, T. R. : History of the English Language. New York, 1879. 

* Callaway has clearly and conclusively shown that the Anglo-Saxon con- 
struction was borrowed from the Latin ; hence it seems strange to see this 
statement in Kellner's recent work (Hist. Outlines of Eng. Syntax, London, 
1892, p. 34) : "It is doubtful whether the Absolute Participle in Old Eng- 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 261 

But when English gained the victory over French not only 
as the language of the people but also as the language of litera- 
ture, a change was effected in the use and occurrence of the 
absolute construction. The influence of French l became per- 
ceptible, and the construction became more frequent during 
the second half of the fourteenth century and the whole of 
the fifteenth century. Its sphere of usefulness was thus 
expanded. But as in Anglo-Saxon the construction is a 
stranger, and as yet it has not become an organic idiom of 
the language. And in the whole range of Middle English 
literature there are only two monuments in which it may 
be said to occur somewhat commonly : Chaucer's poems and 
the Paston Letters. It now remains for me to show that in 
these the frequency of occurrence of the absolute participle 
was largely, if not entirely, due to immediate or special 
foreign influences. 

I shall first consider the poems of Chaucer. In all his genuine 
poems there are twenty -nine clear examples of the absolute par- 
ticiple, and all these examples can be accounted for as being 
due to French or Italian influence. Thirteen of these are found 
in Troylus and Cryseyde, the poem possibly most strongly under 
Italian influence : six of these are direct or almost direct trans- 
lations of the corresponding absolute constructions inthe Italian, 
and of the remaining seven four are indirect translations of a 
favorite Italian expression " considerando." It is natural to 
suppose that the three other examples in the poem are due to 
Italian influence, as the absolute construction abounds in II 
Filostrato. The Canterbury Tales, more than twice the length 
of Troylus and Oryseyde, contain only nine examples, and these 

lish and in the other Teutonic dialects is akin to similar constructions in 
Latin and Greek and thus of Aryan origin, or whether it is only borrowed 
from Latin." A study of the construction in English since 1 150 leads to 
the belief that it is really a borrowing, directly or indirectly, from Latin 
during the whole of its history. 

1 French influence will be more fully treated in the next section. 
2 



262 c. H. ROSS. 

are most likely due to French or Italian influence. This leaves 
seven examples in the other poems, and these examples are so 
isolated as to be scarcely felt. 

I next take up the three volumes of the Paston Letters. In 
these there are one hundred and eleven examples of the abso- 
lute participle. Sixty-four of these are found in the letters 
proper where the nearest approach to vernacular English is 
to be seen. The remaining forty-seven are found in various 
documents, such as petitions, Sir John Fastolf's will, the 
account of the Battle of St. Albans, etc., in which the style is 
involved and the influence of Latin seems prominent. Among 
the letters are several from a Friar Brackley to various per- 
sons which show strong traces both of Latin and of French 
influence. I therefore conclude that nearly one-half of the 
examples are due to an almost direct influence either of Latin 
or of French. 

Notes. Several points may be treated of here that cannot properly come 
under the regular heads of the work: (1) Callaway (1. c. p. 21) mentions 
that " occasionally the A. S. absolute clause is incorrectly joined to the chief 
sentence by a conjunction." This practice is very common in Middle Eng- 
lish, and the absolute clause is thereby obscured. Four examples of this use 
occur in Malory alone, and the practice continues down into very recent Eng- 
lish ; as, for example, Lowell's Latest Literary Essays, p. 86. (2) In some 
of the examples cited where the subject of the absolute clause and that of 
the main clause are in apposition, as in Landry 1 98, there is doubt as to 
whether the subordinate clause is really absolute. Possibly many such 
examples may be like this from Wyclif : John, xix. 28 "Jhesu witinge . . . 
that the scripture schulde be fillid, he seith," etc. = Vulgate " Sciens Jesus 
. . . ut consummaretur Scriptura, dixit," etc. In the poetry (as in Ch. 
Poems in. 124), the superfluous substantive may be almost always looked on 
as introduced for the sake of the metre. (3) In such a sentence as " They 
went away, the one here, the other there," the italicized phrases are to be 
looked on rather as appositive than absolute. This is borne out by the 
Old French construction: "Se misent en la forest, li vns cha, et li autres 
la" Map 22. Here the nominative of the article is used, while the abso- 
lute case in Old French is the accusative. A Modern English example 
shows this apposition clearly : " We have two accusatives of slightly different 
functions: the one indicating the object, . . . the other indicating the result" - 
Strong, Logeman, and Wheeler : The Hist, of Lang., p. 281. 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 



263 



TABLE OF MIDDLE ENGLISH ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLES. 



WORK. 


PTCS. 


WOKK. 


PTCS. 




1 


ffoccleve 


13 


Ballads 


11 


Horn 





Caxton 


15 


James I. 


2 


Ch. Astrol 


1 


Juliana 


1 


Ch. Boeth 


8 


Landry 1 


3 


Ch. Melib 


2 


Langland 


3 


Ch. Person 





Malory 


24 


Ch Poems 


29 


Mandeville 


6 


Constance 1 


2 


Paston 


111 


Fortescue 


2 


Pecock 


7 


Gramelyn 





Romaunt 


1 


Gfower 


13 


Wvdif Pr... 





Hampole 





York 





Havelok 1 













Total 


255 











II. THE INFLUENCE OF OLD FRENCH AND ITALIAN ON 
THE MIDDLE ENGLISH ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE. 

Before discussing in general the question of the influence of 
Old French and Italian, let us examine the texts compared and 
see how Middle English renders the Old French and Italian 
absolute participles. 

1. OLD FRENCH. 
(a) Le Lai d? Havelok le Danois. 

The English author of The Lay of Havelok translated only a 
few passages with an approach to literalness, and in these only 
one absolute participle (which is really a preposition) occurs : 
Havelok 2 1. 218 "Primerement li fet jurer, 
Veiant sa gent, et affier." 



264 c. H. EOSS. 

The English paraphrases this passage, and the absolute clause 
is not rendered. 

(6) Histoire de Mellibee. 

Melib' 191 " Nous demandons deliberation, laquelle eue, 
nous te conseillerons . . . chose qui sera a ton proufit " = Ch. 
Melib. 145 " We axe deliberacioun ; and we schul thanne 
. . . conseile the thing that schal be profitable." 

Melib. 2 J92 "Ce dit, il s'assist comme tout honteulx" = 

Ch. Melib. 146 "Al schamefast, he sette him doun agayn." 

Melib. 2 203 " Tu dois tousjours eslire ce qui est ton prouffit, 

toutes autres choses reffusees et rabatues" = Ch. Melib. 158 

" Thou schalt chese the beste, and weyve alle other thinges." 

Melib. 2 211 "Ta personne destruite, tu scez bien que tes 
richesses se diviseront en di verses parties " = Ch. Melib. 168 
" Ye knowe also, that youre richesses mooten in divers parties 
be departed." 

Melib 2 232 " Lors les amis Mellibee, toutes choses con- 
siderees et icelles dessusdictes mesmes delibrees et examinees, 
donnerent conseil de paix faire " = Ch. Melib. 192 "Whan 
Melibeus frendes hadde take here avys and deliberacioun of the 
forsayde matier, and hadden examyned it, . . . they yafe him 
counsail to have pees." 

In Ch. Melib. there are only two absolute participles, both 
due to two in the French. In Melib. 2 there are eight absolute 
participles besides the two just mentioned : two of these have 
really no equivalent, and the remaining six are rendered by 
finite verbs. 

(c) Le Roman de la Rose. 

Roman 1689 " Li diex d'Amors qui, I' arc tendu, 
. Avoit toute jor atendu 

A moi porsivre et espier." 
Romaunt 1715 " The god of love, with bowe bent, 

That alle day sette hadde his talent 
To pursuen and to spien me." 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 265 

Roman 1892 " Lors est tout maintenant venus 

Li diex d'Amors les saus menus" 
Eomauni 1928 "The God of Love delyverly 

Come lepande to me hastily." 

In the Romaunt there is only one absolute participle a 
translation simply of the French absolute participle. In the 
Roman there are only two other examples, both of which are 
rendered otherwise in the Romaunt. 

(d) Mand,eville. 

Mand. 2 79.28 "Bons dyamantz, qi semblent de colour 
trouble, cristal ianuastre trehant a doite" = Mand. Hall. 157 
"Gode Dyamandes, that ben of trouble Colour. Zalow 
CristaUe drawethe Colour tyke Oylle." 

Mand. 2 143.19" Vait toutdis goule bale " = Mand. 1 143.1 
" It ... gase all way with ]>e mouth open." 

In Mand. 1 and Mand. Hall, there are six examples of the 
absolute participle, two of which are translations of the French 
absolute construction (in one case a preposition is the predi- 
cate), and four of which are rendered from a finite verb or a 
prepositional clause. Besides the absolute participle in O. F. 
just mentioned, there are two others in Mand? : one is rendered 
in Mand. Hall, by a finite verb, and the other by a prepositional 
phrase. 

(e) La Tour-Landry. 

Landry 2 6 "Ce fait, 1'on se puet bien endormir" [so 129 
(not in Eng.) ] = Landry l 5 " Whanne this is done, thanne ye 
may slepe the beter." 

Landry 2 123 "Si vint courantPespee nue"= Landry l 78 
" He droughe his suerde." 

The Eng. translation is not always literal, and very often, 
as in this case, it merely paraphrases the original text. 

Landry 2 134 " Son yre passee, elle luy puet bien monstrer 
qu'il avoit tort "= Landry 1 85 "Whanne hys yre is passed, 
she may welle shew unto hym that he had wrouge." 



266 c. H. BOSS. 

Landry 2 205 " Celle . . . saillist au dehors, les bras ten- 
duz"=Landry l 141 "She comithe forthe with gret ioye and 
enbraced hym betwene her armes." 

Landry 2 286 " Ilz saillirent encontre, lui faisant grant 
ioye"=Landry l 201 "They went and met him with gret 
ioye." 

In Landry 1 there are three absolute participles: two are 
renderings for a finite verb in the French, and one is rendered 
from an adjectival phrase in the French. Landry 2 contains 
six absolute participles : two of these are rendered in English 
by a finite verb, two by a prepositional phrase, and two are 
not rendered at all. 

(/) Constance. 

Constance 2 37 " Veuz lez lettres, ia le Roy les lettres riens 
ne conysoit qil vist de son seal assellez "= Constance l 243 
" Whan these letteres were seen, than the kyng merueled." 

In Constance 1 are three absolute participles (one doubtful) : 
one corresponds to an absolute participle in Constance 2 , a 
second is rendered from a finite verb in the French, and a 
third is the translation of a prepositional phrase (?). In Con- 
stance 2 there is another absolute participle which is rendered 
by a finite verb in Constance 1 . 

(g) La Queste del Saint Graal. 

In comparing this prose romance of Walter Map l with the 
corresponding English of Malory, this must be remembered : 
the Eng. adaptation (it can hardly be called a translation) is 
an abridged paraphrase, in which Malory very rarely expands 
Map, but very often abridges the story. For the strict pur- 
poses of comparison, such a text as this is not good ; but it is 
valuable in showing what seemingly little influence it had on 
Malory as regards the absolute construction. 

*I follow Mr. Furnivall in assigning this romance to Map, though I 
believe the consensus of opinion now is against Map's authorship. 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 267 

Map 77 " Si se fieri entr' aus, le glaiue alongiet " = Malory 
93 " Then he dressed him toward the twenty men, with his 
spear in the rest." So Map 79 (Malory 94 "set his speare"), 
Map 117 (Malory 108 "they put before them their speares"). 

Map 205 " Si lor courent sus, les espees traites " = Malory 
159 " They .... until their swords slew them downe right." 

In Malory there are two absolute participles, one of which 
corresponds to an absolute participle in Map and the other 
has no French equivalent. In Map, besides the one already 
mentioned, there are seventeen absolute participles : two are 
rendered in English by a finite verb, two by a prepositional 
phrase, one by an object of the verb, and twelve have no cor- 
respondences at all in Malory. 

If we can judge from the foregoing statistics, the influence 
of Old French on the Middle English absolute participle was 
not great. As we have seen, there seems to have been no 
appreciable influence before the middle of the fourteenth cen- 
tury. Besides the regular form of the absolute participle the 
prepositions that were originally participles, such as except, save, 
notwithstanding, are very rarely found before 1350. After that 
time they occur in large numbers, not only in translations but 
also in the native literature. That the Old French construction 
did not exercise any very great influence on the Middle English 
absolute participle, beyond keeping the form alive in the lan- 
guage and increasing its occurrence, is true for two reasons : 

1. The small number of absolute participles that occur in 
Middle English after 1350. It is true that in all the Old 
French texts read the absolute participle is strikingly infre- 
quent, but even the English does not equal the French as 
regards occurrence (Mandeville's work is an exception). Com- 
pare, for example, the works of Map and Malory. 

2. The Old French absolute case is the accusative, and yet 
during the Middle English period the absolute case changes its 
form from dative to nominative. There seems, therefore, no 
influence of Old French here. 



268 



C. H. ROSS. 



Striking and important as was the influence of Old French 
on the phonology, inflections and vocabulary of Middle Eng- 
lish, we can see how small it was in this particular feature of 
the syntax. It increased the occurrence of the absolute parti- 
ciple and enlarged its scope and meaning, but it failed to hold 
the form to an oblique case like itself. Probably Nehry's 1 
observation (p. 55) on the occurrence of the absolute participle 
in Old French will explain, in part at least, this lack of a 
strong influence of that language on the Middle English abso- 
lute construction : 

" Im Afz. zeigt sich diese Art des absoluten Accus. am 
haufigsten in gewissen Formeln des Kanzleistils, wo ebenfalls 
lateinisch-gelehrter Einfluss sich unstreitig geltend machte, 
oder in Uebersetzungen lateinischer Originale. Die volkstiim- 
lichen Dichtungen scheinen derselben fast ganz zu entbehren ; 
ebenso geben die hauptsachlichsten geschichtlichen Prosawerke 
des Afz. nur geringe Ausbeute an hierhergehorigen Citaten." 

There is, however, a special kind of Old French influence 
that deserves consideration. This is the transference into 
Middle English of French prepositions that were originally 
absolute participles. Through analogy to these forms Modern 
English has employed a number of present and a few past 
participles in almost the same manner. The following is an 
incomplete list of these words, some of which must be classed 
as adverbs and conjunctions : According to, admitting, allow- 
ing, assuming, barring, bating, calling, coming to, conceding, 
concerning, considering, counting, during, excepting, forgetting, 
granting, including, judging, laying aside, leaving aside, letting 
alone, making, making allowance, meaning, notwithstanding, 
omitting, owing to, passing, pending, providing, putting, reck- 
oning, regarding, respecting, reversing, saving, seeing that, 
setting apart (aside), speaking, supposing, taking, talking (fol- 
lowed by of, about), touching, using, waiving ; admitted, ago, 

1 Nehry, H. : Ueber den Gebrauch des absolut. Gasus obliquus des altfranz. 
Subslantivs. Berliner Diss. Berlin, 1882. 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 269 

considered, except, given, out take (out taken or outaken 
Mid. Eng.), past, provided, save, set apart (aside). 

The origin of these prepositions is thus explained by Cheval- 
let 1 (p. 365) : " Ces mots ne sont, & proprement parler, que 
des participes presents. Les cas ou ils sont consideres comme 
prepositions sont dus a un usage particulier de notre ancienne 
langue. Nos peres plapaient souvent le participe avant le sub- 
stantif auquel il se rapporte, dans certaines tournures equiva- 
lentes a 1'ablatif absolu des Latins." 

2. ITALIAN. 2 

Fil. i. vii. 6 "Ognor la stringean piu di giorno in giorno, 

Concordi tutti in un pari volere." 
Ch. iv. 110 " The cite longe 

Assegheden, nygh ten yer er they stente, 
And in dyverise wise and oon intente." 
Fil. I. xviii. 1 "Perche venuto il vago tempo il quale 
Riveste i prati d'erbette e difiori, 



Li troian padri al Palladio fatale 
Fer preparar li consueti onori." 

Ch. iv. 114 "And so byfel, whan oomen was the tyme 
Of Aperil, whan clothed is the mede 

The folke of Troye hire observaunces olde, 
Palladyones feste for to holde." 

Fil. I. xxxiii. 1 "E partitosi ognun, tutto soletto 
In camera n'ando." 

Ch. iv. 122 "And when that he in chaumber was allon } 
He down him sette." 

1 Chevallet, A. de : Origine et Formation de la Langue Franfaise. 3rd ed. 
Tome m. Paris, 1858. 

8 In comparing Chaucer and his original I was very much indebted to 
Mr. W. M. Rossetti's admirable comparison of Troylus and Oryseyde and II 
Filostrato, published by the Chaucer Society. 



270 



C. H. ROSS. 



Petrarch, 88th sonnet, 1.13 "lo . . . 

. . tremo a mezza state, ardendo ilverno." 
Ch. iv. 124 "What is this wonder maladye? 

For hete of cold, for cold of hete I dye." 
Fil. II. xiii. 3 "Co&lfacendo passano i martirj." 
Ch. TV. 136 "So may thi woful tyme seme lesse." 
Fil. n. xlix. 8 " Ed ho doglioso 

II cuore ancor della sua morte ria, 
Ed avr6 sempre mentre saro in vita, 
Tornandomi a memoria sua partita." 

Ch. iv. 170 " Alias, 1 woful wreche ! 

Might he yit lyvt, of me is nought to reche." 
Fil. n. Ixviii. 1 " Partito Pandar, se ne gi soletta 

Nella camera sua Griseida bella." 
Ch. iv. 177 " With this he toke his leve, and home he wente; 



Criseyde aros, 

. . streght into hire closet wente anon." 
Fil. in. xl. 1 " Rassi curati insieme i due amanti, 
Insieme incominciaro a ragionare." 

Ch. iv. 282" Thise ilke two, 

Whan that hire hertes wel assured were, 
Tho gonne they to speken." 

Fil. TV. xxxviii. 3 " O vecchio malvissuto, 

Qual fantasia ti mosse . . . . . 
A gire a'Greci essendo tu Troiano ? " 
Ch. iv. 313" Calkas . . . alias ! what aylede the 

To ben a Greke, syn thow ert bom Trojan ? 
Fil. iv. civ. 4 " Ma '1 suo m'e digran lunga maggiore, 

Udendo che per me la morte brama." 
Ch. iv. 336 " But yet to me his sorwe is muchel more, 



Alias, for me hath he swich hevynesse." 
Fil. IV. cxx. 1 " Efatto questo, con animo forte 

La propria spada del fodero trasse." 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 271 

Ch. iv. 348 " And efter this, with sterne and cruel herte, 

His swerde anon out of his shethe he twyghte." 
Fil. IV. clxvii. 7 " Ciascun, I'un I'altro se raccomandando, 

E cosi dipartirsi lagrimando." 

Ch. iv. 369 " And to hire grace he gan hym recomaunde." 
Fil. v. xlviii. 7 " Ver le lor case si son ritornati ; 

Troilo dicendo pel cammino." 
Ch. v. 21 " And on hire weye they spedden hem to wende ; 

Quod Troilus" etc. 

Sim. Fil. v. 1. 7 (Chaucer turns it by a finite verb " he seide "). 
Fil. vi. xxiii. 3 " E questo detto diventd vermiglio 
Come fuoco nel viso, e lafavella 
Tremante alquanto." 
Ch. v. 39 " And with that worde he gan to wexen rede, 

And in his speche a litel while he quooke" 
Fil. vii. xi. 7 " Infine essendo il del tutto stellato, 

Con Pandar dentro se n' e ritornato." 

Ch. v. 49 " And fer withinne the nyght, 

This Troilus gan homewarde for to ride." 
Fil. vii. xiv. 7 " Fatto gia notte dentro si tornavo." 
Ch. v. 50" For which at nyght .... 

He wente hym home." 
Fil. vii. Ixxvii. 2 " Di giorno in giorno il suo dolor crescea 

Mancando la speranza." 
Ch. v. 59 " Encressen gan the wo fro day to nyght 

Of Troilus 

And lessen gan his hope." 

In those parts of the poem translated by Chaucer there 
occur eight examples of the absolute construction that have 
no equivalents, direct or indirect, in Chaucer. 

We can draw two conclusions from Chaucer's translation of 
II Filostrato as far as the absolute construction is concerned : 

1. The statistics show that Chaucer was under the domi-- 
nation of the Italian absolute construction in his translation, 
and to this fact is due the comparatively large number of 



272 



C. H. BOSS. 



examples in this poem. Troylus and Cryseyde contains nearly 
fifty per cent, of all the absolute participles in Chaucer's poems. 

2. It is highly probable that the influence of this Italian 
construction caused Chaucer to use the absolute participle 
oftener in his other poems. 

The question now arises : Did this Italian absolute construc- 
tion exercise any influence on the Middle English absolute 
participle outside of Chaucer ? There is no reason for believ- 
ing that it did, either in changing the case of the absolute 
participle or in increasing the occurrence of the construction. 
Long before Chaucer the heterogeneousness of the language 
had caused the absolute case to begin to change its form, and 
if the construction increased in occurrence after Chaucer, this 
must rather be attributed to the influence of French or Latin. 
To show how superficially Italian literature touched even 
Chaucer in a linguistic way, only the fact needs to be cited, 
that, as regards vocabulary, Chaucer drew only one word 
directly from Italian. And, as Prof. Skeat * says (p. 296), 
"after Chaucer's death, the temporary contact with Italian 
literature was broken." As regards the absolute construction 
Italian and English are two streams that flow along side by 
side without mingling. Italian, as being closer to the Latin, 
shows early the idiom in large numbers, but such is not at 
once the case with English. Both, however, are alike in 
showing a shifting of the form of the absolute case from 
accusative to nominative. 



III. HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE ABSOLUTE 
PARTICIPLE IN MODERN ENGLISH. 

I begin my discussion of the absolute participle in Modern 
English with the opening of the sixteenth century, and here 
the remarks of Earle 2 on English prose in general at this 

1 Skeat, W. W. : Principles of English Etymology. 2nd Series. Oxford, 
1891. 

2 Earle, J. : English Prose. New York, 1891. 



ABSOLUTE PAETICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 273 

period of the language are especially appropriate. He says 
(pp. 424-25) : 

"The Third great era of our Prose receives its character 
from that wide diffusion of classical taste through the chan- 
nels of education, which was the natural consequence of the 
Revival of Ancient Learning in the Fifteenth century. . . . 
It did not take many generations to develop a scholastic Eng- 
lish prose which stood apart from the type of the Fifteenth 
century, even while it was built upon it. A learned style 
within the native language was the new thing that now 
appeared. In the former era, the learned style was either 
Latin or French, while English prose was homely and much 
on a level. This does not mean that there were no shades of 
gradation there certainly are such, for instance in the Paston 
Letters but that they did not form distinct orders of style 
such distinction could only be attained at that time by writing 
in one of the two scholastic languages. But now within 
the vernacular itself began to appear a classical, learned, 
scholastic style ; and the full significance of this new inci- 
dent will not develop itself until we come to the Seventeenth 
century." 

It is interesting to note how exactly the history of the de- 
velopment of the absolute participle, a classical importation, 
confirms this general observation in the sixteenth and seven- 
teenth centuries. 

In treating of the development of the absolute participle, 
Modern English must be divided into two periods : 

1. 1500 to 1660; 

2. 1660 to the present time. 

1. 1500-1660. 

More. 
Fifty-eight examples of the absolute participle. 



274 



C. H. ROSS. 



Serners. 

Though a translation from the French, the first volume of 
this work contains only ten examples of the absolute participle. 

Latimer. 

Owing to the homely character of his style, only thirteen 
examples are found in Latimer. 

Gosson. 
His small treatise contains fourteen examples. 

Lyly. 

The absolute participle is very common here, about sixty 
examples being found. 

Sidney. 
Twenty-three examples of the absolute participle. 

Lodge. 
Fifty-eight examples of the absolute participle. 

Nashe. 
Eleven examples in his short pamphlet. 

Hooker. 

Earle (1. c. p. 425) speaks of " the diction of Hooker, the 
author most possessed of Latinity ; " and this fact is seen in 
Hooker's extreme use of the absolute participle. In one hun- 
dred and twenty-one pages are found one hundred and seven 
examples. 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 275 

Marprelate. 

In the colloquial and vigorous language of these tracts the 
absolute participle is not common, twenty-seven examples 
being found. 

Greene. 

In the play read there occurs no example of the absolute 
participle. 

Marlowe. 
Twenty-three examples of the absolute participle. 

Spenser. 
Only eighteen examples in Book i. 1 

Shakespeare. 

Fifty-two examples occur in the six plays read, though 
twenty of these are found in one play : King Henry IV, Pt. II. 

Daniel. 
Nine examples in his short treatise. 

Jonson. 

As his Discoveries are written " in a free and easy conversa- 
tional style " (Minto), they contain only seven examples. 

Bacon. 

Only eighteen examples of the absolute participle ; for Bacon 
" is neither markedly Latinised nor markedly familiar." 

1 In the case of several works in Mod. Eng. want of time prevented a 
reading of the entire work. However, the portion read was looked on as a 
sufficient index of the work. 



276 



C. H. BOSS. 



Browne. 
Thirty-five examples of the absolute participle. 

Milton. 

Milton was peculiarly under the domination of the classi- 
cal spirit, both in his prose and poetry. His prose contains 
seventy-four examples, while in his poems are found no less 
than one hundred and five examples. Many of the latter are 
in direct imitation of the Latin construction. 



Walton. 
One hundred and eight examples of the absolute participle. 

The peculiar conditions under which the absolute participle 
occurs in the above-named works of the sixteenth and first 
half of the seventeenth century viz. occurring but rarely in 
certain works, and in others in large numbers show that the 
form had not become thoroughly naturalized. It limited itself 
to certain favorite authors where the classical element largely 
predominated, and was used but sparingly by authors whose 
style was essentially English. 

2. 1660 to the Present Time. 

Instead of considering separately the authors read, I group 
them under the following heads : 

(a) Fiction. 

(6) Essays and criticism. 

(c) History. 

(d) Biography. 

(e) Autobiography. 
(/) Letters. 

(g) Poetry. 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 277 

(a) Fiction. 

This department of literature is the special province of the 
absolute participle. Nineteen writers were read. In Bunyan 
occur forty-nine examples, but this comparatively large num- 
ber is not surprising when we read the remarks of Minto 1 (p. 
304): 

" The language is homely, indeed, but it is not the every- 
day speech of hinds and tinkers ; it is the language of the 
Church, of the Bible, of Foxe's Book of Martyrs, and what- 
ever other literature Bunyan was in the habit of perusing. 
As for the 'old unpolluted English language/ it needs no 
microscopical eye to detect in the Pilgrim's Progress a con- 
siderable sprinkling of vulgar provincialisms, and even of 
such Latin idioms as are to be found in his favourite old 
martyrologist Foxe." 

In Swift occur fifty-seven examples of the absolute parti- 
ciple ; in Fielding, one hundred and seventy -three ; in Johnson, 
only three; in Goldsmith, forty-seven ; in Scott, eighty-eight; 
in Irving, one hundred and thirty-one ; in Cooper, eighty; in 
Dickens (two works), three hundred and forty-one ; in Thack- 
eray (two works), four hundred and three; in George Eliot, 
ninety-one ; in Hawthorne, forty-three ; in Hughes, one hun- 
dred and forty-eight ; in Holmes, sixty-seven ; in Mitchell, 
twenty-seven ; in Blackmore, one hundred and seventy-two ; 
in Miss Murfree, one hundred and twenty-four ; in Stevenson 
(two works), fifty-nine ; in Miss Rives, seventy-seven. 

Of all the above writers Johnson is the only exception to 
the frequency of the absolute participle. A casual reading has 
shown that the case is the same in his Lives of the Poets. What, 
then, explains this infrequency ? Possibly Arnold's 2 remark 
does (p. xix) : " Johnson himself wrote a prose decidedly 
modern. The reproach conveyed in the phrase 'Johnsonian 

1 Minto, W. : Manual of Eng. Prose Literature. Boston, 1889. 
'Arnold, M. : Pref. to Johnson's Six Chief Lives. London, 1886. 

3 



278 c. H. ROSS. 

English ' must not mislead us. It is aimed at his words, not 
at his structure. In Johnson's prose the words are often 
pompous and long, but the structure is always plain and 
modern." Still, other modern writers of fiction and biography 
use the absolute participle so freely that it is almost impossible 
to account for Johnson's failure to employ it. The same state 
of things is seen later in Macaulay. 

(6) Essays and criticism. 

In Dryden are found forty-six examples of the absolute 
participle ; in Addison, forty-six ; in Burke, fourteen ; in 
Macaulay, only ten (though the essays read were almost en- 
tirely narrative); in Arnold, fourteen; in Lowell, sixty-five; 
in Whipple, twenty-six ; in Ruskin, one hundred and forty 
(the descriptive character of the work may be the cause of this 
frequency) ; in Birrell, thirty-two. The narrative element is 
largely lacking in Arnold, and in Burke there is really no 
occasion to use the absolute construction. 

(c) History. 

Naturally in historical composition the absolute participle 
is comparatively frequent. In Irving occur ninety-nine ex- 
amples, and in Parkman, sixty-three. 

(d) Biography. 

In Irving are found thirty-four examples ; in Lewes, ninety- 
eight ; in Forster, seventy-two ; in Froude, one hundred and 
five. 

(e) Autobiography. 

In this department the absolute participle is even more 
common than in the preceding. Pepys shows one hundred 
and eighty-eight examples ; Franklin, one hundred and eighty- 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 279 

three ; De Quincey, twenty-four ; Jefferson, one hundred and 
fifteen. 

(/) Letters. 

In the colloquial style of this department the absolute par- 
ticiple is not very common. In Walpole occur twenty-six 
examples, and in Gray, forty-six. 

(g) Poetry. 

Poetry shows a marked increase in occurrence over the 
first period (1500-1660). Dryden contains forty examples; 
Pope, thirty-three ; Goldsmith, fifteen ; Scott, thirty-two ; Mrs. 
Browning, one hundred and five ; Arnold, forty-six. Pal- 
grave's Golden Treasury, which contains poems of both periods, 
shows twenty examples. This indicates that the absolute par- 
ticiple is not at home in lyric poetry. 

The above statistics raise the question, Why does the abso- 
lute participle appear so uniformly common (with varying 
degrees) in nearly every text of the second period ? The 
answer is, that the Restoration naturalized it ; for, as Matthew 
Arnold says (1. c. p. xix), " the Restoration marks the real 
moment of birth of our modern English prose." And he 
says further on the same point : 

" Men of lucid and direct mental habit there were, such as 
Chill ingworth, in whom before the Restoration the desire and 
the commencement of a modern prose show themselves. There 
were men like Barrow, weighty and powerful, whose mental 
habit the old prose suited, who continued its forms and locu- 
tions after the Restoration. But the hour was come for the 
new prose, and it grew and prevailed. . . . The style is ours 
by its organism, if not by its phrasing. It is by its organism 
an organism opposed to length and involvement, and enabling 
us to be clear, plain, and short, that English style after the 
Restoration breaks with the style of the times preceding it, 
finds the true law of prose, and becomes modern ; becomes, in 
spite of superficial differences, the style of our own day." 



280 



C. H. ROSS. 



Having traced the development of the absolute participle in 
Modern English by means of its occurrence in the works of 
the most important writers, it is now in place to explain 
the cause of its frequency in this period. It has been seen 
that the absolute construction gradually increased in occurrence 
in certain works of the fifteenth century. Almost with the 
beginning of the sixteenth century the construction began to 
take on a new life, so to speak, and the reason of this is not 
hard to find. The increase in occurrence of the absolute par- 
ticiple and its general adoption are really due to that move- 
ment which so powerfully affected English at the beginning 
of the sixteenth century, viz., the Revival of Learning. 

In considering as a whole the development of the absolute 
participle in Middle and Modern English, we notice three dis- 
tinct and important influences on this construction : 

(1) The influence of Old Frencli that came in fully during 
the second half of the fourteenth century and that enriched the 
language with many prepositions and quasi-prepositions. 

(2) Classical influence that came in about the beginning of 
the sixteenth century and that increased largely the occurrence 
of the construction. 

(3) The influence of the Restoration in finally fixing and 
naturalizing the construction, in narrowing its domain princi- 
pally to narration and description, and in giving it to poetry. 

TABLE OF MODERN ENGLISH ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLES. 



WORK. 


PARTICIPLES. 


Addison 


46 


Arnold : Essays 


14 


Poems 


46 


Bacon 


18 


Berners 


10 


Birrell 


32 


Blackmore . . 


172 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 



281 



WORK. 



PARTICIPLES. 



Browne 35 

Browning, Mrs 105 

Bunyan '. 49 

Burke 14 

Cooper 80 

Daniel 6 

De Quincey 24 

Dickens : David Copperfield 103 

Pickwick Papers 238 

Dryden: Essay 46 

Poems 40 

George Eliot 91 

Fielding 173 

Forster 72 

Franklin 183 

Froude 105 

Goldsmith: Vicar 47 

Poems 15 

Gosson 14 

Gray 46 

G reen e 

Hawthorne 43 

Holmes 67 

Hooker 107 

Hughes 148 

Irving: Goldsmith 34 

Knickerbocker 131 

Granada 99 

Jefferson 115 

Johnson 3 

Jonson 7 

Latimer 13 

Lewes 98 

Lodge 58 

Lowell 65 

Lyly 60 

Macaulay 10 

Marlowe 23 

Marprelate 27 



282 



C. H. ROSS. 



WORK. PARTICIPLES. 

Milton: JEssays 74 

Poems 105 

Mitchell 27 

More 58 

Murfree 124 

Nashe 11 

Palgrave 20 

Parkman . 63 

Pepys 188 

Pope 33 

Rives 77 

Ruskin 140 

Scott: Ivanhoe 88 

Marmion 32 

Shakespeare 52 

Sidney 23 

Spenser 18 

Stevenson: Dr. Jekyll 17 

Prince Otto 42 

Swift 57 

Thackeray : Henry Esmond 216 

Vanity Fair 187 

Walpole 26 

Walton 108 

Whipple 26 

Total.., 4744 



IV. THE CASE OP THE ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN 
MIDDLE AND MODERN ENGLISH. 

The case of the absolute participle differs with the language. 
The Sanskrit uses the locative, the Greek the genitive, and the 
Latin the ablative, while the Teutonic languages use the dative. 
In Anglo-Saxon " the normal absolute case is the dative." In 
French the case is the accusative, and in Italian there is an 
interchange between the nominative and the accusative. What, 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 283 

then, is the case of the absolute participle in Middle and Mod- 
ern English ? Obviously, according to history and analogy, 
it should be oblique in form and signification. But in later 
Middle English and in Modern English the form at least is 
nominative. The question, therefore, arises, Has there been a 
change of signification as well as a change of form ? Before 
attempting to answer this, let us try to find out when this 
change of form took place. 

In entering upon such an investigation as this we are con- 
fronted with two difficulties. In the first place, it is impossible 
to arrive at absolute certainty in regard to the question in point 
until the whole of Middle English literature has been sifted for 
examples ; but in the nature of things, this could not be done in 
the limits of time assigned to this work. Again, the only place 
where we can clearly distinguish the case of the absolute parti- 
ciple in Middle English is when the participle is used with a 
pronoun as subject, and in this period very few such examples 
occur. With these two facts clearly in mind, it will be easily 
seen how hard it is to assign an exact or even a closely approxi- 
mate date to the change of case of the absolute construction. 

As far as I can learn, Morris and Oliphant are the only 
writers that have attempted to assign a date to this change of 
form. The former 1 says (p. 103) : " In the oldest English 
the dative was the absolute case, just as the ablative is in Latin. 
About the middle of the fourteenth century the nominative be- 
gan to replace it." In speaking of the Cursor Mundi (A. D. 
1290), Oliphant 2 says (p. 408): "The Participle Absolute 
had hitherto always been in the dative, and this lasted down 
to 1400 ; " but notice the following example : 

" Mi felaw smord hir barn in bedd, 
And styen sco laid it priueli, 
And i slepand in bedd, me bi." 

Cursor Mundi, ed. by Morris. EETS., 
London, 1874. Pt. n., p. 500 (1. 8672). 

1 Morris, K. : Historical Outlines of Eng. Accidence. London, 1886. 
1 Oliphant, T. L. K. : The Old and Middle English. London, 1878. 



284 



C. H. BOSS. 



So have the Cotton and Fairfax MSS.; but the Gottingen and 
Trinity MSS. have " while I slepte." And in his New English 
(i, 42) Oliphant, speaking of an alliterative poem on Alex- 
ander (about 1340), says : " There is a new idiom in p. 190 ; 
they ask Philip to be lord of their land, ]>ei to holden of hym. 
Here a participle, such as being bound, is dropped after ]>ei ; 
and the nominative replaces the old Dative Absolute." This 
example must be looked on as a case of the nominative with 
the infinitive, like examples to which can be found in Chaucer 
(as, for instance, iv, 127). 

From the first two of these statements I draw these results : 
Morris says that the nominative began to replace the dative 
about the middle of the fourteenth century ; but it is seen from 
the example cited from the Cursor Mundi that this date is 
entirely too late. Again, Oliphant says that the dative case 
of the absolute participle lasted down to 1400 ; but it will be 
seen from the examples which follow that the dative case con- 
tinued in use until at least the second quarter of the fifteenth 
century. 

We cannot say with certainty when this change of form began 
to take place ; but we can decide on a loosely approximate date 
when this change was finally and thoroughly effected. And in 
order to do this, let us direct our attention to the few clear exam- 
ples of the dative and the nominative absolute that occur in the 
Middle English texts read. 

The first example of a nominative absolute that I have been 
able to find in Middle English, is that cited above from the 
Cursor Mundi. The next examples found occur in Chaucer. 
Here we find three examples of the nominative absolute : 

" What couthe a stourdy housebonde more devyse 

To prove hir wyf hode, 

And he contynuyng ever in stourdynesse." 

n, 300. 
Sim. 1 11, 311. 

1 Example similar to the one just preceding. 



ABSOLUTE PAETICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 285 

" Sche, this in blake, likynge to Troilus, 
Over alle thinge he stode for to beholde." 

iv, 120. 

This absolute construction is simply a translation of one in 
Italian, in which " questa " may be taken as a nominative. 

That the absolute case had not changed permanently from 
dative to nominative before the close of the fourteenth century 
is shown by its use in Langland. In the B-text (A. D. 1377) 
occurs one example of the dative absolute : 

" As in aparaille and in porte proude amonges the peple, 
Otherwyse than he hath with herte or syjte shewynge ; 
Hym willynge that alle men wende." 

i, 402 (B. Passus xm, 280). 

The corresponding passage in the C-text (A. D. 1393) (Passus 
Vii, 32) has "me wilnynge" Gower, however, shows one 
example of the nom. absol. : 

" And she constreigned of Tarquine 
To thing, which was ayein her will, 
She wolde nought her selven still." 

n, 363. 

I think "constreigned" is to be taken as an appositive par- 
ticiple, and that "she" at the beginning of the third line is 
really superfluous, being added merely for the sake of the metre. 
The numerous examples of the dative absolute in Wyclif 's 
translation of the Bible do not come into consideration here. 
They were simply, as has been said above, bald translations of 
the ablatives absolute in the Vulgate, and were in most cases 
otherwise rendered by the revisers of Wyclif. One example 
of a nominative absolute, however, has been noted in Wyclif 's 
translation : in Exodus I, 10, we find, " We overcumen, he go 
out." This isolated example is an additional proof of the fact 
that the absolute case had changed, or had begun to change, its 
form before Wyclif made his translation. 



286 



C. H. ROSS. 



In Palladius on Husbondrie 1 (about A. D. 1420) occurs an 
example of the nominative absolute : 

" Feed stalons fatte goth nowe to gentil marys, 
And, ihay replete, ayein thai goothe to stable ; " 

Bk. iv. 780. 

But this may be due to the clause being appositive rather than 
absolute. 

In three clear examples Hoccleve shows both forms. His 
poem of Jereslam's Wife (about A. D. 1421 or '22) contains 
two examples of the nominative absolute : 

"And in hir bed, as shee lay on a nyght, 
This yonge maide and shee sleepynge faste, 
I kilde the chyld." 171. 

Sim. 165. 

But in How to learn to die (the date of which is not known) 
is found this : 

" What multitude in yeeres fewe ago, 
Thee yit lyuynge, han leid been in hir grave ! " 

211. 

The next instance of a clearly defined absolute case occurs 
in the Paston Letters under the year 1432. Here we have 
two datives absolute in the same clause : Paston I, 32 " That 
he take in noon of the iiij. knightes ne squyers for the body, 
without th' advis of my Lord of Bedford, him being in England 
and him being out." But in the same collection of letters, we find 
twenty years later (A. D. 1452) the nominative absolute. Under 
date of April 23, 1 452, John Paston writes to (the Sheriff of Nor- 
folk?), and in his letter he says (1. c. I, 232) : "He and v. of his 

felachip set upon me and . . my servants, 

he smyting at me." 

That this is not an isolated example is shown by the fact that 

1 Ed. by B. Lodge. EETS., London, 1873 and 1879. 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 287 

under the very same date " Some Gentlemen of Norfolk to (the 
Sheriff?)" say among other things (1. c. i, 231) : " His High- 
nesse shuld come in to Norwych or Claxton, we not beyng in 
certeyn yet whedyr he shall remeve." From this date on, the 
nominative is the case of the absolute participle in the Paston 
Letters. Under the year 1454 there are two examples, and 
before 1461 three others, of the nominative absolute. 

In Landry 1 174 occurs an example of the nominative abso- 
lute. But this does not belong to that part of the work made 
by the unknown translator about 1440 ; it really belongs to 
Caxton's translation of 1483-4, parts of which were inserted 
where there was a break in the earlier translation. The occur- 
rence also of the dative absolute in Pecock's Represser (A. D. 
1449) "What euer is doon in an othir mannis name .... 
(him it witing and not weerning) is doon of him " (n, 325) is 
most likely due to the same cause as are Wyclif 's datives abso- 
lute direct imitation of the Latin idiom. 

Malory (1469) shows eight examples of the nominative 
absolute, but not a single example of the dative absolute. 
Paris and Vienna (1485) contains four examples of the 
nominative absolute and not one of the dative absolute, thus 
showing that, as regards the form, the change has been thor- 
oughly made from dative to nominative. 

From the above facts I conclude that the change in form of 
the absolute case from dative to nominative began before the 
close of the thirteenth century, and was most likely thoroughly 
effected during the second quarter of the fifteenth century. 

The next question that arises is, What was the cause of this 
change of form in the absolute case ? Various explanations 
have been offered in the solution of this problem. Probably 
it will be well to cite a few of these. Guest l says of the cause 
of the change : "The use indeed of the nominative, .... does 
not admit of easy explanation. It is unknown to the older and 

1 Cited by Latham, E. G. : A Hand-book of the English Language. 6th ed. 
London, 1864 (p. 417). 



288 



C. H. ROSS. 



purer dialects of our language, and probably originated in the 
use of the indeclinable pronoun." Maetzner l (p. 73) says : 
" Auffallend ist auch der Gebrauch eines Nominativs statt des 
hier zu erwartenden obliquen Kasus, welcher sich indessen aus 
einer Vermischung der im Allgemeinen gleichforrnig gewor- 
denen Kasus erklaren mag. Fur den haufiger gewordenen 
Gebrauch und die Form desselben diirfte auch die Einwirkung 
des Franzosischen nicht ausser Acht zu lassen sein." Bain 2 
(p. 155) has the following note : " In all probability, the 
nominative was fixed upon from some random instances, with- 
out any deliberate consideration." Swinton 3 (p. 194) says on 
the change : " The loss of case-inflections has led to the con- 
founding of the cases, and modern usage requires the nomina- 
tive case in this construction." Abbott 4 (p. 275) says in the 
same strain : " In Anglo-Saxon a dative absolute was a com- 
mon idiom. Hence, even when inflections were discarded, the 
idiom was retained ; and, indeed, in the case of pronouns, the 
nominative, as being the normal state of the pronoun, was pre- 
ferred to its other inflections." Einenkel (1. c. p. 70) attributes 
the change of form to the influence of the Italian : 

t( Ohne Zweifel sind alle Belege, die in diese specielle Klasse 
gehoren, als absolute Nominative anzusehen. Sie alle haben 
das Gemeinsame, dass die absoluten Constructiouen Bestim- 
mungen zum Inhalte des Hauptsatzes als einem Ganzen enthal- 
ten, dass das Pradicat des absoluten Casus ein Participium 
Praesentis ist und, was ihre Entstehung anbelangt, nicht dem 
Afranz., dass diese Art der Formel kaum keimt soudern dem 
Italienischen nachgebildet ist." 

" Wenn wir auch einigen Grund haben anzunehmen, dass 
abgesehen von den stehenden Participialformeln mit veant und 
oyant, im Afranz. zum mindesten im Curialstil jene uns feh- 
lenden mit Participien Praesentis gebildeten absoluten Con- 

1 Maetzner, E. : Englische Grammatik. Berlin, 1865. Zw. Theil, zw. Halfte. 
* Bain, A. : A Higher English Grammar. London, 1876. 
'Swinton, W. : A Grammar of the Eng. Lang. New York, 1889. 
4 Abbott, E. A. : A Shakespearian Grammar. London, 1888. 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 289 

structionen nicht erst rait Commines, sondern schon viel eher 
in Gebrauch kamen, als uns die diesen Gegenstand behandelnden 
Arbeiten zugestehen mogen, so konnen wir doch vor der Hand 
zugeben, dass den betreffenden ME Constructionen nur italie- 
nische Vorbilder vorgelegen haben (die Lateinischen kommen 
des Ablativs wegen gar nicht in Frage). Denn es bedarf doch 
keiner langwierigen Beweisfurung, dass in einer so regel- nnd 
ruhelos garenden Sprache, wie die ME es im 14. Jahrhundert 
war, eine Formelarten auf langere Zeit hinaus sich nicht ledig- 
lich dadurch getrennt und selbstandig erhalten konnte, dass 
sie einer anderen fremden Sprache nachgebildet war bekannt 
sein konnte, der jene Formelart zuerst anwandte, zuerst nach- 
bildete, und der sicher selbst Diesem unbekannt geblieben ist, 
da man in einer Zeit, wo die Philologie im heutigen Sinne des 
Wortes noch nicht vorhanden war, sich iiber die Herkunft einer 
Ausdrucksweise nicht die geringsten Gedanken rnachte nnd 
selbst bei Nachbildungen ganz unbewusst verfur." The 
remarks made above on the influence of Italian on the Mid- 
dle English absolute construction disprove this extreme view 
of Einenkel. 

To the above statements may be added the recent one of 
Kellner l (p. 125) : " The inflexion having decayed, the dative 
was mistaken for the nominative." 

In his article on u The Objective Absolute in English " Dr. 
Bright 2 has struck the key-note as to the change of form from 
dative to nominative : " Let us look at the history of the 
absolute construction in English. We begin with the dative 
absolute in Anglo-Saxon (in origin a translation of the Latin 
ablative absolute); as inflections break down we come upon 
the transition or ' crude ' type, in which the pronoun remains 
dative in form while the participle has lost all signs of inflec- 
tion. But all nouns, as well as the participle, came to lose 
the inflectional signs of the dative case ; we then obtained the 

1 Kellner, L. : Historical Outlines of English Syntax. London, 1892. 
"Bright, J. W., in Modern Lang. Notes, March, 1890, col. 159-162. 



290 C. H. ROSS. 

' crude ' type, in which both noun and participle, though abso- 
lute, were without any trace of inflection. The final act in 
this history was the admission of the nominative forms of the 
personal pronouns into this crude absolute construction a 
dative absolute in disguise." 

The whole matter may be summed up as follows : During 
the first centuries that followed the Norman Conquest the 
English language was largely in the hands of the common 
people, Latin and French being the languages of the church, 
of the court, and of the higher classes. The result of the 
language being largely in the hands of ignorant people was 
confusion and heterogeneousness. Changes of necessity took 
place rapidly, and old syntactical constructions were ignored. 
The absolute participle was almost forgotten, and the remark- 
able infrequeucy of the pronouns as subjects of the participle 
accelerated the confusion. In the nouns the nominative and 
dative cases were mingled, and this was also the case with the 
pronouns. Numerous examples occur in Middle English 
where the nominative was used for the accusative and vice 
versa; and so it undoubtedly was with the absolute participial 
construction. Such a state of things finds a parallel in the 
language of the uneducated of the present day. In the speech 
of one of the ignorant characters in Richard Malcolm John- 
ston's Widow Guthrie (p. 225), we have both the objective and 
nominative forms of the absolute construction : " They seldom 
and not always goes together, . . . but a most always sip'rate, 
them with the moest childern havin' the fewest niggers, and them 
with a houseful o' childern sometimes havin 1 nare nigger. . . . 
Sallann rnout of done it, they crowdin' in on her so rapid." 

A third question now presents itself in regard to the abso- 
lute case : Is the absolute case in later Middle English and 
Modern English a real nominative ? Most grammarians have 
in the main agreed that it is, by speaking of it as the nomina- 
tive absolute without going more deeply into its meaning. A 
few, however, have held that it is not a true nominative. Let 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 291 

us notice the testimony of the most prominent grammarians on 
both sides. 

Murray z (p. 201) speaks thus positively of the case : "As 
in the use of the case absolute, the case is, in English, always 
nominative, the following example is erroneous in making it 
the objective. ' .... he made as wise . . proverbs, as any 
body has . done since ; him only excepted, who was a much 
greater man. . .' It should be, ' he only excepted.' " Fowler 2 
(p. 517) gives the following rule : "A Noun with a Participle, 
used Independently of the Grammatical construction into which 
it logically enters, is in the nominative case. . . . This is 
called the nominative absolute." Cobbett, 3 with his customary 
independence of speech, makes this statement (p. 118) : "It 
appears to me impossible that a Noun or a Pronoun can exist 
in a grammatical state without having reference to some verb 
or preposition, either expressed or understood." In the same 
way he says (1. c. p. 110) as to the absolute construction : "For 
want of a little thought, . . . some grammarians have found 
out ' an absolute case/ as they call it ; and Mr. Lindley Mur- 
ray gives an instance of it in these words : 'Shame being lost, 
all virtue is lost.' The full meaning of the sentence is this : 
l lt being, or the state of things being such, that shame is lost, all 
virtue is lost.' " In endeavoring to do away with the absolute 
construction, Cobbett simply forms two others. Brown 4 (p. 
536) has this rule : "A -Noun or a Pronoun is put absolute in 
the nominative, when its case depends on no other word." 

As far as I can find out, R. G. Latham was the first to hold 
that the so-called nominative absolute is not a real nominative. 
In regard to the case he says (1. c. p. 416) : 

"Of the two phrases, him excepted and he excepted, the 
former is the one which is historically correct. It is also 

1 Murray, L. : An English Grammar. Vol. i. York, 1808. 

* Fowler, W. C. : Eng. Grammar. New York, 1860. 

* Cobbett, Wm. : A Gram, of the Eng. Lang. Revised and annotated by 
Alfred Ayres. New York, 1884. 

4 Brown, Goold: The Gram, of Eng. Grammars. 6th ed. New York, 1861. 



292 c. H. EOSS. 

the one which is logically correct. Almost all absolute ex- 
pressions of this kind have a reference, more or less direct, 

to the cause of the action denoted 

In the sentence, he made the best proverbs of any one, him only 
excepted, the idea of cause is less plain. Still it exists. The 
existence of him (i. e. the particular person mentioned as pre- 
eminent in proverb-making) is the cause or reason why he (i. e. 
the person spoken of as the second-best proverb-maker) was 
not the very best of proverb-makers. Now the practice of 
language in general teaches us this, viz. that where there is no 
proper Instrumental case, expressive of cause or agency, the 
Ablative is the case that generally supplies its place; and 
where there is no Ablative, the Dative. Hence the Latins 
had their Ablative, the Anglo-Saxons their Dative, Absolute. 
.... In spite, however, both of history and logic, the so- 
called best authorities are in favour of the use of the Nomina- 
tive case in the absolute construction." 

Dr. Guest l remarks, on the " him destroyed " of Milton : 
" Instead of this dative absolute, modern English writers gen- 
erally give us the pronoun in the nominative. Bentley, in 
his edition of the Paradise Lost, corrects this syntax whenever 
he meets with it : for I extinct, 9. 629 ; thou looking on, 9. 
312, etc. ; he reads me extinct, thee looking on, etc. His criti- 
cism was no doubt suggested by the laws of Latin grammar, 
but he would not have ventured upon it, had it not been borne 
out by contemporary English usage." This last sentence is 
disproved by the fact that the form prevalent at the time was 
the nominative absolute. When Milton, Tillotson, and pos- 
sibly a few others use the dative absolute, it is in direct imita- 
tion of the Latin idiom. 

Adams 2 follows Latham in his rejection of the current view 
as to the case of the absolute participle. He thus defines the 
construction (p. 197) : " A noun or a pronoun and a participle 
are frequently found in the dative case to mark the time when 

1 Cited by Latham fl. c. p. 417). 

2 Adams, E. : The Elements of the Eng. Language. 13th ed. London, 1874. 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH, 293 

au action is performed." Several examples, such as " this said " 
and " him destroyed" from Milton and " her attendants absent" 
from Shakespeare, are next cited, and Adams continues (1. c. 
p. 178) : " These words have no grammatical connexion with 
the rest of the sentence ; i. e. are not governed by any word 
or words in the sentence to which they are attached, and are 
therefore called Datives Absolute, or Detached Datives" .... 
The " A. S. dative was the origin of the absolute construction 
in English. Most grammarians, since the case endings are lost, 
prefer to call these words nominatives. But the loss of a suffix 
cannot convert one case into another. The meaning conveyed 
by these absolute words cannot be expressed by a true nomina- 
tive" And Adams says further in the same strain (1. c. p. 179) : 
" In A. S. these absolute words are always in the dative case, 
but in later English, having lost their case-endings, they are 
often incorrectly regarded as nominatives." 

This view is held also by Schneider, 1 whose work appeared 
shortly after Adams's. In speaking of the dative case he says 
(1. c. p. 243, 4. c) : " In einem Satze wie ' this done, he 
retired,' . . . . ist der erstere Satz vom andern unabhangig und 
losgetrennt. Im Angels, war es ein wirklicher Dativ (dem lat. 
1 Ablativus absolutus ' gleichkommend) : wesshalb man auch 
jetzt noch einen solchen Satz mit Recht ( Dative Absolute ' 
nennt ; Englander sollten diess nie ausser Augen verlieren. 
Desshalb ist unrichtig zu sagen : 

' But, he away, 'tis nobler.' Shakespeare. 

Der Nominativ ' he ' ist falsch." 

Maetzner gives (1. c. p. 72 g) simply the current view : " Der 
Kasus, in welchem gegenwartig das Particip mit seinem Sub- 
jekte auftritt, ist der Nominativ, wie sich dies klar ergiebt, wo 
das Subjekt ein Fiirwort ist, dessen Nominativ sich vom obli- 
quen Kasus unterscheiden lasst." Koch 2 simply says (p. 120), 
after giving examples of the dat. absol. from Wyclif: "Dane- 

1 Schneider, G. : Qesch. der eng. Sprache. Freiburg, 1863. 
*Koch, C. F.: Hist. Gh-am. der eng. Sprache. 2 Aufl. Bd. i. Cassel, 1878. 
4 



294 c. H. ROSS. 

ben tritt der Nominativ ; " and further (1. c. p. 122) : "Dieser 
Nominally wird nun weiter verwandt." Bain (1. c. p. 155) 
also says : " The absolute case, or the case of a detached parti- 
cipial clause, differs in different languages, but grammarians 
have for the most part agreed that in English it is the nomina- 
tive Hence, it is com- 
mon to regard as wrong the expression of Tillotson, f him only 
excepted.' " Bain thinks that Adams's points against the cur- 
rent view are well taken. Abbott adds (1. c. p. 275) to what 
he says above : " The nominative absolute is much less common 
with us than in Elizabethan authors ; " a remark that is based 
on very imperfect observation, for statistics show that the nomi- 
native absolute is just as plentiful now as it was in Shakes- 
peare's time. 

In drawing a conclusion from his sketch of the evolution of 
the absolute case as given above, Dr. Bright (1. c. col. 161) thus 
expresses himself : " It is clear that these pronouns (and the 
relative infrequency of their use in absolute clauses is significant) 
could not change the character of the construction. The con- 
clusion is therefore arrived at that the absolute construction in 
English, despite the use of the nominative forms of the per- 
sonal pronouns (the same is true of Italian), is historically the 
objective absolute." 

Latham, Adams, Schneider, and Bright have expressed the 
right view of the real case of the absolute participle in Eng- 
lish. We have seen how the nominative took the place of the 
dative, and while it is not held for a moment that we should 
go back to the older and more correct form, yet it is right to 
parse the so-called nominative absolute as " a dative absolute 
in disguise." As Latham has shown, this is correct, both 
logically and historically. It has also been observed by Dr. 
Bright (1. c. col. 160-1) that " the absolute clause expresses an 
oblique relation a relation that is chiefly temporal in signifi- 
cance, and the use of oblique cases for this construction in 
Greek and Latin is an indication of the true nature of the con- 
struction in all related languages." 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 295 

In his Latin Grammar ( 409) Prof. Gildersleeve says 
that " the Ablative Absolute may be translated by the English 
Objective Absolute, which is a close equivalent ; " and his use 
here of the expression " Objective Absolute " is due to the fact 
that " he had in mind . . . that English in its period of full 
inflections had a dative absolute, and in naming its historic 
survival he aimed at consistency with the terminology of 
modern English grammar, in which all datives are classed as 
objectives." 

V. THE STYLISTIC EFFECT OF THE ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE 
IN MIDDLE AND MODERN ENGLISH. 

At the close of his dissertation (pp. 46-51) Callaway gives 
a short chapter on " The Anglo-Saxon Absolute Participle as 
a Norm of Style," in which he acknowledges his indebtedness 
to the article of Prof. Gildersleeve 1 on "The Stylistic Effect 
of the Greek Participle." The theory of the stylistic effect of 
the Greek participle is then given, and the writer asks : " Is the 
theory likewise applicable to the participle in Anglo-Saxon ? " 
It is difficult to answer this question, because both the abso- 
lute and appositive participles are comparatively infrequent in 
Anglo-Saxon, while both are frequent in Latin and Greek. 
Yet this may be said (1. c. p. 52) : " The stylistic effect of the 
absolute participle in Anglo-Saxon was much the same as in 
the classical languages : it gave movement to the sentence ; it 
made possible flexibility and compactness. But, owing to the 
artificial position of the absolute construction in Anglo-Saxon, 
its stylistic value was reduced to a minimum, was indeed 
scarcely felt at all. The absolute participle rejected as an 
instrument of style, the Anglo-Saxon had no adequate substi- 
tute therefor. The two commonest substitutes, the dependent 
sentence and the co-ordinate clause, as used in Anglo-Saxon, 
became unwieldy and monotonous. Brevity and compactness 

1 Gildersleeve, B. L., in The Amer. Jour, of Phil., ix (1888), pp. 137-157. 



296 c, H. ROSS. 

were impossible ; the sentence was slow in movement and 
somewhat cumbersome. The language stood in sore need of a 
more flexible instrument for the notation of subordinate con- 
ceptions, of such an instrument as the absolute dative seemed 
capable of becoming but never became." Callaway had also 
said just before (1. c. p. 50) : "The Anglo-Saxon to the last 
remained practically upon the plane held to-day by New High 
German. The help needed came only with the gradual de- 
velopment of the appositive participle ; the introduction of the 
nominative absolute into Middle English, possibly from the 
French (sic) (Einenkel, 1. c. p. 74 f.) ; and the rise of the Mod- 
ern English gerund ; when, it seems to us, English was put 
upon an equal footing with the philometochic Greek." 

If this was the condition of things in Anglo-Saxon, what 
was it in Middle English and what is it in Modern English ? 
First, let us notice briefly the Middle English domain. Here 
the same condition of things existed as in Anglo-Saxon. We 
have seen that up to the last half of the fourteenth century the 
absolute participle was practically non-existent, whether in 
prose or poetry. Its prevalence in Chaucer is due largely to 
Italian influence, in part also to French influence; and the 
occurrence of the participle in the works of Chaucer's contem- 
poraries and of the fifteenth century writers is to be traced to 
the same French influence. But the construction was avoided 
as much as possible, and in its stead the various shifts that were 
resorted to in Anglo-Saxon were used. The absolute participle 
here cannot be spoken of as " a norm of style," for it was in 
reality an excrescence, and not an inherent quality of the style. 
Where it existed it gave freedom and movement, but as a con- 
struction it was scarcely felt at all. During the fifteenth cen- 
tury, however, juSt before the awakening caused by the Revival 
of Learning, the absolute participle became, as we have seen, 
somewhat prevalent and was more felt in the style. But the 
great infrequency of the construction in Malory's Mort D' Arthur, 
a work written under the domination of French literature and 
a work in which above all others in the same century we should 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 297 

naturally expect the construction, shows that the absolute parti- 
ciple was still foreign to the genius of the language. 

Secondly, we treat the Modern English period. Here we find 
the absolute participle assimilated, developed as a principle of 
style, and used by nearly all writers. English, in taking up 
and assimilating into itself the riches of the classical languages, 
did not neglect this very common idiom. What the poverty of 
Anglo-Saxon and Middle English failed to do, was done by 
Modern English. At first, the homeliest writers used the con- 
struction but rarely, but the more classical authors, like Hooker 
and Milton, crowded their sentences with it, and to their writ- 
ings Prof. Gildersleeve's criticism (1. c. p. 148) can well apply : 
" The undue multiplication of participles does give an intoxica- 
tion to style. The finite verb has to be reached through a crowd 
of circumstances, the logical relations are not clearly expressed, 
and the play of color in which temporal, causal, conditional, 
adversative rays mix and cross is maddening." Bacon and 
Ben Jonson are at the other extreme, and we see from these 
four writers that the construction has not become thoroughly 
naturalized. This was effected during the last half of the 
seventeenth century, and during the eighteenth the form was 
more thoroughly fixed as an inherent element of the style. It 
was in this condition when the novel became a distinct branch 
of literature, and with the novelist the construction has always 
been exceedingly popular. The fact that some writers use it 
but rarely, is rather to be explained by something peculiar to 
those writers than by the refusal of the language of their time 
to use it. Macaulay uses it rarely ; but, on the other hand, 
Froude, whose style is strikingly like Macaulay's, uses it with 
great freedom. 

In studying the absolute participle as a norm of style, it is 
well to notice that it belongs to certain kinds of literature. In 
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries it belonged largely to 
didactic and philosophical prose, but now its province is dis- 
tinctively narration and description. In this respect it is like 
the Greek ; for Prof. Gildersleeve has said (1. c. p. 147) of 



298 c. H. BOSS. 

that : "As the argumentative part of an author is the home of 
the articular infinitive, so the narrative is the proper sphere of 
the participle." And also Dr. Spieker, 1 in his article on "The 
Genitive Absolute in the Attic Orators " (p. 320), says on the 
same point : " Time is ... throughout, and naturally so, the 
reigning relation expressed. This being so, we might expect 
it (i. e. the gen. abs.) more largely in narrations, and we should 
not be deceived, for where there is much narration there are 
ordinarily, relatively speaking, a large number of genitives 
abs." Hence, as the absolute participle occurs in English 
most largely in narrative and descriptive prose, we shall find 
it occurring most frequently in prose fiction. Next to this 
stand biography, history, and the essay. As in Greek, so in 
English, the percentage of the occurrence of the absolute parti- 
ciple is greater in narrations than 'in descriptions. In didactic 
prose the English of the past two centuries is not much given 
to the use of the construction, and Dr. Spieker shows (1. c. p. 
320) that this was the case in Greek : " In didactic prose, 
where, to be sure, there is to some extent less occasion for it, 
the percentage is far less, in some few cases indeed none at all ; 
in such works its use is avoided where it would be possible to 
have it." 

In Anglo-Saxon and Middle English the absolute participle 
belongs almost entirely to prose. Only two examples of the 
dative absolute occur in Anglo-Saxon poetry, and in Middle 
English poetry the construction is very rare. Chaucer, in his 
somewhat exceptional use of it, simply imitates Boccaccio, in 
whose poems it is found in large numbers. Gower and Lang- 
land use it very occasionally. But in Modern English poetry 
the case is different. In Shakespeare and the Elizabethan 
poets and dramatists, the absolute construction is not common, 
but in Dryden's poetry and that of the eighteenth and nine- 
teenth centuries it often occurs. What is the explanation of 
this frequency? Probably it is to be found in Earle's remark 

Spieker, E. H., in The Amer. Journal of Phil., vi (1885), pp. 310-343. 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 299 

(1. c. p. 461) : " The Eighteenth century is emphatically the 
century of English Prose. ... So much is prose in posses- 
sion of the time, that it invades the poetry and governs it. 
. . . Poetry was simply annexed by Prose." In the disin- 
clination to use the construction in poetry the earlier periods 
of English are like Greek. The genitive absolute is not 
common in Homer, and in the early elegiac poets there are 
but few examples found " a fact due in part to the absence 
of occasion for the use of the construction, but not altogether. 
Indeed, there is plenty of room left for its use had it been 

familiar Here, as elsewhere, the norm for poetry once 

set was adhered to, and though the later prose use influenced 
the poetry of that period to some extent, we can say that 
throughout its frequent occurrence was a mark of prose, 
while poetry preserved in general the limits set by Homer 
and the early poets, limits that to them were natural.'' 
(Spieker.) 

Some recent writers have inveighed against the use of the 
absolute participle. McElroy, 1 in speaking of the construc- 
tion, says (p. 105, n. 7) : " Even such forms as Herod being 
dead, the angel warned Joseph seem rare (sic) in the best recent 
English." Genung 2 (p. 115) thus speaks of the participle in 
composition : " The participial construction is a convenient 
means of condensation ; it also promotes flexibility of style by 
obviating the too constant recurrence of principal verbs. Being, 
however, a subordinated construction, it needs careful adjust- 
ment to the principal assertion on which it depends." And 
again (1. c. p. 158) : "The participial construction is a valu- 
able means of cutting down a clause The use 

of a participle with subject not a part of the principal sentence 
a construction parallel to the Ablative Absolute in Latin 
is foreign to the genius of English, and requires caution and 
moderation." 

1 McElroy, J. G. R. : The Structure of English Prose. New York, 1885. 

2 Genung, J. F. : The Practiced Elements of Rhetoric. Boston, 1890. 



300 



C. H. ROSS. 



In contrast with these pessimistic views of the absolute con- 
struction in Modern English style, may be cited the general 
remark of Diez l (p. 272) : " Vermittelst der Participialcon- 
struction zieht man mehrfache mit dem Relativpronomen oder 
mit Conjunctionen fur Zeit und Grund gebildete Satze in ein- 
fache zusammen . Diese Methode wird in den j iingeren Sprachen 
fast in demselben Umfange geiibt wie in der lateinischen, so dass 
die Vernachlassigung derselben den guten Stil verletzen wiirde." 
Dr. Spieker notes (1. c. p. 313) in the same line : " In his treat- 
ment of the participle, Classen 2 deplores the almost utter absence 
of the German participle, except as an attributive ; an absence 
which causes German translations to lose in force and beauty, 
and often makes conceptions inadequate or even utterly wrong. 
The English language has fared better in this respect, and 
every English-speaking person acquainted with the German 
language will agree with him." 

As in the classical languages, so in Modern English, the 
absolute participle gives freedom and variety to the sentence, 
and it has become an inherent part of the syntax. It is not 
only used in literature proper, but it is occasionally heard in 
conversation. It occurs often in extemporaneous prayers and 
sermons ; though in these last provinces of the language its use 
is largely restricted to set formulae " all things being equal," 
" all things considered," etc. Rhetoricians may decry its use, 
grammarians may remind us that it is an idiom foreign to Eng- 
lish, and critics may tell us that its occurrence in Modern English 
literature is very rare ; but, with all these assertions, a careful 
study of the construction by means of a close reading of all the 
prominent prose stylists of Modern English shows that the abso- 
lute participle is used by all writers, and that it has finally become 
a regular part of the style. 'It was needed to supply a want, and 
it has done this fullv. 



1 Diez, F. : Gram, der roman. Sprachen. Bd. in. Bonn, 1876-7. 
* In his Beobachtungen uber den Homerischen Sprachgebrauch. 



ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 301 



VI. RESULTS. 

The following is a short summary of the results believed to 
be reached in the preceding pages : 

1 . In the development of the absolute participle in Middle 
English, two periods must be distinguished. In the first, which 
extends from 1150 to 1350, the construction is practically non- 
existent, and where it does appear, it must be looked on as a 
survival of the Anglo-Saxon absolute participle, or as a direct 
imitation of the Latin ablative absolute. In the second, which 
extends from 1350 to 1500, French influence causes an increase 
in occurrence, but the construction is still a stranger. In only 
two monuments, Chaucer's poems and the Paston Letters, is it 
at all common, and this frequency is due to an excess of for- 
eign influence of Italian in Chaucer, of classical in the Pas- 
ton Letters. 

2. The presence of the absolute participle in Middle English 
is due almost entirely to Old French influence, though this 
influence was not great. In the first period of Middle English 
it was not appreciable, but in the second period it made itself 
felt by the increased occurrence of the construction and by the 
importation of prepositions that were formerly absolute parti- 
ciples. Through analogy to these English has been enriched by 
many new prepositions and quasi-prepositions derived from par- 
ticiples. Old French influence, however, was not able to hold 
the English absolute case to an oblique form like itself. The 
Italian absolute construction exercised an appreciable influence 
on Chaucer, but there is no evidence to show that it influenced 
any other Middle English writer. 

3. As regards the development of the absolute participle in 
Modern English we must also distinguish two periods. In the 
first, which extends, roughly, from 1500 to 1660, the construc- 
tion occurs but sparingly in writers whose style is simple and 
English, but is very abundant in writers specially dominated by 
classical influence. This increase in occurrence is due to the 



302 



C. H. ROSS. 



Revival of Learning. In the second period, extending from 
1660 to the present time, the construction becomes naturalized 
under the influence of the Restoration, and takes its place as 
an inherent part of the syntax. It is given to poetry, and its 
sphere is largely narrowed to that of narration and description. 

4. The case of the absolute participle changed its form in 
Middle English from dative to nominative. This change began 
to take place before the close of the thirteenth century, and was 
finally effected during the second quarter of the fifteenth. The 
reason of this change of form is to be found in the heterogeneous 
condition of the language in late Anglo-Saxon and early Middle 
English, by which inflections were leveled and old syntactical 
distinctions were forgotten. The change was a gradual process, 
and is not due directly to any foreign influence. The so-called 
nominative absolute in Modern English is really " a dative abso- 
lute in disguise." Both by history and logic it is an oblique 
case, and cannot be expressed by a true nominative. 

5. The stylistic effect of the absolute participle in Middle 
English is about the same as in Anglo-Saxon : where it occurred 
it gave freedom and movement to the sentence, but its artificial 
character almost kept it from being felt. In Modern English 
there is a different condition of things. Here it is an important 
adjunct to the style, to which it imparts variety and compact- 
ness. It gives life and movement to the sentence, and is the 
ready resource of all writers of narration and description for the 
purpose of expressing subordinate conceptions. 

CHARLES HUNTER Ross. 



VI. ON THE SOURCE OF THE ITALIAN AND ENG- 
LISH IDIOMS MEANING 'TO TAKE TIME BY 
THE FORELOCK,' WITH SPECIAL REFERENCE 
TO BOJARDO'S ORLANDO INNAMORATO, BOOK 
II, CANTOS VII-IX. 

The central narrative in Bojardo's epic, the Orlando Inna- 
morato, relates how the appearance of the beautiful Angelica 
at the court of Charlemagne completely turned the heads of 
all the noble paladins present, notably Orlando and Rinaldo. 
These two cousins and brothers-in-arms now become hated 
rivals, and set out in pursuit of the fair maiden when she 
returns to her native country. Much time passes before the 
two knights meet, and when this finally does occur, it is before 
Albracca, Angelica's castle, where she is besieged by another 
lover, Agricane, King of Tartary. The meeting is stormy, as 
was to be foreseen, and a duel is begun which lasts for two 
days, and which would have ended badly for Kinaldo had not 
Angelica, who just then is in love with him, held back the 
blow that would have wounded him mortally. She knows 
that Rinaldo is safe only if Orlando can be gotten out of the 
way, and to do this successfully she sends the latter on a 
perilous and distant expedition. Among the many adventures 
which he encounters on this journey is the destruction of an 
enchanted garden which had been fabricated by an enchantress 
named Falerina. Orlando's impulse is to slay her as well, 
but his mind is changed when he learns that her death would 
have as consequence the death of many knights and ladies who 
are kept prisoners in a tower. In exchange for her life she 
promises to lead him to that prison (ii-v, 1-24). When they 
arrive there Orlando sees hanging on a tree beyond the moat 
the armor of his cousin Rinaldo, and, believing him dead, 
remorse for his former quarrels with him seizes him, and he 
rushes over the bridge to engage battle with Aridano, the 

303 



304 



J. E. MATZKE. 



guardian of the tower. The two antagonists clutch, and soon 
roll down the shore into the enchanted lake which surrounds 
the prison (ii vii, 3263). They descend through the water 
until they arrive on dry ground, a meadow, lighted up by the 
rays of the sun, that break through the water above them. 
Here the battle continues, until Orlando succeeds in slaying 
his enemy. Then he looks about him for a way of escape. 
He is surrounded on every side by mountainshore and rocks ; 
but on one side he notices a door cut into the rock, and near 
that entrance he sees chiselled a picture of the labyrinth and 
its history with the minotaur, and not far from this another 
picture, showing a maiden wounded in the breast by a dart of 
love thrown by a youth. This should have taught him the 
manner of escape, but he passes on without heeding its mean- 
ing. Soon he arrives at a river and a narrow bridge, on either 
side of which stand two iron figures, armed. Beyond it in the 
plain is placed the treasure of the Fata Morgana. He attempts 
to cross this bridge, but at every trial the two iron figures 
demolish it, and a new bridge at once rises in the place of the 
old one. Finally, with a tremendous leap he clears the river, 
and now he finds himself near the coveted treasure. After 
many wonderful incidents, which it is not to the purpose to 
relate, he arrives near the prison where Rinaldo is held with 
other knights. This latter, it should be stated, had also left 
Angelica after his duel with Orlando, and arrived here by 
a shorter way. As Orlando approaches this prison, he comes 
to a fissure in the rock, into which he enters, and which leads 
him to a door. Its cornice bears the following inscription : 

Sappi che quivi facile e 1'entrata, 

Ma il risalir da poi non e leggiero, 

A cui non prende quella buona fata, 

Che sempre fugge intorno il piano e'l monte, 

E dietro 2 calva, efcrin ha solo infronte. (ii-viii, 39.) 

The fearless count pays no attention to these words, and 
passes on. He comes to a flowery meadow, and soon he sees 



'TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 305 

a fountain and near it stretched in the grass lies the Fata Mor- 
gana, asleep. 

Le sue fattezze riguardava il conte, 
Per non svegliarla e sta tacitamente ; 
Lei tutti i crini avea sopra la f route, 
La faccia lieta mobile e ridente. 
Sempre a fuggire avea le membra pronte, 
Poca treccia di dietro, anzi ni'ente ; 
II vestimento candido e vermiglio 
Che sempre scappa a cui gli da di piglio. 

Se tu non prendi chi ti giace avante 
. Prima che la si svegli, o paladino, 
Frusterai a'tuoi piedi ambe le piante 
Seguendola per sassi e mal cammino, 
E porterai fatiche e pene tante, 
Prima che tu la lenghi per il crino, 
Che sarai riputato un santo in terra, 
Se in pace porterai si grave guerra. (ii-viii, 43-44.) 

This last ottava is spoken to Orlando while he stands look- 
ing at the sleeping Fata, and when he looks up, to see whence 
the voice came, he recognizes Dudone but a few steps from 
him and rushes up to greet him. A transparent wall, how- 
ever, checks his progress, while at the same time it allows him 
to see the other prisoners, among whom he recognizes his 
cousin Rinaldo. He is on the point of breaking this wall 
with his sword, when a maiden tells him that entrance to the 
space beyond can only be gained through a gate, which is in 
sight, and to which Morgana holds the key. 

Ma prima si fara tanto seguire, 

Che ti parrebbe ogni pena men grave, 

Che seguir quella fata nel diserto, 

Con speranza fallace e dolor certo. (ii-viii-54.) 

Now the count hastens back to seize the Fata by the hair, 
but he is too late. 

Quivi trov6 Morgana che con zoglia 
Danzava intorno e danzando cantava ; 



306 



J. E. MATZKE. 



N piu leggier si move al vento foglia, 
Com'ella senza sosta si voltava, 
Mirando ora a la terra ed ora al sole, 
Ed al suo canto usava tal parole : 

Qualunque cerca al mondo aver tesoro, 
O ver diletto, o segue onore e stato, 
Ponga la memo a questa chioma d'oro, 
Che io porto infronte e lofard, beato: 
Ma qnando ha il destro a far cotal lavoro, 
Non prenda indugio, ch '1 tempo passato 
Piu non ritorna e non arriva mai, 
Ed io mi volto, e lui lascio con guai. 

Cosi cantava d'intorno girando 
La bella fata a quella fresca fonte : 
Ma come giunto vide il conte Orlando, 
Subitamente rivoltd la fronte. 
II prato e la fontana abbandonando, 
Prese il viaggio suo verso di un nionte, 
Qual chiudea la Valletta piccolina : 
Quivi fuggendo Morgana catnmina. 

Oltra quel monte Orlando la seguia, 

Che al tutto di pigliarla & destinato, 

Ed, essendole dietro tuttavia, 

Si avvide in un deserto esser entrato, 

Ch strada non fu mai cotanto ria, 

Per6 che era sassosa in ogni lato, 

Ora alta or bassa ne le sue confine, 

Plena di bronchi e di malvagie spine, (ii-viii, 57-60.) 

A storm comes up and adds to the discomfort of our paladin. 
Here the cauto ends. 

The next canto opens with the following moralizing strophes : 

Odite ed ascoltate il mio consiglio 
Voi che di corte seguite la traccia : 
Se a la ventura non date di piglio, 
Ella si turba e voltavi la faccia : 
Allor convien tenere alzato il ciglio, 
N si smarrir per fronte che minaccia, 
E chiudersi le orecchie al dir d'altrui, 
Servendo sempre e non guardare a cui. 



'TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 307 

A che da voi fortuna 6 biastenimata, 
Che la colpa e di lei, ma il danno e vostro. 
II tempo avviene a noi solo una fiata, 
Come al presente nel mio dir vi mostro, 
PerchS essendo Morgana addormentata 
Presso a la fonte nel fiorito chiostro, 
Non seppe Orlando al ciuffo dar di mano, 
Ed or la segue pel deserto invano. 

Then Bojardo continues the narrative. 

Con tanta pena e con fatiche tante, 
Che ad ogni passo convien che si sforza : 
La fata sempre fugge a lui davante, 
A le sue spalle il vento si rinforza, 
E la tempesta che sfronda le piante 
Giu diramando fin sotto la scorza : 
Fuggon le fiere e il mal tempo le caccia, 
E par che il ciel in pioggia si disfaccia. 

Ne 1'aspro monte, e nei valloni ombrosi 
Condotto e il conte in perigliosi passi : 
Calano rivi grossi e ruinosi, 
Tirano giu le ripe arbori e sassi, 
E per quei boschi oscuri e tenebrosi 
S'odono alti rumori e gran fracassi, 
Pero che'l vento e'l tuono e la tempesta 
Da le radici schianta la foresta. 

Pur segue Orlando e fortuna non cura, 
Ch prender vuol Morgana a la finita ; 
Ma sempre cresce sua disavventura. 
Ecco una dama di una grotta uscita 
Pallida in faccia e magra di figura, 
Che di color di terra era vestita, 
Prese un flagello in mano aspero e grosso, 
Battendo a sf- le spalle e tutto il dosso. 

Piangendo si bat tea quell a tapina, 
Si come fosse astretta per sentenza 
A llagellarsi da sera e mattina : 
Turbossi il conte a tal appariscenza, 
E domandd chi fosse la meschina : 
Ella rispoae : lo son la Penitenza, 
D'ogni diletto e d'allegrezza cassa, 
E sempre seguo chi ventura lassa. 



308 



J. E. MATZKE. 



E pero vengo a farti compagnia 
PoichS lasciasti Morgana nel prato, 
E quanto durera la mala via, 
Da me sarai battuto e flagellate, 
Ne ti varra 1'ardire o vigoria 
Se non sarai di pazi'enza armato. 
Presto rispose il figlio di Milone, 
La pazienza e pasto da poltrone : 

Ne ti venga talento a farmi oltraggio, 
Che pazi'ente non sard di certo ; 
Se a me fai onta, a te faro dannaggio ; 
E se mi servi ancor n'avrai buon merto : 
Dico di accompagnarmi nel viaggio 
Dov'io cammino per questo diserto. 
Cosi parlava Orlando, e pur Morgana 
Da lui tuttavia fugge, e si allontana. 

Onde lasciando mezzo il ragionare 
Dietro a la fata si pone a seguire, 
E nel suo cor si afferma a non mancare, 
Sin che vinca la prova, o di morire ; 
Ma 1'altra, di cui mo v'ebbi a contare 
Qual per compagna s'ebbe a profferire, 
S'accosta a lui con atti si villani, 
Che di cucina avrian cacciati i cani. 

PerchS giungendo col flagello in mano 
Sconciamente di dietro lo battia. 
Forte turbossi il senator romano, 
E con mal viso verso lei dicia : 
Gia non farai, ch'io sia tanto villano, 
Ch'io tragga contra a te la spada mia 
Ma se a la treccia ti dono di piglio, 

10 ti trarro di sopra al cielo un miglio. 

La dama, come fuor di sentimento, 
Nulla risponde, e dagli un' altra volta ; 

11 conte, a lei voltato in mal talento, 
Le mena un pugno a la sinistra golta ; 
Ma, come giunto avesse a mezzo il vento, 
Ovver nel fumo o ne la nebbia folta, 
Via passo il pugno per mezzo la testa, 
D*un lato a 1'altro, e cosa non Parresta. 



'TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK/ 309 

Ed a lei nuoce quel colpo ni'ente, 
E sempre intorno il suo flagello mena; 
Ben si stupisce il conte ne la mente, 
E, cid vedendo, non lo crede a pena : 
Ma pur, sendo battuto e d'ira ardente, 
Raddoppia pugni e calci con piu lena. 
Qui sua possanza e forza nulla vale, 
Come pestasse 1'acqua nel mortale. 

Poi che buon pezzo ha combattuto invano 
Con quella dama, che un 'ombra sembrava, 
Lasciolla al fine il cavalier soprano, 
Ch tuttavia Morgana se ne andava, 
Onde prese a seguirla a mano a mano: 
Ora quest' altra giil non dimorava, 
Ma col flagello intorno lo ribufFa : 
Egli si volta e pur con lei s'azzuffa. 

Ma come 1'altra volta, il franco conte 
Toccar non puote quella cosa vana, 
Onde lasciolla ancora e per il monte 
Si pose al tutto a seguitar Morgana ; 
Ma sempre dietro con oltraggio ed onte 
Forte lo batte la dama villana : 
II conte, che ha provato il fatto a pieno, 
Piu non si volta, e va rodendo il freno. 

Se a Dio piace, dicea, non al demonio 
Ch'io abbia paz'ienza, ed io me 1'abbia, 
Ma siami tutto il mondo testimonio, 
Che io la trangujo con sapor di rabbia. 
Qual frenesia di mente o quale insonio 
M'ha qua giuso condotto in questa gabbia? 
Dove entrai io qua dentro, o come e quando ? 
Son fatto un altro, o sono ancor Orlando? 

Cosi diceva, e con molta ruina 
Sempre seguia Morgana il cavaliero : 
Fiacca ogni bronco ed ogni mala spina, 
E lascia dietro a s largo il sentiero, 
Ed a la fata molto si avvicina, 
E gia di averla presa e" il suo pensiero, 
Ma quel pensiero ben fallace e vano, 
PerocchS presa, ancor scum pa di mano. 



310 J. E. MATZKE. 

Oh, quant e volte le dette di piglio 
Ora ne'panni ed or ne la persona, 
Ma il vestimento, ch bianco e vermiglio, 
Ne la speranza presto 1'abbandona ! 
Pur una volta rivolgendo il ciglio, 
Come Dio volse e la ventura buona, 
Volgendo il viso quella fata al conte. 
I/ui ben la prese al ciuffo de lafronte. 

Allor cangiossi il tempo, e 1'aria scura 
Divenne chiara, e il ciel tutto sereno, 
E 1'aspro monte si fece pianura, 
E dove prima fu di spine pieno, 
Si coperse di fiori e di verdura ; 
E'l flagellar de 1'altra venne meno, 
La qual, con miglior viso che non suole, 
Verso del conte usava tal parole : 

Attienti, cavaliero, a quella chioma, 
Che ne la mano hai volta di ventura, 
E guarda d'aggiustar si ben la soma, 
Che la non caggia per mala misura. 
Quando costei par piu quieta e doma, 
Allor del suo fuggire abbi paura, 
Che ben resta gabbato chi le crede, 
Perche fermezza in lei non , n fede. 

CosJ par!6 la dama scolorita, 

E dipartissi al fin del ragionare : 

A ritrovar sua grotta se n'6 gita, 

Ove si batte e stassi a lain en tare ; 

Ma il conte Orlando 1'altra avea gremita, 

Com' io vi dissi, e senza dimorare, 

Or con minaccie, or con parlar soave, 

De la prigion domanda a lei la chiave. (ii, ix, 1-20.) 

The Fata is now forced to accede to the demands of Orlando, 
who, however, promises in return to leave her one of the 
prisoners, the young knight Ziliante, with whom the Fata 
pretends to have fallen in love. She hands him the silver 
key which is to open the door of the prison. Then they pro- 
ceed, Orlando 



'TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 311 

Tenendo al ciuffo tuttavia Morgana, 

Verso il giardino al fin si fu inviato, 

E traversando la campagna piana, 

A 1'alta porta fu presto arrivato. (ii-ix, 26.) 

The prisoners, with the exception of Ziliante, are all liberated, 
and Bojardo proceeds to tell the new adventures which soon 
befell them. Orlando, however, has not yet done with the 
Fata Morgana. With little foresight he had granted her wish 
and left Ziliante behind in her power. Now he has to return 
once more and liberate him as well. He easily finds the way 
to the fountain where he had met the Fata the first time. 

A questa fonte ancor stava Morgana, 
E Ziliante avea resuscitate, 
E tratto fuor di quella forma strana ; 
Piti non e drago ed uomo 6 ritornato; 
Ma pur, per tema ancor il giovenetto, 
Parea smarrito alquanto ne 1'aspetto. 

La fata pettinava il daraigello, 
E spesso lo baciava con dolcezza : 
Non fu mai dipintura di pennello, 
Qual dimostrasse in se tanta vaghezza. 
Troppo era Ziliante accorto e bello, 
Che non parea mortal la sua bellezza, 
Leggiadro nel vestire e delicate, 
E nel parlar cortese e costumato. 

Pero prendea la fata alto solaccio 
Mirando come un speglio quel bel viso, 
E cosi avendo il giovenetto in braccio, 
Le sembra dimorar nel paradiso. 
Standosi lieta e non temendo impaccio, 
Orlando le arrivd sopra improvviso, 
E come quel che 1'aveva provata, 
Non perse il tempo come a 1'altra fiata. 

Ma ne la giunta did di mano al crino 
Che sventilava biondo ne la fronte. 
Allor la falsa, con viso volpino, 
Con dolci guardi e con parole pronte, 
Domanda perdonanza al paladino, 



312 



J. E. MATZKE. 



Se mai dispetto gli avea fatto od onte, 

E per ogni fatica, in suo ristoro, 

Promette alte ricchezze e gran tesoro. (ii-xiii, 20-23.) 

This time, however, Orlando turns a deaf ear to her 
entreaties; holding her by the hair with one hand, he leads 
Ziliante out of the garden, and then, before releasing his hold 
on her, he makes her swear, by Demogorgone, to whom every 
Fata is subject, that she will no longer be unfavorable to his 

projects. 

E per6 il conte scongiuro la fata, 

Per quel Demogorgon, ch'e suo signore, 

La qual rimase tutta spaventata, 

E fece il giuramento in gran timore. 

Fuggi nel fondo, poi che fu lasciata. (ii-xiii, 29.) 

The connection between this episode and the Italian expres- 
sion tener lafortunapel ciuffo, or pel ciuffetto, and its English 
equivalent to take time by the forelock, is so apparent, that it 
becomes a pertinent question to inquire into the sources of 
which Bojardo has made use. 

The oldest occurrence in classical antiquity 1 of the notion, 
that the golden opportunity must be grasped when it first 
presents itself, lest, once missed, it escape, never to return, is 
in a statue by the famous Greek sculptor Lysippus, a contem- 
porary of Alexander the Great. This statue represented the 
figure of Kat/90? (opportunity), and Nettleship and Sandys in 
their Dictionary of Classical Antiquities call it the first occur- 
rence of pure allegory in Greek art. The statue itself is lost, 
but we have a description of it by Callistratus, which was 
published by Dtibner in Paris, 1849. I quote the pertinent 
passages from this description. 

' 'E#eX&> croi Kal TO AvcriTnrov Srj/jbiovpyrjua rc3 \o<yq> irapa- 
i, oirep ayaXfAarwv KaXXia-rov 6 



1 For the sake of completeness and convenience of reference I print here 
quite fully the descriptions in point from classical antiquity. A convenient 
summing up of the whole question may be found in Baumeister, Denkmaler 
des klassischen Allerthums, vol. ii, s. v. Kairos. 



'TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 313 



//.ei/o? 2,iKV(0viois els Oeav Trpovdrjice. Katpo? r}v ei<? aya\fui, 

K %a\/cov TT/jo? Trjv <f>v<Tiv d/j,i\\(i)fjLev 
Hat? Be rjv 6 Katpo? rjftwv etc Ke<J>a\f)s e? 
TO T?7<? rj^rj<f avdos. r)v Be Trjv ^ev o^nv mpalos (reicov 
tovdov teal e<u/>&> Tivda-a-eiv, TT/DO? o /SovXotro, /caraXetTrwv 
TT)I/ KO^V averov, rrjv re 'xpoav efyev avOrjpav rfj \a/j,7rr)S6vi 
TOV (yoi/ia-TO? ra avdtj SrjX,wv. rjv Be Aiovvcrw Kara TO TrXet- 
(TTOV [jL(f)epri$ TO, /j,ev yap fjLercoTra %dpicriv a-Ti\,/3ev, al irapeial 
Be aurcS ei? av0o<$ epevdofjbevat, veorrjcriov wpai^ovro eTTt/Sa- 
\\ova-at, rot? o/jLfjLaa~iv ajra\ov epvdrjf^a, ei<TTr}Ki, <re eiri TWOS 
<T<j>a'ipa<$ eV a/cpayv TWV Tapa-wv fte/SrjKax; eVre/xu/iei/o? ra> 7r68e, 
7T<f)VKei, Be arv vevo/jbi<r/j,eva)s 77 6pl%, aX\' 97 [lev 
TWV 6<f>pv(0v e(J3ep7rovcra rat? Trapeials 7re<reie TOV 
TO, Be 07ri(r6ev rjv TOV Kaipov r rr\OKdp,wv eXevOepa fiovrfv Trjv 
etc yeveffecos fiXda'T'rjv eTTifyaivovTa TT)? rpt^o?. 

Then the description dwells on the great art shown in the 
statue and its life-like appearance, and finally the allegory is 
explained in the following manner : 

'/cat TO fiev rjfuv Oavfia TOIOVTOV %v, el? Be Tt? TWV Trepl 
Ta? Te^i/a9 <ro<f>>v KOI elSoToav <rvv aia-Bija-ei Te^yiKWTepa Ta 
Brj/Mtovpywv dvi^veveiv OavpaTa ical \ofyi(Tfjbov eTrijye TW 
, Trjv TOV /caipov Bvvapiv ev TT/ Tj(vr} (TW^o^ivr^v 
o v/j,ev o?' TO /j,ev yap TTTepwpa TWV Tapcr&v alviTTecrBai 
Trjv ogvTrjTa teal <u? Toy TTO\VV dveXiTTcov al&va <f>epeTai Tai<t 
&pai<; eTro^ovfjievof, Trjv Be eTravdovtrav wpav, OTI trav ev/cat- 
pov TO wpaiov teal /ioi/o? /caXXof? Brj/juovpyos 6 Kaipos, TO Be 
dTrrjvOrjicbs airav eci) Trjs fcaipov <j>v(rea)<;, Trjv Be Kara TOV 
/j,T(07rov fco/jLrjv, OTI 7rpo<ri6vTos fj,ev avTov \aj3ecr0ai paSiov, 
7rape\06vTOf Be rj TWV irpayfjuiTcov dK/j,rj arvve^ep^eTai icai 
OVK e<TTiv o\t,ya)prj0evTa \aj3elv TOV tcaipov. 1 

1 " I wish to bring before you also in a description the work of Lysippus, 
which as the finest of images this artist placed on exhibition before the 
inhabitants of Sicyon. It was Kaip6s fashioned into a statue of bronze, 
rivalling nature in art. Kai/xfc was a boy, blooming in the very flower of 
youth from head to foot; handsome in mien, his hair fluttering at the 
caprice of the wind, leaving his locks dishevelled ; with rosy complexion, 



314 J. E. MATZKE. 

We note the following characteristic features. The statue 
represents a youth, whose blond hair is falling over his fore- 
head, while on the back of the head it is so short that it cannot 
be grasped. This figure stands on its toes on a sphere; its 
feet are winged. 

But little later than this description of Callistratus is the 
following little epigram by Posidippus, published by Jacobs, 
Anthologia Graeca, vol. IT, p. 49, No. XIH. Posidippus had 
evidently also seen the statue himself, and he furnishes us 
with some further particulars. 

Tis, ir66(V 6 ir\d.ffTi]S ; ~2.iKvwvi.os. ovvof^a 8^ rts ; 

Avffiiriros. <rv 8e, ris ; Kaipbs 6 iravSafj.drcap. 
rliTTf 5'tir &Kpa fZefiijieas; del rpoxdcii. TV Se rapffovs 



X'/>1 8e $eireprj rl (ptpets vp6v ; at/Spain Seiy/A 

us a.Kfirjs irdffris o^vrepos re\f6(a. 
7] Se K^fjLt}, ri /car' ofyiv ; \ma.vriA,ffa.vrt, \aftfff8ai 

v^i Ata. ra^iriBev S'fls rl (pa\a.Kpa ireA.e; 
rbv yap oiro| irrrivoiffi irapa Ope^avrd fie iroff<rlt> 
(f 1/j.elpcav 



showing by the splendor of body its perfection. He was very similar to 
Bacchus; his forehead shone with grace, and his cheeks, like a flower, 
glowed in youthful splendor, showing to the eyes a tender blush. He 
stood on a sphere, resting on the tips of his toes, with winged feet. 
His hair was not, however, fashioned after the usual manner, but the 
thick curls fell towards his brow over his cheek, while the occiput 
of Katp&s was destitute of hair, showing only the beginning of hairy 
growth." 

"And this it was which seemed admirable to us. But some one of 
those who are wise and skilled in art, and in the possession of a trained 
aesthetic sense, and capable of tracing out the hidden meaning of the artist, 
attributed design to the work, pointing out that the idea underlying Kaip6s 
was brought out in this statue. The winged feet indicate swiftness, because 
time swiftly elapses with the flight of hours; its shows the bloom of youth, 
because the youthful is ever attractive, and Kaip6s alone is the creator of 
beauty. On the other hand, what is withered, is foreign to the nature 
of Katp6s; again (it has) the lock on the forehead, because it is easy to 
seize hold of the favorable moment as it approaches, but having passed by, 
the opportunity for decisive action is gone, and once neglected it is no 
longer possible to recover it." 



'TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 315 

Totivex 6 Tf)(viras <re SuirAao'ev; elvtKfv v/jituv 
{five, xal tv irpoOvpois 0rjKe StSa<rKa\lrjy. 1 

In addition to the information given us by Callistratus, 
we learn here that the statue held a razor in its right hand, 
which was intended to indicate the quickness and precision 
with which opportunity is lost, if it is not seized. 

The next place in classic literature where reference seems 
to be made to this statue of Lysippus is in the Latin fables of 
Phaedrus, bk. v, no. 8. The little poem is entitled 

Tempus. 

Cursu volucri, pendens in novacula 
Calvus, comosa fronte, nudo occipitio 
(Quern si occuparis, teneas, elapsum semel 
Non ipse possit Juppiter reprehendere) 
Occasionem rerum significat brevem. 
Effectus impediret ne segnis mora 
Finxere antiqui talem eflBgiem Temporis. 

Gail, in his edition of Phaedrus, Paris, 1826, vol. ii, p. 267, 
maintains that the reference here is not to the statue of Lysip- 
pus. The difficulty lies in the interpretation of the words " in 
novacula pendens," which must mean " standing on a razor." 
This opinion is evidently followed by Siebelis in his edition of 
the same text, Leipzig, 1874, for he translates " eine gefliigelten 
Laufes auf einem Scheermesser schwebende Gestalt mit kahlem 
Scheitel." Both editors refer the origin of this new position of 

1 "Who, whence is thy maker? Sicyon. His name is what? Lysippus. 
What art thou ? Kairos, the all-subduer. Why doest thou stand on the 
tips of thy toes ? I turn forever. Why hast thou double wings on either 
foot? I fly carried by the wind. In thy right hand why earnest thou a 
razor ? To men a sign that quicker than any edge I am. But thy hair, 
why is it over the eye? In order to be grasped, forsooth, by him that 
meets me. The back of thy head, why is it bald ? Because he, whom I 
have once rushed by with winged feet, will never grasp me afterwards, 
though he desire it. Why did the artist fashion thee? For thy sake, o 
stranger, he placed this warning lesson into the doorway." 



316 



J. E. MATZKE. 



the figure to the Greek expression eVl gvpov lararai 
which occurs as early as Iliad x, 173, and had become a pro- 
verbial expression, so that it is not unfrequently found in later 
Greek literature. Sophocles, Antigone 996, has carried the 
figurative meaning of the expression even further, when he 
uses the phrase " eVt %vpov rv^fj^ ftefirjicevcu" Gail surmised 
that the statue of Lysippus must often have been imitated, 
and that some later artist placed the razor which the original 
figure held in the right hand, under its feet, in place of the 
sphere. He thinks further that the writer of the little poem 
in question must have had before him such a figure as he 
described, either in the shape of a statue or cut into a seal. 
However this may be, I think for the present purpose these 
points may without danger be disregarded. The important 
point, in my opinion, is the fact that here we have in Latin 
literature a description of a figure, bald behind, with hair 
streaming over the forehead, which represents " brevem Occa- 
sionem rerum." A further interesting point to note is the 
evident confusion which already existed between the two words 
Tempus and occasio in this special signification. That the con- 
fusion did not arise at this time is evident from the following 
passage from Cicero's De Inv., I, chap. 27, quoted by Gail, 1. c., 
where we read " occasio est pars temporis, habens in se alicujus 
rei idoneam faciendi aut non faciendi opportunitatem, quare 
cum tempore hoc differt ; nam genere quidem utrumque idem 
esse intellegitur." But in spite of the fact, thus made evident, 
that the allegory of Lysippus was known in Italy, still no 
idiomatic expression based upon it seems to have existed. 
The phrase capere crines, occurring in Plautus, Most., I, 3, 69, 
and cited in Freund, s. v. crinis, has reference to a part of the 
Roman marriage ceremony ; and other expressions such as 

1 An illustration, reproduced by Baumeister, 1. c. p. 771, shows a repro- 
duction of a relief in Torino. It is said to belong to late Roman times, but 
is apparently a true illustration of this ancient Greek idiom. The figure is 
bald, with long hair in front, wings on the shoulders and feet, and holding 
a scale which rests on the edge of a razor. 



*TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 317 

oecasionem capere, Plaut. Pseud, iv, 3, 5, are non-committal as 
to their origin. 

The next writer who gives evidence of knowing the alle- 
gory is the epigrammatist Ausonius. No. xn of the epigrams 
of this author, in an edition published in London, 1823, reads 
as follows : 

In simulacrum Occasionis et Poenitentiae. 

Cujus opus ? Phidiae : qui signum Pallados, ejus 

Quique Jovem fecit, tertia palma ego sum. 

Sum Dea, quae rara, et paucis Occasio nota. 

Quid rotulae insistis ? Stare loco nequeo. 

Quid talaria habes? Volucris sum. Mercurius quae 

Fortunare solet, tardo (a. 1. trado) ego, cum volui. 

Crine tegis faciem ? Cognosci nolo. Sed heus tu 

Occipiti calvo es. Ne tenear fugiens. 

Quae tibijuncta comes? Dicat tibi. Die, rogo, quae sis. 

Sum Dea, cui nomen nee Cicero ipse dedit. 

Sum Dea, quae facti, non factique exigo poenas, 

Nempe ut poeniteat : sic Metanoea vocor. 

Tu modo die, quid agat tecum. Si quando volavi, 

Haec manet : hanc retinent, quos ego praeterii. 

Tu quoque, dum rogitas, dum percontando moraris, 

Elapsum dices me tibi de manibus. 

The literary model of Ausonius we have not far to seek. 
The dialogue style of this epigram points at once to the poem 
of Posidippus. But with the many points of contact that 
exist between the two epigrams, there are found also some 
marked points of difference. The artist's name is given as 
Phidias, and the figure of Occasio is here for the first time 
accompanied by another, called Poenitentia. It is difficult to 
decide whether the substitution by Ausonius of the name of 
Phidias for that of Lysippus is a willful one, as the editor of 
the epigrams supposes, or whether a link in the chain of trans- 
mission has been lost. The whole description of Ausonius has 
about it such an air of reality that it is difficult to believe that 
he refers directly to the statue described by Posidippus. In- 
asmuch as the facts in the case are lost, the field is open for 



318 J. E. MATZKE. 

theories, and I offer the following as a solution of the difficulty. 
In the epigram of Posidippus there occurs the phrase 



rbv yap aira irTt\vol<n irapa6pea.vT<i y 
otiris f<? Ifjiflpuv Spa^frat 



and then follows an unmistakable invitation to muse over the 
allegory. That the statue of Lysippus was a famous one is 
evident from the different descriptions that were devoted to it, 
and that it was imitated may be supposed a priori and is 
proved by the description of Phaedrus. The supposition that 
Ausonius had before him, when he wrote, some other sculptured 
version of the allegory would, therefore, seem to be not at all 
improbable. He did not know this artist's name, but he did 
know that it was not Lysippus, whose statue and name he 
must certainly at least have known through the epigram of 
Posidippus, from whom he borrowed the style of his own 
poem. He called him Phidias, the Greek sculptor par ex- 
cellence. The unknown artist, who was a Roman, introduced 
several changes. In the first place he had translated the 
Greek Katpof (masc.) into its Latin equivalent oceasio (fern.). 
Lysippus' god became a goddess. 1 Phaedrus' model retained 
the original gender of the Greek, and he called the figure 
Tempus. In the second place, he had developed the idea 
contained in the two lines of Posidippus' epigram just quoted, 
and placed a second figure called Poenitentia beside the first. 
Such a grouping together of two gods is not at all uufrequent 

1 The other plate in Baumeister*s article, quoted above, is almost exactly 
an illustration of the epigram of Ausonius. It shows the figure of Kaip6s, 
no longer nude, with a winged wheel on each foot, holding a scale in the 
left and a razor in the right hand. A youth before him has seized his 
forelock, while an old man behind him, who has let the favorable moment 
pass by, stretches his left hand out in vain. With the right he angrily 
pulls his beard. Behind the latter stands a draped figure, representing 
Poenitentia. The illustration is a reproduction of a relief in Venice, but 
unfortunately no clue as to its age is given. 

It should be added, also, that the fact of Ausonius retaining the Greek 
term Metanoea in a curious manner counterbalances his translation of Kaip6s 
by occassio. 



'TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 319 

in Roman iconology, and quite to the point I find it stated in 
Roscher, Lexikon der griechischen and romischen Mythologie, 
s. v. Fortuna, that Fortuna and Mercurius are found together 
in many pictures, a point to which I shall recur presently 
for another reason. In this way, it seems to me, the epigram 
of Ausonius is explained, without doing violence to the facts 
as we know them. 1 

The general resemblance between the episode in the Orlando 
Innamorato and the epigram of Ausonius is so marked that it 
is evident that Bojardo made use of it as his main source for 
his description of the Fata Morgana. The most conclusive 
proof lies in the fact that in both instances the figure of fleet- 
ing Chance is accompanied by that of Poenitentia. This 
agreement is so striking and unexpected that there scarcely 
remains room for doubt, and it becomes evident that Bojardo 

1 For the sake of completeness I add here another Greek description of 
the statue of Lysippus, contained in an eclogue of Himerius, a contemporary 
of Ausonius. The account agrees in the main with those of Callistratus 
and Posidippus, with this difference, that the figure is said to hold a scale 
in the left hand. The eclogue is published in the same volume with the 
description by Callistratus. 

Aeivbs 5e ?iv &pa ov X e *iP a ^vov, a\Ao ical yvdb/j.iji' 6 Avffiiriros. Ofta, yovv 
^Kftvos Sia. TTJS eat/Tov yv<jifj.tjs rer6\fj/t]Kfv. yypd<pft rots Otois rbv Kaipbv Kal 
poptyuiffas ayd\fj.ari r}]v <t>vffii> avrov Sia rrjs tlicAvos 7]yJ)ffa.ro. v Exj 8e a>8e 
ira>s, us tfji* fivTrj/jiOvevfiv, rb 5ai'Sa/\ua. Hoie'i iraiiSa rb flSos aftpbv, r^v a/ 
v, KOft-iavra fjifv rb IK KpordQaiv fls /ierwiroc, yvpvbv Se rb S<roi> 
vSna fMtpi^ercu- ffiS^py rijv Sf^iav wTr\tcrnet>ov, vycj> rty haiav eir 

ra <rtpvpa, 011% us fierdpcriov inrep yijs &v<a Kovcpi^effdat, aAA' ?j/a Soniav 
TTJS *y^s, \a.v6di>r) K\eitT<i>v rb yu^ wari 7^5 tirepfiSfffdcu. 

" For Lysippus had not only a skilled hand, but also skilled judgment. 
Wonderful things did he by reason of this genius venture upon ; he added 
Kaipts to the list of gods, and by changing images has brought out his nature 
in a statue. The statue was wrought in this manner as I relate. He fashions 
a boy, delicate in appearance, in the bloom of youth, with locks of hair from 
the top to the forehead, but bald behind. In his right hand he was armed 
with a razor, holding in his left a scale, winged upon a sphere poising lightly, 
so that he did not rise too far above the earth, seemingly touching it, and yet 
gliding over it without contact." 

Still more information on this question may be found in Curtius, Archceo- 
logische Zeitung, 1875, pp. 1-8, and Benndorf, ibid., 1863, p. 81 ff. 



320 J. E. MATZKE. 

has done here what he has done in so many other instances in 
his poem. He has taken a classic theme and brettonized it, if 
I may use the term. The whole atmosphere and setting of 
the new scene is so Arthurian that the first impulse in looking 
for its sources is to turn for information to the Round Table 
romances, rather than to a dictionary of classical antiquities. 

Morgana (Fr. Morgain) in the Arthurian romances, as is 
well known, is a fairy and sister of King Arthur. She is a 
disciple of the enchanter Merlin, and well versed, therefore, in 
all kinds of magic arts as well as deceit, as Tristan learns in 
the end to his sorrow. Arthur had even forbidden her pres- 
ence at his court, and so she lived in different enchanted castles 
of her making. She was a constant source of trouble to 
Arthur's knights; but there is, as far as the things told of her 
in the French romances are concerned, no reason why Bojardo 
should have selected this name rather than that of the Dama 
del Lago. There is only one tantalizing allusion in the French 
prose versions of Tristan, which I will relate without further 
comment. A knight by the name of Giflet (the name is of no 
consequence) arrives before a castle which is full of enchant- 
ments, and he is hindered from entering into it by the figure 
of a knight, "de coivre fait por (r. par) grant soutiliece." 
Morgain, we are told, is the author of the enchantments in the 
castle, and she established them "au tens que Tristanz de 
Loenoys se mist en queste por li trover." l Upon reading the 
description of this metal knight, one cannot help thinking of 
the two iron figures that hinder Orlando's entrance to the 
garden of the Fata. 

It would seem to me, however, that a reason can be dis- 
covered for Bojardo's choice of name. The Breton cycle as a 
whole had gained but little foothold among the people in Italy; 
but nevertheless a few of its figures had entered the realm of 

l Cp. Loseth, Le Roman en prose de Tristan, p. 223. The painstaking 
author of this laborious work adds as a foot-note to this passage, " nous 
n'avons trouve" aucune trace de cette qute." 



'TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 321 

popular tradition, and even begun to show new signs of in- 
dependent growth. Of this class of stories is the miraculous 
disappearance of Arthur. The French traditions related that 
Arthur had been transported by Morgain to the island of 
Avalon, whence he would return in due season. This legend 
had been carried to Sicily by the Normans, and here the in- 
terior of Mount Aetna became the abode of both Arthur and 
Morgain. Graf, who reports the earliest forms of this legend 
in Sicily, in the Giorn. Stor. vol. V, p. 80 ff., shows further, 
how here this hiding place of the fay is embellished with regard 
to its scenery. All the attractive features of the isle of Avalon 
are ascribed to the interior of Mount Aetna. Moreover, the 
popular mind, once made acquainted with the supernatural 
powers of the fairy, soon attributed to her authorship that 
curious optical phenomenon known as the mirage, and called 
it the Fata Morgana. And this term, I think, may have 
suggested the name to Bojardo. I bring this explanation 
forward without claiming in its favor more than a high 
degree of probability. It is impossible to say how far back 
the name Fata Morgana dates as a term for the mirage (Graf, 
1. c. p. 98, quotes a passage showing that it was so used in the 
xviith century), but it bears so popular an aspect that we shall 
certainly not be far from right if we believe that its origin 
dates back to the establishment of the tradition which placed 
both Arthur and Morgain into the Aetna, and this legend is 
firmly fixed in Sicily by the end of the xnth century. 1 The 
official journeys of Bojardo took him into Southern Italy (he 
was in Naples in the year 1473), and he may well have ob- 
served the phenomenon in the sky, and become familiar with 
its popular name. 

There is still another line of thought which connects this epi- 
sode with the Breton epic, and which, therefore, seems worthy 
of mention. The central idea of it is that of the favorable 
moment which is not utilized, and which must now be sought 

1 Cp. Graf, 1. c. 



322 J. E. MATZKE. 

with much expenditure of force and penitence. This, after 
all, looked at from one point of view, is a prominent theme in 
the quest of the Holy Grail. There the Knight arrives, at 
nightfall, at a castle, where he sees sights that rouse his curiosity, 
such as the wondrous sword, the bleeding lance, and the Grail, 
for which he ought to demand an explanation. He neglects 
to do this, and when he wakes up the next morning he finds 
the castle deserted, and his quest begins. In this instance as 
well, absolute proof for the association of the two ideas can not 
be advanced, but, considering the fact that so much of Bojardo's 
poem is created by brettonizing ideas taken from the Carlo- 
vingian cycle and from classical antiquity, it is after all very 
possible that there exists a closer connection between the two 
ideas than is apparent at first sight. 

There can be no question, however, as to the connection 
between Bojardo's episode and the Italian idiom tener la for- 
tuna pel ciuffetto ; but whether the passage in Bojardo gave 
rise to the idiom, or vice versa, is not so easily decided. Both 
words ciuffb and ciuffetto are quite old in Italian. Ciuffb is 
found in Fazio degli U herd's Dittamondo (composed between 
1348 and 1367) and ciuffb occurs in Dante, Inf., 2833, Boccac- 
cio and the Pataffio, which has been wrongly ascribed to Ser 
Brunetto Latini. The question now arises whether the verbal 
locution tenere pel ciuffetto, with the meaning to have the mas- 
tery over, is connected with our idiom. I am inclined to think 
that this is not the case. Ducange, s. v. capillus, mentions the 
expression trahere per capillos, and says that it is described in 
Saxon laws as a grave insult. In a law of 1211 and 1247 it 
is given as punishable with death. 1 In Italian I have met the 
expression in Pulci's Morg. Magg., vii-89, L'angel di Dio vi 
tenga pet ciuffetto and Cirif. Calvan. 264, avere il leon pel 
ciuffetto. 

1 1 am undecided how much importance is to be attached to the fact that 
ciuffo, a word of Germanic origin, and not the Latin words, has been incor- 
porated into the idiom. 



'TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 323 

The earliest instance of the longer idiom under considera- 
tion I have found noted in the Vocabulario Universale Italiano 
compilato a cura della sodetcL tipoyrafica, Napoli, 1829, s. v. 
ciuffo, ascribed to Poliziano, Stanze 6. 

Piglia il tempo che fugge pel ciuffetto 
Priraa che nasca qualche gran sospetto. 

Unfortunately this reference has proved to be a veritable Fata 
Morgana in itself, for the most diligent efforts to verify it 
have proven useless, so that the inevitable conclusion seems to 
be that a typographical error has crept in. What adds to the 
dissatisfaction in this instance is the fact that other evidence 
also points to the conclusion that to the learned Poliziano 
is due the revival of the classical ideas which we have re- 
viewed. In his Liber Adagiorum (Opera II, p. 289), Erasmus 
has a rather lengthy disquisition on the expression nosce 
tempus. Without mentioning names, he describes the statue 
of Lysippus, translating, however, continually the Greek 
Kaipos by Latin tempus. He then goes on to say : " Ejus 
simulachrum ad hunc modum fingebat antiquitas. Volubilis 
rotae pennatis insistens pedibus, vertigine quam citatissima 
semet in orbem circumagit, priore capitis parte capillis hir- 
suta, posteriore glabra, ut ilia facile prehendi queat, hac nequa- 
quam. Unde dictum est ' occasionem arripere.' Ad quod 
erudite simul et eleganter allusit quisquis 1 is fuit, qui versicu- 
lum hunc conscripsit 

" Fronte capillata, post est Occasio calva." 

Then he gives in full the epigram of Posidippus, and a trans- 
lation of it into Latin distichs. Finally he continues, " Non 
ab re fuerit et Ausonianum epigram raa subscribere, quod ut 
admonet Politianus e Graeco videtur effictum quenquam cum 
aliis nonnullis diversum, turn illo potissimum nomine, quod 

'It would be interesting if it were possible to answer this question of 
Erasmus. 



324 J. E. MATZKE. 



hie additur poenitentia comes." Then follows the epigram of 
Ausonius. 

The absence of a complete set of the works of Poliziano 
from Baltimore makes verification in this case also an im- 
possibility. But in spite of this defect, the evidence, it seems 
to me, is convincing. Through the influence of the great 
Poliziano the whole line of tradition which we have reviewed, 
and which found its climax in Ausonius, was made again the 
common property of the learned. In this way Bojardo's 
attention was directed to the allegory, and he was not slow in 
making use of it by adapting to his own needs not only the 
figure of Occasio, but also its companion Poeuitentia. That 
Bojardo knew the works of Poliziano needs no proof, but I 
think direct indebtedness on his part can be shown. In 
Poliziano's Orfeo (1474), act i, there occurs the line 

" Ella (Euridice) fugge da me sempre davante." 

Though applied here to Euridice, there is great temptation to 
see some hidden reference to the allegory of the lost oppor- 
tunity. However, this consideration is of minor weight. 
What is important in my opinion is the fact that Bojardo 
in the Innamorato, ii-ix, 3-c, uses almost identically the same 

words 

" La fata sempre fugge a lui davante." 

This coincidence is certainly too close to be accidental. 

When the allegory had thus been revived in literature, it 
was soon made use of in other ways. The famous Milanese 
engraver, Andrea Alciato, published at various times diiferent 
collections of emblems. A complete collection of all of these 
in Latin was published in Lyons in 1551, under the title 
Andreae Aidati Emhlematum Flumen abundans, and of this 
edition the Holbein society has given us a fac-simile reprint 
(1871). On p. 133 of this modern edition can be found an 
emblem entitled In Occasionem. The cut represents the nude 
figure of a woman, with a long shawl thrown over her 



'TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 325 

shoulders, which she holds in her left hand while it flutters 
in the wind on the right. She stands on a wheel which rests 
horizontally on the water. On her feet, above her heels, are 
wings ; the left foot is somewhat raised. In the right hand 
she holds a razor. Her long hair is fluttering in the wind 
and appears to be all in front. Below this figure stands the 
following explanation, which is evidently a paraphrase of 
the epigram of Posidippus : 

In Occasionem. 



Lysippi hoc opus est, Sycion cui patria. Tu quis ? 

Cuncta domans capti temporis articulus. 

Cur pinnis stas ? usque rotor. Talaria plantis 

Cur retines ? Passim me levis aura rapit. 

In dextra est tenuis die unde novacula ? Acutum 

Omni acie hoc signum me magis esse docet. 

Cur in fronte coma ? Occurens ut prendar. At heus tu 

Die cur pars calva est posterior capitis? 

Ne semel alipedem si quis permittat abire, 

Ne possim apprehenso postmodo crine capi 

Tali opifex nos arte, tui causa, edidit hospes 

Utque omnes moneam ; pergula aperta tenet. 

Of these emblems the first collection seems to have been 
made in Milan in 1522, but the earliest partial edition appeared 
in Augsburg in 1531. Of this last mentioned edition, as well 
as of three others of similar nature, reprints have been pub- 
lished by the Holbein society (1870) under the title Andreae 
Emblematum Fontes Quattuor. From this reprint it is seen that 
the emblem In Occasionem was contained also in the Augsburg 
edition of 1531. The cuts in both instances are in general 
identical. In the earlier drawing, however, the wings on the 
feet seem to be absent, and the shawl is arranged so as to cover 
the pudenda. The figure also seems to rest on a rock, sur- 
rounded by water, in place of the horizontal wheel. But the 
occiput is bald and the long hair in front is blown towards the 
6 



J. E. MATZKE. 

right. The distichs beneath the cut are identical with those 
in the later editions. 

Alciato's collection of emblems must have enjoyed a high 
degree of favor. The first complete Latin edition was pub- 
lished in 1548, and there followed a French translation in 
1549, and Italian and Spanish translations in 1551. There 
were published besides a large number of partial editions, and 
all of these must have contributed greatly to make the allegory 
generally known. But even earlier our allegory had given rise 
to the Italian idiom, and we find it occurring under two forms, 
viz. pigliare il tempo pel tiujfetto, as in Poliziano, and pigliare 
(tenere) lafortuna pel ciuffetto (ciujfo) as in Ariosto, Orl. Fur., 
xxx-35. 

Ma se fortuna le spalle vi volta 
(Che non per6 nel crin presa tenete) 
Causate un danno ch'a pensarvi solo 
Mi sento il petto gijl sparar di duolo. 

and this latter is also the turn which the allegory has received 
in the modern language. 1 What is interesting here is the sub- 
stitution of Fortuna or Tempo for the figure of Occasio. All 
three denominations, when referring to the favorable moment, 
are naturally so closely allied that a confusion as to their usage 
is not at all surprising. Nevertheless it can easily be shown 
that the confusion did not become fixed as an idiom before the 
time of Poliziano and the revival of this allegory. The two 
figures of Fortuna and Occasio were never confused in classi- 
cal times. 

3 In Ferrazzi, Sibliografia Ariostesca, Bassano, 1881, p. 131, I find the fol- 
lowing lines quoted from the Satires, vii-181. 

Mentre Differendo 

Vo 1'occasion fugge sdegnata 

Poi che mi porge il crine ed io nol prendo. 

Here the tone of the idiom, as is seen, is still quite in accordance with the 
original classical notion. 



'TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 

Fortuna l was usually represented by a female figure, stand- 
ing upright, and holding a cornucopia in the left and a rudder 
in the right hand. The rudder often rested on a sphere, and 
this sphere is either the symbol of her changeability, or is in- 
tended to portray her power over the whole earth. When the 
figure is seated, the natural inference is, that Fortuna has come 
to stay. Occasionally a wheel is found in the representations 
of this goddess, and references to this wheel of fortune can be 
found in Cicero, 2 Dialogue of Tacitus, Fronto, Ammianus Mar- 
cellinus, 3 and the treatise De Consolatione of Boethius. In 
some instances Fortuna has wings, and sometimes the prow 
of a boat is shown in connection with the rudder, evidently 
referring to her as a goddess of the sea. She was worshipped 
in Rome under many different attributes, and there existed 
temples for some of these varieties and a public worship. 
Especially favorite was the Fortuna redux, and she is quite 
frequently represented in connection with a wheel. Roscher 
describes a coin having a picture of the Fortuna dux. The 
figure is seated, and holds the usual attributes of rudder and 
cornucopia. Under the stool is the representation of a wheel. 
The Fortuna worship seems to point to an Egyptian origin, 
and, according to Roscher, derives from the worship of the 
Isis Fortuna and the Fortuna Panthea. As Isis Fortuua she 
is pictured holding a cornucopia, rudder (often with the sphere) 
and the attributes of Isis, such as the Lotus flower, plumes, 
new moon, snake, sistrum, etc. The Fortuna Panthea has the 
symbols of other deities, such as wings, helmet, sheaf of wheat, 
etc. She was also frequently worshipped in connection with 
other deities, notably Mercurius. The two figures are found 
together in many representations, or Fortuna may be found 
alone with the symbols of Mercurius. This creates a strong 
temptation for the belief that even in the statue of Lysippus 

1 Cp. Roscher, Lexikon der griechischen und romischen Mythologie, a. v. 
1 Fortunae rotam pertimescebat. Pison, 10, 22. 

* Fortunae volucris rota, adversa prosperis semper alternans. Amruiun. 
Marc., 31-1-1. 



J. E. MATZKE. 

the wings on the feet of icaipos were suggested by those of 
Hermes. 1 However this may be, it is certain that these two 
deities were for a long time associated together. Even as late 
as the Emblems of Alciato we find such a representation, which 
was contained for the first time in an edition of 1541 in Venice. 
Hermes there appears to have four faces, and is standing on a 
square stone, with wings on his feet and the winged staff in 
his hand. Fortuna stands by his side on a sphere, and is 
almost identical with the figure representing Opportunity, in 
the emblem In Occasionem. The hair is blowing distinctly 
towards the right. This picture was considerably changed in 
the Lyons edition of 1551, but Fortuna and Hermes are still 
associated together. Here Fortuna is resting but one foot on 
the sphere, and her hair is blowing toward the left. 

From the foregoing remarks there can remain no doubt 
that the wheel is not the regular attribute of Fortuna. It 
rather seems to belong to another idea, which is also closely 
related to those under discussion, viz., that of the Fata scri- 
bunda. This goddess is represented by a female figure, resting 
one foot on a vertical wheel, while she is writing the destiny of 
man on a wall towards which she is bending. What is evident, 
however, is the fact that even in classical antiquity the wheel 
was used to represent the uncertainty of human existence. 

The middle ages retained this idea, but varied fundamentally 
the manner of representation. Fortuna is now represented by 
a female figure, seated on a stool before a wheel which she is 
turning. Usually different figures representing different types 
of humanity are tied to the wheel. Several illustrations in 
point may be found in Du Sommerard, Les Arts au moyen 
age, Album. Vol. vi, series 4, plates 37, 38, 39, 40 show large 

1 Baumeister, 1. c., says the idea of Kaip6s goes back to the palaestra, and 
sprang from the Hermes tvayeavios, beside whom he had an altar in Olympia. 
Presence of mind and the necessity of grasping the favorable moment in 
the martial game are eminently necessary, and this god is therefore often 
mentioned in Pindar's Odes. Baumeister's hypothesis is in a manner con- 
firmed by the phrase of Himerius i^op^dxras ayd\/j.ara quoted above. 



'TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 329 

illuminated figures representing Forttma and her wheel. In 
all of them she is a young woman seated beside a wheel on 
which are human figures. She wears long hair and a crown. 
Vol. vi, series 6, plate 30, taken from a manuscript of the end 
of the xvth century of Boethius, De Consolatione, shows a 
figure of Fortuna with two faces and the eyes of both blind- 
folded. This new element evidently denotes favorable and 
adverse fortune. The figure has green wings besides. Agree- 
ing with the illustrations first mentioned is a large plate in 
vol. II of Les Arts somptuaires, Paris, 1858. It is taken 
from a MS. of the xvith century, contained in the Arsenal 
Library in Paris. 

As far as literature is concerned, all allusions before Poli- 
ziano and Bojardo are usually to this manner of representation. 
Dante's description of the goddess Fortuna, who rules supreme 
over her celestial circle and who 

Con 1'altre prime creature lieta 

Volve sua spera, e beata si gode (Inf., vii, 95-96), 

is well known. Similar references are found elsewhere and 
it is not necessary to multiply examples. Pulci in his Mor- 
gante Magglore makes at least seven l references to this idea, 
and of these one merits transcription because it agrees so closely 
with Dante's conception. 

Lascia pur volger le volubil rote 

A quella che nel ciel tutto ha veduto. (xxii-38.) 

Bojardo, also, has evidently not forgotten the older notion, for 
Orl. Inn. i-xvi, 1, he says : 

Tutte le cose sotto de la Luna 
L'alta ricchezza, e' regni de la terra, 
Son sottoposti a voglia di Fortuna ; 
Lei la porta apre d'improvviso e serra; 
E quando piu par bianca, divien bruna : 

1 Morg. Mag., ii-49, xvii-2, xxii-38, xxv-275, xxvi-38, and x-70, xxiii-54. 



J. E. MATZKE. 

Ma piu si mostra ai casi de la guerra 

Instabil, volutante e rovinosa, 

E piu fallace che alcun altra cosa. 

Whether he had already in mind our episode, which was to 
follow some twenty-one cantos later, is a question ; but cer- 
tainly Fortuna's wheel is but vaguely alluded to by the word 
volutante. It would seem as though we had even here a con- 
fusion of the two ideas. 

It is evident, however, from later occurrences in literature, 
that the confusion became absolute, so much so that the older 
notion of the favorable occasion was completely lost sight of; 
and this confusion has also left its traces in art. In the Mir- 
ror of Maiestie (1618), of which we have a fac-simile reprint 
by the Holbein Society (1870), there may be found a similar 
reproduction of a work entitled Selectorum Symbolorum Heroi- 
corum centuria Gemina enotaia atque enodata a Salomone Neige- 
bauero a Cadano, 1619. Plate 23 of this last-mentioned work 
contains the emblem of Fridericus Daniae Norvegiae Seland. 
Gothor. Rex. It shows a Fortuna standing on a sphere, and 
this figure is in every respect identical with those drawn by 
Alciato to represent the favorable Occasion. 1 

In a similar manner the two notions of Time and Occasion 
were confused, and substituted one for the other. Here the 
interchange is much older. I have already pointed out the 
fact that tempus evidently paraphrases the Greek icaipos in the 
epigram from Phaedrus, and have also quoted Cicero's remark 
with regard to the confusion of the two terms. It has also 
been shown that Erasmus translates icaipos by tempus. Since 
early in the middle ages the two notions of Time and Death 
were also merged in one, one is tempted to look for further 
evidences of a confusion with the notion of the favorable occa- 
sion in the pictorial representations of the time. It is certain 
that some of the illustrations which I have examined show a 

1 The inscription of the emblem is " Fedelta cosa rara," and below stands 
the explanation " Fortuna in pila volubili stans et velum vibrans . . . ." 



'TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 331 

figure of Time or Death with a distinct lock of hair on one side 
of the head. 1 However, I do not believe that such instances 
prove much, one way or the other. The general appearance 
of Time or Death in these pictures, with regard to the hair, is 
that of the living species, and I am inclined to think that the 
substitution was purely literary and due to a confusion of 
terms. 

The conclusions which, I think, have been established may 
now be briefly restated. The revival of the allegory of 
Lysippus, which seems to have been completely forgotten 
after Ausonius, was due to Poliziano. Through him Bojardo 
became acquainted with the epigram of Ausonius, and he 
brettonized the idea in his episode of the chase of the Fata 
Morgana by Orlando. The formulating of the idea into an 
idiom seems also to be due to Poliziano. The oldest instances 
employ the words tempo and oecasione; later Fortuna supplants 
almost entirely these older words. 

The remaining part of this paper is to be concerned with 
tracing this expression into English. After having found an 
occurrence of it in Spenser's Sonnet 70 (written after 1593), 

Tell her the joyous time will not be staid, 
Unless she do him by the forelock take, 

I found that the aid to be expected from the existing diction- 
aries was exhausted. I then turned for help to the learned 
editor of the Oxford Dictionary, Dr. Murray, who with great 
courtesy and kindness placed at my disposal those references to 
this expression which he possessed. Through this welcome 
help I learned that there is but one earlier instance of it to be 

1 This can be seen in the following instances : Humphreys, Masterpieces 
of early printers and engravers, London, 1870 ; plate 20 of a dance of death, 
printed in Lyons, 1499, and also in several of the illustrations of Savo- 
narola's " Arte del bene morire," reproduced in the same volume ; also Lang- 
lois and Pottier, Danses des Marts, Rouen, 1852, p. 159 and plates xvi and 
xviii of Holbein's Dance of Death, in the same volume. 



332 J. E. MATZKE. 

found in English, and this in Greene's Menaphon, 1 written in 
the year 1589, viz : " Pesana, thinking to make hay while the 
Sunne shined, and take opportunitie by his forelocks." Besides 
adding a list of later occurrences, to which I shall refer later, 
Dr. Murray was kind enough to say, " we have no earlier 
instances of Forelock in any sense." To Greene, then, the in- 
troduction of the idiom into English literature must be ascribed ; 
and his general tastes and predilections make the supposition 
very plausible that he derived the expression from his ac- 
quaintance with Italian literature. Before the year 1592 he 
had written a comedy entitled Orlando Furioso, which was 
published in 1594, and where he quotes several lines from 
Ariosto's poem in the Italian original ; cp. ed., London, 1831, 
p. 28. This fact would seem sufficient evidence to prove that 
the English idiom is a translation of the Italian. As far as 
Spenser is concerned, the Italian influence on his writings is 
also too well-known to need further proof, and the great im- 
portance of Italian influence on the English literature of this 
period is also well established. The first English translation of 
Ariosto appeared in 1591, by John Harrington. But in spite 
of these and many other proofs for the literary importation of 
our idiom, I am not entirely free from doubts. In the Or- 
lando Furioso the expression, to my knowledge, occurs but 
once, and there the reference is to Fortuna, not to Time or 
Occasion. Whether Bojardo's poem was translated earlier, 
I am unable to say, though nothing would be gained even if 
such a translation could be found, for Greene certainly under- 
stood Italian thoroughly and might have read the poem in the 
original. However this may have been, the whole allegory 
contained in the expression must certainly have been known 
in England at least eighty years earlier. Erasmus was in 
Italy between the years 1506 and 1509, and during this stay 
he supervised an edition of his Adagia in Venice at the Aldine 
press. Then he went to England and occupied the position 

1 Ed. Arber, London, 1880, p. 66. 



'TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 333 

of Regius Reader of Greek in Cambridge from 1509 to 1513. 
It is but natural to suppose that with Erasmus his works 
became known in England, and in these Adagia we have 
found all the principal links in the history of our allegory, 
besides a reference to Poliziano's remarks on the epigram of 
Ausonius. With the name of Poliziano, moreover, the possi- 
bility arises that a knowledge at least of the classical side of 
the allegory should have reached England even before the 
arrival of Erasmus, for Linacre and Grocyn were pupils of 
Poliziano. If these suppositions are valid we have also at 
once an explanation of the fact that in the English expressions 
it is Time or Opportunity whose forelocks must be grasped, 
and not Fortuna. Erasmus speaks only of tempus and Poli- 
ziano of tempo and oceasione. So we find the expression in 
Bacon's Essay on Delays, publ. Arber, p. 525, " for occasion 
(as it is in the common verse *) turneth a bald noddle, after 
she hath presented her locks in Front and no hold taken." 
(1625). Crosse, Vertues Commonwealth, p. 131 (publ. 1878), 
wrote in 1603 "Time flyeth away with wings, and therefore 
a wise man lay holde on her forelocks, while it is to-day." 
Later references, which might be added, would scarcely 
strengthen the argument. 

At the same time the common middle age notion of Fortuna 
and her wheel was well known in England. Greene in his 
Tritameron of Love (1587), publ. in his works, vol. ill, p. 133, 
in the Huth library, has a long passage to the point here 
which merits transcription, not for itself, but because it also 
points directly to Italy as its source. 

" Because you talke of painting (quoth the lady Panthia) I 
remember that in the Duke of Florence chamber, I once saw 
a table whereon was pourtrayed the picture or counterfeit of 
Fortune, as neare as I can gesse in this manner. Winged she 
was, and standing vpon a globe, as decyphering her muta- 
bilitie : holding in her right hand the Cornucopia or horn of 
aboundance, which the poets faine to be full of all such heav- 

1 Could this be a reference to Erasmus' hexameter, quoted above ? 



334 



J. E. MATZKE. 



enly and earthlie things as are exquisite and pretious : these she 
poureth out liberally, when, to whom, and where she pleaseth. 
In the left hande a wheele, which she tourneth about con- 
tinually, whereby that part which is aboue, is presently turned 
downeward, thereby giuing vs to understand, that from her 
highest preferment she throweth downe in one instant such as 
are most happie into the gulfe of miserie : underneath this 
picture were written certain verses, thus englished 

The fickle seat whereon proud Fortune sits, 
the restless globe whereon the furie stands, 
Bewraies her fond and farre inconstant fits, 
the fruitful horn she handleth in her hands, 
Bids all beware to feare her flattering smiles, 
that giueth most when most she meaneth guiles. 
The wheele that turning neuer taketh rest, 
the top whereof fond worldlings count their blisse, 
Within a minute makes a blacke exchaunge : 
and them the vild and lowest better is : 
Which embleme tels vs the inconstant state, 
of such as trust to Fortune or to Fate." 

It would be exceedingly interesting to know the Italian 
original of these verses. 

We have reached the end of our inquiry. Although certain 
points remain doubtful, still I think the main questions at 
issue have been cleared up. There is left the question of the 
originality or sources of Lysippus. But I have already gone 
so far out of my beaten track that I may well leave the solu- 
tion of this matter to others, whose lines of work have made 
them more familiar with that remote period of antiquity. 
However, the general inquiry was directly connected with the 
history of the Roman zo Cavalleresco in Italy, and if other 
questions have been left unanswered I can give no better 
excuse than that by which Rusticiano da Pisa, in 1272, excused 
the lack of order and completeness in his compilation of the 
Round Table Romances : " . . . . je respons que ma matire 
n'ettoit pas congneue. Car je ne puis pas savoir tout ne 
mettre toutes mes paroles par ordre. 

JOHN E. MATZKE. 



VII. LESSING'S RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT WITH 

SPECIAL REFERENCE TO HIS NATHAN 

THE WISE. 

The primitive purity of the early Church soon yielded to a 
Church hierarchy. In those early times, before the New 
Testament was admitted to equal canonical authority with the 
Old, the Church became the supreme authority and the Bible 
was subordinate. After the incorporation of the New Testa- 
ment into the Bible, the Scriptures and the Church appear to 
be coordinate authority in the patristic writings of that period. 
During the Middle Ages the Church grew rapidly in political 
power and the influence of the Scriptures waned accordingly, 
so that Dante complains of the way in which not merely 
creeds and fathers but canon law and the decretals were 
studied instead of the gospels. It is true that pious people, 
ever since the days of Pentecost, had believed that "the 
inward spiritual facts of man's religious experience were of 
infinitely more value than their expression in stereotyped 
forms recognized by the Church," and that, too, " in such a 
solemn thing as the forgiveness of sin man could go to God 
directly without human mediation." These pious souls had 
found the pardon they sought, but the good majority were 
under the dominion of the Church, which at last degraded the 
meaning of "spiritual" so that it signified mere ritualistic 
service, and " thrust itself between God and the worshipper, 
and proclaimed that no man could draw near to God save 
through its appointed ways of approach. Confession was to 
be made to God through the priest ; God spoke pardon only 
in the priest's absolution. When Luther attacked indulgences 
in the way he did he struck at the whole system." After the 
Reformation a reaction set in. New and better translations of 
the Bible were made, and the Word became accessible to every- 
body. The successors of the Reformers emphasized "the 

335 



336 



S. PRIMER. 



verbal inspiration of the Scripture and its infallible authority 
(more) than had been done for the most part by the first Re- 
formers, Luther and Calvin and their contemporaries, who 
never seemed to have sanctioned the famous dictum of Chil- 
lingworth, ' the Bible, and the Bible only, is the religion of 
the Protestants/ " The Reformers took the Holy Scriptures, 
because they are the divine word, and require no further sup- 
plement from tradition and custom, merely as the rule and 
canon of their faith. Traditions, dogmas, ordinances estab- 
lished by the Church, were null and void. This freedom of 
the religious conscience and the Holy Scriptures as the living, 
pure source of religion brought a rich blessing to Christians. 
Religion was elevated above that sphere in which mere 
morality and outer ordinance were the determining principles, 
and raised man to a new spiritual life. The real motive 
principle of this new life is justification by faith. 

The Bible had now become the norm of faith, but who was 
to guide the believer in discovering its truth ? Was he to be 
a law unto himself, or should there be a third person, or 
principle, who should be authority to him ? Here the Re- 
formers took two courses diametrically opposed to each other. 
The one party, who did not wish to trust to subjective reason, 
to human intellect, interpreted the truth contained in the Bible 
according to the public confessions and symbols of their own 
Church ; a course not much different from that of the Roman 
Catholic Church, though granting greater privileges on the 
whole. Others, without regard to the confessions of faith in 
their own particular churches, made their own explanation of 
the Scriptures according to the dictum of their own sub- 
jective reason, thus endangering the truth as a whole, the 
real body of religious faith. For only when there is some 
generally recognized principle which will enable us to deter- 
mine what truth the Scriptures teach, and to distinguish the 
true from the false, can the freedom demanded by the Re- 
formers, independent of every mere outer authority, be brought 
into unison with the objective divine truth. 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 337 

That truth, however, which gave such an impetus to the 
religious conscience of the Reformers, was wholly lost, or at 
least much weakened, at the time when they settled the 
Lutheran doctrines in the Form of Concord (1577). " His 
successors in the leadership of the Protestant movement elimi- 
nated all mystical elements out of their theology, and made 
Lutheranism a system of dry and rigid dogmatics. They gave 
an excessive value to doctrinal soundness, and underrated the 
piety of the emotions. Hence a reaction against dogmatism, 
of which John Arndt and Jacob Spener were moderate repre- 
sentatives, while Jacob Boehme and Gottfried Arnold were 
violent and extreme." This dogmatism was naturally not at 
all pleasing to the more devout, and we find mysticism rapidly 
gaining ground. " In its essential meaning, it is the aspiration 
to immediate and direct fellowship of the human spirit with 
God, without the intervention of form, institutions, doctrinal 
systems, or even intelligent ideas. It dwells on feeling, 
emotion, ecstacy, as the shortest way to the divine fellowship, 
and teaches the denial of our wills, even in things innocent, 
as the true preliminary to this. In theology it finds its anti- 
thesis in 'theocracy/ which brings the spirit into divine 
relations through institutions and laws, and in ' dogmatism/ 
which seeks to know God by the way of the intellect. In 
the New Testament we find all three elements present, as we 
find them also in every adequate presentation of Christianity. 
But in John's writings we have the element the mystics 
especially valued. And from his time the succession of 
thinkers of this type is never broken in the history of Chris- 
tian theology." Later it "blended Christian teaching with 
the speculations of the Neoplatonist philosophy, teaching that 
the highest blessedness is found in the fellowship with the 
Divine Unity, and this is attainable by passing through the 
three stages of purification, illumination, and union." But 
mysticism was too deep for the unspeculative mind, and soon 
shaded off into Pietism. The latter brought back the subjec- 
tive introspection which is truly the living principle of the 



338 



S. PRIMER. 



religious life. The origin of the pietistic movement was in 
the defects of the Lutheran Church "which in the 17th cen- 
tury had become a creed-bound theological and sacramentarian 
institution which orthodox theologians ruled with almost the 
absolutism of the papacy. Correctness of creed had taken 
the place of deep religious feeling and purity of life. Chris- 
tian faith had been dismissed from its seat in the heart, where 
Luther had placed it, to the cold region of the intellect. The 
dogmatic formularies of the Lutheran Church had usurped 
the position which Luther himself had assigned to the Bible 
alone, and, as a consequence, they only were studied and 
preached, while the Bible was neglected in the family, the 
study, the pulpit and the university." Thus the Church had 
again become a despotic hierarchy. Jacob Spener was at the 
head of the movement which proposed a return to the Bible 
and to a more practical and primitive Christianity. 

Pietism, which strove to give pious feeling its due rights, 
found its greatest opposition in the dominant orthodoxy of the 
day. But the real attack on the Lutheran faith came from a 
quarter hitherto little heeded, and with weapons which had 
not been used for a long time. It threatened to subvert the 
entire fabric. Reason in religion was the mighty force which 
now came to the front and began that destructive Biblical 
criticism which is still raging. The authority which the Re- 
formers, when contesting the infallibility of the Church, had 
placed in the Holy Scriptures, had yielded to that criticism 
which subjected the Bible to the same tests as were applied to 
classic authors. The conscience became indifferent to religion, 
and the decision in regard to truth was left to subjective 
caprice, a very unsafe guide. Soon the spirit of reason in 
religion appeared on the field of philosophy and caused an 
actual breach between the faith of the Church and the pre- 
tended pure ideal of reason. As early as the sixteenth cen- 
tury a movement had begun which was destined to lead to 
this result. "Faustus Socinus, an Italian theologian of the 
sixteenth century, denied the Trinity, the deity of Christ, the 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 339 

personality of the Devil, the native and total depravity of 
man, the vicarious atonement, and the eternity of future 
punishment." In the last decade of the same century lived 
Descartes (1596-1650), and in the following century Spinoza 
(1632-1677), Bayle (1647-1706), Leibnitz (1646-1716), 
Thomasius (1655-1728), Wolff (1679-1754), all of whom 
had contributed by their philosophies to inaugurate the so- 
called Age of Enlightenment. The Socinians were followed 
by the English Deists, or Free-thinkers, as they were usually 
called. In England the germ of this wide-spread intellectual 
revolution first came to maturity. "By the great discoveries 
of Newton, and the completely conceivable experimental phi- 
losophy of Locke, new life was awakened. The fall of the 
Stuarts and the exeellent constitution with that religion of 
reason called Deism helped the new era." The Deists 
appeared in England toward the end of the seventeenth cen- 
tury, then spread to France and finally to Germany. They 
"declared that those ideas only were essential which were 
found in the so-called natural theology, forming a striking 
contrast to those doctrines of the straight-out Lutherans." 
Reason became the norm by which the truth of revelation was 
to be judged. 

Spinoza contested inspiration : miracles and prophecies fell 
away. Whoever found Spinoza's decisive way too harsh turned 
to the great dictionary of Bayle and the writings of Leclerc, 
Basnage, Bernard. Belief became doubt, doubt rationalism. 
The bonds of the narrow point of view were rent asunder by the 
free intellect of a general civilization. Freedom of conscience 
and religious tolerance became the highest moral demand. 

Leibnitz may justly be considered the father of German 
philosophy, as he is among the first of the German philoso- 
phers who created for himself a comprehensive philosophical 
conception of the world. But we can give the best summary 
of him with Wolff. 

Two men appear in Germany at this time as forerunners 
of Lessing, Christian Thomasius, and Christian Wolff, both 



340 S. PRIMER. 

already mentioned above. We must necessarily consider their 
influence in order to follow understandingly the religious 
discussions of our author. Thomasius was a pioneer and 
helped to prepare the way for reforms in philosophy, law, 
literature, social life and theology. He had a faculty for 
bringing the divine and human sciences into close and living 
contact with every-day life. He took a rational, common- 
sense point of view of everything and has been well called 
" the personified spirit of illumanism." He helped to free 
politics and jurisprudence from the control of theology and 
fought bravely and consistently for freedom of thought and 
speech on religious matters. "In theology he was not a 
naturalist or deist, but a believer in the necessity of a revealed 
religion for salvation. He felt strongly the influence of the 
Pietists at times, particularly Spener, and there was a mystic 
vein in his thought ; but other elements of his nature were too 
powerful to allow him to attach himself finally to that party." 
He was the leader of the school of eclecticism and sought to cull 
the best from sensualism, idealism, skepticism and* mysticism, 
and rose above tradition and authority. Such a man could 
not but have a strong influence in clearing up the religious sky 
of its dogmatic and skeptical positivism. Christian Wolff 
was a philosopher of the Leibnitzian school and held undis- 
puted sway in Germany till he was displaced by Kant. He 
modified, methodized, and reduced to dogmatic form the 
thoughts of the great Leibnitz, but watered and weakened 
them in the process. His real merits are " mainly his com- 
prehensive view of philosophy, as embracing in its survey the 
whole field of human knowledge, his insistence everywhere on 
clear and methodic exposition, and his confidence in the power 

of reason to reduce all subjects to this form Wolff's 

moral principle was the realization of human perfection." The 
German theological rationalism found its chief supporters in 
Leibnitz and Wolff, but was also enriched by the English 
Deists and Moralists, though in Germany we do not find that 
hard skepticism of the English freethinkers, nor the flippant 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 341 

wit and mockery of the French. Here there was an effort on 
the part of German scholarship to test thoroughly the under- 
lying principles of the various beliefs, sift the good from the 
bad, and elevate the moral standard. The clear and sensible 
doctrine of morality which was proclaimed by the rationalists 
and the moral philosophers spread good morals, freedom of 
thought and religious tolerance. Wolff himself only held to 
the merely formal principle; besides the revealed religion, 
which was only for belief, there was a natural religion which 
was to be demonstrated. This natural religion, or religion of 
reason, had of course the precedence over the revealed. Such 
thinkers as H. R. Reimarus and later J. A. Eberhard, who 
passed for the best disciples of Wolff, sought to bring the formal 
rational principle of their own philosophy into unison with 
the doctrine of the real Deists, though without entire success. 
These deistic doctrines were at first friendly to the new theo- 
logical movement of the day which the Age of Enlightenment 
had caused. The philosophy of Wolff had been instrumental 
in bringing this about, as many of the theologians, who believed 
that the real orthodox faith harmonized with Wolff's philoso- 
phy, turned to this and confidently asserted that the union 
between reason and revelation had been sealed forever. " Faith 
was called reason strengthened by miracles and signs, and 
reason was reasoning faith." But it must not be supposed 
that this new movement was entirely successful in suppressing 
the adherents of the old faith. This was not accomplished 
till the last two decades of the century, when Kant's philoso- 
phy transformed the essential doctrines of the Christian belief 
into general expressions of morality ; however, the conflict in 
which Lessing took such an important part was advanced to 
another stadium by Kant's Philosophy of Reason. The rep- 
resentatives of orthodoxy, who insisted upon the authority of 
the Bible and the symbols and who also claimed the power of 
the temporal authorities for themselves, strove with all the 
means at their command to overthrow the enemy who was 
7 



342 8. PRIMER. 

threatening to overthrow the very foundation of the present 
theological system. 

Among all those zealous for the purity of the orthodox faith 
none was more zealous than Pastor J.M.Goeze in Hamburg, who 
won the name of Zion's Sentinel. Thoroughly impressed with 
the truth of his faith, endowed with learning and good reason, 
he possessed in a certain sphere the right powers of observa- 
tion and judgment. But on the other hand he was not with- 
out officiousness and the controversial spirit, and was not really 
able to grasp, where it was necessary, the inner reason on which 
religious knowledge rests, nor to rise to a scientific point of 
view. The more Goeze accomplished on this field, the more 
zealous he became and sought out and pursued pretended 
heresies so eagerly as to remind one of the intolerance so 
prevalent in the earlier Catholic Church. He was too good- 
hearted to have heretics burned, but he did insist on retraction. 
And this was evidently the spirit of the persecutions which the 
strict Churchmen carried on against those differing from them, 
even using the secular power to enforce their injunctions. 

Early in life Lessing showed a deep interest in everything 
pertaining to the religious nature of man. In the fragment 
entitled Thoughts on the Moravians, composed in 1750 though 
first published in his literary remains, we see him seeking to 
vindicate for religion, whose religious truth had often been 
adulterated by foreign elements, that sphere which would 
forever make it independent of the opinions, subtilties and 
sophisms of reason. There he upheld poverty of knowledge 
over against arrogance of hollow thinking. His so-called 
Vindications were probably written in Wittenberg in 1754; 
viz., Vindication of Horace, Cardanus, Inepti Religiosi, and 
Cochlaeus. Of these that of Cardanus alone throws light upon 
our special topic. Cardanus had represented in his de sub- 
tilitate (1552) the four religions of the world : Heathendom, 
Judaism, Christianity, and Islamism in a dialogue in which 
each representative defended his own belief and sought to 
refute the others, and was accused of showing indifference as 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 343 

to which was victor in the controversy. Lessing undertook 
his defence and easily proved that Cardan us really deserved 
the very opposite reproach of favoring Christianity because he 
had given to the Christian the strongest, to his opponents the 
weakest arguments. The Jew and the Mussulman, said 
Lessing, could have defended themselves against the unjust 
attacks of the Christian far better than Cardanus let them. 
Then Lessing took up the cause of the Jew and Mussulman 
and showed how both could and should have answered. In 
the defence of the Mussulman he used the arguments of the 
Deists to prove the excellence of his religion over the Christian. 
This religious feature reminds us vividly of Nathan and per- 
haps Danzel is not very wrong when he says that Lessing's 
first thought of Nathan arose here. While secretary to general 
Tauenzien (17601765), Lessing not only busied himself with 
the profound doctrines of Spinoza and Leibnitz, but also began 
his real study of the Church fathers. He acquired such accurate 
knowledge of these that while in Hamburg Pastor Goeze found 
pleasure in his intercourse and passed pleasant and instructive 
hours with him. Great as he was as dramaturgist and dramatic 
poet he proved himself equally at home in thisjseemingly distant 
field of knowledge. 

What, then, was Lessing's position on the religious questions 
of the day? A difficult problem to solve. He certainly was 
not a strict orthodox and yet he did not wholly reject orthodoxy 
and pass over to the so-called school of neology which seemed 
to wish to make tabula rasa with the past and leave the future 
to wild speculation. Lessing preferred to leave the old, bad 
as it was, till something better could be found to take its place. 
The trend of Lessing's thoughts was on the side of the move- 
ment of Enlightenment. But he was by nature an investigator 
and needed to examine everything carefully and to consider 
thoroughly every possible phase of a question before he decided. 
In his opinion the final object of religion was not absolute 
salvation, no matter how, but salvation through enlightenment, 
for enlightenment to him meant salvation. But the bent of 



344 8. PRIMER. 

his mind was toward historical researches which distinguished 
him from the popular philosophers of the day. This led him 
to his favorite idea of a graded and regular historical develop- 
ment of the religious nature of man. He hated dogmatism 
of whatever kind, whether of old tradition, of authoritative 
faith, or the dogmatism of Enlightenment itself, and fought it 
wherever he found it (cf. Zeller, Deutsche Philosophic, p. 
290 if.). That combination of philosophy and religion so 
popular in his day he opposed. He regretted that the natural 
partition between the two had been torn down ; for " under 
the pretext of making us reasonable Christians they make us 
most unreasonable philosophers." 

His controversy with Goeze gave him the desired oppor- 
tunity to "explain and establish more fully his idea of religion 
and Christianity." He there makes the true distinction between 
religion per se and the form in which it is clothed at any definite 
time and by any definite sect. Whether religion with him means 
anything more than mere morality still remains an unsolved 
problem. He certainly understood the distinction between the 
religion of Christ and the Christian religion, that is, the religion 
of piety and love of mankind and the worship of Christ as a 
supernatural being. This is the central thought of the Nathan, 
" The Nathan is the poetic glorification of the idea which con- 
siders the human side of the question of more importance than 
the positive, the moral more important than the dogmatic, 
which judges man not by what he believes, but by what he 
is " (Zeller, 1. c., 304 ff.). Lessing did not accept the orthodox 
doctrines of faith without questioning them ; he was too inde- 
pendent for that. He certainly showed that he was a thinker 
on theological questions who understood the speculative depth 
inherent in the dogmas of Christianity and who took the field 
against the Socinians and Deists who ignored that depth. And 
yet, though often a defender of Lutheran orthodoxy, the time 
came when Lessing was considered its one great opponent, and 
with much justice, though he was forced into this attitude 
against his own wish and in self-defence. 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 345 

It is quite probable that while in Hamburg Lessing made 
the acquaintance of the writings of Professor H. S. Reimarus 
(1768+), the rationalist mentioned above, for he was well 
acquainted with the children of the professor, and undoubtedly 
received a copy of the manuscript from them. Under the title 
of Fragments from an Unknown he published parts of this 
manuscript while at Wolfenbiittel in his Contributions to 
History and Literature. Their publication was accompanied 
by Lessing's notes in which he called attention to the weak- 
ness of the author's arguments and often suggested how they 
could best be answered. These fragments excited but little 
interest at first and it was one of those peculiar accidents, 
which always occur so opportunely to help on a good cause, 
that drew public attention to them. The Hamburg Pastor 
Goeze was then engaged in writing the history of the Low 
Saxon Bibles and had written to Lessing to collate a Bible 
found in the library for a certain passage. Lessing was then 
in great anxiety about the life of his wife who lay at the point 
of death, and either neglected or forgot to attend to the matter. 
This won him the bitter enmity of Goeze who considered him- 
self misused. Goeze now took up the subject of the fragments 
with fanatical rage and declared Lessing's running comments on 
them to be a hostile attack upon the Christian religion. When 
outdone by Lessing in this literary passage at arms he resorted 
to the Consistory at Brunswick. The fragments were con- 
fiscated and Lessiug strictly forbidden for the future to pub- 
lish anything on religious matters, either at home or abroad, 
either with or without his name, unless with the express 
sanction of the government. Lessing was not intimidated, 
and in 1776 he directed another scathing article at his foe 
entitled Necessary Answer to an Unnecessary Question. It 
was the last word of the whole controversy. The affair thus 
took a different turn from that which Lessing had at first 
thought to give it. His reason for publishing the fragments 
was in the interest of truth, not as an attack on the Bible and 
the Christian religion. Believing that the truth could not be 



346 



S. PRIMER. 



enjoyed best in idle rest, but in the activity of one's own mind, 
he had wished to awaken the theologians from their dangerous 
lethargy and set them to testing the truth once more. He now 
found himself obliged to shake the very foundations of the 
Lutheran-orthodox system and to call forth a battle between 
the spirit and the letter which has been left to us as an inherit- 
ance, though the weightiest truths have again been confirmed 
and made triumphant. 

Lessing's Anti-Goeze writings which this controversy called 
forth have ever been admired for their wit and brilliancy. 
The genius of this great critic is here shown in its full power. 
If the wit, even where it plays with the person of Goeze, who 
was by no means to be despised, produces a beneficent, even 
an elevating feeling in us, the reason of this elevation can only 
be found in the fact that it is the force of the truth by which 
we feel ourselves imperceptibly drawn on. His first and 
greatest contributions are his Axiomata, of which the first 
reads thus : " The letter is not the spirit, and the Bible is not 
religion. The Bible contains more than belongs to religion, 
and it is a mere hypothesis that the Bible is equally infallible 
in this more." Lessing thus distinguishes between the spirit, 
or the absolute principle from which religion proceeds, and the 
Holy Scriptures, that document in which religion is contained, 
but in which more appears than belongs to religion. He does 
not deny, therefore, that that part of the Bible which contains 
real religious principles was inspired by the Holy Ghost. 
Consequently objections to the letter and the Bible are not 
likewise objections to the spirit and religion. His second 
axiom runs thus : " Religion also existed before the Bible. 
Christianity existed before the evangelists and apostles wrote. 
Some time passed before the first of these wrote, and a very 
considerable time before the whole canon was produced. 
However much we may depend on these writings, the whole 
truth of the Christian religion cannot possibly rest upon them. 
If there was indeed a period in which it had already taken 
possession of so many souls, and in which assuredly no letter 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 347 

of that which has come to us was written, it must be possible 
that all that the evangelists and apostles wrote was lost and 
yet the religion taught by them maintained itself." Lessing 
could easily prove that the teaching of the first apostles was 
oral and that tradition was more important than the Scriptures, 
as his study of the Church fathers had been extensive. The 
regula fidei existed before any book of the New Testament 
and it became the test of the writings of the apostles by which 
the present choice was made, and many other epistles, though 
bearing the names of apostles, were rejected. He maintained 
that it was not possible to show that the apostles and evangelists 
wrote their works for the express purpose of having the Christian 
religion completely and wholly deduced and proved by them. 
Ages passed before the Scriptures acquired any authority and 
without the regula fidei it would be impossible to prove the 
present Christian religion. This was playing into the hands 
of the Catholics, but whether intentionally or rather to point 
out a real defect of the Protestant doctrines is left ambiguous ; 
it is certainly the weighty point in the contest. Lessing feared 
that he might be misunderstood and therefore sought to fore- 
stall hostile criticisms in his third axiom where he says : 
" Religion is not true because the evangelists and apostles 
taught it, but they taught it because it is true. From its 
inner truth the written traditions must be explained and all 
written traditions can give it no inner truth when it has none." 
In other words religion does not receive its truth from those 
who proclaim it, nor does the document in which it is con- 
tained lend it a truth it does not possess itself. Religion, then, 
is independent of the Bible. 

The enunciation of this principle caused great discontent 
among those who would not see any difference between religion 
par excellence and the Bible, its promulgator. Our historical 
knowledge of revealed religion comes to us immediately from 
the Bible, but the real knowledge of truth is to be found in 
independent inner signs which are no more dependent on the 
Bible than the truth of a geometrical problem is dependent on 



348 8. PRIMER. 

the book in which it is found. Lessing distinguishes in the 
Bible the spirit from the letter, the eternal from the temporal. 
The truth of religion is recognized from itself, and the inner 
truth is the only test of the so-called hermeneutic truth which 
only the spirit /car' e^o^rjv, the spirit out of which the truth 
contained in the Bible came (not the Holy Spirit, but the one 
receiving the inner witness of the Holy Spirit) can be declared 
absolute authority, the last instance, to decide in matters of 
religious belief. How the Holy Spirit, working in unison 
with the active thought or real reason in us offers testimony 
of the truth in the self-consciousness of man, Lessing did not 
discuss. 

Lessing's contemporaries were not able to comprehend nor 
appreciate fully the truth which forms the basis of his polemic 
against his opponents, nor did its full import appear in his 
Axiomata or his Anti-Goeze. The politico-social conditions of 
that age also received his attention, in which sphere he fought 
the powers of prejudice in his Ernst and Falk, or Dialogues 
for Freemasons. The brilliant and well-read French writers 
had subjected the burgher constitutions and the social life of 
their times to the severest criticism, and laid bare the dark 
sides of the age without reserve. J. J. Rousseau had con- 
demned the civilized state and praised the simple condition of 
primitive nature. Lessing was thoroughly opposed to this 
idea of a primitive state as the best in the social order, and 
considered " the ideal society one in which there would be no 
government." " A society of developed men who stand in no 
need of law because they have acquired absolute self-control : 
that was the end to which Lessing looked forward as the 
highest point mankind could reach." But this he knew could 
not then, perhaps, never be attained, and Falk says in one 
dialogue that " in civil society alone can human reason be 
cultivated." He was also opposed to that tendency in ancient 
Greek life which sacrificed the individual to the state, the 
belief that the welfare of the state is the end, that of the 
individual the means : "States unite men, that through and in 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 



349 



this union every individual may the better and more surely 
enjoy his share of welfare. The total of the welfare of its 
members is the welfare of the state ; besides this there is none. 
Every other kind of welfare of the state, whereby individuals 
suffer and must suffer, is a cloak for tyranny." But just 
what the duties of a state are to its individual members 
Lessing does not tell us. He dwells on some of the evils 
that are connected with the state as it now is, and urged the 
cosmopolitan and humanitarian idea with his usual vigor. He 
advocated no single political constitution which he considered 
the very best, for he knew that all nations were not equally 
advanced nor equally suited for the same constitution. There 
should be diversity to suit the diversified interests of the 
various nations, but all should strive to draw nearer that 
standard where government will not be necessary. The 
unavoidable evils which accompany the social life we must 
bear as well as possible, just as we bear the smoke of the fire 
which gives us warmth; but we may build chimneys, if we 
will. " He does not deny the distinctions that exist, he does 
not pretend that so long as there are states they can be done 
away with, but he looks them in the face, and finds that their 
importance is only in name. What does it matter, he virtually 
asks, that a man is a prince or cobbler, an Englishman or a 
Russian, a Christian or a Mohammedan? He is still a man, 
and his manhood are his true greatness and dignity. This is 
the very kernel of the most vital truth of democracy; and 
because of it Lessing may be claimed as, in temper and 
character, one of the first and most genuine of modern demo- 
crats" (Sime II, pp. 293-4). In these five dialogues we see 
that Lessing takes a cosmopolitan view of the social problem 
and rises above all nationality ; his object is a plea for humani- 
tarianism in its broadest sense, and that spirit of charity 
which admits no undue respect for rank and no narrow 
patriotism. Whether attainable or not in this present world, 
constituted as it is, it is certainly worth striving for. 



350 S. PRIMER. 

Closely connected with these dialogues is the essay on the 
Education of the Human Race, in which Lessing starts out 
with the proposition that " what Education is to the individual 
man, Revelation is to the Human Race. Education is Revela- 
tion which comes to the individual man. Revelation is Educa- 
tion which has come to the Human Race, and is still coming." 
He divides God's Revelation to man into three stages : The 
first is that of the Israelites under the Old Dispensation, the 
lowest stage, where perceptible punishment and rewards are 
necessary. Fear of temporal punishment prevented the evil 
from breaking out in man. Christianity was the second stage, 
the spiritual religion. Christ became the teacher of the im- 
mortality of the soul and thus another true future life gained 
an influence upon the acts of men. " The inner purity of the 
heart to be recommended for another life was reserved for 
Christ alone." " These writings (of the New Testament) have 
for seventeen hundred years enlightened human reason more 
than all other books, if only by the light which human reason 
has given to them." But as the human race outgrew the Old 
Dispensation it will also outgrow the New. The third stage, 
or the stage of "the new, eternal gospel, which is promised 
in the elementary books of the New Testament, will surely 
come." This is the time of perfection, " when man, the more 
convinced his reason feels of the ever better future, will 
indeed not have to borrow motives for his actions from this 
future, since he will do the good because it is good, not because 
arbitrary rewards have been promised which should merely 
fix and strengthen the fickle look in order to teach the inner, 
better rewards of the same." 

So nearly related are these two writings that we must 
thoroughly investigate this new gospel before we can com- 
pletely understand the politico-social and religious views of 
our author. In the Education of the Human Race Lessing 
maintains that the inducement to do good for the professing 
Christian is not so much the pure love of the good as rather 
the prospect of eternal happiness, which, according to Chris- 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 



351 



tian doctrines, is the consequence of virtue. A certain eude- 
monistic element, therefore, will still cling to the common 
Christian doctrine, and it would only be reserved for the 
religion of the future to display virtue in its complete purity 
without any mixture of foreign elements. But the education 
of the human race indicates that Christianity already contains 
the truth, and that the shell in which it is often hidden will 
be completely broken, and the part which has hitherto been a 
secret will be revealed. For this reason historical Christianity 
holds the same relation to the New Gospel as the truth, which 
is still in a certain measure a mystery, holds to the absolute 
knowledge of the truth. The development of real truth to 
the truth of reason is absolutely necessary to the human race, 
if it is to make proper progress to the point of loving virtue 
for itself. For, as it is reason which thinks the revealed 
truths and gradually recognizes them, so it is reason also that 
produces that purity of heart by means of which we are made 
^capable of loving virtue for itself. Not till the time when 
men recognize the truth of religion, and have given them- 
selves wholly up to the truth with the heart freed from every 
emotion of eudemonism, have they arrived at that grade of 
development where they may expect the New Gospel. This 
third age will come, of that our author has no doubt. When 
men, the entire race as well as individuals, have attained to 
that point where they are capable of ruling themselves then 
there will be a new era for social life and the state. Then 
order would exist without government. The age in which 
men love virtue for its own sake is the same age as that in 
which the order of the social world will exist without govern- 
ment. Lessing, therefore, maintains that no positive religion 
has any right to claim supremacy. Particular races and 
particular times must have a religion suited to them and their 
time, which must change as they outgrow it, or as the times 
change. There is constant growth, constant advance, no per- 
manancy in the sense of stagnation or lack of growth. In 
this light no nation, no person, has the right to claim that his 



352 8. PRIMER. 

religion is the only true religion ; Dor can he claim his to be 
superior on the plea of special revelation, but only as having 
more of the divine nature in it. In other words, it must be 
less mixt with elements foreign to the true nature of religion 
and to God in order to be superior. This is the real basis of 
that " tolerance of which Nathan and Saladin are the ideal 
representatives. If a man believes that he possesses a truth 
without which the race must perish, it is impossible for him 
to look with calmness on opposing faiths. Let him become 
convinced that there is no truth essential to mankind to which 
all have not equal access, and it will seem strange to him that 
anyone should wish to restrain the free intellectual impulses of 
his fellows" (Sime II, pp. 271-2). 

But if "no historical religion is absolute, each has a relative 
worth." Every positive religion (Christianity, Judaism, or 
other) has been beneficial to its age and believers. Lessing 
did not join those skeptics who were attempting to overthrow 
the Church and all religious belief, but he had the courage to- 
proclaim to these iconoclasts that "they misunderstood the 
religion they assailed." It had achieved great good for the 
human race and would continue its work. " Why," he asks, 
" will we not rather recognize in positive religions the direction 
in which alone the human understanding has been able to de- 
velop itself in various places, and may yet further develop 
itself, than either smile or scowl at either of them ? Nothing 
in the best of worlds deserves this our anger, this our dislike, 
and only our religion shall be supposed to deserve it ? God 
has had his hand in everything, but has had nothing to do 
with our errors?" "These simple words sounded the doom 
of the only way in which it has yet occurred to the free- 
thinking eighteenth century to look upon religions with which 
it did not agree. They asserted once for all the principle that 
it is not by trickery that the lives of vast masses of men are 
controlled from generation to generation " (ibid.) 

In his Nathan Lessing has attempted to idealize these two 
principles that no positive religion has an absolute value, 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 



353 



though having a relative one, and that there is a law of pro- 
gress in human history, whether civil or religious. Does his 
drama reach his high ideal of religion, his noble ideal of the 
state, his exalted ideal of life? Or is it rather only a com- 
plement, only another example, another superior or inferior 
view of the discussion into which he had been drawn? To 
answer these questions intelligently we must subject this his 
drama to a critical examination. 

In the Goeze controversy Lessing had violated the com- 
mands of those over him and felt that he might lose his position 
as librarian of Wolfenbiittel ; moreover he wished to put in 
imperishable and popular form those ideas which the discussion 
had brought to light. Therefore he had conceived the idea of 
preparing the Nathan for publication and selling it on sub- 
scription. The first definite notice we find of the play is in a 
letter to his brother, dated August llth, 1778, in which he 
says : " Many years ago I once sketched a play, the plot of 
which bears a kind of analogy to my present controversy, of 
which I did not then even dream. ... If you and Moses 
(Mendelssohn) wish to know it, you may turn to the Decamerone 
of Boccaccio, Giorn. I., Nov. III., Melchisedech, Giudeo. I 
think I have invented a very interesting episode to it, so that 
all will read well arrd I shall certainly play the theologians a 
greater joke than with ten more fragments." In another letter 
he gives the additional information that " it will be anything 
but a satirical piece in order to leave the battle-field with sar- 
castic laughter. It will be as pathetic a piece as I have ever 
written and Mr. Moses (Mendelssohn) has judged correctly 
that mockery and laughter would not be in harmony with the 
note I struck in my last paper [Necessary Answer, etc.] (which 
you will also find vibrating in this afterpiece), unless I wished 
to give up the whole controversy. But I do not yet have the 
least desire to abandon it, and he (Moses) shall indeed see that 
I am not going to injure my own cause by this dramatic 
digression." On another occasion he adds : " My piece has 
nothing to do with our present blackcoats (clericals), and I will 



354 S. PRIMER. 

not block the way for its final appearance on the theatre, if a 
hundred years must first pass. The theologians of all revealed 
religious will indeed silently curse it, but they will be careful 
not to take sides against it openly." 

However different the three religions are, according to the 
measure of their revelation, they are still in so far genuine that 
they come from God and originate in God who adapts his love 
to the strength of mankind in granting them the Mosaic and 
Muhammedan religions as those of the law and the Christian 
as that of freedom. By the religion of the law men become 
only servants, by the religion of love they become free, become 
the children of God and heirs of his kingdom. But God did 
not give the law to develop the servitude of men ; the law is 
to be the educator that leads to Christ. When the natural 
man strives to rise above the law given him by the paternal 
love for his instruction and development, when he loves the 
law, understands its object and purport, then it ceases to be a 
law to him, he no longer feels it as a fetter, and only then is 
he capable of bearing true freedom ; then perfection will come 
and patchwork will cease. We see this in the centurion of 
Capemium, in Nicodemus, in Nathanael the Israelite without 
guile, in the Samaritan, in Cornelius the centurion, who are 
all above the law and are no longer fettered by it. One still 
under the law can grow above the law, and Jew and Muham- 
medan can be better than their law requires of them ; but they 
then cease to that extent to be Jew and Muhammedan that 
they grow into a higher order of discipline, into freedom. The 
Christian always fails to reach the demands of his doctrine, 
can never get to its highest stage of perfection, can never rise 
above its great truths. These embrace mankind, that univer- 
sal development possible to man, while the religions of the 
law exclude mankind from the universality of this symmetri- 
cal development, give him a narrow and contracted education. 
The soul of our drama, the leading thought in it, is that piety 
of the heart, justice and love first impart the genuine consecra- 
tion to the confession of the definite, positive faith. 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 355 

This is the true principle of religion, this is the principle 
which Lessing wished to proclaim in his drama. We may 
here, indeed, pertinently ask which of the different forms of 
faith conforms more nearly to this true religious ideal. For 
this question becomes the pivotal question of the drama, and 
is answered, or rather its answer is attempted, in the parable 
of the three rings. For true religion possesses the power of 
making one's self well-pleasing to God and man. Religion is 
thus a force, and its effectiveness depends upon certain condi- 
tions ; this effectiveness is, under certain circumstances, para- 
lyzed by the resistance which it meets. Therefore, religion 
does not produce its true effect with everyone, but requires one 
condition, namely, faith or confidence, and only he who possesses 
this faith, this confidence, can make himself well-pleasing to 
God and man. The power of religion is not mechanical, but 
dynamical, and requires co-operation on the part of man, an 
inner activity of its possessor. It requires our cooperation in 
a twofold manner, in our relation to God and in our relation 
to man, resignation to God and love to our neighbor. This 
is the marrow of religion and is common to all religions. 
They differ only in degree and only in the way in which they 
demand both of us. This criterion would decide the relation 
of the religions to one another. And this appears to be the 
question discussed in the Nathan, but only appears so. For 
we could not make a greater mistake than to believe that 
Lessing wished to compare in Nathan Islamism, Judaism, and 
Christianity and judge the three religions according to their 
respective merits. The very fact that Saladin is a Muhamme- 
dan, Nathan a Jew, and the Patriarch a Christian, but neither 
of them a true representative of his religion, contradicts this 
view. There is a good reason why Lessing makes the Patri- 
arch a Christian and Nathan a Jew, as we shall see later on ; 
it would also be folly to think that Lessing intended to make 
Christianity inferior to Islamism and Judaism. The heathen 
show their self-abnegation before God by sacrifice ; the Jews 
by sacrifice and that inner feeling which manifests itself in 



356 S. PRIMER. 

the recognition of sin and atonement; the Christian by giving 
the whole heart to God, and by the regenerating process which 
follows this. Islaraism is in this respect nearly related to 
Christianity, but possesses a fatalistic feature which bends the 
will of man to a higher will, but does not set it to work. Our 
relations to God determine our relations to man. All religions 
presuppose a moral relation of man to man, but members of 
the different religions are at different stages of the religious 
growth. Judaism did not extend the love of neighbor beyond 
its national boundary, and prayed for the destruction of its 
enemies. Islamism extended its neighborly love to all the 
races of its confession and put the others to fire and sword. 
Christianity broke down the barriers and brought true humanity 
into the world, and extended the love of neighbor to the love 
of mankind in general. The gospel of Christian love is 
taught in the parable of the good Samaritan and is found in 
the words of Christ : " Love your enemies, bless them that 
curse you, do good to them that hate you, pray for them which 
despitefully use you, and persecute you ; that ye may be the 
children of your Father which is in heaven ; for he maketh 
his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain 
on the just and on the unjust" (Mt. 5, 4445). This un- 
egoistic, disinterested love proceeding from the resignation to 
God forms the kernel of Christianity; we see that Lessing 
acknowledges this as the vital essence of the Christian religion 
in his beautiful monogram : The Testament of John, who re- 
peated constantly to his disciples the words " Little children, 
love ye one another," and when asked why, answered, " because 
it is the Lord's command and because when ye do that alone, 
ye do all." 

But the growth of this religion of love may be so checked 
in the spiritual life of man that scarcely any trace of it shall 
appear, while, on the other hand, the religion of law may, 
under proper circumstances, produce the most disinterested 
love. Thus we have the Patriarch who is all the more 
despicable for knowing the command of love and disregard- 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 



357 



ing it, yet we see Nathan, in spite of the great obstacles 
which birth, education and environment laid upon him, cross- 
ing the narrow boundaries of his own faith and arriving at 
the genuine religion of love. It is not a comparison of two 
religions but of two men. For religion is not an outer 
garment, but a living, animating principle which makes its 
possessor well-pleasing to God and man. And yet every 
religion which does not confine itself to one individual but is 
to take root in a nation must be expressed in a certain form 
of divine service, in certain customs and rites. General ideas 
can exist as little as bodiless spirits. Without a body the 
spirit vanishes, without confession religion becomes a mere 
effusive display of sentiment, a mere empty abstraction. 
Every nation has its peculiar form of religion. Only when 
a religion is adapted to the nation which possesses it can it 
fulfil its mission and educate the people to true religion. 
Sometimes the mere outward form covers up the real kernel 
of religion, but as long as the real kernel is there it has some 
vitalizing power. True tolerance is quite opposed to mere 
indifference and proceeds from a firm conviction of the truth 
of one's own faith ; it consists in the fact that we recognize 
in others the moral principle of their convictions and the 
historical right of certain symbols and rites. But he who 
thinks that the true essence of religion inheres in these 
symbols and rites alone will be just as intolerant as he who 
denies their origin, their significance, and their justification. 
Leasing cannot therefore be justly reproached with having 
made Christianity inferior to Islamism and Judaism, nor 
does any blame attach to him for having left it undecided 
which of the three religions is in possession of the true ring. 
" By their fruits ye shall know them," and has he not made 
it evident in his Education of the Human Race and other 
writings which of the three he considers highest? And do 
we not know which produces the best fruits? Let modern 
civilization answer those who still doubt. Although it is 
Christianity in which the spirit of Christ reveals the truths 
8 



358 S. PRIMER. 

of God most perfectly, it is not true of all individuals in it, 
and no one has the right to draw conclusions about the essence 
of Christianity from isolated examples. For there is a vast 
difference between the real, vivifying power of the gospel and 
sporadic distortions produced by crippled, misshapen growth ; 
between the truth of an idea itsslf and individual appearances 
of the same; between its effect in universal history and its 
subjective existence in the souls of individual men. 

But why, we may justly ask, did Lessing make a Jew 
(Nathan), a Saracen (Saladin), the representatives of his 
higher religion, and make of the Patriarch a true pattern 
of priestly arrogance and all that is most abhorrent in human 
nature? It has been well answered that Lessing "wished 
to preach to the Christians, wished to make them conscious 
of the foolishness and badness of their Christian views and 
shame them ; for this purpose distortions from their own 
faith and noble examples from the non-christian world served 
him better. For Christ himself held the Good Samaritan as 
an example to the hard-hearted Pharisees and stiff-necked 
scribes ; but he did not wish to place Samaritanism above 
Judaism for all that." We repeat that Lessing did not 
choose the persons of his drama as representatives of their 
special religions. For if the Christians of the drama are to 
represent Christianity, then the Jews and Muhammedans 
must likewise represent their religions. But neither Nathan 
nor Saladin, nor Sittah, nor Al Hafi represents at all his 
religion, but one is forced to believe that Lessing had just 
the opposite in view in sketching their characters and actions. 
For he has either completely suppressed, or at least weakened 
and placed in the background, the peculiar, innate marks of 
different faiths by the compensating power of their religion 
of humanity and reason. No one would be able to extract 
the true doctrine of Christ from the characters and acts of 
the Patriarch, of Daja, of the Templar, of the Cloister- 
brother. The only reason which induced Lessing to take his 
best characters from other faiths and to make the Christians 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 359 

the worst is the lesson he wished to teach. He wished to 
" hold the mirror up to nature, to show virtue her own 
features, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of 
the time his form and pressure." And all for the instruction 
of the Christians. The negative side of the lesson is to 
rebuke those who put the letter above the spirit, which 
results in arrogance, hypocrisy, intolerance, and fanatical 
persecutions. This was the answer to Goeze and his clan 
and was the continuation of his controversy by which he 
hoped to defeat his opponents. Therefore he could not take 
his dramatic characters in which he intended to show the 
distortions of the Christian religion from among the Jews 
and Muhammedans, but must choose them from among the 
Christians. For his drama was intended for effect upon 
Christians, as he had his motive from them. Had Lessing 
been a Jew or Mussulman and wished to give them a lesson, 
he would have chosen a Christian for his model character. 

But the real, deep, underlying reason for choosing a Jew as 
model, the positive side of Lessing's idea, lies in the fact that 
the best criterion of strength and skill in a warrior is the degree 
of strength and skill shown by his opponent over whom he 
wins the victory. None of the three religions under discussion 
offers such a contrast with the idea of the Nathan as the Jewish ; 
therefore none of them makes it so difficult for its professor to 
realize this idea and so interweave it into his character as to 
make it a living principle of life as the Jewish; none but the 
Jewish offers so many obstacles for overcoming contradictory 
errors and vices. The belief in Jehovah as the zealous, angry 
God of punishment, rather nourishes hate than the common love 
of mankind ; the belief in Jehovah and in the Jewish nation as 
his chosen people leads to national and religious arrogance ; to 
contempt for the Gentiles ; it obstructs, or at least renders diffi- 
cult, the germination of the idea of humauitarianism and cos- 
mopolitanism. The history of the Jews confirms this statement. 
Even the Templar, who had risen above nationality and posi- 
tive religion, cherishes such prejudice against the Jews that at 



360 S. PKIMER. 

first he will have nothing to do with Recha and Nathan: "A 
Jew's a Jew, and I am rude and bearish." The power of 
reason and love is all the more magnificent when it triumphs 
over such prejudices; here is the profound reason why Nathan, 
who so far surpassed all other characters in goodness and 
wisdom, is made the principal character of the drama. We 
must not look for his prototype either in the spirit of the time, 
which indeed in its tendency to enlightenment was favorable 
to the Jews, nor in the personal friendship of Lessing with 
Moses Mendelssohn, who himself says of Nathan : " After the 
appearance of Nathan the cabal whispered into the ear of every 
friend and acquaintance that Lessing had abused Christianity, 
though he has only ventured to reproach some Christians and 
at most Christianity. In very truth, however, his Nathan, as 
we must confess, redounds to the honor of Christianity. Upon 
what high plane of enlightenment and civilization must a people 
be in which a man can rise to this height of sentiment, can edu- 
cate himself to this excellent knowledge of divine and human 
things. At least posterity must think so, it seems to me; but 
Lessing's contemporaries did not think so." Perhaps Spiel- 
hagen (Faust und Nathan, p. 17) is not so far wrong when he 
says : " In Faust the riddle (of life) is given up, in Nathan it 
is solved." And page 25 he adds : " Faust is the tragedy of 
universal pain, Nathan the Song of Songs of reconciliation. 
Faust is chaos, Nathan is the Iris-bow which brightly spans 
the abyss, a sign of comforting promise." It is safe to assume 
that the Nathan represents Lessing's third stage in the Edu- 
cation of the Human Race, the period of " Peace on earth and 
good will to men," the reign of universal peace where men 
shall do right because it is right and govern themselves with- 
out law or rulers as each one will prefer another's interest to 
his own. 

The setting of Lessing's conception of a perfect religion is 
the tale of the three rings, to which we now turn our attention. 
In the times of the crusades the belief obtained to a consider- 
able extent that Christians, Jews and heathen all serve one 



NATHAN THE WISE. 361 

God, or, as some stated it, God possesses three kinds of children 
in Christians, Jews and heathen. The decision of rank for the 
children of the house rests only with the father. The order 
of Knights Templars favored these liberal views and even the 
foremost thinkers among the Jews believed that Judaism and 
Christianity were two true religions coming from God and that 
neither was tainted with deceit. One of their wise rabbis (it 
must have originated in the eastern country which is so full 
of metaphorical language) has clothed this thought in a para- 
ble, afterwards known as the parable of the rings. About the 
year 1100 a Spanish Jew put it in its earliest and simplest 
Jewish form. It states that Pedro of Arragon once asked a 
rich Jew, who had the reputation of great wisdom, which of 
the two laws (Mosaic or Christian) he considered the better, 
in order to have an excuse for appropriating his money, no 
matter which way he might answer the question. The Jew 
took three days' time for thought, at the end of which he came 
back to the king in apparent confusion and related the follow- 
ing incident. A month ago his neighbor, a jeweler, on the 
point of making a long journey, comforted his two sons by 
giving each a precious stone. This morning they had asked 
him, the Jew, about the worth of the two treasures, and, on 
his explanation that they must wait for the return of the father 
who alone was competent to decide the question, they had 
abused him and beaten him. Pedro said that this mean conduct 
of the sons deserved punishment. " Let thy ear hear what thy 
mouth speaks," replied the Jew. " The brothers Esau and 
Jacob have each a precious stone, and, if you wish to know 
who has the better, send a messenger to the great jeweler above 
who alone knows the difference." Pedro, satisfied with the 
answer, sent the Jew away in peace. 

Between this simplest parable of the precious stones and 
the richest in every way (Lessing's version in Nathan) many 
members and variations appear, full of pride of faith and 
spiritual freedom, of exclusive confidence and unsparing 
skepticism, of universal love of man and narrow hate. The 



362 S. PRIMER. 

moral lesson contained in all these different versions is the 
"teaching of brotherly love, humanity, and mutual toler- 
ance." which forms the essence and basis of the Christian 
religion. And this is the same lesson which Lessing had 
been trying to teach in his controversy with Goeze, in the 
Education of the Human Race, and the other writings of that 
period, so that Nathan only embodies in poetic form what he 
had already said elsewhere. In Spain, probably, a third 
religion was added, the Moorish. The indecision remains, 
but the early Christian transformation clouded the clearness 
of the Spanish -Jewish anecdote. According to Wiinsche 
(Origin of the Parable of the Three Rings) the next earliest 
account is. found in the Cento Novelle antiche, a well-known 
collection of Italian stories. In number 72 is the parable of 
the rings which is nearly like the Arragonian, but we have 
here a Sultan and three rings, one genuine and two false, the 
father alone knowing the true one. From here the story 
passed into the Gesta Romanorum where in one of its three 
versions we have one additional trait which Lessing has made 
use of. Here the true ring has the power of making its 
wearer beloved by God and man. Whether Busone da Gubbio 
(1311) in his novel Avventuroso Siciliano took his version of 
the parable from the Cento Novelle or elsewhere is still doubt- 
ful, but it is certain that Boccaccio drew from him. Busone 
made but few changes : only one ring is genuine, but it is not 
left to the father to decide which religion is the true one, 
that still remains undecided. With Boccaccio it is no longer 
an indefinite sultan, but the warlike and heroic Saladin 
who in his need of money calls the rich and usurious Jew 
Melchisedec from Alexandria to Jerusalem in order to force 
a loan from him by means of the vexatious question which 
of the three religions he considers the true one. The Jew is 
soon resolved and recounts to Saladin as if by sudden inspira- 
tion the story of the three rings. This is essentially the same 
as that given in Nathan, Act 3, sc. 7, to which we refer the 
reader. The story of Boccaccio varies very little from the 






LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 363 

other Italian accounts. He does not tell us, as the others 
did, for what purpose the sultan needed money. Busone also 
gives the reason why the sultan seeks to rob the Jew. Jews 
are hated, therefore they can conscientiously be robbed of 
their money. For the tolerant Boccaccio this was wrong, so 
he changes his Jew into a rich, avaricious usurer instead of 
leaving him a noble and wise person. 

Lessing has made several changes. Besides the fact that 
the ring has been received from "dear hands" it has the 
power of making its wearer, who should have confidence in 
its virtue, well-pleasing before God and man. In order to 
prevent the son who should possess the ring from alone be- 
coming the head and prince of the house, the father had two 
others made so like the original that he could not distinguish 
the true from the false. Rejoicing that he could now show 
each of his sons the same marks of love, he calls each one to 
him separately and gives each of them a blessing and the ring. 
After the father's death there arose the same controversy about 
the genuine ring as in the other versions, and the judge before 
whom all appeared could give no verdict. Boccaccio closes 
with the remark : " Each of the three nations believes its 
religion to be the real, divine revelation ; but which has the 
true one can no more be decided than which is the true ring." 
Lessing does not stop there. After the judge has dismissed 
the three wrangling sons from his tribunal on account of lack 
of proof to form any decision, it occurs to him that there is a 
key to this seeming riddle. The true ring possesses a magic 
virtue which cannot fail to manifest itself in the one who has 
it and wears it in this confidence. As none of the three pos- 
sesses the power to make himself beloved by the others, so 
none has the true ring ; this must be lost anil those they have 
are false ; the father would not bear the tyranny of one ring 
any longer in his house ; each may now think he has the true 
one, and let each strive to show the virtue of his ring. 

The magic virtue is the moral effect of religion. When the 
judge asked the sons to help the virtue of the ring by meek- 



364 8. PRIMER. 

ness, by hearty docility, by well-doing, by inner resignation to 
the will of God, he shows that these virtues are the moral 
effects of religion meant by the magic virtue of the ring. In 
them, and not in the outer, historical symbols and rites, lies 
the infallible proof of the truth of religion. That religion is 
the true one which produces the best men. Whether Islamism, 
Judaism, or Christianity is best adapted to effect this result 
Lessing does not say, but only implies that it is not impossible 
in all three. We cannot, however, deny that the way in which 
the principal character of the drama throws doubt on every 
positive religion which lays claim to objective truth has some- 
thing dazzling for the great mass of mankind. It would 
almost appear as if the story in its comprehensive, graceful 
form, was well suited to spread that enlightenment which 
desires to resolve religion into complete agnosticism. The 
story is highly poetical, however, and does not completely 
conform to the real thought. Whether only two of the pos- 
sessors of the rings, or, as the judge seems to think, all three 
have been deceived, cannot be decided under the circumstances. 
But this is only a story intended to inculcate a truth and must 
be judged as the parables of the Lord. As parables they may 
be excellent, even for the special purpose used, but if taken as 
truths they may be complete or incomplete, true or false in 
themselves, though quite proper to exemplify the truth which 
the one employing them wished to teach. The three religions 
are in so far distinguished from one another that in two of 
them, Islamism and Judaism, there is a difference between the 
objective truth sought for and the truth actually revealed, 
while in Christianity, where the divine and human have be- 
come thoroughly united, the truth sought in all religions is 
really revealed. It cannot be expected that Nathan, who, 
according to his own confession, does not wish to give the 
truth as such, but rather by means of the story which he tells 
the sultan thinks himself dispensed from the solution of the 
problem, will really state the principle which distinguishes the 
truth of the three religions and their relation to one another. 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 365 

When Saladin objects that the religions named by him can be 
distinguished from one another, Nathan replies that they are 
all based on tradition and history, and adds that it is quite 
natural that we all, Muhammedans, Jews, Christians, should 
doubt least of all the words of those whose blood flows in our 
veins, of those who have given us proof of their love from our 
childhood. 

This mode of reasoning is truly such that the conscience, 
which does not enter into the inner reasons upon which real 
knowledge rests, is satisfied. But it does not enter into the 
greater, profounder depths of the question where knowledge 
alone can guide. It is true that all religions with any real 
life to them have an historical background and that children 
accept the religion of their fathers as something from those 
who are nearest and dearest to them. But this is only belief 
founded on authority and is to be distinguished from the real 
religious belief founded on more perfect knowledge and the 
inner witness of the spirit. ' This is why Lessing insists on 
the fact that the truth of religion is to be recognized in itself, 
in its inner characteristics, thus rising to an ideal sphere to 
which Nathan does not attain. While denying that for him 
who would gain the knowledge, the characteristics of the truth 
are already present in the three religions, Nathan gives voice 
to the sentiment that it is the moral life, love, through which 
the truth of our inherited religion manifests itself. The manner 
in which the owners of the three rings quarrel with one another 
tends to show us that that miraculous force inherent in the 
true religion is active in none of the three religions whose 
symbols are the rings. Hence they are urged to emulate this 
love, so that perhaps later the truth might be revealed to their 
descendants. This love we know is the touchstone of real 
religion. But Nathan makes it the property of the Muhamme- 
dan, Jewish and Christian religions, when it belongs to the 
Christian alone. For religions of law only gain the full truth 
through love which is the origin of law and the essence of the 
moral world ; even all Christians who wish to enter into the 



366 



S. PRIMER. 



kingdom of God must emulate this love. Christ taught it 
here on earth and has left it as a legacy to us. No one, how- 
ever, can say that this love has been revealed to, and become 
the real motive of, the moral life in Judaism and Islamism, 
which are both national religions and neither knew nor had 
received any revelation of the love that absolves man from 
error and sin. 

Having announced the doctrine of love in the story, the poet 
shows the moral force springing from pure love in his denoue- 
ment. Characters separated by nationality, but obeying the 
purely human feelings, appear before us at the close of the 
drama in a real union. The powerful sultan Saladin, Nathan 
the rich Jew living in Jerusalen, a German Templar, prisoner 
of the Saracens, Sittah, Daja, Reeha, are drawn to one another 
by similar sentiments, and the ties of blood and the benevolence 
of the Jew seal the bond. As in nature night yields to the 
rising sun, so here delusion and hate disappear from the 
consciences of men as soon as love appears. Oriental and 
Occidental, Muhammedan, Jew, Christian, rise above particu- 
lar interests, feel drawn to one another as man to man, even 
love one another as members of one family. This is the same 
high standard that we saw in the Education of the Human Race 
and in Ernst and Falk. The conclusion of Nathan, moreover, 
is intended to let us see, imperfectly to be sure, the realization 
of that ideal claimed only for the future in the two articles. 
These characters have advanced far enough to accept the new 
eternal gospel. But this makes them true Christians in whose 
religion alone all the conditions for such a development are 
found. 

Besides the novel in the Decamerone of Boccaccio already 
mentioned two others have an important bearing on the plot of 
our drama. The family history, some features in Nathan 
himself, and, in a certain measure, the character of the Templar 
are undoubtedly due to Lessing's study of this Italian author. 
The story related in Giorn. v, v, throws light on the family 
relations of our characters. It is an account of a lost child 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 367 

like Recha who is reared by a kind-hearted old gentleman, 
Giacomino, as his own daughter. Here, however, two young 
men fall in love with her, one of whom turns out to be her 
brother and the other marries her. All the features of the 
Templar and Recha are present. The two servants are com- 
bined in Daja, and Bernabuccio, the father of the lost girl, is 
Wolf von Filneck, the father of the Templar and Recha. The 
lovely characteristic of Boccaccio's Giacomino, " who in his 
time had experienced much, who was a good-natured man, 
has passed over to Nathan, while the violent impetuosity of 
Giannole, the brother, is reflected in the Templar." 

But Lessing is still further indebted to Boccaccio, Giorn. 
x, Nov. in. Here we have a man named Nathan who is 
exceedingly wealthy, benevolent, hospitable, of noble senti- 
ments, giving thirty-two times to the same beggar woman 
without letting her see that she is recognized by him, going 
about in modest attire. Calm and composed when a rival 
in wealth and goodness comes and tells him that he is going 
to kill him because he outdoes him in goodness and benevo- 
lence, prudent, noble-minded and self-denying in every way. 
Had he talked and been a Jew he would have been Lessing's 
Nathan. How much the Nathan in the Novel reminds of 
the Nathan in the drama and yet how skilfully Lessing has 
transformed and remodelled his characters to suit his own 
idea to be represented in his drama ! For the trend, the idea 
of the drama is profounder, more consistent, more according to 
the dictates of reason than any Boccaccio ever even imagined. 

Boccaccio was, however, not the only source of Lessing's 
drama, say some critics. That absurd story that Dean Swift 
and Esther Johnson, or Stella, were both the natural children 
of Sir William Temple, the English Diplomatist and Politi- 
cal writer, is cited as a source. Moreover Swift wrote the 
Tale of a Tub, a parabolical comparison of the three confes- 
sions, Catholicism, Protestantism, and Calvinism, showing 
that all three had departed so far from the true spirit of 
Christianity that there was no more life in any of them. 



368 S. PRIMER. 

The parable of the three rings is certainly more elevated 
than that of the Tale of a Tub, though there is a certain 
resemblance in the subject-matter and trend of the latter to 
the drama. Lessing was well acquainted with this story and 
also with Swift's work. But Caro (p. 74 ff.) probably goes 
too far when he says that Lessing here found that inner 
association of ideas so necessary for the unity of his drama. 
For there is no more inner connection between the Tale of a 
Tub and Swift's supposed love to a sister (then considered 
true, but now known to be false) than there is between the 
three novels of Boccaccio (Giorn. x, in ; Giorn. v, v, I, 
in). For inner connection is not a personal element, but a 
natural cause and effect. The complete idea contained in 
Nathan had long been lying in the poet's mind ; its external 
form was a mere secondary thought which Boccaccio's novels 
were as likely, and more so, to put into definite shape as 
Swift's story and work. 

Caro's conceit that the name of Swift's supposed father, 
" Temple," led Lessing to call the sister's brother a Templar 
is a clever one, but has no force. For the historical back- 
ground naturally brought the Templars into action and it 
was only to be expected that they would play a prominent 
part in the drama. It may be possible that the Swift 
incident had an unconscious influence upon Lessing. For 
when Voltaire returned from England, he brought the Tale 
of a Tub with him, asserting that this notorious Tale of a 
Tub was an imitation of the three undistinguishable rings 
which the father left to his three children ; and we know 
that Lessing was an ardent admirer of Voltaire. But no one 
now concedes that it was the veritable source ; for Boccaccio 
stood nearer in thought to the poet's idea than the Swift 
source. 

It is remarkable with what masterly skill Lessing has 
acquired the very spirit of the Orient. The best Oriental 
scholars could not do better. Only the East produces such 
remarkable examples of generosity and liberality ; here it is 



J,ESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 369 

a religious virtue to give. Parabolic teaching, generally in 
the open air, is another peculiarity of the eastern nations and 
Lessing has made free use of it. Nathan is master of this 
art and Recha is his worthy pupil. Notice also that the 
catastrophe of the piece is brought about by a parable. The 
style is simple, natural, and original. Each character uses 
the language peculiarly suited to it and it changes to suit the 
scene. Not unfrequently Lessing went into the street, as it 
were, and picked up most expressive phrases and legalized 
their use by adopting them. 

Had Lessing wished to employ dramatic poetry to represent 
certain general phenomena of the psychological life he could 
have chosen no better locality or time for his purpose than 
Palestine during the third crusade. The East and West met 
here and Palestine formed the center of all the historical life 
of the time. Richard the Lion-hearted of England, Philip 
Augustus of France, Leopold of Austria, the most powerful 
rulers of the West, accompanied by the greatest and noblest 
vassals of their kingdoms, the king of Jerusalem with his 
barons, the bloom of knighthood in the priestly orders of the 
Templars and Knights of Malta, and a high clergy ; Saladin, 
the victorious warrior of" the East, who ruled from the Nile to 
the Euphrates and Tigris with his Emirs and Pashas. Inter- 
mingled with these were the clever merchants from the great 
commercial cities of the Mediterranean; Jews, experienced 
and educated by their journeyings in all lauds, so that, as Les- 
sing says (3, 10) " all the world flocks together here." This 
congregation of all mankind in a friendly and hostile manner 
must necessarily have exerted a peculiar influence upon the 
general culture, must have produced a peculiar sentiment and 
intellectual development, must have made a peculiar impres- 
sion upon the views taken of the whole world and of life by 
the more enlightened individuals, especially upon the religious 
views, as well of the Jews as of the Christians and Mussul- 
mans. Boccaccio had placed his Jew in Alexandria and had 
him called to Saladin. For his place of action Lessing chose 



370 8. PRIMER. 

Jerusalem at a time when Saladin had captured the holy city 
from the crusaders. Here had assembled that people for wor- 
ship which called itself the chosen people of God. Christ, by 
his glorious death on the cross, had made the city sacred and 
had promulgated a universal religion. But during the Middle 
Ages Jerusalem became the seat of the fanatical rage of both 
Christians and Muhammedans who there committed execrable 
deeds of violence and blood. The spirit of humanity dis- 
played by noble men formed a striking contrast with most 
frightful intolerance, and thus set off the truths announced by 
our drama; this very contrast makes the ideal part of our 
poem more real and the real part more ideaL Lessing wished 
to exhibit the evils of religious fanaticism and the reign of 
Saladin was best suited for that. Time and place were admira- 
bly adapted to bring the representation of the three religions 
into close connection. For at this time the spirit of adventure 
reigned supreme and the air was full of strange incidents and 
curious events. 

From the historical allusions in the play the exact time, as 
near as that can be determined, was probably between the first 
of September, 1192, and the fifth of March, 1193, that is after 
the conclusion of the truce with Richard the Lion-hearted and 
before the death of Saladin. And though Lessing paid no great 
attention to strict chronological order, " he still contrives to 
bring before us a vivid historical picture, and the local coloring 
is produced in a truly masterly manner." 

As Nathan the Wise represents the conflict of tolerance with 
prejudice, we can on this principle divide the characters into 
certain groups. Nathan, Saladin and the Templar represent 
the cosmopolitan and humanitarian idea, while the Patriarch, 
and in a certain degree, Daja also, stands for narrow-minded- 
ness and intolerance. The cloisterbrother and Al Hafi have a 
leaning to nature-life and are representatives of noble Natural- 
ism. Nathan himself naturally leads the first group. Lessing 
is said to have glorified in him, his life-long friend, Moses 
Mendelssohn, but there is not a single trait in Nathan bearing 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 371 

any resemblance whatever to Moses Mendelssohn. Most of 
the features are taken from Melchisedec and that Nathan of 
Boccaccio already mentioned, though they have been ideal- 
ized. We have shown above why a Jew was chosen to 
represent this his greatest character in the drama. Nathan 
possesses endurance, wisdom, calmness, and affability, and is 
above all narrowness of nationality and religious difference. 
As merchant he has visited many lands and gathered experi- 
ence as well as gold. He is generous and benevolent towards 
all. The true religion for him is the one which teaches love 
to God and man, gentleness, tolerance, and right-doing ; for 
him tolerance is not a mere inclination, a mere pastime, but 
an inner wish, character, the man. He is in every way the 
opposite to Shakespeare's Shylock, and is in fact the possessor 
of the true ring in that he understands how to make himself 
well-pleasing to God and man. He is an ideal character, the 
embodiment of an idea, Lessing's idea of true manhood ; in 
this respect we could with greater justice say that Lessing 
himself, rather than his friend, is his own prototype for his 
Nathan, though this would be aside from the truth. And yet 
we have something of the Jew in Nathan ; the cunning ob- 
servable in his dealings with his fellow-men, his deference to 
others in order to attain his ends, which indeed are always the 
purest and noblest, a fondness for metaphor and parable, 
which are all Oriental- Jewish traits. He is the ideal hero 
who has undergone struggles that excite our interest, and we 
cannot help loving and honoring him. 

Next to Nathan stands Saladin, not the historic warrior, 
but the man in his family relations with a nature more 
adapted to action than to contemplation. The historic 
Saladin was a strict Mussulman who looked upon war 
against the Crusaders as his life-mission. For these his 
natural foes he cherished an implacable hatred. He was 
ever true to his word, ever kept faith with the Christians 
though they betrayed him again and again. Brave and 
intrepid by nature he was yet a peace-loving man who rose 



372 S. PRIMER. 

above his environments and showed himself magnanimous 
alike to friend and foe. His self-abnegation was great, for 
at the height of power he felt no desire for mere show and 
magnificence, but was plain and simple in his daily life. 
Boccaccio had already made him a traditional hero and the 
Middle Ages crowned him with a halo of glory. But little 
was left for Lessing to do. He has idealized in him imperial 
greatness, noble sentiments, magnanimity and liberality. For 
he looks upon nobility as something akin to himself, there- 
fore the genuine disinterestedness of the Dervish, the pro- 
found wisdom of Nathan, the knightly heroism of Richard 
the Lion-hearted create no envy, no malice, no surprise in 
him ; for they seem to him only natural. In fact he would 
have been more surprised at their absence. 

Sittah, the sister of Saladin, serves the poet as a foil to 
set off the excellent qualities of her brother. She is not so 
tolerant as he and perhaps for that, very reason sees Christians 
and Jews in a truer light, though not unmixed with prejudice. 
She accuses the Christians of intolerance and a departure from 
the pure doctrine of their founder. Nor are the Jews less 
repugnant to her, not so much on account of their pride in 
their faith as for their avarice and cowardice. It is she who 
contrives the plan to catch the Jew ; it is she who has Recha 
brought to the palace so that the Jew could not possibly 
spirit her away from the Templar. She shows the natural 
curiosity of the human race in trying to pry into the secret 
conversation between her brother and Nathan, and in wishing 
to see Recha whom the Templar loves. She takes an impor- 
tant part in the action of the drama, especially in the intrigues. 
She loves her brother above all things and forms in various 
ways his complement. He sees things on a grand scale, she 
in miniature, hence she is often more accurate in her know- 
ledge of men than he. Where one is weak the other is strong, 
where he is lavish she is economical. Prudence and cunning 
are her virtues and we miss in her the individual truth of 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 373 

a real poetic character. Like her brother she is historical, 
though history barely mentions her. 

By birth and name only does the Templar appear as a 
Christian. The child of Saladin's brother Assad and a Stauf- 
fen lady who had gone on the Crusades, brought up by his 
uncle who was a templar, aroused to action by the latter's 
tales and the information that his father was an Oriental who 
had returned home with his mother, he enlists in the Crusades 
in the order of the Templars, though little convinced of the 
truth of Christianity. The contradictions in his character 
are so striking that it will require much reflection to bring 
the special features into harmony. The predominant trait is 
the vein of deep melancholy which gives a serious earnest- 
ness to his every act. The disharmony in his character and 
his discontent spring partly from his early training and partly 
from his recent experiences among the Templars, as Christian 
and as prisoner in the hands of Saladin. He represents the 
transition state on his passage from a belief in a positive 
religion through disbelief to Lessing's third stage, to Nathan's 
standard. He has found that no one belief is infallible, but 
has not yet discovered that there is always wheat in the chaff, 
none so bad as to be utterly condemned. At the very end of 
the drama he still appears distrustful and has to pass through 
a struggle to renounce his passionate love and accept Recha 
as sister. Even then the disharmony fermenting in his inner 
and outer life is but slowly removed. However, as a member 
of the house of Saladin, when his dreams had become more 
than dreams, he at last saw life in its true light. His strik- 
ing physical resemblance to Assad, his father, is deepened by 
his striking resemblance in all the qualities of his character. 
Nathan represents wise old age, Saladin matured manhood, 
Curd (the Templar) immature youth, which, like fresh must, 
must ferment and foam and by long fermentation become 
purified. 

The most fragrant flower of the whole poem is Recha. In 
her simple, cheerful nature all the virtues of a maiden's pure 
9 



374 S. PEIMEE. 

heart blossom. How tenderly she loves her father, what 
thankful love she bears for Daja ! Many features of Recha 
are taken from Malchen Konig, Lessing's stepdaughter, who 
had a deep love for her stepfather and who was educated by 
him as carefully as Recha by Nathan. The latter is what 
Nathan made of her a susceptible and pure soul which a wise 
and just education has taught self-abnegation and love. She 
lived in her father ; he was her world, her faith, her home. 
She is tender without being weakly, sentimental, intellectual 
and cultivated without being a bluestocking. Nathan, how- 
ever, is not her only instructor. Daja, the Christian widow, 
the nurse, planted many seeds in her receptive mind and they 
also brought forth fruit of another kind. On the one hand 
we find philosophy and reason, on the other wild fancy and 
belief in angels, legends, the fanciful side of life. She belongs 
to the poetic figures of the German literature, whose presence 
can be felt rather than described. Like Goethe's Mignon in 
Wilhelm Meister and Schiller's Thekla in Wallenstein she is a 
concrete though idealized form of flesh and blood. But never- 
theless she is as it were surrounded by a glamour and seems 
to us a friendly fairy form which enchants us all the more. 
Rarely do we catch glimpses of such beings in the world's 
literature and yet Germany has given us three, Recha, Mignon, 
Thekla. As sister of the Templar and niece of Saladin, adopted 
and brought up by Nathan, she forms a convenient center about 
which all the separate interests of race and religion converge, 
being of, and yet belonging exclusively to, neither of the three 
races or religions. 

Of our second group, the Patriarch naturally stands at the 
head and is an excellent pattern of priestly thirst for power; 
he has also departed farthest from the doctrines which Christ 
came on earth to preach, not having the least trace of that 
meekness and gentleness which forms an essential element of 
a Christian character. He enjoys life in the fullest, but be- 
lieves in the dogmatic infallibility of the Church. It has been 
said that Pastor Goeze, Lessing's bitter opponent in his contro- 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 375 

versy occasioned by the publication of the fragments, is intended 
to be represented by the Patriarch, but nothing could be farther 
from the mark. There may be a few thrusts at Goeze, but the 
character as a whole is far different, too opposite to be modelled 
after him. It is the portrait of what a true Christian should 
not be. Instead of self-abnegation we have self-aggrandize- 
ment with all its worldly lusts. No feeling of humanity 
reigns in his breast. While demanding blind submission from 
others he seeks to draw profit from everything. Faith is for 
him a subservient means of power, a pliant tool for satisfying 
his ambition to rule. Though by nature intolerant and fanatical 
he is himself only a too willing subject, yielding servilely to 
every dangerous power, even when it is repugnant to him ; 
creeping where he thinks it will advance his interests. 

The character is historical. At the time when Saladin 
captured Jerusalem the reigning Patriarch was Heraclius. 
Of course he was sent away with the other Christians instead 
of remaining in the city as represented in our drama, but 
Lessing ever changed facts to suit his purpose. This Her- 
aclius was a notorious character and very much worse than 
Lessing has painted him in the drama. He thinks of every- 
thing else rather than of the welfare of the souls entrusted to 
him. He was a politician of the worst stamp. Treason and 
murder are not only legitimate means with him, but become 
a duty when the priest says that it is for the honor of God. 
It was no matter to him how kind the Jew may have been to 
his adopted daughter Recha ; if he had taught her no dogma 
nor positive religion, then he must burn at the stake. Rather a 
false belief than no belief. He will show how dangerous it is to 
the state when anyone may have no belief. So preached Goeze 
in the controversy. He is a priest, an ecclesiastical prince, but 
not a Christian. He represents rather the office of High Priest, 
or Egyptian Hierophant, or the priests of the Middle Ages, 
who have mostly been opponents of humanity and pure religion. 
He is "a bigot in whose eyes the interests of humanity are over- 
shadowed, or rather extinguished, by those of his Church and 



376 S. PRIMER. 

hierarchy." Without this character Lessing could not have 
done justice to the fundamental idea of his poem. We under- 
stand the power of a moral principle best when we " see not 
only men whose lives it sways, but men who are controlled 
by its opposite." He takes but little part in the play, though 
serving to bring out this fundamental idea. Fr. Theo. Vischer 
(Aesth. Ill, 1, 430) says: "The Patriarch should have gone 
to extremes, the Templar should have appeared at the most 
exciting moment of the danger to rescue Nathan and thus have 
completed his elevation above the darkness of prejudice; then 
the drama might have ended well, only not in the discovery 
that the lovers were brother and sister." But this would have 
been contrary to the whole tone of the drama which is intended 
to show true tolerance triumphing over intolerance and arro- 
gance by quiet, peaceful means: 

In Daja we have an example of sancta simplicitas, that 
narrow piety which becomes dangerous in cunning hands. 
Firm in her belief she overlooks the genuine kernel of reli- 
gion in the form which excites her imagination and produces 
the frenzy of fanaticism. She is the widow of a noble squire, 
a Swiss, who was drowned with the emperor Frederick Bar- 
barossa on the 10th of June, 1190. Nathan took her as com- 
panion to Recha, probably because the old nurse had sickened. 
Soon after Daja's arrival the latter died, but not before she 
had disclosed the secret of Recha's birth, though it is a mys- 
tery where the nurse could have found it out. According to 
this account Daja could not have been more than a year in the 
house of Nathan when our drama opens ; and yet the refer- 
ences to her indicate a longer service in Nathan's family. 
There is no way of reconciling these discrepancies without 
assuming that Lessing intended to discard the old nurse and 
make Daja's service with him extend over the whole eighteen 
years of Recha's life, or else he forgot to distinguish between 
the two persons and applied words to Daja which belonged 
to the nurse. 



LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 377 

Anxious for the welfare of her foster-child's soul she is 
constantly urging Nathan to make good his great sin of keep- 
ing his daughter from the true faith. She does not consider 
what a noble woman Recha has become under the instruction 
of Nathan ; she only sees a Christian child in the hands of a 
Jew. Nathan had been led to his high standard of faith by 
the loss of his family, had blessed the chance which had 
brought him Recha as a charge, and now the intrigues of the 
well-intentioned Daja were to put to the truest test what 
reason and long contemplation had ripened in his mind and 
made a part of his being. One object of the drama is to 
show us principles in action ; and thus Daja in a sense becomes 
the motive principle in it, as she by intrigue, by confusing the 
Templar, and arousing his dormant distrust and setting in 
action his impetuous nature, applies the power that moves the 
whole action. She plays also the effective part of an exqui- 
sitely comical duefla, and " could ill be spared in the economy 
of the drama." 

In the naturalistic group we have two characters which 
show different phases of that simple, natural worship of God. 
The cloisterbrother came to the East as squire, but after serv- 
ing many masters he finally left the tumult of war for the 
cloister, devoting himself entirely to the worship of God, to 
which his pious nature inclined him. Robbed and taken 
prisoner by Arabian marauders, he managed to escape and 
fled to Jerusalem into the cloister of the Patriarch who 
promised him the first free hermit's cell on Mt. Tabor. 
Everything unworthy or wrong was repugnant to his upright 
soul. Though ever obedient to his oath, he realizes that 
there are bounds to his obedience, and he keeps back the 
knowledge that Nathan has a Christian child. What he 
really lacks is the knowledge of the world which makes one 
live and work for his own and others' good. Like the 
Dervish his leaning is to naturalism which drives him out of 
the world ; but the Dervish easily gives himself up to pure 
contemplation ; with the latter it is pure, simple, joyous 



378 S. PRIMER. 

renunciation in which the soul feels the full force of its free- 
dom from worldly care while with the former it is chiefly 
humility and the feeling that he is too weak to cope with the 
complex difficulties of the world. Instead of self-abnegation 
we find self-disparagement, though he is by no means stupid 
and knows how to carry out the dishonest commands so 
honestly that they never do any harm. He sees a brother in 
everybody and represents the Publican in Christ's parable 
while the Patriarch represents the Pharisee; in the parable 
of the Good Samaritan he represents the Good Samaritan 
and the Patriarch the priest and levite. He is one of the 
poor in spirit to whom the kingdom of heaven belongs. By 
some he is called the true representative of Christianity in 
the drama and probably comes nearer the standard than any 
of the other representatives. He certainly has childlike sim- 
plicity, and all the qualities which go to make up a true 
Christian character. It is one of the most lovely personages 
Lessing has sketched for us ; and yet the childlike simplicity, 
the childlike cunning forms a comical contrast to the priestly, 
Jesuitical Patriarch. 

The Dervish is so little an adherent of the doctrine of 
Muhammed that he has been a follower of the Parsees. He 
appears to us as the son of pure, unmixt nature, which, as it is 
manifested in this character, forms a remarkable contrast to 
those artificial relations on which the social system actually 
rests. In the awkward cynic, Al Hafi, Lessing's friends recog- 
nize the free copy of a Berlin excentricity, Abram Wulff, the 
secretary of Aaron Meyer. He was considered the greatest 
mathematical genius of the day, who, however, had no idea of 
the world and its relations. He was also an excellent chess- 
player and this characteristic has been skilfully brought out in 
the drama. Lessing had great respect for him on account of 
his piety and natural cynicism. The temptation was too 
great ; he was introduced into the drama in the person of the 
Dervish as the unfortunate treasurer and chess-critic where he 
cuts a most wonderful figure. He has free entrance to his 



LESSING S NATHAN THE WISE. 



379 



friend Nathan's house, and preaches undisturbed his principles 
of cynic philosophy in grotesque words. The name is well 
chosen, Al Hafi, " The Barefooted," which Lessing found in 
his study of Oriental life and customs. Here, also, he found 
those proverbial sayings on everyday life, morality and wit, 
which he puts into Al Hafi's mouth. 

In the Dervish we have the view of the elegiast of the 
eighteenth century, "a true man must be far from men." 
Our Dervish longs for the Utopian ideal of an unadulterated 
condition of innocency and primitive nature. The modern 
Frenchman or the German catches this shadowy something on 
the Alps or in the still valley ; but our light and barefooted 
Dervish seeks to find salvation among the naturalistic Parsees 
in the hot sands of the desert where the Ghebres dwell as pure 
beings of nature and serve God. Hence his cry : " On the 
Ganges, on the Ganges only do we find men." 

SYLVESTER PRIMER. 



PUBLICATIONS 

OF THE 

MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA, 

1893. 



(VOL. vin, 4.) 



NEW SERIES, VOL. I, 4. 



VIIL AN APOCRYPHAL LETTER OF ST. AUGUS- 
TINE TO CYRIL AND A LIFE OF ST. JEROME, 
TRANSLATED INTO DANISH. CODEX REGIUS 
1586, 4TO, GL. KONG. SAML., COPENHAGEN. 
EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION, AND A 
GLOSSARY OF THE PROPER NAMES AND THE 
OBSOLETE WORDS AND FORMS. 

The MS. from -which the following extracts are taken is 
a beautiful vellum codex, substantially bound in dark red 
stamped morocco leather, with plain brass clasps, numbered 
1586, 4to, Gl. Kong. Saml. (Old Royal Collection). It was 
written in 1488, at Manager Cloister, near Aarhus in Jutland, 
by a monk residing there named Niels Morgensen, by order of 
the Prioress, Elizabeth Herman's daughter, as we are informed 
at the end of each part. It is the only text known. It con- 
tains, in addition to the portions now published, which form 
the second and fourth parts respectively, (I) A letter from St. 
Eusebius to Domacius, Bishop of Portuci, and Theodosius, a 
Roman Senator, announcing the death of St. Jerome, (III) 
Cyril's reply to St. Augustine's- letter, and (V) A Life of St. 
Katharine of Siena, which last comprises almost a third of 

381 



382 D. K. DODGE. 

the whole. The MS. contains 153J folios, or 307 pages, dis- 
tributed as follows : 

I. fol. 1-46 b. 93 chapters. 

II. " 47 a-56 a and 6 lines on fol. 56 b. 20 chapters. 

III. " 56 b-101 a. 58 chapters. 

IV. 101b-106b. 6 chapters. 

V. " 107 a-154 a. 46 chapters. The last page is un- 
numbered. 

The codex was first carefully described by John Erichsen 
in his View of the old MS. collection in the great Royal Library, 1 
where it is characterized as " an exceedingly remarkable book 
for the study of the Danish Language . . . ., especially when 
attention is paid to the Latin originals, from which these trans- 
lations were made, in order tq be the more certain of the real 
meaning of the Danish words " (p. 23). The next important 
reference occurs in the preface to Chr. Molbech's edition of 
the oldest Danish translation of the Bible, 2 where our transla- 
tion is given the palm for the purity of its language and the 
knowledge of Latin displayed by its writer. In the preface 
to the second edition of his Danish Dictionary, Molbech again 
refers to the language of the MS. and gives a very brief extract 
from the Life of Jerome, as far as I have been able to discover, 
the earliest printed extract. There is also a reference to the 
codex in N. M. Petersen's History of Danish Literature, 3 in 
which the Life of Jerome is not mentioned, and in P. Hansen's * 
popular work on the same subject, where a short extract from 
the Life of St. Katharine is given, without any attempt at dip- 
lomatic accuracy. The best testimony, however, to the value 

1 Udsigt over den Gamle Manuscript Sanding i del store Kongdige Bibliothek. 
Af John Erichsen. Kj0benhavn, 1786. 

*Den addste danske Eibel Overscettelse. Udg. af C. Molbech. Kj0benhavn, 
1828. 

3 Dansk Literatur Historie. Af N. M. Petersen. 2 den Udg. Copenhagen, 
1878. Vol. I, p. 78. 

^Illustreret dansk Literatur Historie. Af P. Hansen. Copenhagen, 1889. 



MS. 1586, 4TO, GL. KONG. SAML. 

of the MS. to students of the Danish language, is contained in 
the many references to it occurring in Molbech's Glossarium, 
the glossary to his edition of the Bible, referred to above, Den 
Danske Riimkr0nike, and Henrik Harpestreng's Danske Lcege- 
bog, and in Kalkar's Dictionary* now in course of publication. 
Although Molbech's references often lack the accuracy of tran- 
scription so especially important in the case of an unpublished 
unique MS., as has been pointed out, Mod. Lang. Notes, iv, 5, 
they show a laborious study of original sources that reflects 
credit on the editor's skill and thoroughness as a lexicographer. 
In his invaluable Old Danish Reader, 2 the late Rev. Dr. C. 
J. Brandt devoted twelve and a half pages to extracts from the 
different parts of our codex, to which is prefixed a very brief 
account of its contents. In accordance with the general plan 
of the work, these extracts, dating from a period later than the 
middle of the fifteenth century, are printed without reference 
to the abbreviations occurring in the MS. and with a partially 
normalized spelling, especially in the case of u, v, w and the 
frequent arbitrary doubling of consonants. The variations 
given by me do not include these intentional differences of read- 
ing, but merely such differences as seem to have arisen from 
carelessness either of transcription or proof-reading, from which 
the most careful work is never entirely free. Brandt's selec- 
tions, which, for no apparent reason, do not follow the order of 
the original, consist of chap. 1 complete of Cyril's Letter, the 
first three chapters of Augustint's Letter, the third being given 
incompletely, portions of chaps. 80-87 inclusive of Eusebius' 
Letter and the first three chapters of the Life of Jerome; of 
the Life of St. Katharine, the latter half of chap. 10 and the 
whole of chaps. 17 and 38. These details are given here as 
the omissions are not indicated in the Reader, and no hint of 
them is afforded by the context. 

I 0rdbog til del cddre danske.sprog (1300-1700). Af Otto Kalkar. Copen- 
hagen, 1881. 

*Gammddansk Lcesebog. En Handbag i vor celdre LUeratur pa Modersmalet. 
Af C. J. Brandt. Kj0benhavn, 1857. 



384 D. K. DODGE. 

In the preface to his Danish Cloister Reading, 1 Brandt refers 
again to the Mariager MS., expressing the hope that " if time 
and circumstances permit me to execute the plan, this collection 
shall include what remains of religious literature from cloister 
times in Denmark that has not yet been published." In the 
list of such works given by him our codex was included. 
Unfortunately Brandt was prevented from carrying out this 
admirable plan, and now that the final preventer Death has 
interfered, a small portion of the labor may with perfect pro- 
priety be undertaken by a less practised hand. As it is my 
intention at some future time to publish the whole MS., I shall 
content myself for the present with a very brief introduction, 
giving merely such facts as are of special importance. The 
question of the Latin influence, for example, is left almost 
entirely untouched. In his review of Molbech's edition of the 
Bible translation, Rask complains of the insufficiency of the 
editor's introduction in this very particular. It seems to me 
best to defer the consideration of this aspect of our MS. until 
it can be made to include the whole, and then to compare it 
with the Latin element in the translation of the Bible. The 
same applies to the glossary, which in the present attempt is 
limited to such words as no longer occur in modern Danish or 
have vitally changed their form or meaning. 

A word with regard to the Scandinavian cloisters of the 
fifteenth century may not be out of place before considering 
the peculiarities of the MS. This is the more desirable as the 
influence of the monks upon the Danish language was very 
considerable during this period. The principal order of monks 
and nuns was that of St. Bridget, or Birgitte, its first cloister 
being founded in Vadstena, or Wadstena, in Sweden in 1368, 
and containing a residence for both monks and nuns. From 
Vadstena missionaries were sent out over Europe, and founded 
sister convents, the largest ones in Denmark being Maribo, 
founded in 1417, Mariager, prpbably between 1400 and 1420, 

l Dansk Klosterlcesning fra Middelalderen. Udg. af C. J. Brandt. Kj0ben- 
havn, 1865. 



MS. 1586, 4TO, GL. KONG. 8AML. 

and Martsted or Sseby Cloister, concerning the connection of 
the latter of which with the Swedish order there is some doubt. 
At about the same time several settlements were made in Nor- 
way, the retreat at Bergen being changed from a Benedictine 
order to one of St. Bridget. 

As a consequence of the intimate religious connection exist- 
ing between these three Northern peoples, a new Scandinavian 
dialect, the so-called lingua Brigittina, or Birgittinersproget, 
arose, the chief element of which was Swedish, with an inter- 
mixture of Danish and Norwegian, varying in degree according 
to the country in which it was used. As to the lasting influence 
of this bastard Scandinavian tongue upon the Danish language, 
I am inclined to believe that it was very slight, if its effects can 
be traced at all in the later stages. Some specimens of the 
lingua Brigittina are given by Brandt in his Reader, of which 
the first, the regulations of the Vadstena Cloister, p. 93, may 
be taken as a good example. Reference to the cloister itself 
may be found in N. M. Petersen's Dansk Literatur Historic, 
2nd ed., vol. I, p. 83. 

Although copied at least, if not actually translated, in the 
Birgittiner Cloister of Manager, by one of its brothers, our 
codex may be regarded as one of the purest specimens of Dan- 
ish preserved from the fifteenth century. The chief foreign 
influence to be observed in it is from the Latin original, while 
the Swedish element is very slight. This latter is undoubtedly 
due partly to the comparative lateness of its production, partly 
to the circumstance of its having been written by a Dane, as 
the name implies, for Danes, and without the influence of a 
Swedish original. 

The handwriting of the Manager Codex is round and legible. 
The initial capitals in the headings of chapters are elaborately 
formed and tastefully decorated in red and blue, and occupy 
five lines. Red ink is freely used throughout the text, both in 
the Latin headings and endings, in the crossing of capital letters 
and for simple purposes of ornament. The frequent red dots 
sprinkled over the pages seem to serve no practical purpose of 



386 D. K. DODGE. 

punctuation, but are employed merely for the same ornamental 
purpose. Corrections and erasures occur very seldom, although 
there is one long marginal insertion on the first page, written 
in an inferior hand and with a darker ink, and several others 
occur in the Life of St. Katharine. 

The use of capitals is quite arbitrary as regards proper names, 
the same name often occurring on the same page both with a 
large and small initial. One exception, however, is Christus, 
which is in every case but one written with a capital, whereas 
gudh ( Gud = God) is found quite as frequently with the one 
as with the other. The first word of every sentence begins 
consistently with a capital, in spite of the absence of punctua- 
tion marks, and frequently relative clauses, too. As a rule the 
capital letters are distinguished by a red line drawn through 
them, but this does not apply in all cases. It is occasionally 
difficult to determine whether the o be a capital or a small 
letter, especially when occurring in the conjunction oc. In 
doubtful cases I have been guided by the construction and the 
general tendency of the orthography. No cases were noticed 
of a common noun, occurring in the body of a sentence, written 
with an initial capital, as one would naturally expect from the 
great confusion in the spelling of proper names. 

The abbreviations are for the most part simple and easy to 
expand, rarely including more than two letters. The only 
longer abbreviations in the two parts published here are 
Christo, Jhesus, Jherusalem and Sanctus. The commonest 
abbreviations are those of er and re y which are formed some- 
what like a German d, the line being curved down to distin- 
guish re; n and m are both indicated by a curve over the 
preceding letter, is by a sign resembling j, ro by an o above the 
line, et and eth by a sign resembling z. Final s is furthermore 
distinguished from initial and medial s, by a sign resembling 
a capital B, slanted to the left. The occurrence of abbrevia- 
tions is quite as arbitrary as the use of capitals with proper 
names ; the same word often occurring in the same line both 
with and without indicated letters. Hannum, however, the 



MS. 1586, 4TO, GL. KONG. SAML. 387 

dative of the third personal pronoun masculine, occurs almost 
invariably in an abbreviated form, and er and re are seldom 
found written out in full. Some pages of the MS., further- 
more, show a freer use of abbreviations than others, without, 
however, any apparent reason. 

With regard to the orthography of the MS., little can be 
said except that it is no worse than that of other MSS. from 
the same and from even a still later period. Indeed, the early 
editions of Holberg's comedies are by no means models of 
spelling. As Lyngby 1 has pointed out, this orthographical 
confusion in Danish of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries 
is due to several causes, the most important being undoubtedly 
the many phonetic changes by which the beginning of the 
period is distinguished. This is especially true of the letters 
t and d. The piling up of consonants, however, numerous 
instances of which occur in this text, is to be explained solely 
by the bad taste of the scribes. 

Beginning with the vowels, ee, e and ce are often written 
interchangeably, though it should be noted that ee and ce sel- 
dom represent the open sound. Examples of confusion are er 
and cer, cerce and cere: (the plural of the verb, the noun being 
generally written cerce), ce is sometimes doubled, as in hcecer, 
the first word of Augustine' 's Letter. I and j are written inter- 
changeably for the vowel sound, which is also expressed by y 
(thy= ihi), probably through the influence of German, in which 
the Danish sound of y would not be recognized as differing from 
that of i. V is generally written for initial u and w frequently 
for medial and final, as in vthl, grwwethe, nw. 

The chief confusion in the writing of the consonants lies, as 
has been said before, in the occurrence of t and th, the latter 
being written for t, as in enesthe, skalth, sthced, etc. So, too, 
dh for d, as in gudh. Och is perhaps due to Swedish influence. 
As examples of the piling up of consonants may be noted : 
loffwetz, ojfwer, f0rredagss, giffwer. 



og svensk litteralur off sprog i anden halvdel of del 14de og i del 15de 
arhundred. Af K. J. Lyngby, Cop., 1863. 



388 D. K. DODGE. 

The phonetic differences between modern Danish and the 
language of our MS. as regards the vowel system are very 
slight indeed and hardly deserve mention. In all Danish writ- 
ings displaying a strong Swedish influence, and the majority of 
these are composed in the lingua Birgittina, the more primitive 
Swedish vowel system asserts itself, especially in the use of a 
for the weaker e, but of this few traces have been noted in our 
codex. Notice, however, anthen for enten. 

The principal consonant differences are those that character- 
ize Old Danish, k, t, p final, instead of Modern Danish g, d, b. 
In fact, the transition from the one period to the other is most 
conveniently marked by this phonetic change. As examples 
we may take mik, met, 10pp. Och, also found in the form oc, 
may be due to Swedish influence, as noted above, although it 
is more probable that it is merely a careless variation of the 
copyist. Examples of initial t<^d may also be found, as tok < 
dog, tik <dig. Tok, according to Lyngby, is changed from 
Old Norse ]>6, through Low German influence. 

The obsolete forms occurring in the MS. will be found in 
the glossary and their consideration need not detain us here, 
especially as they present no peculiarities. 

As has been said before, the consideration of the Latin ele- 
ment will be postponed until it can be made to include the 
whole MS. St. Augustine's Letter can be found in Vol. 33 of 
Patrologice Cursus completus, Latin series, column 1120 of the 
appendix. The Heading of the letter is slightly changed in 
the Danish version and the first four lines of the introduction 
are omitted. Throughout the translation there are minor 
omissions and some few additions. The division into chapters 
is not observed in the Latin original of this letter, while it is 
in Cyril's reply. 

Although no statement is made of the fact in any of the 
references to this MS., the Life of Jerome is a fairly close trans- 
lation of his life contained in Jacob de Voragine's Legenda 
Aurea de Vitis Sanctorum. This collection was probably trans- 
lated in full somewhat earlier and by a different hand. Only 



MS. 1586, 4TO, GL. KONG. SAML. 



389 



two fragments of this work, portions of the lives of St. Cecilia 
and St. Clemens, are preserved. These are reproduced in 
Brandt's Reader, pp. 202-207. The style is decidedly inferior 
to that of the translation of 1488, being of about the same 
quality as that of the Bible translation. 

The division into chapters and the short Latin introduction 
and conclusion of the Life of Jerome seem to be original with 
the Danish translator, while a portion of the beginning of the 
Latin story is omitted. The majority of the variations are 
due to the unfamiliarity of Danish readers with the objects 
described. Under this head fall among others the following : 
"in arte"="I then boglig konst som kalles," fol. 101 b; "som 
warse hedhenske msestherae," 101 b, is inserted by the translator 
after "Cicero oc Tullius;" "summus sacerdotis"="thet hel- 
gestse biskopsdom oc prestedom som ser paffwedommeth," 102 
a; "heremus"="0tken eller skoff," 102 b; "scorpiones"= 
"the ormse som kalles scorpiones," 103 a. As in the Danish 
translation of Mandeville's Travels (1459) and many other Old 
Danish works, Ethiopieus is rendered by blaman, blaa being 
employed in Icelandic and Early Swedish in the sense of 
' black.' In Henrik Harpestreng the name " Blamannae land," 
" Ethiopia " occurs. This use continues in Danish at least as 
late as the middle of the seventeenth century. "Potus" is 
rendered by " 011," 102 b, by a method of specializing quite 
natural doubtless to a Danish monk of the fifteenth century. 

A word in conclusion with regard to the rendering of the 
text. All abbreviations are written out, the omitted letters 
being indicated by italics. The arbitrary spelling and capi- 
talization of the MS. have in every instance been preserved 
and the absence of punctuation marks has also been left 
unchanged. In the glossary, the first occurrence only of each 
obsolete word or form is given, unless marked variations are 
noted. In some cases it has been found desirable to give the 
modern Danish form or equivalent and occasionally the Latin 
original. In addition to this glossary, there is a list of the 
names of persons and places, all foreign, occurring in the text, 



390 D. K. DODGE. 

in all their various forms, grammatical and orthographical. 
They have in every case the Latin endings and the same is true 
of some few common nouns such as disdpulas, epistolam, etc. 

The brief Latin postscript by the translator to each letter 
was omitted by accident in the copy of the MS. made in 
Copenhagen and cannot therefore be given here. It simply 
states the date of the MS., and the name of its copyist and of 
the Prioress. 

The footnotes to the MS. give the variations occurring in 
Brandt's transcriptions, contained in his Old Danish Reader. 
In the glossary, the letters K. and M. refer respectively to 
Kalkar's Ordbog and Molbech's Glossarium. 

_, . 7 Haaaar beghynnes sancti Augustini Biskops saandhebreff till 

sanctum Cyrillum biskopp i jheritsalewi aff sancto Jeronimo 
Thet f0rsthe Capitell Hedherligh fadher Cyrille Thu skalth 1 ey waanthe mik 
at thyse 8 Oc ey skalth thu wsenthe mik at thale met barnethunghaa stham- 
mendhe eller som then man iher smitthet aar i syne 3 lippe Jeronimi loff som 
er aarefuldhesthe cn'ste?ithroes 4 kasmpaa oc then helgesthe kirkes war modh- 
ers h0rnesteen I hwicken hwn war stadfaasth mangelundhe Nw sanneligh 
er then samse stheen een skinnendhe stisernse i hemelriges seres Hymblense 5 
fraamthale gutz sere oc the gaarninghe som gudh giorthe i hans helghe maan 
loflfwe hannum Skall skaellighe creaturaa thiaa gutz loff maan vskaallighe 
creaturaa thiaa icke Skall iek thiaa eller thalaa Om iek thier tha bywdes 
stenenaa at ropaa Jek skall thalaa oc ey thiiaa oc iek skall loffwe then aarlighe 
Jeronimum Oc aan thogh at iek er een owaerdugh oc een vfulkommeligh 
loffwerman Oc ey er loffwen fagher i syndughe mantz mwndh Thogh skall 
iek ey allighewaall afflathe hans loff Thy skall war handh stadeligh skn'ffwe 
oc war thunghe skall ey tilhaanghe gwmmen Thy han er heligh alzhelgesth 
man Vndherligh oc fryckthendhe alle them som omkringh oss aaraa Han er 
sthcer oc megtugh i thet helgesthe loffwetz offwerghaangeligsth helighet Han 
er sthoar i vsigeligh wisdoms dywpheth Oc er nw megtugh i 
Fol. 47 b. sthorraa aarens sthorheth Han er och || vndherligh i vh0rdhe 
iaarteghne Han er raadenthes for then mackth hannum er 
befaleth aff hcrren Thet andhe< Ca Hvraa sthcer then aarefuldh Jeroni- 
mits er i syn offwergaangaalisth helighet Hwraa kan myn thwnghe kung0re 
the< maan noghet naar alle menneskes thwnghe orke ey thei at the kunne 
vththrycke 6 hans waardughet Ha?inum s0mmes waall at kalles then andhen 
samuel oc thera andhen Johannes baptista i offwergaangelisth lefihetz helighet 
Heliae oc iohannes heremite thwingdhe 7 theris leghommaa met sthcer hwashet 

l skalt. *thi(E. 3 sine. * two separate words. 

6 Hemblerue. 6 uthtrycke. 7 twingdhe. 



MS. 1586, 4TO, GL. KONG. SAMI,. 391 

j 1 madh oc klaedher Then serefuldh Jeronimua war ey myndrae leffhetz here- 
mitae Thy ban sthcedh i otken iiij aar Och war enesthe vskellighe dywrs 
stalbrodher J XL aar drack ban ey wiin eller nogher dryck iher man kan 
wordhe drwcken aff swa s som then hedherligsthe Eusebii breff som iek fik 
f0rredagss fullelighere oc bethrae vtwisaer Oc som thu selff wedsth bether thet 
samae Aff all k0thmadh oc fisk hiolth han sik swa aff at han willae naep- 
peligh nseffhaj them Oc ey aath han noghet sadhet vthen thwaennesynnae i 
syn ythersthae sywgdom Han thwingthe sith leghorn som blaamantz koth 
i een harsaeck oc ther offwen offwerskywffithe 3 han sik met eth slymmesthe 
klaedhae Aldrigh haffde han noghen andhen ssengh asn jordhen Ey aath 
han vthen een thiidh om daghen Aff fruckth eller aff yrthebladhe eller 
aff r0ddher Effther afflhensangh gaff han sik till b0nae ther effther wag- 

het han till then andhen thymae paa natthen* Ther efflher 
Fol. 48 a. thraeth || oc m0dh aff s0ffwen soff han till myrmath Och i then 

thymae sthredh han vpp oc dwaelthes swa alth till hans maal- 
thiidhes thymae j laesningh J 5 helgesthe laerdhom oc skn'fflh aff hwicke all 
the/i heligh kirkae skin swa som aff dyrsefuldhe lamper Swa begraeaeth han 
laethesthe syndher the< noghen matthe taenckae hannum at haffwe draepet 
nogher man Thet iii Capitell Thryswer om daghen hwdstr0gh han sith 
leghorn me< grwmme slagh swa at aff hans leghorn vtfl0the blotzstraemae 
Oc naar han h0rdhe nogher fafaengh 6 ordh tha flydthe han them swa 
som st0rsthe sooth 7 Hannum 8 warenghen liisae eller 9 orcke!0shet Allethii- 
dhen 0ffweth han sik anthin i helghe laesninghe eller sk?-eff han eller oc 
laerdhe Hwat skall iek merae sighe Ware the< swa at iek rantsagethe helghe 
maentz oc hwaer saerdelis leffheth tha pafynner iek enghen sth0rrer eller meg- 
tugher aen hannum the< iek waenther Thy maedhen jek kallethe hannum till 
forn at waere samuelem Tha will iek bewisae hannum at waere samuelem 
Sanneligh han er then samuel som worth kalleth met slagh aff the fafaen- 
gelighe bogeligh konsthes 0ffwekae oc studeren oc bleff skicketh till then 
heligh skriffthes vndherligh bethaegnelsae i hwes aenlethes lywss aff gudeligh 
nadhes jndflydelsae tha see wii begghy testamentz lywss J hwes armz staerck- 

het then st0rsthe deell aff kaettherenae aer atsparith The< fiaerdhe 
Fol. 48 b. capitel Han omwaendhe begghy testamenthet aff ebra= || iskse 

thwnghe oc paa greske oc paa latinae oc skickethe them the 
som kommae efflher hannum till ewigthiidh oc forklarethe theris forthaeck- 
ninghm0rcken thwiwell oc kundhagtughet Han skickethe oc alle thera heligt 
kirkens thienerae the helghe vii dags thiidhers aembeth oc skickelsae Han 
moxen vpbygdhe all then heligh kirkae Ther aff er han megtugh i vsigeligh 
wiisdoms grwndughet Swa fulkommeligh kunne han alle boglighe konsther 
at enghen sywffnes hans lighae aen nw Aff then heligh skriffth wisthe iek 
aldrj'gh oc ey fornam nogher hans lighae som iek haffwer fulftommeligh 
befunneth i manghe hans saendebreffwes r0velsae som han saendhe till mik 

1 i. 'swo. 3 written in two words. 4 naetten. 5 t. 

*fofcfnqh. ''soeth. 6 Hanum. 9 alter, evidently a misprint. 



392 D. K. DODGE. 

Ebraiskae oc greskae Caldeoris psaris Medoris oc arabitoris oc noghet naer 
alle thwnghe oc b0ggher kunne ban swa som ban haiFde wsereth f0dh oc 
vpfosthreth i them Hwat skall iek merae sighe The thingh som jeronimus 
wisthe icke i naturen them wisthe ey nogher man i nogher thymae Hedher- 
ligsthe fadher ey skalth thu waenthe mik ihetle at sighae Swa at iek thaencker 
tik at withe aldeles enckthei aff bans leffneth oc dygdher msen thu wasth 
bans stalbrodher i langh thiidh Jek kraeffwer gudh till witnae At om iek 
wilde thiise swa vsigeligh mantz heligheth tha gither iek ey Hans vndher- 
ligse gaerninghe bekaendhe hymblenae i bwicke ban boer som megtugh er i 

sth0rre aeres sthorheth framfor manghe helghe maen Ther skall 
Fol. 49 a. enghen thwiffle paa The* ban ey fik eth aff the || sthaerrae oc 

h0ffrae saedhe jnnen gutz fadhers bolighe oc heem Efftherthy 
at hwaer man tagher ther 10n effther synae gserninghe Oc ban war jw fulkom- 
meligh i sith leflhei Tha sywffhes the< klarlighe at ban. er een aff the sth0rrae 
och h0ffrae then hemelske iherusalems borgherae Thy at ban throes fulleligh 
aff oss oc wisseligh at waerae then megtugher i waerdhen for alle som warth 
aldher mynnes Han bewises meghei vndherligh i owanelighe vndher oc osen- 
deligh isertegnae som then hedherligh Eusebiws forklareth mik nogher ther 
aff i synae breffwe Aff the andhre vndher som ther wordher daglighe oc som 
iek jdhelik fangher at freghnae aff manghe maenneskes saffheth oc tbalae oc 
iek gireligh atstwnder at horse bedher iek tik selff kaeresthe fadher At thu 
wille sammensaetthe i een lithen bogh alle sannae jaertbegnae oc nyttughe ther 
aff oc saendhe mik them for samae sancti jeromini gudelighet the< snaresthe 
thu kantb thet gorae The/ V Capitell Ath sancti Jeromini waerdskyldhae ey 
skulle ey dylies Tha will iek sighe hwat som met mik gutz mildhet giordhe 
paa bans d0tz dagh oc i then samse thymae som helgesthe jeronimws foer vth 
aff k0tsens oraenlighetz kapae oc jndfordhe sik ewyndeligh vd0delighetz oc 
vmaetheligh gledis klaedher Ther iek war i yponae i myn cellae oc hwilthes 
tha thsenckthe iek girlighe Hwredan aeres oc gledis sthorhet aer i helghe 

sieelae som gledis met Christo oc iek atthraddhe at g0re ther 
Fol. 49 b. aff een || lithell bogh for hedherligh seneri b0nae som fordom 

war sancti martini discipell som biskop war j thuronia Oc 
togh iek swa paen oc papiir oc wille skrtffwe een epistolam oc saendebreff till 
sanctum jeronimum At ban skulle lathe mik fanghe at withae hwat som 
hannum syntis ther om Thy at iek wisthe the< at iek ey kunne sanneligher 
laeres aff nogher leffwendhe man aen aff hannum j swa wanskelighe sp0rs- 
maall Thet vi. ca Ther iek skreff helsen i epistolens begynnelsae oc skulle 
skriffwe jeronimum tha kom snarlighse jndh i cellen som iek war vthi with 
nathsangs thymae eth vsigeligth Iwys som ey syntis f0rrae i war thiidh oc ey 
kan war thunghe fulleligh ihet kwngorae met vsigeligh oc vh0religh god- 
lucth Ther iek saw thet tha worthe iek aldelis vndrendhe oc m0sthe myn 
huffss oc alle mynae ly>nmerres dygdhe Jiek wisthe ey tha at gutz vndher- 
ligh h0ghre handh haffdhe vph0ghe< syn swaen oc kwngiorthe hans dygdhae 
blanth falketh Jiek wisthe oc icke at gudh haffde skilth syn throo thiener 
with k0tsens oraenlighet oc haffde reth hannum swa h0ffth saethae j hemelen 
Jek wisthe ey the oransagelighe herrens weyae Jek wisthe ey oaendelighe gutz 



MS. 1586, 4TO, GL. KONG. SAML. 



393 



wiisdoms oc wittughetz ligghendefaeae Oc ey wisthe iek the 10nligae gutz 
dommae Thy at them som han will lather ham kommae till sins wedherkaen- 
nelsffi aff syn vsigeligh wiisdom Oc forthy at mynae oghne aldn'gh sawe 
thelikth lyws oc myn naesae hafide ey kaenth theligh luckth thy vndrethe 
iek aff swa nyth oc vh0rligth vndher Mynae thancke toghe 
Fol. 50 a. till at buldhrae i mik hwat || thet skulle warae Thet vn. Capitell 
Aen r0sth hordhes tha aff lywseth oc saffdhe Augustine Augus- 
tine hwat atsp0r thu waenther thu tik at kunnse 0sae alth haffwe< i eth lidhet 
kar oc 10cke all waerdhens jordh i een lidhen n0sswae oc spaeghe hemelen at 
han skall ey ganghe syn wanlighe gangh Skall thit 0ghe see som enghen 
maenneskes 0ghe matthe see Skall thit 0rae h0rae the< som enghen 0re h0rdhae 
Oc the thingh som maenneskes hiaerthe ey forstodh oc ey thaenckthe Thu 
thaencker at thu kanth vndherstandhe hwat aendhse som aer paa oaendeligh 
thingh Hwre kant thu madhae the thingh som vmaedeligh aerae Snarer lyckes 
alth haffwith j eth thraengesthkar Snarer kan een lithel naeffwe holdhe all 
waerdhens jordh oc snarer oc heller skall hemelen afflathae at r0res jdelighe 
aen thu kanth vndherstandhe then myndhrse deell aff the gledhae oc aerae 
som helighe sieelae nythae oc haffwe forvthen aendhae vthen thu fangher them 
at r0nae swa som iek Thu skalth ey arbeydhe at gorae vm0gelighe thingh 
Maen thu skalth aen 10pae een lithell thymae swa laenghae the< thit liifis lopp 
er fulkommeth Haeser skalt thu icke s0ghe aeffther the thingh som ey kunnae 
andherstetz fynnes vthen thaer hwarth iek skyndher mik nw salighe till at 
ganghe Haeaer skalt thu atthra at gorae thelighe gaerningaa at thu math 
haffwe aldeles thaer the thingh ewyndeligh Hwicke thu astwndher at vnd- 
herstandhe haer nogherlwndis Hwo som ther gangher jndh han 
Fol. 50 b. skall || engeledi's ganghe ther vth Thet vm. Capit. Alth ther 
till war iek swa raedughe och haemsk oc swa goth som noghe 
naeaer aff sindhe aff swa vsigeligth vndher oc moxen m0sthe iek all myn 
st0rcke Tha togh iek noghen dristughet aff thesse ordh oc saffde met skaelff- 
wendhe r0sth Gudh gaffwe at the< war mik lofflikth at withe hwo thu aest 
som swa saligh oc aerefuldh aest Oc skyndher tik swa hedherlighe till thesse 
gledhae oc swa s0the waelthale thaler till mik Tha swarethe han Thu atspior 
ruith naffn Jek er jeronimi sieell som war praesth ther som thu begynner at 
skriffwe ihet breff till Oc nw i thenne thymae afflagdhe iek kotzsens byrdhe i 
bethleem jude Oc christus oc alth hemelrigta herskapp f01gher mik oc iek er 
prydh met all fagherhet oc forly wseth aff alth skin Oc if0rdh i vd0delighetz 
forgylletha? klaedher oc er iek omklaedh met alle gledhae oc godhe thingh oc 
wandh seygher aff alle waertzlighe thingh Oc er iek kroneth me< koninglighe 
kronae aff guldh oc dyrae sthenae oc er omlagdh met all saligheth oc helighet 
oc gangher nw swa serefulleligh oc saleligh till hemelrigts gledhae som ware 
skulle vthen aendhe Oc skall iek her effther waenthe enghen glaedhes wanskels 
maen 0gels Oc skall iek ighens0ghes till legommeth paa then almaennelighe 
k0tzsens vppstandelsae dagh Hwicketh leghorn ther skall tha aerefuldh 
g0res oc skall ey d00 merae Maen then sere som iek haffwer 
Fol. 51 a. nw enestae || skall iek tha haffwe till sammen me< leghommeth 
Thei ix ca Tha fik iek merae st0rckels till myn sieell oc for 



394 D. K. DODGE. 

gledhe ey afflodh iek at grsethe oc swarethe hannum swa Gudh gaffwe at iek 
matthe wserdugis at wsere thyn thienerse som swa serligh er i blanth andhre 
Msen iek bether tik at thu stadeligh haffwer mik thyn swsen i thyn amyndels 
sen togh at iek er alderslymmesthe hwicken thu selskethe i wserdhen met 
meghe< skserlighe< at iek maa r0nses aff syndhen met thynse bonse oc ganghe 
i rseth weygh for thyn beskermelsse oc the< iek maa frselses jdeligh aff mynse 
owsenner oc komme till salighetz haffh met thyn heligh ledhelsse Gudh gaffwe 
the< thsecketis thyn wilise at swarse mik till nogher sporsmaall Han swarethe 
Hwat som thu wilth tha sp0r iek will swarse tik met all wilise Augustinus 
saffde Jek wille withse Om helghse sielse kunne wille nogher thingh som the 
icke kunnse fanghe Sancti Jeronimi sieell swarethe Eth skalt thu withe 
augustine at helghe sielse sere swa stadfsesthe i gudh i then ewyndeligh sere 
at i them er enghen andhen wilise sen gutz Thy the kunne enckthei andhe< 
wilise sen the? gudh will thy maa the fanghe hwat the willae Oc forthy hwat 
som helsth the wille thet will gudh oc fulkommer Sarmeligh enghen aff oss 
swighes aff synae begheringhe thy at nogher aff oss 0nsker ey noghe< vthen 

gudh Thy haffwe wii gudh alle thidhse swa som wi willae Oc 
Fol. 51 b. ware atthraelsse alle thidhse fulkommes The< x Capitell. || 

Kseresthe fadher Cyrille Thei wsere mik forlanghe ordh om 
alle the stycke skulle scn'ffwes i thenne epistola som then heligh sieell kun- 
giorthe mik ther iek atspurdhse Thy at iek hopes thet iek skall komme till 
bethleem ey effther manghe aar met gutz helpp at s0ghe swa sthore helghe- 
dom hware thu skalt klarlighe then thiidh see the thingh iek haffwer h0rth 
oc skreffweth om hannum Oc swa bleff then serefuldh sieell hosss mik j flerse 
thymse j myn cellse Oc kuwgiorthe mik then helgeste threfaldughetz eenlighet 
oc eenliglighetzsens threfaldughet Oc s0nsens f0dhelsse aff fadheren Octhen 
helighantz fra?ighangels aff fadheren oc s0nnen Oc senglense jerarthias oc 
skickelsse oc there thienesthe Oc ther till helghe sieles salighet oc andhre 
nyttelighe thingh som swarse sere menneske at vndherstandhse Hwre sub- 
tilighe oc hwrse klarlighe oc hwre vndherligse ban kungiorthe mik them 
Swa at thalethe iek me< alle msenneske thwnghe tha kunne iek ey vtthr0cke 
thesse thingh Oc ther effther forswandh the< ly ws aff myne 0ghne Msen ther 
effther i manghe daghe ighen bleff then godhe luckthes s0thet O hwre 
vndherligh ban er Thy at ban g0r swa manghe iserthegnse oc swa manghe 
oc sthorse nymsere vndherligh oc owanelighe for msenneske Thy skulle wii 
alle ropse till hannum oc gledhe oc fr0gdhe oss oc giffwe bans loff hedher oc 

sere Thy at han er wserdugh all loff oc ey sere wii fulkommelighe 
Fol. 52 a. oc fullurthne till at loffwe hannum Thy at || han jndgik j her- 

rens hwss hwiidh skinnendhe och alzfeghersth Hware som 
han fik serens ssedhe j the 0ffwermerse oc klarerse wserdughetse Hwicket iek 
fornam sen ighen aff flerse withne sen aff een Paa thet at sandhetz ly ws skall 
klarligherse oppenbares Tha thedhes oc sywffnthes then fornseffndhe hedher- 
ligh man senero som skinnendhes er i Iserdhom oc wiisdom met thre andhre 
msen i thuronse stadh pa then dagh oc thymse som sanctws Jeronimits bleff 
d0dh then samse sywffn ther iek saw Oc ther om bar han selffwer mik 



MS. 1586, 4TO, GL. KONG. SAML. 395 

enesthe withnae ther ban kom till mik Thet xi. Capitell I swa madhe wilde 
gudh At sancti Jeronimi h0ffwe serae skulle ey skywffles for wserdhen At 
the som, 10sthes at efftherf01ghe bans helighetz fodspor skulle withae at han 
haffuer offwergaengeligh sere Oc at andhre som see swa manghe oc swa storae 
10n giffwes hannum skulle tilfaestes bans helighetz oc dygdhers fodspor Thy 
at 10nens hopp mynsker arbeythetz byrdhae Then same dagh oc stwndh som 
then serefuldh Je?'onimws dodhe swa salighe tha thedhes han for senero oc 
iii andhre met hannum i syn sthorae sere hwicke iii maen ware meth senero 
then thiidh i bans hws Senerus met the cn'stne maen ii aff them warae 
mwncke fordhom aff sancti martini closther Som the stodhe i gudeligh 
thalae h0rdhe the snarlighse i hemblenae J weddreth oc paa iordhen vtha- 

lighe r0sthe Oc swa alzs0testhe vsigelighae oc vh0rlighe orgaenae 
Fol. 52 b. oc tympaenae oc alle handhe seydhenspils lywdh || Swa at ther 

aff lywffntis hemelen oc iordhen och alle thingh lydhe hwaert- 
staetz Aff hwicken s0thet haffde theris sielae moxen ganghet aff theris leg- 
hommae Tha bleffwe the alle vndrendhe oc lyffthe theris 0ghne vpp till 
hemblenae Ther the sawe hemelen oc alle the thingh som haldes i hemelens 
omgangh finghe the at see eth lyws lywffsynne klarer aen solens lyws oc ther 
aff vtginghe alle serligesthe lucth Ther the sawe thesse vndherlighae thingh 
badhae the till gudh met theris b0nae at the< matthe thees them hwi thelighe 
thingh giorthes The* xn. Ca Tha kom een r0sth aff hemele?i oc saffde 
Enghen vndher skall r0rae ether oc ey skall the* wsere ether vndherlicth ath 
i horae oc see thelighe thingh Thy at Christus herrae som er koningh offuer 
alle koninghe oc haerrae offwer alle them som haerredom haffwe kom i dagh 
gantzse h0ffthideligh emoth aerefullesthe jeronimi sieell som war i bethleem 
jude oc gik i dagh aff thenne skalkeligh waerdhen At han skall jndledhe 
henne i sith righae swa meghe< h0ffthidelighe?- oc hedhei-ligherae for andhrae 
som hwn skin i wserdhen i h0ffwere och waerdugherae leffneth I dagh gledts 
alle aenglae ordhense oc stath oc meth s0testhe sangh sywngendhes f01ghe 
the theris herrae J dagh Alle patrtarchers oc propheters skarae J dagh 
alle gutz apostlenae oc disciplenae koor J dagh Alle helghe Martires oc alle 
confessores J dagh then aerefuldesth gutz modher met alle hennes helghe 

iomfrwerae J dagh Alle helghe sielae fr0gdeligh oc gledeligh 
Fol. 53 a. m0the || the theris landhman oc borgher Oc ther thesse ordh 

warae h0rdhae tha thigethe r0sthen Maen lywseth oc sanghen 
oc then godhe lucth bleffwe ighen i een thymae oc swa lothe the aff Kaere 
fadher i swa madhae er the< kwnnugth At han er een aff the h0ffrae oc 
sth0rrer oc megtugher hemelske borgher Oc ther aff er han vndherligh 
oc megtugh oc omwaell raedendhes moxen offwer alle helge maen for then 
mackth som hannum er giffwe< aff gudh The* xm. Ca ^Enghen thwiffwell 
skall ther waerae paa At hwat han will the< maa han swa fulf01ghe for 
andhrae swa som bans wilise tilhaengdhe gutz wiliae merae aen andhrae Enghen 
skall waenthe mik at wserse swa daerff eller haffwe swa sthoer dyaerffwelsae 
At iek sigher the* oc sainthycker At Jeronimus standher h0ffre i seren sen 
Johannes baptista Om hwicken Jhesus baer selffwer withnse at enghen stoeth 



396 D. K. DODGE. 

st0rrser vpp aen ban Heller sen petrus oc paulus oc andhrae aff the xn apostlse 
som ware vthwaldhe aff Christo och helgegiorthe Oc thogh maen swa er tlaet 
enghen sksell forbywdher ihet Tha dserffwes iek nogherlwYidi's at sighe at 
han fik ey myndhrae aere i hemelrighse sen een aff them Nw msen iek syndher 
enghen sksell hwy the< skall wasre vloffligth at sighe Jeronimum at wserse 
them lighse i aeren msen han war them lighse i leffnetz helighet Oc msen 
gudh er ey personerae annamerae Maen beskodher hwaers sserdeles wserd- 

skylleligae gserninghae oc giffwer hwser som han forskyldher 
Fol. 53 b. JEr the< oc swa || at nogher th0ckes the< Jeronimwa fik myndhre 

aere aen iohannes baptista eller apostlense Oc sk0dher han bans 
helighet oc bans skriffthes wserdhskyllelighet oc begghise testamentes om- 
wsendelsaes hardhe oc sannesthe thingh Oc ackther klarlighse hwat fructh 
i daghs tbidhes aembeth oc orden aer som han loeth effther sik ey enesthe 
nserffwserendhe msen oc them som tilkommendhse sere skall iek santh sighe oc 
withnse tha wsenther iek at then samae demer sanctum jeronimum ey at waere 
myndhre i aeren sen the sere The< xini. Capitell Nw at iek skall ey raeghnes 
at kasthe snarse paa nogher till at g0rse leegb oc skuff aft mik i the< at iek 
witherksenner oc sigher sanctum jeronimum at waere lighse johanni baptiste 
oc apostelense j hellighet oc serse Tha will iek eth sighe som iek saw i eth 
eywfm oc ey er sen mi daghe sidhen At sandhethen skall ey skywles oc ey 
at iek g0r the< for noghen leghomligh kaerlighet aff hwicken man pleygher 
meest at farae wildh aff sandhetz weygs kaennelsae eller oc aff huffsens vfornwf- 
tughet eller aff noghen andhen sagh Maen skall withe at iek thet ey fik ath 
vndherstandhe aff nogher msenneskae Msen with oppenbarelsae som gudh giff- 
wer msenneske thy at han er then som vpph0ffwer synse helghe msen och 
megtughg0r them J then fiserdhe nath nw naesth fraemfarendhe tha thsenck- 

the iek gyreligh oc atthralighae Hwat iek skulle skriffwe l ther 
Fol. 54 a. sanctws || Jeronimus kunne fanghe loff oc aere aff i eth stacketh 

saendebreff Thy at iek acktethe tha at skriffwe till tik then same 
epistolam Oc thaenckthae hwat materise iek matthe paafyndhe som h0ffweligh 
kunne wasre bans loff Ther midhiae nath kom fall paa mik s0fih Oc een 
alderst0rsthe aengleskarae war hoess mik J blanth them ware n msen meghef 
klarerer sen solen Oc warse swa lighae oc eensskapthae at enghen skulle eller 
kunne sywffnes atskilnels i them me< hwicken then enae kunne skiliaes fran 
then andhen Vthen at then enae bar in kroner paa sith hoffwefh aff guldh 
oc dyrre sthenae oc then andhen bar n Och the warae badhse klaeddhe i 
aldherskynnendhe klare oc hwithe collobiskae klaedher allestaetz waeffwethe 
met guldh oc dyrse sthenae oc warae swa meghe< faghrse ath enghen kan the< 
besynnse Oc swa ginghe the badhse sammen naer till mik oc stothe een lithen 
thymae thysthae Ther effther then som haffde the ill krantze thalethe till 
mik met thessae ordh The< xv. Capitell Avgustine Thu thaencker hwat loff 
thu skalt sighe aff jeronimo J sandhet thu haffwer laenghe ihet thaenckth oc 

1 Omitted in copying and inserted by the same hand. 



MS. 1586, 4TO, GL. KONG. SAML. 397 

thu wedsth thet ey aen Msen wii komme badhe her till tik at wii skulle thee 
tik hans aere Thenne myn stalbrodher som thu seer aer jeronimus Oc swa 
som ban war mik lighae i leflheth oc hellighet swa er ban mik oc lighae i 
aeren i alle madhae Thet iek maa thet formaa ban The< iek will ihet will ban 

oc swa som iek seer gudh swa seer oc ban oc kienner oc vndher- 
Fol. 54 b. standher Oc iherre \\ vthi aer war oc alle belgbe maentz helligbet 

och aerae Oc ey haffwer een heligh man merse eller my?idher aerae 
for then andhera Vthen swa meghei som ban myndhrae eller merae bespegler 
oc beskodher eller kaenner gutz skapels Then thrediae krantz som iek hafiwer 
merae aen ban thei er marthels kronae som iek aendhe mith liiff met Oc thy 
at ban tholdhe i waerdhen n0dh - arbeydh - syndhebetbringh - vselhet - 
pynae - hwgh - forsmaeelsae oc andhrse ganske hardhe thingh swa tholleligh 
oc swa gledeligh for gutz skyldh Oc gleddis i synae sywgedomae Thy er ban 
een sandh martir och m0sthe ey marthels 10n Maen forthy at han ey aendhel 
sith liiff met swaerdh tha haffwer han ey then kronae som giffwes till thelighe 
marthels thegn Och the n andhre krantze wii haffwe the gifiwes enesthe 
jomfrwerae oc kaennefaedhre at the skulle atskilies for andhrae Thet xvi Capi- 
tell Haer till swarrethe iek som mik sjntis Hwo aest thu myn herre Han 
swarethe Jek er Johannes baptista som nedherfoer till tik at iek skulle kun- 
gone tik jeronimi sere At thu skalth framdeles sighe falketh hans aerae Thy 
at thu skalth withe at then hether oc waerdughet som g0res nogher helghene 
oc hwaer saerdeles oc besyndherligh the g0res oc alle helghenae Oc ey skalt 
thu thsencke at i hemelrighae er noghtr awindh swa som i waerdhen Thy at 

swa som i wserdhen hwaer maenneskae will heller forwaere sen 
Fol. 55 a. waere vndhergiffwen Swa er icke i hemelrighae || for then vsige- 

ligh kaerlighet i hwicken helghe sielae selske them jndbyrdis 
Hwaer helgben gledt's swa aff een andhens aere swa som aff syn eghen Oc 
omwaell will hwaer then som sthorrse aer och hwaer then som myndher aer skulle 
waere hannum lighae oc aen moxen stharrse Thy at hans gledhe worthe syn 
gledhae Swa gledis then myndhne aflf then sth0rres aere swa som han haffde 
then samae aere Oc wisaeligh ban gaff aen hannum heller aff syn aerae om thet 
warae loffligth fforthy aer hwaers saerdeles aerae alle therzs aeras oc alle therj's sere 
aer hwaers saerdeles aere Thet XVII. Capitell Ther thetfe war saffdh tha bortgik 
all then samlingh oc skarae Oc swa worth iek vpwacth aff s0ffwen oc kaenne 
snarlighe i mik swa sthcer kaerlighetz braendelsae som iek haffde nogherthiidse 
f0rrse kaenth i mik Alth ther fraa oc swa alth till thenne thymae war ey i 
mik nogher awindtz eller hoff 1 faerdughetz eller rosels begherels eller 
thaenckels Thy at gudh er withne som alle thingh weth f0r aen the wordhae 
At ther aff war swa sthoer kaerlighetz braennels vpthaendh i mik at iek gledis 
merae aff een andhens gothae aen aff mith eghe( Merae atthraer iek at waerae 
vndher alle aen offwer alle TheWe saffde iek forthy jcke at iek skall fanghe 
loff ther forae Maen for ihet at nogher skall ey thaenckae the//e at haffwe waereth 

*At end of the line, not followed by a hyphen. 

2 



398 D. K. DODGE. 

fafsengelighe dr0mae aff hwicke warae huffwe oflthe begaeckes Offtse vppladhcr 

gudh syne 10nlighe thingh oc hselsth with s0ffn Thy skulle 
Fol. 55 b. wii 1 storlighe loffwe then h0fsthe || gudh i syne helghe rnaen 

Oc skulle pn'sse hans gserninghe thy ey ser aendhe paa them 
Wii skulle oc sere oc loffwe then helghe he?'re Jeronimum Thy ban giorthe 
megtughe thingh i sith leffne<A J d0dhen thogh ban, sth0rre thingh Ther 
for ser ban megtugh i blanth oc heligh oc h0ff i h0ffsthe leffnetz hellighet 
Oc megtugh helligh oc h0ff i vsigeligh wiisdoms grwndughet Oc ser nw 
megtugh oc heligh oc h0ff i sth0rre aerens megtughet Vndherligb oc serefuldh 
oc loffligh j vndherlighe jserthegnse som ey f0rre sywffntis eller h0rthes eller 
ware wsenthe at g0ris Han er fryckthendhe selskendhe oc hedhrendhe for 
then mackth oc ewyndeligh sere som hannum er giffwen Thet XVIII Jek 
bether forthy at wii skulle hedhre hannum oc ey thyse Thy ban er wserdugher 
all loff Wii skulle kung0re i blanth hans seres loff Man skall ey vndhre 
ther paa at wii loffwe then som gudh haffwer swa megtugiorth Oc skall 
man ey ledhies at hedhre then som gudh will hedhre Ey skall oc nogher 
wsenthe the< ban g0r sancto iohanni baptiste eller apostlenae orseth ther 
vthi at ban sigher Jeronimum wsere them lighe i sere oc helighet Oc then 
loff oc hedher oc waerdughet som g0res jeronimo aff oss g0res oc them 
hwaer. saerdelts Oc hedher oc loff som hwser therre saerdelts hwn g0res 
oc hannum The* XIX ca Atthraer thu at hedhrse sanctum johannem 
baptistam oc apostlense hedhrse oc hannum Thy ban er them lighse with 

alle thingh fforthy maa wii thr0ggeligh sighe oc witherksenne 
Fol. 56 a. Jero = || nimum lighse at waere sancto iohanni Oc ey Johannem 

sth0rrse Oc at enghen er sth0rraer sen iohannes baptista Thet 
witherksenne wii met all gudeligheth oc hedher Thy at gorse wii oc sighe 
iohannem myndhrse at waerae tha myntske wii johannis sere oc g0rse tha 
hannum heller orseth sen wii loffwse Thill tik hedherligh fadher Cyrille 
ssendher iek thenne samae myn vfornwnftughetz thales epistolam sen thog 
hwn er vfulkommeligh oc swa som enckthet rsegnendhes Thog ssendher iek 
henne till tik aff pwrth hiaerthe oc sthoer gudeligh hwffsens atthraelsae 
Thet XX Capitell Och bether iek tik at thu ey Iseser thesse ordh met skuff 
eller spee maen met skyldugh kserligheth Thy iek saendher till tik then 
serefuldh Jeronimi loff aff myn vkunnughet Oc hwat som iek haffwer myn- 
dhrae wserdskyllelighe sath aen mik burdhse thet skall ey reghnes till swa 
megtugh een mantz loff maen till myn wankwndugheth Oc at epistolsen er 
swa stacketh oc at hans loff er ey swa sthoer thet er myn forwitbels oc for- 
s0mmelss oc owittughet Wissoligh om alle d0delighe maenneskes thwnghe 
enesthe framf0rdhe hans loff sen ware the myndhrae aen som them burdhae 
Hedherligh fadher haff mik i thyn amyndels naar thu kommer paa thet 
stsedh som sancti Jeronimi leghorn hwiles vthi oc befalse mik syndugh man 
hans b0nser Thy ther er enghen thwiffwell paa At hwat then samae aerligh 
Jeronimws 0nsker the< fangher ban snarlighe Thy at ban ey swighes nogh- 

1 Inserted above the line. 



MS. 1586, 4TO, GL. KONG. SAML. 399 

erledhes aff syn atthraa Nw er Sancti Augustini biscops oc kaennefadhers 

ssendhebreff at sendhse hwicketh ban ssendhe sancto Cyrillo till som serche- 

biskopp war i Jherusalem aff sancto Jeronimo annodomini MCDLXXXVTH 

Deo laus et glon'a 

Hser begynnes Sanctissimi Jeronimi lleffneth 1 

Jeronimus haffde een edhle oc friiboren man till fadher som heedh Euse- 
bius oc war f0dh j eth torpp som hedher Stride hwicketh som liggher hoess 
dalmaciam och pannoniam Ther han war barn tha foer han till Rom oc 
nam ther fulkommeligh bogh paa gretzskse lathinse oc J0dske J then bogligh 
konsth som kalles Gramatica war Donatus bans msesther J Rethorica war 
Victorms bans msesther Msen dagh oc nath 0ffwethe han sik i then heligh 
skriffth oc han begreepp gireligh the< som han sidhen fulleligh ksendhe och 
laerdhe andhre Een thiidh * som han skriffwer till eustochiam i eth ssendhe- 
breff swa sighendis Ther iek om daghen met all jdh oc atwackth studerethe 
i tullio oc om natthera j platone som warse hedhenske msestherae forthy at 
propftetense skrifilh thseckthes icke mik thy hwn ey war prydeth With 
midhfasthe fik iek swa braadh oc heedh koldesywghe at alth mith s leghorn 
kolneth.33 oc enesthe war mith liifls wsermse i mith brosth oc sen meghet 
lithet Ther the riddhe till at iordhe hannum Tha drogs oc liddhes han for 
domerens stooll Tha spurdhe domeren hannum at oc saffde till sanctum 
jeronimum Hwes logh eller throo sest thu aff Tha beksendhe 
102 a. han sik friilighae at wsere een cristen man || Dhomeren swar- 

ethe strax oc saffde Thu lywgher Thu sest Cyceronianus oc 
ikke cn'sten man Thy at hwarse som thit ligghendefae se er ther er thit 
hiserthse Tha thaffde jeronimus Oc strax b0dh domeren nogher msen at 
the skulle swarlighe hwdstryghe hannum Tha ropthe Jeronimus oc saffde 
Myskwndhe mik herre Myskundhse mik Tha badhe the for hannum som 
omkrmgstodhe at domeren skulle g0re nadhe me< hannum thy at han war 
sen een vngh man Tha begynthe sanctus jeronimws at swerise om gudh oc 
saffde Hserrse Haffwer iek nogherthiidh * haffdh wserdzens b0gher eller Isesth 
i them till thenne dagh Tha neckther iek oc forswser iek them her efflher 
Ther han thesse ordh haffde swareth oc sworeth vppa Tha worth han 
gsensthen 100ss oc fik till liiffs ighen oc fan sik alsammen wsere offwer- 
gudhen oc belupeth met graadh Oc aff the slaff han fik for domstholen 
befan han syne axlse rsedelighe blaa oc blodughe Effther then thiidh Isesthe 
sanctus Jeronimus then heligh skn'ffth met sth0rrse jdh oc atwackth sen som 
han haffde nogherthiidh s giorth tillfornae met the hedhenske b0gher Ther 
han war xxx aar gammell tha worth han skicketh till cardinaall oc praesth 
j romerse kirkse Oc som paffwe -Liberius war dodh Tha rooppthe alle At 

1 Line omitted by Brandt. * tiidh. 

*mit. * tiidh. 

8 Printed as two separate words by Brandt. 



400 D. K. DODGE. 

jeronimws war wserdugh till at haffwe oc awnamse thet helgestse biskops- 
dom oc prestedom som aer paffwedommeth Maen forthy at ban 

102 b. straffethe somme klaerckes || oc mwnckes ksedhe tha ware tbe 

hawnum meghe< vgynstugbe oc lawe i holdh eller sattbe saatb 
for hawnum Oc swa met qwynne klsedher som Johannes beletb sigher worth 
fuleligh skaemmeth aff them Thy at een dagh ther Jeronimus stodh vpp 
till othesangh som haw pleygdhe at g0rse tha fan ban with syn ssengh een 
qwrnnes klaedher hwicke haw thsenckthe at waere syne eghnae oc f0rdbe sik 
i them som bans owaennerse oc affwintz msen haffde ther lagdhe oc gik swa i 
kirkew Thette giordhe haws affwintzmaew forthy at maw skulle throo at haw 
haffde haffth een qwynne me< sik i haerberghei Ther haw thet saw Tha foer 
han thsedhew oc kom till gregorium nazanzenum som tha war biscopp i 
constawtinopoli Ocb ther han haffde nwmmeth thew heligh skrifflh afi 
hannum tha foer haw borth i 0tken Msera hwre x meghei haw tholdhe tber 
for Chmto skriffwer haw till Eustochium 2 oc sigher O hwre thith ther 
iek war j atken eller skoff som forbrsenth war aff solens brywnae i hwickew 
mwncke haffwe rsedhelighe bolighe Tha meenthe iek at iek war i rom i 
lystelighet oc krseseligheth Mynae lymmse som ware swa wanskapthe grw- 
wethe with saecken ther iek war vthi som war mik hwas som iek haffde 
wsereth een blaman Sthuwdhom ther s0ffn fall mik paa tha haffde iek 

the n0ghne been som nseppeligh kwnne wsell hsenghe till 

103 a. hopse paa then blothe jordh Om madh oc 011 thigher jek || qwaer 

Thy at mitb dnckse war kalth watn Msew at thaghe noghet 
the< som saadhet er ihet reghnes till vkyskhet Oc ther iek i sselskapp meth 
the ormse som kalles scorpiones oc meth andhre grymm'e dywr Tha thyckthe 
mik offthe oc iek dantzethe met jomfrwer Oc swa war i thet koldhe leghorn 
oc halffd0th enesthe vkyskhetz brynnse Offthe grseth iek oc fastethse helse 
vgher 0ffwer oc spsegthe mith leghorn som striddhe emodh mik Thet dagh 
oc nath loeth iek ey aff at slaa mith brysth f0rre a?n gudh gaff mik rolighet 
Oc swa fryctethe iek myw cellse som hwn haffde wisth mynae thanckae Swa 
aslendhe oc frsemmeth gik iek ghenom thei ondhe 0tken At herren er mith 
witnse swa at effther meghen graadh sywffnti's mik stuwdhom the< iek war i 
sengle skarasr Ther han swa i iiij aar haffde giorth ther syndhe betlm'ngh 
Tha fer haw till iherwsalem oc swa till bethleem oc swa offrethe han sigh 
till at bliffwe thser hcess herrens krybbe oc haffde me< sik syne b0gher sam- 
menbundhnas hwicke haw met st0rsthe jdh och atwackth haffde sammew- 
sawcketh Oc ther effther ther haw thit kom tha Isesthe han offwer andhre 
b0gher oc fastedhe aldeles till afthenen Manghe kaewneswsene oc discipulos 
sancketh haw tha?r oc arbeythe i syn heligh forackth oc thew heligh skrifflz 

omsaetthelsse oc omwsendelsse aff gretzsk oc aff hebraisk oc till 
103 b. latinse i Iv aar oc vj manethae oc bleff jndh till hans || d0dh 

een 3 kysk jomfrw Om sidher bleff han swa thraeseth oc m0dsom 
at han icke kwwne rsethe sik vpp i syn ssengh vdhen han hafide eth reepp * 

l hurce. 2 JE/ustochiam. 3 en. *reep. 



MS. 1586, 4TO, GL. KONG. SAML. 401 

bundhen with bielken oc swa reesthae ban sik vpp met haendheraaes helpp 
paa thet at ban wildhe g0re klostherns aembith effther som ban formattbe 
Thet andheth Capitell Een afflhen som sanctus jeronimus sadh meth syne 
brodhre oc hardhe laesningh j then heligh skrtffth Tha kom snarlighe een 
10ffwe lam oc halthendis oc gik jndh i closterth Ther the andhre brodhre 
sawe henne tha flyddhe the bortb Tha gik sanctus jeronimws emoth henne 
som ban skulle haffwe ganghe< emoth een gaesth Ther 10ffwen thedhe han- 
num syn foedh som skadh war Tha kallethe sanctws Jeronimws at bredhernae 
oc badhe them thwo hennes f0ddher oc s0ghe grangiffweligh hwar hwn saar 
war Ther the swa giordhe tha befundhe the at jlen vndher fodhen war saar 
paa henne oc the< war giorth aff thoornaestyngh oc swa r0cktethe the henne 
grangiffweligh oc hwn worth karsk ighen Oc ther efflher offwergaff hwn all 
grymheeth oc gik i klosterth blanth br0dhernae som eth thampth dy wr Ther 
sanctus jeronimws saw at 1 gudh ey enesthe saendhe henne till closthert for 

syn karskheth s oc helbredhe Maen merae for there gafih Tha 
104 a. meth syne br0dhres raadh fick han 10ffwen the< aembeth at hwn || 

skulle een asen som haenthe them weth aff skoffwen f01ghe till 
marcken ther han thog syn f0dhe oc thoghe hannum till warae Hwicketh 
han 3 oc giorthe Thy ligherwiiss som een klogh hi0rdhe fuldhe 10fFwen 
aseneth alle thidhe till gresseth oc togh hannum alzsomgrangiffweligsth 
till warse Oc paa thet at 10Swen matthe fanghe syn f0dhe oc at aseneth 
matthe g0re sith aembeth Tha kom hwn allethiidhe heem meth hannum i 
beskedhen thiidh Thet iij capi Een thiidh som aseneth gik oc aath oc 
10ffwen soff hardeligh Tha komme k0ppmaen farendhes ther fram meth 
cameler oc sawe enesthe aseneth oc thoghe thet borth Ther 10ffwen wogneth 
vpp oc ey fan syn stalbrodher som war aseneth Tha 10pp hwn hidh oc thith* 
oc r0thedhe Ther hwn kwnne icke findhe hannum tha gik hwn hiem jghen 
meghet dr0ffweth oc thordhe ey ganghe jndh som hwn pleygdhe for blygsell 
Ther br0dherne sawe at 10fiwen senerae kom heem a?n hwn pleygdhe f0rrae 
tha meenthe the at hwn aff hwngher haffde sedeth aseneth vpp oc forthy 
wildhe the icke giffwe henne syn f0dhe som the pleygdhe at g0re Maen the 
saffde till hennse Gack borth oc aedh then deell som offwer!0pp aff aseneth 
jEn tok thwifflethe the ther vppa om 10ffwen haffde giorth thet ondhe emoth 

aseneth Oc ther forse ginghe the vth paa marcken hwar som 
Fol. 104 b. aseneth || pleygdhe at ganghe om the noghei d0tz theghn kunne 

findhe Ther the enckthei fundhae Tha komme the jghen oc 
saffde the< for sancto jeronimo Tha som sanctus jeroninms b0th finglie the 
10ffwen asnens aembeth oc hi0ghe wedh oc lagdhe paa 10fFwen oc the< 
aembeth giorthe 10ffwen tholleligh Een dagh gik hwn vth paa marcken oc 
10pp hiith oc thith oc wille widhe hwat aff hennes stalbrodher war bleffwet 
Tha saw hwn langtborth hwrelundhe ther komme k0pmaen farendhes raeth 
cameler som laessethe ware oc aseneth gik forae them Thy at the< er theru 

1 ath. * -het. 

8 Copyist's mistake for hwn, corrected by Brandt. * tith. 



402 D. K. DODGE. 

sidhwanse at naar the farse langh weygh met cameler tha pleygher een asen 
at ganghae forfe them at the thes rsetherse skulle findhe weyghen oc kwnne 
fylghe effther oc aseneth haffwer eth reepp om halsen Ther loffwen fornam 
aseneth tha fall hwn offwer them rophendes oc rydendis rsedhelighe swa 
at folketh flyddhe borth oc swa dreff Idffwen forse sigh the cameler som 
warse laesethe jndh till closterth Thet IIII. Ca Ther brodherne sawe the< tha 
kwngiorthe the tbet for sancto jeronimo oc han swarethe Ksere brodhre 
thwoer ware gsesthers foddher oc redher madh oc bidher swa effther gutz 
wilie Tha begynthe 10ffwen som hwn war wan gladeligh at 10pe i clostereth 

oc fall paa jordhen for hwaer brodhers foddher ligherwiis som 
Fol. 105 a. hwn wille bedhes om || nadhe oc weyrethe eller rordhe stiser- 

then for then brddhe hwn haffde icke giorth Msen sanctus 
jeronimws som wisthe thesse thingh till foren saffde till brodhernse Brodhre 
Gangher borth oc redher ware gsesther madh oc theris wedhertorffth Ther 
han ihette thalethe nieth them tha kom eth budh till hannum oc saffde at 
iher ware gsesther for porthen som wille see abbethen Swa gik han till 
them oc the nolle strax nedher paa iordhen for hans f0ddher oc badhe 
om nadhe for theris br0dhe Tha vpliffthe han them waeiwilleligh oc badh 
them taghe ighen the< them tilh0rdhe oc ey orsettheligh taghe nogher 
andhers Tha badhe the sanctum jeronimum at han skulle annamse for wael- 
signelsae halffdelen aff them olise Hwicketh han naeppeligh wille gore 
eller samth0cke Om sidher war Sanctus jeronimus swa goth som nodher 
till och b0dh them som ware hans klosthers br0dhre at the skulle anname 
olien Tha loffwethe k0pmsennene at the wille hwserth aar giffwe brod- 
herne then samse madhe vaeth olyse oc sameledis there arffwinghe effther 
them Thet V. Capitell Then thiidh sanghen i then heligh kirke war ey 
andherlwndis skicketh aen hwat som man 10sthe at Isese oc sywnghe thet 
tillsteddhes Thy badh Theodosius keyser paffwen som hedh Damasus At 

han skulle befalse noghen wiiss oc klogh man till at skicke 
Fol. 105 b. sembethet i then heligh kirkse Tha wisthe || paffwen wsell 

at Sanctus Jeronimtw war fulkommen i latinse maall gretske 
oc j0dskae oc i all wiisdom Thy befaldhe han Sancto jeronimo for dette 
sembeth at skicke Swa skuldhe Sanctus jeronimus psalteren at till dag- 
hene oc skickethe hwaer dagh sith eghe< nocturnse Oc ath Gloria patri 
skuldhe gywngis gsensthen effther hwser psalm so?n sigiwertis sigher Ther 
effther skickethe han epistolas oc ewangelia som om alth aareth skulle 
sywngis Oc alle andhre tingh som h0re till same aembeth forvthen sanghen 
meghe< skelleligh oc qwsemmeligh Oc ssendhe the< aff bethleem oc till paff- 
were Hwicketh aff paffwen oc hans cardinaler worth strax stadfsesth fulkom- 
meligh oc till ewigth fulbordh Ther effther b0gdhe han sik syn graff i then 
hwlse i hwicken hserren law i krybben Han wort jordeth ther han war Ixxx 
oc viu aar gammell Thet VI Ca J hwre sthoer hedher oc wserdughe< Sanctus 
Augustinus haffde sanctum jeronimum skriffwer han om oc sigher Jeronimus 
prosth kunnse thrennse maall som war llathinse Gretskae oc j0dhske oc leffde 
i eth heligth staedh oc i then heligh skriffth till syn jdhersthe seldherdom 



MS. 1586, 4TO, GL. KONG. SAML. 403 

Hwes lampse skindhe som solens skin fran 0sther oc till waesther i bans 
thales etlehet Sanctus prosper Doctor thaler om hannum oc sigher Jeroni- 

mus prcesth bodhe i bethleem oc er forklareth for all waerdhen 
Fol, 106 a. Hwicken meth sith kosteligh nomse oc studio eller iidh thienthe|| 

oc vpplywsthe all then heligh kirke Oc sigher scwctus jeroni- 
mus om sik selff till albigensem ffor enghen thingh raedhes iek swa sarae fran 
myn barndom som for een h0ffserdugh hwss eller sindh oc een ranck hals 
som vppwsecker gutz wredhe emodh mennesken Sameledis raeddhes iek the 
thingh som thrygghe ware Jtem J mith closther acthedhe iek meth mith 
hiffirthe paa gsesterii oc alle som komme till mik och mynae br0dhre them 
annamethe wii meth bliith senleth vthen kaetthere Oc thwodhe theres f0ddher 
Vsodorwa thaler oc om hannum oc sigher Jeronimus war wiis i thraenne 
thunghe maal Hwess vttholkelsse eller vthssettelsse framsetthes oc loffwes 
for andhres Thy at hwn er klarer i sindh oc i ssenss oc sandher thy han 
war een rseth cn'sten man Senerus sancti martini discipell skriffwer swa om 
hannum Jeronimws forvthen throens wserdskyldh och dygdhernes gaffwe 
war swa megtugh oc dyer klasrck ey enesthe i latinse oc gretske msen oc i 
j0dske maall at enghen kwnne lighnes with hannum i all wiisdom Han 
haflfde allethidhe striidh emoth ondhe msenneske oc ewigth orloff kaettherse 
hadethe hannum Thy at han icke Icedh an at stridhe emoth them klserckenae 
hadethe hannum thy han forfuldhe oc straffethe them leffneth oc snydher 

Msen alle the som godhe ware vndrethe paa hannum oc selske- 
Fol. 106 b. the hannum || The som hannum saffde at waere een Kaetther 

the ware wisth galnae Thy han allethiidhe studerethe Alle- 
thiidhe war han i b0ghernse Dagh eller nath hwilthes han icke Msen 
senthen Isesthe han eller skreff Theite sigher- senertts The< same bewiser 
han selff offlhe sighendes Iek haffde manghe forf01ghere oc bagthalerae 
hwicke forf01gelsa3 hwre tholleligh han leedh ihet bewises i ssendhebreff 
som han skreff till asellam oc saffde Iek thacker gudh at iek er waerdugh 
wordhen at wserdhen forhadher mik Oc at iek sighes een vgsernings man 
Thy iek weeth at iek maa komme till righet swa wsell meth wanfredh som 
met goth ryckthe Gudh gaffwe thet at alle throo menneskes skare matthe 
forfylghe mik for myn hserres naffn och rsethwiishet Gudh gaffwe thet 
thenne wserdhen wildhe fastherse oc rnera vpstandhe mik till forwydelsse 
at iek matthe loffwes aff Christo oc hopes till hans jsethels 10en Thy at 
then frestelsae er thseckeligh oc atthraeligh hwes 10en man hopes till at 
fanghe i hemelrighe aff Christo Icke er oc then bandhe eller forbandelse 
swaar hwicken som omwa;ndhes till gutz loff Sanctisshnus Jeronimusd0dhe 
anno domtnt CCCC aar. 



404 D. K. DODGE. 



I. PROPER NAMES OCCURRING IN THE MS. 

A. albigensem, 106 a ; asellam, 106 b ; Augustinus, 51 a, 
Augustini, 47 a, Augustine, 50 a, Avgustine, 54 a, 
augustine, 51 a. 

B. bethleem, 50 b. 

C. Christus, 52 b, christus, 50 b, Christo, 49 a; constanti- 
nopoli, 102 b; Cyrillo, 56 a, Cyrillum, 47 a, Cyrille, 
51 b. 

D. dalmaciam, 101 b; Damasus, 105 a; Donatus, 101 b. 

E. Eusebius, 49 a, Eusebii, 47 a; Eusebius (father of Jerome), 
101 b ; eustochium, 101 b. 

G. gregorium nazanzenum, 102 b. 

H. Helias, 47 b. 

J. Jeronimus, 47 a, jeronimus, 49 a, Jeronimi, 51 a, jeronimi, 
49 a, Jeronimum, 47 a, jeronimum, 49 b; Jherusalem, 
56 a, Jherusalem, 47 a, iherusalem, 103 a, iherusalems, 
49 a; Jhesus, 53 a; Johannes baptista, 47 b, Johannes 
baptista, 53 a, iohannes baptista, 53 b, iohannes here- 
mite, 47 b, johanni baptiste, 53 b, iohanni baptiste, 55 b, 
johannem baptistam, 55 b, Johannem, 56 a, iohannem, 
56 a ; jude, 50 b. 

L. Liberius, 102 a. 

M. martini, 50 a. 

P. pannoniam, 101 b ; paulus, 53 a ; petrus, 53 a ; platone, 
101 b ; prosper, 105 b. 

R. Rom, 101 b, rom, 102 b. 

S. samuel, 47 b, samuelem, 48 a ; Senerus, 52 a, seneri, 50 a, 
senero, 52 a ; sigiwertis, 105 b ; Strido, 101 b. 

T. Theodosius, 105 a ; thuronia, 49 b, thuronae, 52 a ; tullio, 
101 b. 

U. Vsodorus, 106 a. 

V. Victorius, 101 b. 



MS. 1586, 4TO, GL. KONG. SAML. 405 



II. OBSOLETE WORDS AND FORMS. 

A. Aff, 47 a, in sense of om ' about, concerning,' a common 

use until end of 15th cent. 

Allethiidhe, 104 a, altid, ' always.' Here, as in several 
other adverbs, the dative ending -e has been dropped 
in modern Danish. 

ALzomgrangiffweligsth, 104 a, ' most carefully.' Alsom is 
frequently used in Old Danish as an intensive prefix. 
Amyndels, 51 a, 'memory.' 
Andherlundis, 1 05 a, anderledes, ' otherwise.' This form 

is not given by K. and M. 
Astwndher, 50 a, cupio, ' desire.' 
Atwackth, 47 a, ( diligence.' 
B. Beskeden, 104 a, passende, ' proper,' cf. German Bescheid. 

Not as BRANDT states bestemt, ' fixed.' 
Bidher, 104 b, bier, ' abides.' 
D. Dyserffwelsse, 53 a, Djervhed, ' boldness.' 

Dylies, 49 a, lateant. 
E. Etlehet, 105 b, Edelhed, < nobility.' 
F. Forhade, 106 b, hade, ' to hate,' now used only in p. p. 

fprhadt. 

Freghnse, 49 a, intelligo. 
Fullurthne, 51 b, 'complete.' 
F0rredaggs, 47 b, ' recently.' 
G. Ganghe, 50 a, gaa, ( to go.' 

Gsesterii, 106 a, Gcestfrihed, ' hospitality.' 
H. Hannum, 47 a, ham, ' him,' dative used as common ob- 
jective as late as 17th cent. 
Hwredan, 49 a, hvordan, ' how.' 
Hwarth, 50 a, hvor, ' where.' 
Haemsk, 50 b, pavore stupens, ' terrified.' 
H0fFserdug, 106 a, hovmodig, ' proud.' 

I. lek, Jek, 47 a, jeg, ' I.' Cf. Ice, Ek, O. E. Ik. Jlen, 
103 b, l sole ' (of the foot). In M's reference to this 
passage there are two slight orthographical errors. 



406 D. K. DODGE. 

K. Konningh, 52 b, Konge, ' king.' 

Konninglighe, 50 b, kongelige, ' royal.' 

Krseseligheth, 102 b, ' delight/ not in M. 

Ksedhe, 102 b, Kddhed, ' licentiousness.' 

Ksenneswsene, 103 a, ( pupils.' 
L. Ligherwiis som, 104 a, ligesom, 'just as.' 

Loffwerman, 47 a, laudator. 
M. Mangelunde, 47 a, ' manywise.' 

Mynnath, 48 a, Midnat, ' midnight.' 

Mynsker, 52 a, minuit, ' diminishes.' 

Moxen, 50 b, ' almost.' 

Msedhen, 48 a, medens, ' while.' 

M0dh, 48 a, ' tired/ German, mude. 
N. Nyttelighe, 51 b, nyttige, ' useful.' 

Nseppeligh, 106 a, nceppe, 'hardly.' 
O. Omwaende, 48 a, overscette, ' translate.' 

Omwsendelsses, 53 b, l translations.' 

Orckeloshet, 48 a, otium. 

Offwergaff, 103 b, opgav, ' gave up.' 

Offwerghsengelisth, 47 a, excellentissimce. 

Offwerl0pp, 104 a, ' remained over/ German uberbleiben. 

Oflfwerskywfflthe, 47 b, tegebat, ' covered.' 
R. Rsedenthes for, 47 b, rddende over, ' controlling.' 

Rsetwiishet, 106 b, Retfcerdighed, 'justice.' 

R0nse, 50 a, 'to test.' Now a Norwegianism. 

R0thede, 104 a, br0lede, ' roared.' 
S. Saleligh, 50 b, ' in a holy manner.' 

Sameledis, 105 a, pa samme Made, ' in the same manner.' 

Saath, 102 b, Snare, ' snare.' 

Skalkeligh, 52 b, ' miserable.' 

Skuff, 53 b, ' ridicule.' 

Sksellighe, 47 a, rationalis. 

Skaerlighet, 51 a, 'affection.' 

Sk0dher, 53 b, ' pay heed to.' 

Stadelig, 47 a, stadig, ' continually.' 

St0rckels, 51 a, Sty r eke, ' strength.' 

Swa, 47 b, saa, ' as, so.' 



MS. 1586, 4TO, GL. KONG. SA.ML. 407 

T. Theligh, theligkth, 47 b, < such.' 
Thiidh, en, 47 b, en Gang, i once.' 
Tholleligh, 104 b, tdlmodig, ' patiently.' 
Thoornsestseyngh, 103 b, 'thorn.' 
Thryswer, 48 a, ' thrice.' 
Thwsennesynne, 47 b, tvendesinde, ' twice.' 
U. Vm0gelighe, 50 a, umulige, { impossible.' 
Vndherstandhe, 50 a, forstaa, ' understand.' 
Vpliffthe, 105 a, separable prefix in modern Danish. 
Vppa, 102 a, op, ' up.' 
V,W. Wanfredh, 106 b, < ignominy.' 

Wanskels, 50 b, Vanskelighed, ' difficulty.' 

Wasth, 48 b, var, ' wert.' 

Weddreth, 52 a, Vejret, ' the weather.' 

Vedhert0rffth, 105 a, ' hunger.' 

Weyrethe, 105 a, ( whined.' 

Vittughet, 49 b, scientia. 

Worthe, 49 b, wordhen, 106 b, blev, bleven, German 

wurde, geworden. 

Wselthale, 50 b, Vettalenhed, ' eloquence.' 
Waerdskyllelighet, 53 b, Vcerdskyld (rare). 
M. ^refulleligh, 50 b, ' honorably.' 

JEst, 101 b, er, 'art.' 

O. Offwermerse, 52 a, 'higher,' a double comparative, merce = 
Eng. more. 

DANIEL KILHAM DODGE. 



IX. NOTES ON THE LANGUAGE OF J. G. SCHOTTEL. 

I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

In his collection of essays Von Luther bis Lessing, 1 F. Kluge 
discusses at some length "W. Scherer's proposition, that Luther 
marks but a transition period in the history of the German 
language, while the Modern High German period proper does 
not begin till the middle of the seventeenth century. I cannot 
find in Scherer's Geschichte der deutschen Litteratur anything so 
definite as to warrant Kluge's assertion that for Scherer " Schot- 
tel marks the beginning of the Modern High German period." 2 
In the chronological tables, the Modern High German period 
begins with the Peace of Westphalia, and after various works 
by Spee, Gryphius, Lauremberg, Logau, Angelus Silesius and 
Scriver, SchottePs Aus/uhrliche Arbeit von der deutschen Haupt- 
sprache is mentioned, but it does not appear from this or from 
anything in the text of the volume, that Scherer intended to 
give Schottel anything like as prominent a place in this period 
as he had given Luther in the one immediately preceding. That 
the efforts of Schottel and other grammarians and purists of the 
seventeenth century contributed much to the wealth as well as 
the purity and regularity of the modern German language, there 
can be no doubt. It needs to be determined what Schottel's 
own share in this work was, what contributions he made to 
the vocabulary, what reforms he suggested, what position he 
took with reference to the reforms suggested by others, how far 
he understood the spirit of the language and the tendencies of 
its development. The present paper is intended as a step in 
this direction. 

1 Chap. Ill, pp. 32 ff. 

* " Luther 1st ihm der Hohepunkt, das Kraftzentrum der Ubergangszeit 
Schottel erofihet das Neuhochdeutsche." 
408 



THE LANGUAGE OF J. G. SCHOTTEL. 409 

Justus Georgius Schottelius 1 was born at Eimbeck in Han- 
over, where his father was a clergyman. After attending the 
schools at Hildesheim and the gymnasium of Hamburg, he 
went to Holland and studied from 1634-1636 at Leyden belles- 
lettres and jurisprudence, chiefly under Daniel Heinsius, the 
philologist and poet. Leyden was not only a center of classical 
learning, but much interest was shown in the history of the 
Dutch language, and the beginnings of a study of the older 
Germanic dialects had also been made. After remaining two 
years, Schottel went to Wittenberg, and thence to Leipzig, where 
he completed his studies in 1638 and became, for a short time, 
tutor to a young nobleman. Very soon afterwards, Duke August 
of Brunswick, the founder of the Wolffenbiittel Library, offered 
him the position of tutor to his eldest son, Anton Ulrich. Schot- 
tel accepted this offer, and remained henceforth in the service 
of the dukes of Brunswick and died as " Hof-, Kanzlei- und 
Kammerrat," at Wolffenbiittel, in 1676. 

In Schottel's very first publication we recognize his genuine 
love of everything German and his honest indignation at the 
growing influence of foreign thought and manners. In the 
Lamentatio Germaniae Expirantis, "der nunmehr hinsterbenden 
Nymphen Germaniae elendeste Todesklage " (Braunschweig, 
1640), he depicts with expressions of genuine sorrow the 
wretched condition of Germany. His language rises to the tone 
of a veritable Philippic in inveighing against the " Spansch- 
Welsch-Fransch-Teutschen Sinn " of his contemporaries, and 
especially against the corruption of the German language by 
the use of foreign words : 

" Die schonste Eeinlichkeit der Sprache wird beflecket 
Mit fremdem Bettelwerk, ja schadlich wird zerstrecket 
Die eingepflanzte Art ; der redet deutsch nicht recht, 
Der den Allmodemann nicht in dem Busen tragt. 



1 Jordens, Lexikon Deutscher Dichter und Prosaisten (Leipzig, 1809 ), IV, 614- 
625. R. v. Raumer, Geschichte der germanischen Philologie, pp. 72 ff. Max v. 
Waldburg in Allgemeine Deutsche Biographic, xxxil, 407-412. 



410 H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN. 

Die Sprache, die da kann die Kron' Europens nehmen, 
Die will man henkergleich zerstiickeln und verlahmen. 
So hat man ihre Zier mit Flickerei durchlappt 
Und euer ekler Mund nach fremden Worten schnappt." * 

His whole life was to be henceforth devoted to the study 
and improvement of his mother-tongue. By a series of investi- 
gations of special topics, the results of which he published in 
widely read monographs, he gradually prepared himself for his 
chief work, his Teutsche Haubt-Sprache, a work that has earned 
for him the epithet of the Jacob Grimm of the seventeenth 
century. 

Schottel's first grammatical work was the Teutsche Sprach- 
kunst, 2 which appeared in Brunswick in 1641, and, in a revised 
and considerably enlarged edition, in 1651. 3 The first part of 
this book contains a series of so-called Lobreden, in the first 
of which the author gives a large collection of " Testimonia 
der Gelarten von der Trefflichkeit der deutschen Sprache " and 
maintains the excellence of the German language against the 
criticisms of certain foreign writers. In the further Lobreden, 
he proceeds to prove that the present German language is, 
after all, still the ancient German language, "also ist gleichfalls 
unsere jetzige Teutsche Sprache eben dieselbe uhralte weltweite 
Teutsche Sprache " (p. 72). He also makes an interesting at- 
tempt to divide the history of the German language into periods, 
the first beginning with the " anf augliche Bildung der deutschen 

1 Quoted from Bibliothek deutscher Dichter des xvn. Jahrhunderts, heraus- 
gegeben von W. Mutter, ix, 123/. 

* Justi-Georgii Schottelii Einbeccensis Teutsche Sprachkunst, darin die aller- 
wortreichste, prachtigste, reinlichste, vollkommene uhralte Hauptsprache 
der Teutschen auss ihren Griinden erhoben, dero Eigenschafflen und Kunst- 
stiicke volliglich endeckt, und also in eine richtige Form der Kunst zum 
ersten mahle gebracht worden. Abgetheilet in drey Biicher. Braunschweig, 
Gedruckt bey Balthasar Grubern. Im Jahre 1641. (16mo, pp. xvi, 655.) 

3 Justi-Georgii Schottelii J. V. D. Teutsche Sprach Kunst, vielfaltig ver- 
mehret und verbessert, darin von alien Eigenschaften der so wortreichen und 
prachtigen Teutschen Haubtsprache ausfiihrlich und griindlich gehandelt 
wird. Zum anderen mahle heraus gegeben im Jahre 1651. Braunschweig. 
In verlegung Christof-Friederich Zilligern. (16mo, pp. xxxxvin, 912.) 



THE LANGUAGE OP J. G. SCHOTEEL. 411 

Worter," the second with Charlemagne, the third with Rudolph 
I, "welcher hochstloblicher Kaiser einen eigenen Reichstag 
wegen der Teutschen Sprache zu Niirnberg gehalten, darin 
verabschiedet, dass hinfiiro die Teutsche Sprache an stat der 
Lateinischen liberal solte gebraucht werden in Gerichten, und 
alle Mandata, edicta, privilegia, pacta dotalia, etc." ; the fourth 
with " Herrn Luthero, der zugleich alle Lieblichkeit, Zier, 
Ungestiim, und bewegenden Donner in die Teutsche Sprache 
gepflanzet, alle rauhe Biirde ihr abgenommen, und den Teut- 
schen gezeiget, was ihre Sprache, wenn sie wolten, vermogen 
konnte ; the fifth, at the time when the German language should 
be purified of its foreign elements, "darin das auslandische 
verderbende Lapp- und Flikwesen kiinte von der Teutschen 
Sprache abgekehret, und sie in ihrem reinlichen angebornen 
Smukke und Keuschheit erhalten werden : auch darin zugleich 
die rechten durchgehende Grunde und Kunstwege also kunten 
geleget und beliebet werden, dass man gemahlich die Kiinste 
und Wissenschaften in der Muttersprache lesen, verstehen und 
horen mochte." l 

He comments on the origin of the German letters, and 
dwells particularly on what appears to him as one of the 
most characteristic and most valuable features of the German 
language, viz. its capacity for forming compounds, or, as he 
strangely calls them, Verdoppelungen. He touches upon the 
qualification of the German language for the expression of 
poetic sentiment. He tries to prove that almost all the 
European languages contain German elements, and meets the 
arguments of those who wish to derive the German from foreign 
languages. He sketches a plan for a great German dictionary, 
a plan which Leibniz adopted in the Unvorgreifliche Gedan- 
ken, a work strongly influenced in many other respects by 
Schottel, if not written by him, as has been maintained. 2 

1 Edition of 1651, pp. 91 ff. 

8 Leibniz und Schottdius. Die Unvorgreifiichen Gedanken, untersucht und 
herausgegeben von A. Schmarsow. Quellen und Forschungen, xxi 1 1. 



412 H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN. 

The second book of the Sprachkunst contains a phonology 
and accidence, the latter recognizing two conjugations, a 
" gleichfliessende " and an " ungleichfliessende." The third 
book is devoted to the syntax and for an Appendix we have 
a list of German grammatical terms used in this work in 
place of the customary Latin terms. 

In the year 1643 he received from the university of Helm- 
stadt the degree of J. V. D., having presented a dissertation 
De poenis juxta cujuscunque delicti meritum juste aestimandis. 
The year before, he had become a member of the ' Frucht- 
bringende Gesellschaft,' assuming the appropriate society- 
name of 'Der Suchende.' In the year 1646 he also joined 
the ' Blumenorden ' or Nuremberg tinder the name of ' Fon- 
tano.' The Sprachkunst was well received and was introduced 
in the schools of Nuremberg, then one of the chief-centres of 
purism and other endeavors to improve the German language. 
Encouraged by his success, and in order to reach a larger 
circle of readers, he soon published a briefer and more popular 
treatise, Der Teutschen Sprach JEinleitung. 1 He tries to show 
in this little treatise the true character of the German language 
in accordance with its origin and its elements and to show of 
what it is capable without resorting to the use of foreign 
words, and mentions the German Reichsabschiede as models 
of pure and correct German, also the works of Aventinus, 
Goldast and Luther. 

His next work was the outcome of studies poetical rather 
than grammatical, begun in consequence of his association with 
the " Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft." In the Teutsche Vers- 
oder Reim-Kunst (Wolffenbiittel : 1645), a work considerably 
larger than Opitz' Buch von der deutschen Poeterey of 1624, 
Schottel takes account of the wealth of poetic forms that had 

1 Der Teutschen Sprach Einleilung, zu richtiger gewisheit und grundmes- 
sigem vermiigen der Teutschen Haubtsprache, samt beygefugten Erkla- 
rungen. Ausgefertigt von Justo Georgio Schottelio, Dicasterii Guelphici 
Assessore. Liibeck, Gedruckt durch Johan Meyer. In Verlegung Matthaei 
Diincklers Buchh. in Liineburg. Anno 1643. (16mo, pp. xxxii, 159.) 



THE LANGUAGE OF J. G. SCHOTTEL. 413 

come into use since the appearance of Opitz' little treatise. It 
represents, in the main, the tendencies of the Nuremburg school, 
a florid and stilted style, an artificial and complicated structure 
of verse and stanza, and all the peculiar playful and tricky 
rhyme-combinations invented by the Pegnitzschdfer. Schottel 
himself wrote numerous poems, mostly religious. Some of them 
show moderation, but others rank among the worst products of 
this artificial period. Such a conception of poetry strikes us 
as all the more remarkable if we consider how little Schottel 
sympathized with some of the other tendencies of the SpracJi- 
gesellschaften, and how much good sense he manifested in dealing, 
for instance, with the subject of foreign words in his chief work, 
the Ausfuhrliche Arbeit von der Teutschen Haubtsprache. 1 

The latter work is a large quarto volume of about 1,500 
pages, and is divided into five books, preceded by various 
dedications, prefaces, table of contents and list of authorities, 
and followed by an index and appendices. The work presents, 
in the main, the material published in the various preceding 
monographs, considerably enlarged and often greatly modified. 
The first book consists again often so-called Lobreden, or intro- 
ductory essays on various topics connected with the character 
and the practical use of the language ; the second contains the 

1 Ausfuhrliche Arbeit von der Teutschen Haubtsprache, worm en thai ten Ge- 
melter dieser Haupt Sprache Uhrankunft, Uhraltertuhm, Reinlichkeit, 
Eigenschaft, Vermogen, Unvergleichlichkeit, Grundrichtigkeit, zumahl die 
Sprach Kunst und Vers Kunst Teutsch und gutentheils Lateinisch vollig 
mit eingebracht, wie nicht weniger die Verdoppelung, Ableitung, die Einlei- 
tung, Nahmworter, Authores vom Teutschen Wesen und Teutscher Sprache, 
von der verteutschung, Item die Stammworter der Teutschen Sprache saint 
der Erklarung und derogleichen viel merkwurdige Sachen. Abgetheilet 
in Fiinf Biicher. Ausgefertiget von Justo-Georgio Schottelio D. Fiiretl. 
Braunschweig: Lvineburg. Hof- und Consistorial-Rahte und Hofgerichts 
Assessore. Nicht allein mit Rom : Kayserl. Maj. Privilegio, sondern auch 
mit sonderbarer Kayserl. Approbation und genehmhaltung, als einer 
gemeinnutzigen und der Teutschen Nation zum besten angesehenen Arbeit, 
laut des folgenden Kayserl. Privilegii. Braunschweig, Gedrukt und verlegt 
durch Christoff Friederich Zilligern, Buchhandlern. Anno MDCLXIII. (4to, 
pp. xxxvi, 1494.) 

3 



414 H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN. 

etymology, including orthography and accidence; the third, 
the syntax ; the fourth, the prosody or Teutsche Verskunst oder 
Reimkunst; the fifth, seven so-called tracts, the first of which 
is a reprint of Der Teutschen Sprach Elnleitung of 1643 ; the 
second, a treatise on the origin of German proper names, 
de nominibus propriis Veterum Teutonicorum seu Celticorum 
populorum; the third, a treatise on German proverbs; the 
fourth is a brief history of German literature, Von Teutsch- 
lands und Teutschen Scribenten; the fifth treats de modo 
interpretandi in lingua Germanica, wie man recht verteutschen 
soil; the sixth contains a list of German roots and primitive 
words ; the seventh, a brief re'sume', in Latin, of the contents 
of the work, cum monitu ad lectorem. 

Naturally, Schottel's knowledge of the origin and history of 
the German language and its relations to other languages was 
very limited, and no one can be amazed if he confounds Celtic 
with Germanic and looks upon the forms of the language in 
use in his time as correct and legitimate, to which the lan- 
guage had returned after a period of confusion and corruption, 
during which endings like -an and -on were used in place of 
the correct and better sounding -en. But, on the other hand, 
he shows not only a wide acquaintance with German litera- 
ture, referring, as he does, to Otfrid, Williram, the Windsbeke 
and Windsbekin, the Heldenbuch, Konig Tirol and numerous 
later authors and works, but he also has some sense of the value 
of other sources, such as the ancient law-books, the proverbs, 
etc. He also endeavors, with more or less success, to give some 
historical explanation for the various rules which he formulates. 
In the main, of course, his position is that of a grammatical 
legislator and reformer. By his attempts to fix, for the time 
being, what he conceived to be the correct language, he at least 
called the' attention of the cultured to the all-important subject 
of their mother tongue, and pointed out some of the lines along 
which it might be improved. 






THE LANGUAGE OF J. G. SCHOTTEL. 416 

n. 

SCHOTTEL'S CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE GERMAN VOCABULARY. 

One of the things on which Schottel insisted as necessary 
to improve the German language, was the elimination of 
unnecessary foreign terms by the substitution of equally good 
native words already in use or of newly coined German 
compounds. In this matter he shows singularly good sense. 
He knows very well how intimately patriotism and national 
feeling are associated with the love of one's mother-tongue. 
He therefore abhors that species of affectation which prefers a 
foreign word when a good native word might just as well 
be used. 

*' (5chaw doch das Wunderweib, sie hat Milch weisse Wangen, 
Ihr' Augen braunlich-schon, ihr Haar gelb-krauslich hangen 
Darbei ein Pferdehals, der Leib ist Federbund, 
Die Fiisse untenwerts sind wie ein Karpenmund. 
Lack, lieber Schawer, lach, so bildet mich ein Mahler 
Und mengt mich unerhort mein Alamodo-praler 

Gar wunderseltzamlich, kein Wort ist fast mehr mein : 
Die Sprachverderberei sol dennoch kunstlich sein." 

Einleitung, p. 20. 

But he is no fanatic ; and the absurd attempts of the Blumen- 
orden to eliminate from the language every expression that seems 
to have any connection with a Latin, Greek or other foreign 
word, are as distasteful to him as the worst corruption that the 
language had previously suffered. He distinctly declares him- 
self in favor of the retention of really useful foreign words : 
" Jedoch derjenigen Worter so der Christlichen Religion halber 
bey den alten Teutschen haben miissen bekannt werden, sind 
vermittelst Teutscher termination etzliche geblieben als Sacra- 
ment, Altar, Bischof, Prebende, gleichfalls, zu halten, dass es 
besser, und bequemer sey, dieselbe also in Teutscher Sprache 
zu gebrauchen, als solche mit einem urankiinftlich Teutschen 
Worte, welches sonst nicht unschwer zu thun sein mochte, zu 



416 H. C. 0. -VON JAQEMANN. 

verwechslen" (Ausfuhrllche Arbeit, etc., p. 455) ; and, in another 
place he says : " wie die Lateinische Sprache viele Unlateinische 
und Grichsche Worter, die Grichsche Sprache gleichfalls etz- 
liche barbara vocabuia (wie sie Plato nennet) ihres Nachruhras 
ungeschmelert behalten, und auf Lateinisch und Grichsch 
naturalisiret haben, also konnen und miissen wir auch sothane 
in den Teutschen Sprachbaum notwendig (weil ein neu ding 
benahmet wird) eingepfropfte oder durch zulessigen gebrauch 
eingeimpfte, oder aber durch das herkommen fest eingezweigte 
worter Teutschem nachruhm ohn schaden nunmehr fein be- 
halten . . . . " (ib., p. 1273). And a little later he speaks of 
the " ekkelsucht und ausmusterung derjenigen, so kein Teutsch 
als was ihren Ohren nur Teutsch klinget, zulassen." 

Among the numerous new words that Schottel has coined, 
many have not stood the test of time, and have either never 
driven out the foreign words which they were intended to 
replace, or have in their turn been crowded out by others. A 
sufficient number, however, still remains in use to testify to 
his skill and good judgment in this matter, while some of 
those that are not now in use must nevertheless be regarded 
as very happily coined. Some words coined by Schottel have 
already been accredited to him, while others, among them 
some of the most common and most characteristic words of 
the language, have in the dictionaries heretofore been ascribed 
to later periods. Some of the words enumerated in the fol- 
lowing lists were doubtless used by other writers before 
Schottel, others may have been, but there is no question that 
Schottel consciously uses them as new words for the purpose 
of introducing them. Naturally, as Schottel is a grammarian, 
the majority of foreign terms that he desires to replace by 
native words, are the technical terms of grammar, but he does 
not confine himself to these. 

Beginning with grammatical terms, we notice first of all 

Sprachkunst for grammatica, unfortunately not now in common use. 
Wortforschung for etymologia, and 

Wortfiigung for syntaxis, both frequently though not exclusively used 
to-day. 



THE LANGUAGE OP J. G. SCHOTTEL. 417 

Wbrterbuch, a word of which Grimm says in the preface to his Deutsches 
Worterbuch: " Den ausdruck worterbuch kannte das siebzehnte jahrhundert 
noch nicht, Stieler weiss nichts davon [he gives his dictionary of 1691 the 
title Sprachschatz], zuerst meines wissens verwendet ihn Kramer (1719) nach 
dem nnl. woordenboek, Steinbach and Frisch behielten und fiihrten in allge- 
mein ein ; von uns gelangte er zu Schweden und Danen. . . ." It seems un- 
fortunate that in the ' Worterbuch ' par excellence the coiner of this very word 
should have been overlooked ; 1 for Schottel uses Worterbuch (" Lexicon oder 
vollstandiges Worterbuch") in his first grammatical publication of 1641, 
seventy-eight years before Grimm's first authority, and always after that, 
and I cannot find the Dutch woordenboek as the title of any dictionary pub- 
lished in Holland previous to that year. 

Mundart has become so popular a word, that even in technical writings it 
is often employed, and substitutes proposed at various times, e.g. Sprachart 
and Redart have been unable to gain any foot-hold. 

Lautwort for onomatopoeticon would seem to deserve greater popularity 
than it enjoys. 

Vorstellung for paradigma has never obtained any standing, and 
Doppelung and Verdoppelung, for compositio, seem strangely inaccurate 
designations. On the other hand, 

Rechtschreibung for orthographia is universally used by the side of the 
older word. 

Ableitung and Herleitung for derivatlo, as well as the corresponding verbs 
ableiten and herleiten are not represented in Grimm's Worterbuch by any 
earlier authority than Goethe, but they are both found in Schottel, the 
first in the Sprachkunst of 1641. , 

Geschlecht for genus seems natural enough ; but a very happily coined 
word is 

Geschlechtwort for artlculus, all the more so because it is not a transla- 
tion; on the other hand benennend and unbenennend for definitus and 
indefinite seem clumsy compared with the modern bestimmt and unbe- 
stimmt. 

Nennwort, for nomen, still occasionally used, though Hauptwort is more 
common. Schottel uses 

Gemeines Nennwort for nomen appellativum ; also beystandiges Nenn- 
wort for adjectivum. Eigenschaftsmrt [not given in Grimm, strange to say] 
occurs, according to Heyne, only since the eighteenth century. 

Vornennwort is used for pronomen, now replaced by the simpler Furwort. 
For the subdivisions of the pronouns, personal, demonstrative, etc., Schottel 
uses the Latin terms. 

Zahlwort for numerate has since been in common use, likewise the 
excellent 

1 In view of the fact that for the later volumes of the Worterbuch Schottel's 
writings have been carefully examined, it is probable that when the article 
worterbuch is reached, this error in the preface will be corrected. 



418 H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN. 

Zeitwort, for which Campe later on proposed Zustandswort, without 
finding followers. 

Vorwort, for praepositio, is still occasionally used ; not so 

Zuwort, a literal translation of adverbium. 

Fiigewort, for conjunctio, seems an excellent term, though it has not 
attained any great popularity. 

Abwandelung, for decimal io, and the verb abwandeln, are well chosen. 
For the names of the cases, Schottel uses 

Nennendung, Geschlechtendung, Gebendung, Klagendung, Rufen- 
dung, and Nehmendung, none of which have become popular, being too 
literal and spiritless translations. 

Einzele Zahl, for singularis, and 

Mehrere Zahl, for pluralis, have given way to the simpler Einzahl and 
Mehrzahl. 

Ergrbsserung, for comparalio, with the terms erste, mittlere, and hbchste 
Staffel, are not now in use. Schottel employs 

Zeitwandelung for conjugatio, and he recognizes, as said before, two 
species, the gleichfliessende and the ungleichfliessende, failing to observe 
any regularity in the strong verbs and enumerating them finally in alpha- 
betical order. Other grammatical terms are 

Wirkende Deutung foraclivum; leidende Deutung for passivum ; Weise 
for modus; Weise anzuzeigen for indicativus; Weise zu fiigen for cim- 
junctivus; Weise zu gebieten for imperativus; Weise zu enden, a very 
strange term for infinitlvus, also Endungsweise ; Mittelwort for participium, 
still used by purists; Zeit for tempus; gegenwartige Zeit for praesens; 
fastvergangene Zeit for imperfectum ; vergangene Zeit for perfectum; 
gantzvergangene Zeit for plusquamperfectum; and zukiinftige Zeit for 
futurum. Not to go through the whole list, I will merely mention Gleich- 
richtigkeit for analogia, and Grundrichtigkeit for analogic, fundamental, 
both good words, whatever the distinction may have been; Hinterstrichlein 
for apostrophe; Beistrichlein for comma; Strichpiinktlein for semicolon; 
Doppelpunkt for colon; Hauchlaut for aspiratio [Grimm: " als technischer 
Ausdruck den Grammatikern des achtzehnten Jahrhunderts eigen " ; Schot- 
tel, 1641]; Verwunderungszeichen for exclamationis signum; Doppellaut 
fordiphthongus; Zwischenwort for inlerjectio ; Fragzeichen for interrogations 
signum, already used by Ickelsamer in his Deutsche Grammatik (1527). 

Among the most successful words are doubtless Nachdruck for emphasis, 
and zweideutig, by the side of the less happily chosen gleichbenahmt for 
homonymus. In the syntax he distinguishes between Vorsatz and Nach- 
satz; quantity and quality he renders well by Wortzeit and Wortklang; 
radix by Stammwort ; scansio by Abmessung ; terminatio by Endung. 

Among the terms not entirely grammatical we notice Lehrsatz for regula, 
thesis; Denkzetifor Epoche; Einleitung for introductio; Fremdgierigkeit: 
" Vetera & aliena extollimus, recentium & nostrum ipsorurn incuriosi ; die 
fromdgierigkeit scheinet durch ein tartes verhengniss sonderlich den Teut- 



THE LANGUAGE OP J. G. SCHOTTEL. 419 

schen gar tieff angeboren zu sein" (Sprachkunst, III); Gegenbeweis, 
Handelsgenosse, both credited by Grimm to Stieler (1691), but found in 
the Ausfuhrliche Arbeit; Klafterworte for sesyuipedalia verba ; kunstgriindig, 
kunstrichtig, kunstmassig; Sinnbild for emblema; wortarm, wortreich ; 
Wortgleichung for paronomasia; Wortzank for logomachia; Wortzeiger 
for calaloyus verborum ; Anmerkung for observatio ; Bildungskraft, Denk- 
kraft, Urteilskraft ; Naturlehrer for physicus, according to Grimm used 
first in the eighteenth century by Kant and Herder, but found in the Aus- 
fuhrliche Arbeit, p. 335. 

III. 

THE STRONG VERBS. 

Inasmuch as levelling in the preterit of the strong verbs 
constitutes one of the chief characteristics of the Modern High 
German as compared with the late Middle High German and 
the language of the transition period, it will be interesting to 
inquire into Schottel's position with reference to this linguistic 
tendency. It will be observed that while in certain classes of 
verbs this levelling process is completed, in others it has hardly 
begun, and very archaic forms are there the rule, in spite of 
Schottel's general tendency toward uniformity. 1 

As regards the personal endings, it appears that Schottel, as 
a rule, uses the full endings -est and -et, and rarely employs 
contracted forms. The exceptions occur almost exclusively 
among the verbs that have, in the 2. and 3. sing. pres. indi- 
cative, a vowel different from that of the infinitive. Those 
having -eu- are nearly always contracted : beugst, beugt ; 
beutst, beut; verdreust; fleugst, fleugt; fleuchst, fleucht, but 

1 In the following discussion, the Teutsche Sprachkunsl of 1641 is denoted 
by A, the second edition of the same of 1651 by , the Ausjuhrliche Arbeit 
of 1663 by C. 

Unless otherwise stated, the endings in the second and third pers. sing, 
pres. ind. are -est and -et, and the radical vowel is the same as in the 
infinitive ; in the preterit, the first and third persons have no ending, and 
the second person has the ending -est; the radical vowel throughout the 
preterit is that of the first pers. sing. ind. Furthermore, unless otherwise 
stated, the forms are the same in A, B, and C, except that, as a rule, A 
does not give the forms for the preterit subjunctive. 



H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN. 

fliehest, ftiehet ; freurst, freurt ; kreuchst, kreucht; leugst, leugt; 
reuchst, reueht; scheust; schleust; seujfst, seufft ; seudst, send; 
treugst, treugt; treuffst,treujft; verleurst, verleurt ; zeugst, zeugt, 
but ziehest, ziehet; exceptions are geussest, geneussest, scheubest, 
entspreussest. Those with a (e) and i (ie) are also often con- 
tracted, particularly when the vowel is short, but many uncon- 
tracted forms occur, more in the second person than in the 
third, and more in C than in A and B : befihlest by the side of 
befihlt; birgst, birgt, by the side of verbirgest, verbirget C; 
briehst, bricht; fichst, ficht in A and B, \mtfichtest, fechtest,foht 
and fechtet in C ; hilffst, hilft; ledst, led; ligest, liget and ligt; 
nimst, nimt ; quillest, by the side of quillt; schlaffest, but 
schlaffl, etc. All verbs leaving the vowel in the 2. and 3. 
sing, unmodified, have the full endings, except yreifft and 
kneiffl, by the side of greiffest and kneiffest. In the 2. sing, 
pret. the -e- is hardly ever omitted. 

The inorganic -e in the 1 . and 3. sing. pret. is occasionally 
found after h : diehe (by the side of the queer diehte) in B and 
C ; friehe; liehe, ziehe for the 1. person, by the side of the ir- 
regular ziehet for the 3. person, likewise vwziehe ; flohe ; sahe 
for the 1. person, by the side of sah; once the -e occurs after 
another consonant : fohte. 

I. 

beissen biss gebissen. 

b I e i b e n blieb geblieben. 

[ver-]bleichen verblich verblichen. 

deihen, gedeihen (not in A) dieh, -est, -ele and -e gediehen. 

[be-]fleisen beftiss beflissen. 

gleiten (not in .4) glitt geglitten. 

greiffen, greifest, grei/t A, B: griff, C: grieffgegriffen. 

knoiffen, kneiffest, knei/tkniffgekniffen. 

I e i d en litt geliiten. 

verleihen (not in A) liehe, liehest, liehe geliehen. 

meiden, A and B refer to scheiden, q. v. C: mied, meidete; mietest mcidetest; 
mied meidete ; miedten meideten ; midtet meidetet ; midten meideten gemit- 
ten gemeidel. "Usitatitis est Anonnilum gemitten." vermeiden, A: 
vcnn.itt vermitten; B, C: vermitt, vermeidete vermitten, vermeidet. 

pf e iff e n pfiffgepfiffen. 

rei ben rieb gerieben. 



THE LANGUAGE OP J. G. SCHOTTEL. 421 

re i sse n riss gerissen. 

reiten ritt geritlen. 

scheinen schien geschienen. 

scheissen schiss geschissen. 

schleichen (B : sleichen, etc.) scfdich geschlichen. 

schleiffen (B: sleifen) A, B refer to greiffen, q. v. 0: schliffgeschli/en. 

schleissen (B: sleissen, etc.) schliss geschlissen. 

schmeissen (B: smeissen, etc.) schmiss geschmissen. 

schneiden (B: sneiden, etc.) schniit geschnitten. 

SC h r e i b e n schrieb geschrieben. 

3Ch rey e n schrye geschryen. 

seihen, seigen (only in (7) seihete, seigete gesiehen, gesigen. 

schreiten schritt (C: schrit) geschritten. 

schweigen (B: sweigen, etc.) schwieg geschwiegen. 

[vep-]siegen (only in C) p. p. versiegen, " fons exsiccatus & aridus, ein 
Brunn so versiegen." Schottel evidently does not know the more regu- 
lar form verseigen for the present, nor the preterit versog and p. p. ver- 
sogen used by Stieler and others with the present versiegen according 
to wiegen wog gewogen. 

speyen speyete, spie gespien, gespeyel. 

spleissen (only in 0) splissgesplitsen. 

ste i g e n stieg gestiegen. 

Streiten stritt gestritten. 

[ver-]gleichen verglich verglichen. 

we i o h e n wich gewichen. 

weisen vries gewiesen. 

zeihen (A and B refer to leihen, q. v.) O: pret. 1. ziehe, 2. ziehest, 3. ziehet, 
geziehen. The -t in the 3. sing. pret. is probably due to a misprint, 
although verzeihen has it also. 

Here belong also 

scheiden schied geschieden, the transfer of which from the reduplicating 
verbs to this series seems to be accomplished, as Schottel does not give 
the older p. p. gescheiden, which still occurs in Luther, Gen. 13, 14. 

freihen (in B and G)freihete,friehe gefriehen, gefreiet. It seems strange 
that Schottel should have given the strong forms without character- 
izing them as rare ; Grimm does not give a single example of their use 
and the only one cited by Heyne from Philander von der Linde (Scherz- 
hafte Oedichte, 1713) "es haben andre sonst als du um mich gefriehen (: 
ziehen) " is late and proves little. I can find no other example. 

preisen -preisele, pries; subj. (not in A) priese gepreiset, gepriesen; the 
older weak forms which Luther uses exclusively, are still recognized 
as correct, except in the preterit subjunctive, where B and (7 have 
only the strong form. 

4 



422 H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN. 

In this class the process of levelling in the preterit is com- 
pleted, and the original vowel of the singular has in every case 
given way to that of the plural. Forms like er reit, er schneit 
often occurring in the 16. and 17. centuries 1 are no longer 
recognized by Schottel. The levelling process has extended 
also to the preterits with before -h and -w : l&ch, ddch, schrd > 
liehe, diehe, schrye. 

The struggle between long and short i has been decided ac- 
cording to the rule that fc appears before original surds and 
aspirates, I before sonants ; the only exception is grieff (C} by 
the side of grijf, (A, .5). 

Differentiation of consonants according to Verner's law is still 
found in meiden mied, vermitt meidten, midten gemitten, 
while in gedeihen, leiden and ziehen usage has decided between 
the consonant of the pret. sing, and that of the pret. plur. 
The g of gesigen has crept into the present tense, giving the 
infinative seigen by the side of the older seihen. 

A tendency to become weak is seen in meiden, seihen, and 
speyen ; on the other hand, many verbs of which weak forms 
often occur in the 16th and 17th centuries, are given only as 
strong. The fact that such an unquestionably strong verb as 
treiben is, doubtless by an oversight, omitted from the list of 
strong verbs in A, B and (7, makes it difficult to say whether 
the omission of schneien implies its classification as a weak 
verb or not. 

II. 

biegen ; 1. beuge, biege; 2. beugst; 3. beugt bog gebogen. 

bieten; 2. beutst; 3. beut bot geboten. 

[ver-]driessen ; A and B refer to gitssen, C: 2. verdreust; 3. verdreust 

verdros verdrossen. 

fliegen ; Z.fleugst; 3. A: fleuget; B, C: fleugtflog geflogen. 
fliehen (only in C); 2. fleuchst, fliehest ; 3. fleucht, fliehetflohe geflohen. 
fliessen ; 2.fleust; S.fleust floss geflossen. 
frieren ; 2.freurst; S.freurt -fror gefroren. 
g lessen ; 2. geussest; 3. geust goss gegossen. 

1 For examples see Kehrein's Grammatik der deutschen Sprache des funf- 
zehnten bis siebzehnten Jahrhunderts, I, 247 sqq. 



THE LANGUAGE OF J. G. SCHOTTEL. 423 

kiesen; 2.kiesest; 3. kieset kohr gekohren. 

kriechen ; 2. kreuchst; 3. kreucht kroch gekrochen. 

liegen ; 2. leugst; 3. leugt (A leugst; misprint) log gelogen. 

[ver-]lieren ; 2. verleurst; 3. verleurt verlohr verlohren. 

[ge-]niessen ; 2. geneussest; 3. geneust genos genossen. 

riechen ; 2. reuchst; 3. reucht roch gerochen. 

schiessen(not in A); 2. scheust; 3. scheust schoss geschossen. 

schliessen (B: sliessen); A and B refer to giessen, q. v. C: 2. schleust; 3. 

achleust schloss geschlossen. 
sieden ; 2. seudst; 3. send sott gesotten. 
[ent-]spriessen ; A and B refer to giessen, q. v. C: 1. entsprisse; 2. enl- 

spreussest; 3. entspreust; pi. entsprissen entspros entsprossen. 
stieben ; A and B refer to schieben, q. v. C: 2. stiebest; 3. stiebet. 
triegen ; 2. treugst; 3. <rett<7< <ro(? getrogen. 
trieffen : 2. treu/st; 3. treuffttroffgetroffen. 
ziehen ; J.: 2. zeugst; 3. zeujtf; J?, C: 2. zew^si, ziehest; 3. zeu(j>t, zieAe* zo(? 

gezogen. 

The few verbs belonging to this class that have in O.H.G. 
4 in the present, are otherwise regular : 

sauffen ; 2. seu/st; 3. seuffl (B: seufst, seuft) sofgesofen. 

saugen ; 2. saugest sog gesogen. The -au- of the 2. pers. is probably due 

to a desire to avoid confusion with the causative seugen; C: "seugen 

1 lectare infantem ' ist regular." 

Here belongs also 

schauben 'trudere,' 'pellere,' 'poulser' ; 2. scheubest; 3. scheubel schob; 
subj. schobe, schube geschoben. Given thus in A, B, C, except that the 
pret. subj. is wanting in A. C alone has, in addition to schauben, and 
as a separate verb, 

schieben ' protrudere,' ' bouler ' ; 2. schiebest ("interdum scheubest"); 3. 
schiebet, scheubet schob; subj. schobe geschoben. It is clear that this is 
a distinction without a difference, and that schauben is due to Low 
German influence. 1 

It will be seen that in this class too the process of levelling 
in the preterit is completed, no traces of the ou of the pret. 
sing, or of the more persistent u of the pret. plur. remaining, 
with the only exception, as regards the latter, of the subjunc- 

1 Both A and B say under stieben " sih schieben," but only schauben appears 
in the list. 



424 H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN. 

tive schiibe, by the side of schobe, over against boge, bole, floge, 
fiosse, frore, gosse, kohre, kroche, loge, verlohre, genosse, roche, 
soffe, soge, schosse, schlosse, sotte, sprosse, troge, troffe, zoge. 1 

Similarly, analogy has removed all distinctions between pre- 
terit singular and preterit plural, as regards final consonants, 
and forms like kos are no longer recognized by Schottel. The 
decision has in every case been given in favor of the consonant 
of the pret. plural, probably through the influence of the past 
participle : frohr, kohr, verlohr, sott, zog. 

On the other hand, there seems to be hardly a beginning 
made to assimilate the vowel of the 2. and 3. sing, to that of 
the rest of the present tense, and eu is still the rule. The only 
exceptions are : fliehest, fliehet, mentioned after fleuchst,fleucht ; 2 
kiest, kieset ; stiebest, stiebet in C, while A and B apparently 
mean to recognize forms with -eu- ; ziehest, ziehet, given in B 
and C after zeugst and zeugt, while A has only the latter. Of 
all the verbs in this class, ziehen is probably the most common, 
and the fact that A has only the forms with eu may be taken 
to indicate that with Schottel the tendency to substitute -ie- 
for -eu- in the 2. and 3. pers. had only just begun. The first 
person has regularly the vowel of the infinitive; the only 
exception, beuge, is doubtless due to confusion with the causa- 
tive beugen, O. H. G. and M. H. G. bougen. In ziehen, h is 
changed to g in the 2. and 3. pres. indicative in the contracted 
forms with -eu- ; but verziehen, verzeuchst, verzeuckt (C). 

III. 

o. VERBS ENDING IN A NASAL FOLLOWED BY ANOTHER CONSONANT. 

binden 1. band; 2. bundesl; 3. band; pi. bunden; subj. bilnde gebunden. 
dringen (C: "item drenge, drengest, tic.) 1. drang; 2. drungest; 3. drang ; 

pi. drungen; subj. driinge gedrungen. 
flnden l.fand; Z.fundest; 3. fand; pl.funden; subj./wnde gefunden. 

1 For many archaic forms occurring in the 17th century, see Kehrein, ib. 
I, 255 sqq. 

8 It is not certain that Schottel always meant the second form to be 
regarded as the one used less often. 



THE LANGUAGE OP J. G. SCHOTTEL. 425 

gelingen 1. gdang ; 2. gdungest; 3. gdang ; pi. gdungen; subj. gdiinge 

gdungen. 
klingen 1. klang; 2. Mungest; 3. klang ; pi. klungen; subj. kliinge 

geklungen. 

ringen 1. rang ; 2. rungest; 3. rang; pi. rungen; subj. rtmjre gerungen. 
schwinden (B: swinden, etc.) 1. schwand; 2. schwundesl; 3. schwand ; 

pi. schwunden; subj. schwiinde geschwunden. 
schwingen (-B: swingen, etc.) 1. schwang; 2. schwungest; 3. schwang; pi. 

schwungen; subj, schwiinge geschwungen. 

singen 1. sang; 2. sungest; 3. sang ; pi. sungen; subj. sun^e gesungen. 
sinken (-4: smc^en) l.san&; 2. sunkest; 3. sank; pi. sunken; subj. sttn&e 

gesunken. 
springen 1. sprang; 2. sprungest; 3. sprang; pi. sprungen; subj. spriinge 

gesprungen. 
stinken (-4: 8<incen) 1. stank; 2. stunkest; 3. stank; pi. sftwi&en/ sabj. 

stilnke gestunken. 
trinken (.4: in'nc&en) 1. trank; 2. trunkest; 3. Irank; pi. trunken; subj. 

triinke getrunken. 
Winden ' torquere' I. wand; 2.wundest; Z.wand; pl.wunden; subj.wiinde 

gewunden. 
winden ' vincere' (in 5 and (7) 1. wand; 2. wannett; 3. wand; pi. wunnen; 

subj. tffiwme gewonnen. Apparently confused with [ge-]winnen. 
ZWingen 1. zwang; 2.zwungest; 3. zwang ; pi. zwungen; subj. zwiinge ^- 

zwungen. 

Here may also be mentioned 

beschencken A: 1. beschank; 2. beschankest; beschuncken; "aliud est 
beschencket;" B, C: 1. beschank, beschenkte; 2. beschankest, beschenkesl; 
beschenket, " interdum beschunken." 

b, VEBBS ENDING IN A DOUBLE NASAL. 

beginnen l.began,begunte; 2. beguntest ; 3. begun, begunte ; plur. not given ; 

subj. begiinte begunnen, begonnen. 

rinnen I. ran; 2.runnest; 3. ran; pi. runnen; subj. runnc geronnm. 
schwimmen (B: swimmen) 1. schwamm ; 2. schwummest; S.schwamm; pi. 

schwummen ; subj. schwiimme; A: geschwummen; B, C: geschwummen, 

geschwommen. 
sinnen. Not given in A ; B and C give only the p. p. gesonnen. All three 

have besinnen 1. besann; 2. besannest; 3. besann; pi. not given; subj. 

besunne besonnen. 
spinnen 1. spann; 2. spunnest; 3. spann; pl.spunnen; subj. spiinnc ge- 

sponnen. 
[ge-]winnen 1. gewan; 2. gewunnest; 3. gewan; pi. gewunnen ; subj. gewiinne 

gewonnen. 



426 H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN. 



c. VERBS ENDING IN A LIQUID FOLIXDWED BY ANOTHER CONSONANT. 

bergen; 2. birgst; 3. birgt 1. barg; 2. bargest; 3. barg ; pi. not given; 
subj. burge; geborgen. verbergen; 2. verbirgest; 3. verbirget; 1. verbarg; 

2. verborgest; 3. verbarg ; pi. verborgen; subj. verbiirge; verborgen. 
bersten ; 2. birstest, birst; 3. 6irs(; 1. 6ars<; 2. borstest; 3. A: 6ars<; J3, 

C: borst; pl.borsten; subj. borste; geborsten. 
[ver-]derben ; 2. verdirbest; 3. verdirbet; 1. verdarb ; 2. verdurbest, verdor- 

best ; 3. verdarb ; pi. verdurben, verdorben; subj. verdurbe; verdorben. 
[be-]fehlen; 2. befihlest; 3. befihll;!. befahl; 2. befohlest; 3. 6e/oW; pi. 

befohlen; subj. befohle; befohlen. 
gel ten; 2. giltest; 3. 0ift; 1. yaft; 2. goltest; 3. groft; pi. galten; subj. 

gru/te ; gegolten. 
helfen (^4: AC//CTI, etc.); 2. k7/s<; 3. hUft;l. half; 2. &u//s<; 3. Aa#V pi. 

not given ; subj. hiilfe; geholfen. 
quellen ; 2. quillest; 3. quillt; 1. quail; 2. quollest; 3. quatt; pi. quollen; 

subj. quellete; gequollen. 
schelten ; 2. schtttest; 3. schilt; pi. scholten, evidently a misprint, although 

running through A, B, C ; 1. schalt, 2. schaltest, C also schultest; 3. 

schalt; pi. not given ; subj. schuUe ; gescholten. 
schmelzen (A: schmeltzen, etc., B : smelzen, etc.); 2. schmilzest ; S.schmilzet; 

1. schmah; 2. schmolzest, B and (7 also schmvlzest ; 3. schmalz; pi. not 

given; subj. sehmulze ; geschmolzen. "Variatur per omnes vocales, 

schmalz schmelzen schmilzest schmolzest schmulzest." 
schwellen (B : swellen, etc.); 2. schwittst, A: schwilst; 3. schwillt, A: 

schwilt ; 1. schwall ; 2. schwollest ; 3. schwatt; pi. schwotten ; subj. schwotte; 

geschwollen. 
sterben ; 2. stirbest; 3. stirbet; 1. starb; 2. sturbest, storbest; S.starb; pi. 

sturben, storben; subj. stiirbe ; gestorben. 
werben ; A and B refer to sterben ; C conjugates like sterben, but adds slurb 

for the 3. pers. pret. 
werden ; 2. wirst; S.vrird; 1. ward; 2. wurdest, wordest; 3. ward; pl.wur- 

den, warden; subj. wiirde ; geworden. The form wiirden in the pret. 

plur. must be a misprint, although it runs through A, B and C. 
Werfen (A: werffen, etc.); 2. wirfst; 3. wirft; 1. warf; 2. wurfest, worfest; 

3. tear/"; pi. wurfen; subj. wiirfe; geworfen. 
[ver-]wirren ; p. p. verworren. 

Here belongs also 

[er-]schallen (simplex not given) erscholl; subj. erschiitte; erschollen, in 
which verb the weak present schallen has combined with the pret. and 
p. p. of the strong schellen, which was becoming obsolete. In Clajus' 
Grammatik (1578) only the weak forms are given. 



THE LANGUAGE OP J. G. SCHOTTEL. 427 

It will be seen that in this class levelling in the preterit has 
made but little progress. As a rule, the singular has a, the 
plural u (o), the subjunctive u (6). The 2. sing, has the vowel 
of the plural, with the ending -est. This survival of the old 
distinction between the 1. and 3. pers. on the one hand, and 
the 2. pers. on the other, is perhaps the most striking archaism 
in Schottel's conjugation. 

There are but slight beginnings of a confusion of the several 
vowels. The first subdivision has regularly i a u,u u, the 
only exception being wannest. The second subdivision has 
i a u,u o, but there are a few exceptions : 3. sing. pret. be- 
gun and p. p. begunnen before begonnen ; geschwummen before 
geschwommen ; besannest ; besides, the pret. plurals of beginnen 
and \be-~\sinnen are not given, from which, however, it would 
not be safe to infer that they had the same vowel as the singulars. 
The third subdivision is less regular than the two others. The 
pret. plurals of bergen, helfen, schallen, schelten, schmelzen are 
not given ; of the remainder, one has u viz. werfen ; four have 
o, viz. bersten, befehlen, quellen, schwellen; four may take 
either u or o, viz. sterben, verderben, werben, werden (?) ; one 
has the vowel of the singular, a, viz. gelten. The 1. sing. pret. 
has a, with the exception of schellen, which has o. In the 2. 
sing. pret. one verb has u, viz. he If en ; five have o, viz. bersten, 
befehlen, gelten, quellen, schwellen; six have u and o, viz. 
verderben, schmelzen (u in B and C], sterben, wei'ben, werden, 
werfen ; one has u and a, viz. schelten (u in O) ; but only one 
has the same vowel as in the first and third persons, viz. 
bergen. In the 3. sing. pret. the majority have only a; 
befehlen and gelten have o ; bersten has a in A, and o in B and 
C; sterben has a in A and B, while C adds sturb. The sub- 
junctive has u, except borste, befohle, schwolle, and the weak 
gueUete. 

IV. 

brechen; 2. brichtt; Z.brichl; brack; subj. broche; gebrochen. 
gebehren; 2. gebehrest; 3. gebehrl; B and G also: gebihrest, gebihrt, 
geba.hr; subj. gebohr; geborren. 



428 H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN. 

dreschen ; 2. drischest; 3. drischet; 1. drasch, drosch; 2. draschest; 3. 

drasch ; pi. droschen; subj. drosche; gedroschen. 
fechten ; A and B refer to flechten, q. v. ; (7: 2. fichtest, fechtest; 3. jic&i, 

fechtet; l.fochte; Z.fochtest; 3. fochte; pl.fochten; subj.fochte,fikhte; 

gefochten. 
flechten; Z.flichst; 3.flicht;A: l.floch; 2. flochtest ; S.fioch; ipl.flochten; 

B, C: 1. flochte; 2. flochtest; 3. flochte; pi. flochten; subj. flochte; ge- 

flochten. 
[ver-]heelen (not in A); the p. p. verholen is the only surviving form of 

the strong verb. 
kommen ; 2. kommesl, komst (C:-mm-); 3. kommet; kam; subj. ktime; 

gekommen. 

leschen (not in A); p. p. [er-]loschen. 
nehmen ; 2 nimst; 3. nimt; nam; subj. nahme ; genommen. 
rechen ; 2. richest; 3. rechet; p. p. gerochen. 
scheren ; 2. scherest; schor; subj. schore; geschoren. 
[er-]schrekken (not in A); 2. erschrekkest ; erschrakk; subj. erschrekte, 

erschrokte ; erschrokken. 
8prechen=:6recAen/ C: " Dieses Wort wird durch alle Vocales variirt, als: 

sprach, sprechen, spricht, gesprochen, Spntch ; item durch die beiden Klein- 

laute o t il, als : sproche, Sprilche." 
stechen ; A and B refer to brechen; C: 2. stichest; 3. sticht; stack; pi. 

slacken (interdum stochen) ; subj. stoche; gestochen. 
Stehlen ; Z.stihht; S.stihlt; l.ttahl; 2. stablest; S.stahl; pl.stohlen; subj. 

stoUe ; gestohlen. 
treffen ; 2. trifst; 3. tnffl;tra/; subj. tro/e; getroffen. 

In this class, the old distinction of quantity between pret. 
sing, and pret. plur. has completely disappeared, unless a trace 
of it is to be sought in the subjunctive ndhme over against the 
indicative nam. There seems to have been a tendency to 
maintain the difference in vowel between pret. sing, and pret. 
plur. by substituting for the originally long a of the plural, 
which was no longer distinguished from the originally short a 
of the singular, an o, which in its turn penetrated into the 
singular. In the plural, o is found in dreschen, fechten, 
flechten, 1 scheren, stechen ("interdum") and stehlen ; the o has 
also penetrated into the whole singular of fechten, flechten, and 
scheren, and is further found in the 1. sing, drosch, by the side 
of drasch, and in the 2. sing, stohlest. The subjunctive has b, 

1 These two verbs had, as is well known, long had u in the'plural in M. G. 



THE LANGUAGE OP J. G. SCHOTTEL. 429 

the only exceptions being kdme and ndhme. This tendency to 
introduce o into the pret. sing, and pret. plur. may have been 
helped by the fact that the verbs of this class agreed in the p. p. 
with those of class II (fliegenflog geflogen) which had o 
throughout the preterit. 

V. 

bitten ; bat; subj. bete ; gebeten. 

essen ; 2. issest; 3. isset; ass; subj. dsse; gegessen, gessen. Likewise 

fressen. 

geben ; 2. gibstf 3.giebt(A: giebet) ; gab; subj. gdbe ; gegeben. 
[ver-]gessen ; 2. vergissest; 3. vergisset; vergass ; subj. B: veryasse, C: 

vergesse ; vergessen. 

lesen ; 2. list, liesest; 3. list, lieset ; las (3. A: lass) ; subj. lose. 
ligen ; 2. ligest; 3. liget, ligt; lag; subj. lege; gelegen. 
messen ; 2. missest; 3. missel; mass; subj. masse; gemessen. 
[ge-]schehen ; 3. geschiehet; geschach; subj. geschehe; geschehen. 
sehen ; 2. sihst; 3. sihet; 1. sah, sake; 2. sahest; 3. sah ; subj. sake; gesehen. 
sitzen ; sass.; subj. sdsse; gesessen. 
treten ; 2. trittest, tritst (B: trist) ; 3. trilt; 1. trat; 2. A: tratest, .Sand C: 

trattest; 3. trat; snbj. trate; getreten. 
wegen ; 2. wigst; 3. wigt; wog; subj. woge; gewogen. 

No traces of a difference between pret. sing, and pret. plur. 
remain, nor has a been supplanted by o as in class IV, 
except in wegen, which may be regarded as having gone over 
into class II; pflegen, which early forms a p. p. gepflogen, 
Schottel evidently means to treat as weak. In the subjunctive, 
a prevails, but e is found in bete, vergesse (B : vergdsse), lege, 
gescheat. 

VI. 

bakken ; (A: backen, etc.); 2. bakkest; 3. bekket; 1. bitch; 2. buchest (A : 
buchst] ; 3. buch; subj. biiche; 3. bucket (evidently a misprint, although 
found in B and C) ; gebakken. 

fahren ; 2.fdhrest; 3. fahret ; -fuhr ; subj./wAre; gefahren. 

graben ; Z.grabest; 3. grdbet; grub; subj.grilbe; gegraben. 

heben ; hub; subj. hiibe; gehoben, gehaben. 

jagen (not in A); 2. B: jdgest, jegst ; C: jagest, jegst; S.jaget, jdgt;jug; 
subj. jtige ; gejaget. 

laden ; 2. ledst; 3. led; lud; subj. tilde; geladen. 

mahlen, 'pingere'; Z.mehlest; 3. mehlet; muhl; subj. miihle; gemahUn. 
5 



430 H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN. 

schaffen ; 2. scha/est ; schuff ; subj. schufle (both B and (7); gescha/en. 
schlagen (B: slagen, etc.); 2. schlagst, 3. schldgt, (A: schlegst, schlegt) ; 

schlug ; subj. schliige; geschlagen. 

schweren (B: sweren, etc.) ; 2.schwerest; schwur: sa\)].schwure; geschworen. 
tragen ; 2. A: tregst; B, C: Iragst; 3. A: tregt; B, C: trdgt; trug ; subj. 

trilge ; getragen. 

wachsen ; 2.wechsesi; S.weehset; wuchs ; subj. wuchse; gewachsen. 
waschen ; 2. A : weschest; B, C: waschest; 3. A: weschet; B, C: waschet; 

wusch ; subj. wusche ; gewaschen. 

This class is very regular. The o in geschworen is, of course, 
quite old ; the new gehoben is placed before the older gehaben, 
but the still more modern hob is not yet mentioned. Note- 
worthy are the irregular jug, juge, by the side of gejaget, and 
muhl, muhle, gemahlen. In the 2. and 3. pres. indicative, e and 
a are about equally distributed, both being used in long and 
short stems, while A has e more frequently than B and (7. 



VII. 



blasen ; 2.bldsest; S.blaset; blies; geblasen. 

braten; 2. A: brettest; B, C: brelest; 3. bret ; briet ; gebraten. 

fallen; I.Jallst; S.fallt; -fiel ; gefallen. 

fangen ; 2.fengest; S.fengt; fieng ; gefangen. 

halten ; A: 2. flattest; 3. halt; B, C: -e-; hielt; gehalten. 

hangen ' suspendere, faire qu'elle pende ' ; 2. hengest ; 3. henget; A : hieng; 
B: hieng " (ohn e)" ; C: king " (ohn e)" ; gehanyen. It will be ob- 
served that Schottel seems to know only the strong verb, and that in a 
causative sense ; or else he would have mentioned the weak verb in a 
note, as he generally does. 

lassen; A: 2. lessest; 3. lesset; B, C: -a-; lies; gelassen. 

rahten; A: 2.retest; 3.rett;B,C: 2.ratest; 3. rate (probably a misprint) ; 
riet ; gerahten. 

schlaffen (B: slaffen, etc.) ; 2. schldffest ; 3. schlafft; schlieff; geschlaffen. 

b. 

heissen ; hiese; geheissen. Here belongs, by analogy, 
heischen ; hiesch; geheischen. 



hauen (A : hawen, etc.) ; 2. A : hawest, hewest ; B : hauest, heuest; C: hauest ; 
3. C: hauet ; hieb ; p. p. A : gehawen ; B, C: gehauen. 



THE LANGUAGE OF J. G. SCHOTTEL. 431 

lauffen; 2.lauffst; S.laufft; lieff; gelauffen. 
stossen; 2. stossest; S.stosset; sties; gestossen. 

d. 
ruffen; 2.ruffst; S.rufft; rieff; geruffen. 

This class shows few irregularities. In the 2. and 3. pers. 
sing. pres. indicative, -a- prevails over -e-, at least in B and 
C, -e- being apparently used chiefly for the short sound. 
Noteworthy are the forms stossest, stosset, without umlaut. 

H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN. 



X. A GROUPING OF FIGURES OF SPEECH, BASED 

UPON THE PRINCIPLE OF THEIR 

EFFECTIVENESS. 

Four years ago I read before this Association a paper upon 
a single figure of speech, allegory. In order to make a 
careful study of that figure, it was necessary to give some at- 
tention to other figures, especially to these three, simile, 
metaphor, and personification. From time to time during 
the last four years I have followed up trains of thought that 
were opened by my earlier study, and thus have been led 
almost unconsciously to note the various relations of the more 
important figures, until I have come to feel that the best way 
to arrive at an understanding of any one figure is to study 
figurative language as a whole as well as in its parts. 1 Each 
year the subject has been brought anew to my mind by the 
necessity of presenting it in the class-room. 

The college student ordinarily comes to us with very little 
knowledge of the figures of speech. He can, indeed, recognize 
in a mechanical way certain figures, and can label them with 
names ; but of their real nature, of the principle of which they 
are manifestations, he knows very little. In his own writing 
he either makes a lavish use of them for the sake of ornament, 
or more commonly through a feeling of timidity tries to avoid 
them. Avoid them altogether he cannot. As regards the use 
of figures, we should, in my judgment, attempt little more than 
to point out illustrations of their use, both appropriate and 

1 This paper is intended to supplement and in part to supersede the 
earlier paper, which appeared in the Publications of the Association for 
1889. It restates and reinforces the theory of the earlier paper. Certain 
errors in detail which do not affect the truth of the main thesis, I need not 
specify ; one sentence, however, that beginning " Personification addresses 
itself" (p. 189 ; p. 49 of the reprint) 1 wish to cancel as entirely inadequate, 
and in part incorrect. At the time of writing the sentence I must have had 
in mind merely alphabetic personification. 

432 



A GROUPING OF FIGURES OF SPEECH. 433 

inappropriate ; if this can be done in the student's own writing, 
his gain will be the greater. For acquiring an apt use of 
figures the best means that I know is vigorous thinking ; and 
this we may secure in the student by leading him to write upon 
subjects in which he takes a genuine interest. I sometimes 
counsel my pupils not to say to themselves, " Go to, now, I will 
use a figure ; " but to think hard, and there will come to them 
such figures as it will be wise for them to use. 

Our problem, then, is not primarily to teach the use of figures 
of speech ; rather it is to teach the student to distinguish that 
-which is essential to each figure, to understand, if possible, the 
principle of their effectiveness, and to recognize in the various 
figures various manifestations of this one underlying principle. 
How shall I present this subject to my class in such a manner 
as will be profitable to them ? is the question that I have put to 
myself from year to year : and my answer to the question is an 
attempt, first, to discover a principle of which every figure is a 
manifestation in some form ; and, secondly, to devise a grouping 
which shall be based upon this principle. To my presentation 
of the subject I give the modest name of grouping, for I do not 
attempt anything so ambitious or so scientific as a classification 
of figures ; yet I. am not without the hope that it may be 
possible to convert into something scientific enough to merit the 
name of classification the presentation which I have found to be 
effective in the class-room. To this end I shall welcome the 
closest criticism, especially of those who have had brought 
home to them the problem of presenting the subject in the 
class-room. 

Upon a subject that has been discussed since the days of 
Aristotle, it is impossible to say much that is new ; indeed, the 
more I read, the more I am inclined to think that very little 
that is new has been said since the time of Quintilian. I must 
ask for my reader's patience, as I traverse ground that is famil- 
iar ; though we come late in the day, and though our strength 
is feeble, yet there may be for us some scanty gleanings. In 
Modern Language Notes for December, 1886, appeared an 



434 



HERBERT E. GREENE. 



article by Professor Bradley of the University of California, 
upon "The Classification of Rhetorical Figures;" in the 
closing sentence of his article the writer says that the object of 
his paper is to elicit future discusion, and expresses the hope 
that such discussion " may lead to a lasting reorganization of 
this central department of Rhetoric." Two years later (De- 
cember, 1888) appeared in the same periodical an article on 
" The Evolution of Figures of Speech," by Professor Fruit of 
Bethel College ; but it cannot be said that there has been an 
active discussion of the subject, or that any definite steps have 
been taken toward a lasting reorganization. To the above- 
named writers, and also to Professor Gummere, I wish to 
acknowledge my indebtedness for help and stimulus, even 
where I find it necessary to differ with them. 

In a useful series of topics and references upon The Principles 
of Style, compiled by Professor Scott of the University of 
Michigan, the writer supplements his references upon "Figures" 
with the following words: "While much good ink has been 
spilled in discussing the proper classification of Figures, little 
light has been thrown upon their origin or the principle of 
their effectiveness " (p. 25). If it were possible to agree upon 
the principle of their effectiveness, it might be an easier matter 
to agree upon a classification, at least, upon a classification 
that would answer for practical purposes. Into the origin of 
figures I shall not attempt to inquire, beyond raising the ques- 
tion whether it may not be found by a study of human nature 
quite as readily as by an historical study. Undoubtedly, 
certain nationalities and certain types of character have shown a 
predilection for certain figures, and these nationalities and types 
of character have interacted ; in the matter of literary form the 
English literature has, perhaps, borrowed more than it has 
invented. Readily admitting this, and further admitting that 
it is in the early stages of a literature that we find especially 
prominent those traits which are most distinctly national, I 
would, nevertheless, maintain that any civilization, if it could 
have an independent growth, would in time develop all, or 



A GROUPING OF FIGURES OF SPEECH. 435 

nearly all, the literary devices that are in common use. One 
who has observed attentively the unstudied language of children, 
can have little doubt upon this point. Is it just to claim that 
the origin of figures, or of a particular figure, belongs solely to 
one nation, merely because that nation was among the first to 
develop a literature ? If the calculus could be discovered almost 
simultaneously by two men, if gunpowder could be invented in 
two nations many thousand miles apart, what shall hinder us 
from believing that so distinctive a trait of human nature as the 
use of figurative language may not have had, may not have, a 
manifold origin? 

In his Introduction to Aristotle s Rhetoric (published in 1867), 
Mr. Cope uses the following words, based upon a passage in the 
De Oratore of Cicero (III, xxxviii, 155): "The origin of 
metaphor is the imperfection of language; where there is no 
term directly expressing a notion, the nearest analogy, the term 
which expresses that which most nearly resembles it must be 
employed as a substitute." Poverty of language is, then, the 
origin of the most important of figures. A different view is 
taken by Professor Gurumere, who says that u a confusion, or if 
one will, flexibility of terms is the real origin of the metaphor" 
(The Anglo-Saxon Metaphor, p. 11). " Poverty of language" 
and " a confusion of terms." Must we choose between the two ? 
For myself, I feel free to accept both hypotheses. If, however, 
I must choose, I prefer the former. " Poverty of language " 
indicates a struggle with an imperfect medium of communi- 
cation, and a victory over it, at least in part. "A confusion of 
terms " indicates an imperfect wit, one that has at its disposal 
adequate means of expression, but does not know how to make 
proper use of them, and thus blunders into metaphor. It is 
impossible to make this last view tally with the saying of 
Aristotle, that " greatest of all is to be apt at metaphor. This 
alone cannot be got from another, and is a sign of natural 
ability ; l for to use metaphors well is to discern resemblances " 

1 In his life of Milton, Mark Pattison, whose classical scholarship is unques- 
tioned, has the following sentence (p. 192) : "The power of metaphor, t. ., 



436 HERBEBT E. GEEENE. 

(Poetics, xxii, 9). I suppose our own observation will lead us 
to agree that the power of discovering likeness where there is 
apparent unlikeness is a sign of natural ability ; that the power 
of forcing words to do more work than they are in the habit of 
doing is a sign of natural ability ; and that to confuse two terms, 
when one of them is capable of doing the work satisfactorily, is a 
sign of a lack of natural ability. If the origin of metaphor lies 
in the poverty of language, then it is evident that there is no spe- 
cial need of looking to primitive man for its origin. The same 
need which men feel to-day, probably a greater need, was felt by 
primitive man; wherever the need arises, quick wits bend 
language, and make it serve their purpose. In this sense the 
origin of metaphor, the most important figure, lies about us, as 
well as with primitive man. 

One of the precepts which the teacher of Rhetoric has frequent 
occasion to inculcate, is that it is usually better to employ 
specific words, such as, " bricks and mortar/' " hammer and 
saw," than to use general terms, such as "building materials" 
and " carpenters' tools." This precept is based upon the prin- 
ciple that the specific word is exact, and therefore clear and 
vigorous, while the general term expresses the meaning vaguely, 

of indirect expression, is, according to Aristotle, the characteristic of genius." 
The reference is undoubtedly to the passage in the Poetics quoted above. 
Whately, in his Rhetoric translates the same passage by the words "a mark 
of genius." I question whether the foregoing translations do not attribute to 
Aristotle's words, evtyvias ffij^ov, more meaning than they will bear. 
On the other hand, Wharton's translation, "a proof of cleverness," seems to 
understate the force of the original. Several eminent classical scholars have 
been so kind as to give me more exact translations of the passage. Two 
suggested independently "natural ability;" this rendering, which I have 
adopted, is also employed by Cope. Another suggests that " happy natural 
endowment " succeeds better in preserving the significance of the first part of 
the compound in evQvta. Perhaps, however, the word "ability" preserves 
the force of eS ; if so, I should prefer not to employ three words in order 
to translate one. George Eliot (Mill on the Floss, Bk. II, ch. 1) translates 
the phrase by "a sign of high intelligence." The natural temptation is to 
give to the words all the meaning that they will bear. 



A GROUPING OF FIGURES OF SPEECH. 437 

because it includes more than we mean. Suppose, now, that we 
say less than we mean ; suppose that we say " bricks and mortar" 
when we mean, not " bricks and mortar '' but " building ma- 
terials." We have crossed the line that separates literal from 
figurative discourse. We have chosen to suggest our meaning 
rather than to state it ; and we trust to the imagination of the 
reader to supply what we have failed to state. Take another 
illustration. In describing the outbreak of a war and the 
readiness with which patriots obeyed their country's call to 
arms, an historian might say, " The carpenter dropped his saw 
and chisel, and the farmer left his plow in the field. " This 
may be merely a statement of literal truth, or it may suggest 
much more than it affirms. It may suggest that the carpenter 
left all his tools, and that the farmer left not only his plow but 
also everything else that had to do with his daily work ; that 
they, and many other citizens, left their homes, and all that 
made home dear to them ; and that they did so promptly and 
unhesitatingly. All this is clear to the understanding, if it is 
stated in full; of that which is merely suggested, the under- 
standing takes no cognizance. But the writer does not choose 
to state his meaning in full ; out of many possible details he 
chooses this one, " The farmer left his plow in the field," and 
trusts to the imagination of his readers to supply all that he has 
left unsaid. So, too, the words, " Consider the lilies " (quoted 
by Campbell, also by Professor Hill) may be either literal or 
figurative, according to the meaning which they were intended 
to convey. I have dwelt thus at length upon this point because 
I wish to emphasize the fact that the figure which goes by the 
name of synecdoche stands at only a slight remove from literal 
language. A touch of imagination in the mind of the writer, if 
only it be of the kind that compels a response in the mind of 
the reader, and that which is literal is converted into figure. 
If this be true, we have here the differentia between the literal 
and the figurative. Indeed, I would ask whether any other 
suggestions that may be made are not in reality various names 



438 HERBERT E. GREENE. 

for this single differentia, the presence of imagination in the 
speaker or writer, kindling a response in the hearer or reader. 

Synecdoche, as Professor Gummere has said, is based upon a 
relation of space, what Professor Fruit has termed intra-rela- 
tivity, the relation of the whole and its parts; from this 
figure it is only a short step to Metonymy, which is based upon 
a relation of thought, what Professor Fruit has termed extra- 
relativity, or the intuitions of necessary relation. Metonymy 
names things at a slight remove ; instead of naming the thing 
itself, it names something associated with it, and trusts to the 
imagination to supply what is not stated, both the thing 
unnamed and the relation which bridges the gulf between the 
two. If the relations are necessary relations, the gulf is not a 
very wide one ; neither in synecdoche nor in metonymy is a 
serious demand made upon the imagination, though more is, 
perhaps, required in the case of metonymy. 

From Metonymy (a change of name) it is only a step to the 
descriptive epithet or Kenning, as when we call bank notes 
green-backs ; hornets, yellow-jackets ; English soldiers, red- 
coats ; a thief, a pickpocket. The examples that I have given 
point in the direction of metonymy ; but literature, poetry 
especially, abounds in Kenningar that point in the direction of 
metaphor. l In his short poem, " The Humble-bee," Emerson 
speaks in the first line of the " burly, dozing humble-bee," 
but after that names him only by means of Kenningar; 
" thou animated torrid zone, 1 ' " Zigzag steerer, desert 

1 See the first paragraph of Charles Lamb's essay on " Poor Relations " for 
an amusing list of descriptive epithets that are not used as Kenningar, though 
many of them are capable of conversion into Kenningar. 

I should like to plead for the introduction into our text-books of the name 
Kenning. If we can adopt and use with ease Greek words such as Synec- 
doche, Metonymy, Metaphor, which even to most of those who use them are 
mere names, surely we can adopt a word which is much more nearly English, 
and which is already known to students of Old English. Epithet (a Greek 
word) is not so good a name as Kenning ; and it is possible to give to the 
latter word a definite meaning. The word, if anglicized, would naturally 
receive an English plural. 



A GROUPING OF FIGURES OF SPEECH. 439 

cheerer," " Hot midsummer's petted crone," yellow- 
breeched philosopher ; " and in a sudden burst of imagination 
he has six Kenningar, completely filling as many consecutive 
lines, 

" Insect lover of the sun, 

Joy of thy dominion ! 

Sailor of the atmosphere ; 

Swimmer through the waves of air ; 

Voyager of light and noon ; 

Epicurean of June." 

The figures that we have been considering, Synecdoche, 
Metonymy, and the Kenning, are various forms of specific 
language, of choosing one part or feature to represent the 
whole. They stimulate the imagination, but they cannot be 
said to stimulate it to a high degree. These are figures that 
might be used by writers who have only a moderate degree of 
imaginative power, but who have in a high degree clearness of 
mental vision, which is, indeed, one form of imagination. I pass 
now to a group of figures which make larger demands upon the 
imagination. Their essential nature is that they point out a 
likeness between two things that to the careless observer offer 
no suggestion of likeness ; the imagination is stimulated to 
penetrate beneath the surface, and where there is apparent 
dissimilarity to detect a resemblance. 

" How far that little candle throws his beams ! 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world." 

The simile is a formal, leisurely figure, which sets side by side 
with equal prominence the two objects compared. A briefer 
statement in the form of metaphor may not necessarily indi- 
cate greater imaginative power in the writer, but it certainly 
makes greater demands upon the imagination of the reader. 
When Bassanio speaks of the " blessed candles of the night," 
when Banquo says on a dark night, " There 's husbandry in 
heaven : their candles are all out," something has been sup- 
pressed ; accordingly, something must be supplied. Where 



440 



HERBERT E. GREENE. 



there is not actual suppression of a term, but only an omission 
of the copula which indicates a formal comparison, we have 
what Professor Gummere terms the implied simile, as dis- 
tinguished from the stated simile. With his example I quote 
also his terminology, both for the sake of clearness, and because 
I wish to offer certain supplementary suggestions. A simile is 
a formal comparison between two things, x is like y : in pro- 
portion as we suppress one of the terms, our statement will 
assume the form of metaphor. As long as both x and y are 
expressed, we have simile ; when y only is expressed, we have 
metaphor. For example, " The sun is like the eye of heaven " 
is a simile formally stated ; " The sun, the eye of heaven," or 
" The sun is the eye of heaven," is an implied simile ; both x 
and y are expressed, and only the copula is omitted. The like- 
ness is implied, though not formally stated. Now omit x, and 
we have Shakspere's metaphor, " the eye of heaven." Only y 
is expressed ; x must be supplied by the imagination. We see 
at once what a step has been taken, and what a large demand is 
made upon the imagination. 

The metaphor makes the imagination do more work, and 
gives it more pleasure than any other figure that I have named 
thus far. In all the other figures there is some literal truth, 
but the very essence of metaphor is that to the literal under- 
standing it is false, while to the imagination it is true. 

"Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more ! 
Macbeth has does murder sleep,' the innocent sleep, 
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, 
The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, 
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, 
Chief nourisher in life's feast, " 

Murder sleep ? labor's bath ? balm of hurt minds ? death of 
each day's life? Impossible, says the understanding. True, 
every word, says the imagination. 

The superior effectiveness of metaphor is due in part to its 
brevity, to the condensed form in which it comes before the 



A GROUPING OF FIGURES OF SPEECH. 441 

imagination, and compels it to do its work in a trice. A 
heightened form of metaphor is that which is so instinct with 
life and vigor that it has been set apart, and named Personifi- 
cation. That which is lifeless is represented as having life. 
Such personifications indicate a vivid imagination in the 
writer, and call for a correspondingly vivid imagination in 
the reader. I quote the passage in which Hamlet rebukes his 

queen-mother : l 

" Such an act 

That blurs the grace and blush of majesty, 
Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose 
From the fair forehead of an innocent love 
And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows 
As false a dicers' oaths : O, such a deed 
As from the body of contraction plucks 
The very soul, and sweet religion makes 
A rhapsody of words : heaven's face doth glow ; 
Yea, this solidity and compound mass, 
With tristful visage, as against the doom, 
Is thought-sick at the act." 

How every word quivers with life ! Very different is this 
from those frigid conceits which Coleridge calls "printers' 
devils' personifications," and which Lowell had in mind when 
he wrote of " that alphabetic personification which enlivens 
all such words as Hunger, Solitude, Freedom, by the easy 
magic of an initial capital." 

" Contented Toil and hospitable Care, 
And kind connubial Tenderness, are there ; 
And Piety with wishes plac'd above, 
And steady Loyalty, and faithful Love." 

{Such personifications have about as much of life as has a 
stuffed suit of armor. A personification should be able to 
stand alone, without the prop of a capital letter ; it should 
conduct itself like a person, and should show by its actions 
that it has life. 

1 Quoted also by McElroy, The Structure of English Prose, p. 240. 



442 



HERBERT E. GREENE. 



One step more, and we reach in the figure known as Allegory 
the farthest bound ; in the domain of figure the force of ima- 
gination can no farther go. Step by step that which is figura- 
tive has been displacing that which is literal ; but even in 
metaphor there is some hint of the literal. When we say 
" the eye of heaven," the word " heaven " makes it apparent 
that we are not to take the word " eye " in a literal sense. In 
genuine allegory all is figure; there is not a trace of the literal. 
" The wheel is come full circle/' and again, as in the case of synec- 
doche, we have language that may be either literal or figura- 
tive. Every word may be taken in a literal sense; every 
word is intended to be taken in a figurative sense. Under the 
apparent meaning, as under a veil, is hidden the true meaning ; 
and only an active imagination can interpret by the folds of 
drapery the form that is hidden beneath. Metaphor gives us 
y with a hint of x ; pure allegory gives us y without the 
barest hint of x. It is nothing more or less than a riddle. 
Of course pure allegory is a tremendous tax upon the imagi- 
nation, which is obliged at once to solve the riddle, that 
is, mentally to supply the missing x, and to keep up a run- 
ning series of equations between the expressed y and the unex- 
pressed x. 

The relation between simile, metaphor, and allegory, and 
the demand that each makes upon the imagination, may be 
illustrated by means of symbols in another way. Aristotle 
was, I believe, the first to point out the fact that the metaphor 
and the simile may be set forth in the terms of a proportion : 
" As old age is to life, so is evening to day " (Poetics, xxi, 6). 
This relation we may indicate by the symbols, A : B : : a : b. 
In the formal simile " Old age is like the evening of life," 
and in the implied simile, " Old age, the evening of life," only 
the first three terms in the proportion are expressed, and we 
have A : B : : a : x; but it is a simple matter to supply the 
fourth term of a proportion when the other three are given. 
The missing term " day " is not needed, for it is as readily 
supplied as is the omitted member of an enthymeme. Indeed, 



A GROUPING OF FIGURES OF SPEECH. 443 

the act is one of logical inference rather than of imagination. 
In the metaphor, " the evening of life/' another term of the 
proportion has been omitted ; given the two means, we are to 
find the extremes. This is a problem which can be answered, 
answered in a variety of ways, indeed : perhaps the true answer 
will reveal itself more readily to the imagination than to 
the reason. In pure allegory we have only a mention of 
" evening " ; no mention whatever is made of " old age" or of 
" life " or of " day." One term of the proportion is given, 
and the imagination must supply the other three ; probably it 
will content itself with supplying two. 

As examples of pure allegory I might cite the riddles of 
Cynewulf, perhaps more interesting as puzzles, both as to 
meaning and as to authorship, than as literature. As a type of 
such allegory the mask is better than the veil. If, indeed, pure 
allegory is merely a riddle, and much of it is nothing more, 
it is certain to fail of being widely interesting. The most 
successful allegories are those which are the embodiments, not 
of a conceit, but of a symbolism that is based upon the great 
truths of human nature and of human experience. They aim, 
not at mystification, but at setting forth truth in an impressive 
manner. The form of words in which the truth is clothed 
bears to the real meaning a relation not unlike that of the 
body to the soul ; and where there is an informing soul within, 
it will succeed in casting " a beam on the outward shape." 
For the allegory in its nobler form is of imagination all 
compact, and will meet with a ready response in the imagina- 
tive mind. Examples of such allegory are Clough's " Where 
lies the laud to which the ship would go?" Tennyson's 
" Crossing the Bar" and "The Deserted House." Examples 
of this nobler sort of pure allegory are not numerous, and 
they are all brief. A long allegory is almost as impossible as 
a long lyric poem, and for the same reason ; in both instances 
the tax upon the imaginative power of writer and of reader 
is too great. 



444 HERBERT E. GREENE. 

Most allegories are examples of what may be called im- 
perfect allegory ; some clue to the meaning is given, at the 
outset, if nowhere else. A good example of such allegory is 
Mr. Gilder's fine sonnet beginning, " My love for thee doth 
march like armed men." Nearly all long allegories are 
imperfect allegories, and this is a mark of wisdom on the part 
of the writers, for nothing can be more exasperatingly tedious 
than a long allegory which is continually baffling the reader's 
attempts to fathom the meaning ; such allegories Lowell must 
have intended, when he spoke of " the mirage of allegory." 
A long allegory commonly begins with a simile or a metaphor, 
thus drawing aside a corner of the veil long enough for the 
reader to gain some clue to what is beneath. So Bunyan gives 
a clue at the beginning of his great allegory : " As I walked 
through the wilderness of this world" 

The use of allegory in its various forms is a feature of moral 
and religious teaching that is intended to arrest the attention. 
The Great Teacher made frequent use of this figure in his 
parables: usually of imperfect allegory, as in the parable of 
the ten virgins, beginning with a simile, "Then shall the 
kingdom of heaven be likened unto ten virgins, which took 
their lamps, and went forth to meet the bridegroom " ; or, as 
in the parable of the vine and the branches, beginning with a 
metaphor, " I am the true vine, and my Father is the husband- 
man"; rarely he used pure allegory, giving no clue, as in the 
parable of the sower, " Behold, a sower went forth to sow." 
It is of this parable, the reader will remember, that "his 
disciples asked him, saying, What might this parable be ? " 
(Luke viii, 9.) Apparently their imaginations were not equal 
to the demands of pure allegory. 

Because so much of allegory is imperfect, the common 
understanding of the figure is imperfect. We judge by 
what we see ; for practical purposes our judgment may suffice, 
but theoretically it is inaccurate. Pure allegory is rarely 
noticed in text-books on Rhetoric. Some books purposely 



A GROUPING OF FIGURES OF SPEECH. 445 

make no mention of allegory ; since the figure has very little 
practical importance, such omission is certainly to be preferred 
to the catholicity of books which counsel the learner to practise 
the writing of allegories. Commonly, however, text-books 
teach without any qualification that allegory is continued 
metaphor. Professor Bradley draws up an elaborate and 
interesting classification of about twenty figures ; from their 
company he calmly excludes allegory, with the remark that 
it is no more a figure of speech " than is a Novel or an Epic." 
Such language must certainly be called hasty ; evidently he is 
thinking of the narrative element and has forgotten that it is 
not length, but absolute suppression of the literal meaning 
that constitutes allegory. Theoretically, allegory is the figure 
of speech, for it is all figure. I quote Professor Bradley's words : 
" Rhetorical Figures Figures par excellence are forms of 
speech artfully and significantly varied from what is recognized 
as the norm of plain speech " (Modern Language Notes, 
December, 1886, col. 281). Could there be a better definition 
of allegory ? According to this definition, is not allegory the 
figure par excellence ? Surely of all variations from the norm 
of plain speech it is the most artful and significant ; so artful, 
it appears, as to deceive the very elect. So long as allegory 
can be deliberately excluded from a classification of figures, so 
long as text-books continue to give definitions that are either 
incorrect or inadequate, so long it will be necessary to reiterate 
the statement that allegory is not only a figure of speech, but 
is more completely a figure, more free from the alloy of the 
literal, than any other. 1 

One word more. Time-honored examples and time-honored 
consent have allowed the name of allegory to a group of 

1 In order to assure myself that the foregoing paragraph was not super- 
fluous or overstated, before sending it to press I examined with reference to 
the point under discussion twelve modern rhetorics, from Blair's (1783) to 
a book published in 1892. Ten of these twelve books give definitions of 
allegory that are inaccurate; one (intentionally) gives no definition; the 
definition in the twelfth book is correct. 
6 



446 HERBERT E. GREENE. 

alphabetic personifications, abstract qualities masquerading in 
the garments of real persons. So long as this can be done 
with only an occasional protest here and there, it needs to be 
repeated that a group of statuesque personifications, or even a 
group of walking personifications, placed in a narrative, does 
not make allegory. The personages of an allegory should 
reveal themselves, not by their names, but by their actions ; 
and the action should have a twofold meaning, a literal and a 
figurative. A character named Sansfoy, who acts in a faith- 
less manner, is not an example of allegory in any true sense 
of the term; for both the name and the actions are to be 
understood literally. 

My aim in this paper must be apparent to every reader. 
I examined first Synecdoche, the simplest form of figure, 
that which is at the smallest remove from literal language. 
By comparing the same form of words, first as literal state- 
ment, then as figurative language, I tried to ascertain the 
differentia between literal and figurative speech ; and I found 
that it is the presence of imagination in the writer calling for 
imagination in the reader. I then treated the more important 
figures as forms of imaginative utterance, and found in them 
a blending in various proportions of literal and of imaginative 
language. Finally, I have tried to range these figures, 
these manifestations of the imagination in varying proportions, 
in a series which shall exhibit a constantly decreasing pro- 
portion of the literal, and a constantly increasing proportion 
of the imaginative. I begin my series with synecdoche, the 
figure which stands nearest to literal speech ; and I close it 
with allegory, which is at the farthest possible remove from 
the norm of plain speech. And this is my order : Synec- 
doche, Metonymy, Stated Simile, Implied Simile, Metaphor, 
Personification, Imperfect Allegory, Pure Allegory. The 
Kenning, which points sometimes toward Metonymy, some- 



A GROUPING OF FIGURES OF SPEECH. 



447 



times towards Metaphor, I place between Metonymy and 
Metaphor. 1 

Such a series as I have described will explain the fact that 
pure allegories are not numerous, that many attempts at pure 
allegory are failures, and that the successes in pure allegory 
are almost without exception brief. In fact, allegory is a 
figure which ought seldom to be used. The other figures from 
personification down are more serviceable ; some admixture of 
the alloy of literal speech renders them better fitted for circu- 
lation. Unless he has something of unusual importance to 
communicate, unless his own feeling is strong, a writer cannot 
with propriety expect his readers to place a tension upon the 
imagination. The accumulation of personifications in a pas- 
sage already quoted, Hamlet's speech to his mother, may 
be justified by the fact that his mind is wrought up to a high 
pitch of excitement. He has come for the purpose of rebuking 
his mother ; he has just killed old Polonjus, and for a moment 
thought that he had killed his uncle, the murderer of his 
father ; and with his own mind, as well as that of his mother, 
keyed up to a high pitch of emotion, he begins his reproof. 
What wonder that his language reflects the state of his 
mind? In the same way the exuberance of metaphor in 
Macbeth's speech uttered immediately after he has mur- 



IMAGINATION 



Pure Allegory 



perfect Allegory 
Personification 




MetapHpr 
Implied 
Stated Simil 



Metonymy 
Synecdoche 



1 If the teacher of psychology is ready to 
avail himself of the help afforded by a graphic 
presentation of his abstract teaching, surely 
the teacher of rhetoric, which is in part a 
branch of aesthetics, need not disdain the use 
of similar illustrations. For indicating the 
steadily decreasing proportion of the literal, 
and the steadily increasing proportion of the 
imaginative I have found well suited for my 
purpose the accompanying device, which is 
sometimes employed by teachers of psychology 
and of logic. 



LITERAL STATEMENT 



448 HEEBEET E. GEEENE. 

dered the sleeping Duncan, is justified by the intensity 
of his feeling. 

One objection that may be made to my grouping, and it 
is a vital one, if true, is that the grouping is theoretical, and 
does not conform to fact ; that it is not true that the metaphor 
as such makes a greater demand upon the imagination than 
does metonymy ; that some instances of metonymy manifest 
more imagination than do some instances of metaphor. 
This objection I should answer first by readily admitting its 
force in single instances, but also reiterating my belief that 
the concept which we name metaphor connotes a greater degree 
of imaginative power, a smaller proportion of the alloy of 
literalism, than does that which we call metonymy. Secondly, 
I should bring forward the distinction made by Wordsworth 
and by Coleridge between Imagination and Fancy, and I 
should assign to the domain of Imagination the figures based 
upon real relations and resemblances, and to the domain of 
Fancy the figures, based upon intellectual conceits; in the 
latter division would belong, also, frigid personifications and 
artificial allegories. Thus, within their proper domain, the 
relative positions of the figures would be unaltered. 

As this point I must plead guilty to offering my paper under 
a misnomer. I have not, as my reader knows, been discussing 
figures, but I have dealt only with tropes. The distinction, 
which has never been set forth with more clearness than by 
Quintilian, is an important one. 1 A trope is the turning of a 
word or phrase from its literal signification to another ; while 
" a figure, as is indicated by its very name, -figura, is a form 
of speech differing from the common and ordinary mode of 

1 Blair (Lecture XIV) says, "This distinction ... is of no great use; 
as nothing can be built upon it in practice ; neither is it always very clear." 

President D. J. Hill, in his Science of Rhetoric (p. 203), says, "Quin- 
tilian's distinction between tropes and figures is of no practical value." 

Professor Bain, in his English Composition and Rhetoric (Vol. I, p. 135), 
says, " The distinction is artificial, and turns on a point that has little 
relevance to the leading uses of the Figures in Style." 



A GROUPING OF FIGURES OF SPEECH. 449 

expression." ] A trope gives to a word new meaning ; while 
a figure is simply a matter of the order of words. Thus, 
antithesis and inversion are merely arrangements of words 
within the sentence. Shaping sentences, and giving to words 
a new significance, are entirely different things, and ought 
to receive different names. I ought to have had the courage to 
use in my title the word "tropes," for it is wholly with tropes 
that I am dealing. I might have been courageous enough to 
use the word trope ; but my courage failed me, when I thought 
of the necessity of making frequent use of the words "tropical" 
and " tropically." I should like to plead for a wider use of these 
words also, so that when we may wish to use them for the sake 
of precision, it will not be necessary to avoid them because of 
their oddity. 

The study of rhetoric, which, when properly pursued, is 
nothing less than a study of the means by which great writers 
have produced their effects, is sometimes spoken of in a depre- 
ciatory manner; those who speak thus must have in mind what 
is understood by the term mere rhetoric, fanciful conceits 
and a juggling with the order of words. The distinction 
between tropes and figures is the distinction between two 
orders of writers, between a higher and a lower imagination. 
This is the distinction between Macaulay and Carlyle. 
Macaulay is very particular about the order of words; he 
is admirably concrete in his choice of words, continually 
hovering upon the borders of synecdoche ; into the domain of 
the imagination he seldom advances farther than the simile. 
Carlyle appears to be careless about the order of words ; but 
he understands the art of turning them aside from their 
ordinary meaning, and making them do a vast amount of 
unaccustomed work. He is at home in the lofty air of meta- 
phor and of vivid personification ; at times he even penetrates 
and lights up the cloudy regions of allegory. 

^uintilian, Insl. Orator, ix, 1, 4: Figura, sicut nomine ipso patet, con- 
formatio quaedam a communi et primum se offerente ratione. 



450 HEEBEET E. GEEENE. 

Since the publication nearly forty years ago of The Philoso- 
phy of Style by Herbert Spencer, there has been a gradual 
consensus of opinion in favor of the view which he advanced, 
that the aim of all rhetorical devices is economy of the attention 
of the reader or hearer. In his Principles of Success in Litera- 
ture, George Henry Lewis shows that there are other laws 
whose working sometimes tends to counteract this law of 
economy. Without entering upon a discussion of the question 
whether economy of attention is the only aim of the devices 
of style, I wish to note the fact that while Herbert Spencer 
treats of the result, I am considering the means by which 
that result is attained. If we grant that the result of an apt 
use of figures is economy of attention, ,my aim has been to 
point out the means by which such economy is gained, 
namely, by calling in the imagination to lighten the burdens 
of the intellect. We know that 

" It is the heart, and not the brain, 
That to the highest doth attain," 

and when the imagination and the understanding are yoke- 
fellows, increased work is done, and done with increased ease. 
When by the help of " thoughts that breathe, and words that 
burn," plain facts are made to glow with the heat of the 
imagination, they become not, indeed, any truer, but far more 
effective ; and in the presence of the imagination we find the 
differentia, the principle of the effectiveness of figurative 
speech. 

HEEBEET EVELETH GEEENE. 



APPENDIX. 



PROCEEDINGS OF THE TENTH ANNUAL MEETING 

OF THE MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION 

OF AMERICA, HELD AT WASHINGTON, 

D. C, DECEMBER 28, 29, 20, 1892. 



THE MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION 
OF AMERICA. 



COLUMBIAN UNIVERSITY, WASHINGTON, D. C., 

Wednesday, December 28, 1 892. 

The tenth annual meeting of the Association was called to 
order at 10 o'clock a. m. by the President, Professor Francis 
A. March. 

The President introduced Professor James C. Welling, Presi- 
dent of the Columbian University, who welcomed the Associa- 
tion in the following words : 

Mr. President and gentlemen of the Modern Language Association, I am 
not here to deliver an address. I am here in the name of my colleagues, 
some of whom have the honor to be members of your Association, and in 
behalf of the Board of Trustees of this University, to extend to you the 
right hand of fellowship as we welcome you most cordially to all the hospi- 
talities which our University can offer. In this world of ours there are two 
great communions which are world wide and which have their visible and 
their invisible fellowships the communion of saints, and the communion 
of scholars. I am glad to welcome you to-day to this meeting and to this 
fellowship. If you wish to attend the meeting of the communion of saints, 
who are also scholars, you may go into the adjoining room ; and if they wish 
to attend the communion of scholars, who are (more or less) saints, let them 
come here, for I think in this interchange of good fellowship, of scholarly 
fellowship with Christian fellowship, we shall all do each other good. I 
count it among the felicities of this University that has honored me as its 
President that it has been honored from year to year by the meetings of 
these associations. I assure you that in this touch of the hand, in these 
tokens of fellowship, we are strengthened, and year by year we are glad to 
have the links of this chain of fellowship more and more closely drawn. 
Again, I bid you welcome. 

iii 



IV 



MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 



The Secretary of the Association, Professor A. Marshall 
Elliott, reviewed briefly the published Proceedings of the last 
annual meeting, and presented the following account of the 
copies of the Publications on hand : 

1887. Vol. III., . 



1884-1885. Vol. I. 
1886. Vol. II. 
1888-1889. Vol. IV. 

No. 1, 

No. 2, 



100 
17 
(Complete Volumes, 27) : 

27 No. 3-4 (in one) 

81 



1890. Vol. V. (Complete Volumes, 91): 
No. 1, ... 513 No. 3, 
No. 2, ... 91 No. 4, 
No. 2 (Supplement), 107 

1891. Vol. VI. (Complete Volumes, 69) : 

No. 1, ... 69 No. 3-4 (in one). 

No. 2, ... 80 

1892. Vol. VII : 

No. 1, ... 48 No. 3. 

No. 2, ... 45 



88 



102 



64 
110 



92 



37 



1884, 
1885, 
1889, 



Proceedings (Separate). 

144 1890, 

30 1891, 

45 



81 
69 



Lack of funds has delayed the publication of Volume VII, 
No. 4. 



The Treasurer of the Association, Dr. James W. Bright, 
then presented the following report for the year 1892 : 



RECEIPTS. 

Balance on hand December 31, 1891, 
Annual Dues from Members 

Arrears for the year 1890, $ 6 00 

" " " 1891, 87 00 

Dues for the year 1892J 687 00 

Dues in advance for 1893, 30 00 

From Dr. M. D. Learned, for partial cost 

of Publications, VII, 1, 125 00 

From Dr. H. A. Rennert, for partial cost 

of Publications, VII, 3, 50 00 

From Dr. T. Logic, for partial cost of Publi- 
cations, VII, 4, 56 00 

Total receipts for the year, 



$20 32 



$1,035 00 



$1,055 32 



PROCEEDINGS FOR 1892. V 

EXPENDITURES. 

Account Books, $ 3 85 

Stenographer, . . . . . 55 40 

Job Printing, 10 95 

Postage and Stationery (for the Treasurer), 14 45 

Dues returned to C. W. Benton, resigned, . 3 00 

Paid to Secretary for publication purposes, 920 32 

Total expenditures for the year, . . . . . . $1,007 97 

Balance on hand December 24, 1892, . . . . . 47 35 

$1,055 32 
December 24, 1892. Balance on hand $47 35. 

The following Committees were then appointed by the 
Chair : 

(1) To audit the Treasurer's report : Professor J. H. Gore 

and Mr. A. N. Brown. 

(2) To nominate officers : Professors J. M. Garnett, J. W. 

Pearce, George Hempl, H. E. Green, T. Logic, H. 
C. G. von Jagemann, S. Primer, J. T. Hatfield, A. 
Gerber. 

(3) To recommend place for the next Annual Meeting : Pro- 

fessors F. M. Warren, J. P. Fruit, G. M. Harper, 
J. Henneman, H. Schmidt- Wartenburg, T. P. Har- 
rison, J. W. Bright. 

Dr. J. W. Bright : It has been customary to relieve the 
Secretary by the services of an assistant during these sessions. 
I move that Dr. J. E. Matzke be appointed the Secretary's 
assistant for the present session. 
The motion was adopted. 

Professor H. E. Green : In accordance with our usual cus- 
tom, I move that the time for opening the discussion of a paper 
be limited to ten minutes, and that following speakers be limited 
to five minutes each. 

The motion was adopted. 

The reading of papers was then begun. 



VI MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

1. Did King Alfred translate the Historia Ecclesiastical 
By Dr. J. W. Pearce, of Tulane University, New Orleans, La. 

(1). Alfred could hardly have found time to translate anything into 
English. 

(2). Alfred acknowledges the aid of Plegmnnd, Asser, Grimbold and 
John. Pref. to Qura. 

Asser aids more materially in translating Boethius. Kennedy's transl. 
of Ten Brink, E. E. Lit., p. 78. 

Did Asser, Plegmund, Grimbold and John, the teachers, leave no trans- 
lations, while Alfred, the pupil, left at least four? 

(3). Do not these four translations, Boethius, Orosius, Oura, Beda, differ 
inter se sufficiently to warrant the surmise that they are the work of different 
men ? 

(4). Dr. Thos. Miller's study of the various MSS. of the O. E. Beda leads 
him to the conclusion that the translation was originally in the Mercian 
dialect. 

Comparison of the Latin Text with the Old English. 

(1). Some parts are very freely and idiomatically translated e. g., inter 
alia, Bk. I, 12, 13; II, 3, 6, 13; III, 5, 13, 14; IV, 19, 24, 25; V, 22, 23. 
Other parts are very literal, for example, most of Bk. I. Could I, 4, 5, 6, 
have been translated by the same person that rendered II, 13; III, 13 ; or 
V, 23? 

(2). The Prcefatio is far more freely translated than any other part so 
freely that Wheelock, for the convenience of the reader, renders it literally 
back into Latin. 

(3). The Oapitula, or chapter-headings, are extremely literal. This is 
evidenced by the translation of the ace. and inf., the abl. abs., and participial 
constructions generally. 

Moreover, the Capitula are grouped in a body at the beginning of the 
MS., as if they had been translated by one man supervising the undertaking. 

Special Features of the Translation. 

(1). Dignus is sometimes represented by wyrfte with gen., sometimes by 
wyrfte with dat. or inst., sometimes by a different locution entirely. The 
references are as follows, figures indicating page and line of Miller's text : 
38-28, 40-16, 40-26, 78-21, 80-31, 130-3, 164-12, 166-16, 166-21, 170-29, 
172-11, 190-31, 192-11, 198-10, 204-9, 206-6, 206-12, 218-30, 220-22, 254- 
7, 260-5, 260-8, 282-17, 294-27, 328-25, 344-17, 358-29, 364-2, 374-23, 
384-9, 398-19, 404-15, 418-13, 422-22, 434-25, 476-19. 

(2). Prceesse, in such sentences as Edwinus Britonum populis prcefuit, is 
translated (1) literally by, fore beon (wesan), (2) more freely, by fore beon 
(wesan) with adv. phrase like in aldordome, (3) by a more idiomatic phrase- 



PROCEEDINGS FOR 1892. vii 

ology. References: 32-4, 92-3, 100-19, 108-32, 116-10, 126-5, 142-29, 
146-27, 148-3, 158-4, 164-20, 168-34, 194-7, 208-6, 220-27, 236-30, 238-29, 
240-14, 250-1, 252-18, 254-30, 260-22, 272-13, 280-30, 292-3, 294-3, 300-6, 
310-5, 316-5, 334-4, 336-5, 338-9, 340-16, 344-18, 358-30, 382-1, 384-15, 
386-26, 390-29, 398-16, 404-18, 418-25, 434-23, 446-20, 448-15, 448-22, 
468-16, 478-12, 478-17, 478-24. 

(3). Octo usually appears, of course, as eahta, but three times as nigon; 
and at least once, perhaps twice, it was misunderstood to mean seofon. Ref- 
erences: 26-1 26-18, 32-11, 32-21, 46-6, 46-29, 54-22, 108-13, 118-23, 
148-5, 176-30, 192-22, 256-1, 262-15, 274-28, 278-27, 298-28, 304-21, 310- 
16, 312-11, 324-17, 330-26, 356-17, 360-5, 406-20, 446-4, 470-21, 472-28, 
474-3, 480-15. 

(4). Beda's present tense (used of events of his own time) appears some- 
times as present, sometimes as past. A few references: 4-3,4-12,4-25, 
28-29, 92-25, 120-4, 142-11, 144-20, 146-21, 188-30, 206-6, 216-22, 258- 
16, 282-3, 282-7, 282-9, 300-13, 308-31, 318-25, 320-18, 334-23, 378-12, 
382-19, 398-15, 398-16, 408-23, 408-24, 410-23, 422-16, 446-19, 448-9, 
448-19, 478-12, 478-17, et seqq. 

In this connection there are some instructive omissions from the O. E. 
References approximate: 142-7, 144-22, 156-16, 184-9, 300-13, 358-16, 
434-10, 466-9 ; and some noticeable insertions : 144-9, 186-33, 216-22, 378- 
12, 448-9. 

(5). Dates are generally translated in full. However, in some instances, 
the number of the year is omitted, but other matter translated (as the year 
of a king's reign) that would serve to fix the date; in some instances the 
number of the year is omitted, but the month and day translated ; and in 
a few passages no indication of the date appears. References to Book and 
Chapter: I, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 11 (2), 13, 15, 23, 34; II, 1, 3, 5, 7 (2), 9, 14, 20; 
III, 8, 14, 20, 27 (2); IV, 1, 5 (2), 12 (2), 23, 26 (2); V, 6, 7, 8 (2), 11, 
18, 22 (2), 23 (4). 

After weighing the evidence presented by this study, it is not difficult to 
form the conclusion that the O. E. Beda is the joint work of several trans- 
lators. There are other indications. Thus seplem appears once (III, 20) 
as feower ; undecim once (IV, 5) as breottyne; novem once (IV, 26) as ehta; 
and tredecim once (V, 22) as twelf, though these words are elsewhere inva- 
riably translated correctly. The poetical word dogor is found once in IV, 
3, twice in IV, 8, but nowhere else. Likewise rodor, not found elsewhere, 
occurs twice in V, 12, and no other word for heaven is used in this chapter 
except in the phrase heofona rice. 

Perhaps the Hint. Eccl. was translated by the monks in a monastery [Dr. 
Miller suggests Lichfield] where some were better scholars than others ; 
perhaps by the pupils in some school, with the occasional aid of their 
teachers. To point out definitely what parts were translated by one, and 
what by another, is exceedingly difficult, and, up to this time, I have been 



viii MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

able to identify, to my own satisfaction, at least, only a few portions as the 
work of separate persons. 

The Prcefatio seems to have been turned into O. E. by one who translated 
no other part of the work. My reasons for this conclusion are: (1) the 
translation is here more liberal than anywhere else; (2) Beda's present 
tense is here invariably reproduced ; (3) discipulus occurs twice in the 
Prcefalio, where it is each time rendered by leornung-cniht, elsewhere inva- 
riably by discipul. 

The Capitula may be the production of a different translator. I have 
already mentioned the literalness with which they are translated, and the 
fact that they are grouped together at the beginning of the work. Let us 
note now the error in the following headings : 

I, 2. 

Ut Britanniam primus Romanorum Caius Julius adierit. 
Dset se serra Romwara casere Gagius Julius Breotene gesohte. 

I, 3. 

Ut eandam [set/, insulam] secundus Romanorum Claudius adiens . . . 
Dset se seftera Romwara casere, Claudius haten, J>set ylce ealond gesohte . . . 

This genitive construction occurs several times elsewhere, but is nowhere 
else misunderstood. 
Note also these : 

I, 9. 

Maximus in Britannia imperator creatns . . . 
Maximus se casere wses on Breotene acenned. 

I, 11. 

Gratianus et Constantinus in Britannia tyranni creati . . . 
Gratianus 7 Constantius wseron on Breotene acende. 

This last is the error of a beginner, a blunderer. It occurs twice also in 
the body of I, 8. Unfortunately for comparison, I have been unable to 
find another instance of the use of creor in a precisely similar sense. 

In the body of chapters 2, 3, 4, 23, of Book I, the phrase incarnatio Domini 
(or Dominica) is translated Oristes cyme or Oristes hidercyme; elsewhere in- 
variably Drihtnes menniscnes or seo Drihtenlice menniscnes. This may serve 
to stamp these chapters as the production of one man ; and such conjecture 
is strengthened by the mis-translation in ch. 23 of the date 582 as 592. 

Finally, the last chapter (23) of BooU V seems to be distinguished from 
those that immediately precede it (1) by a general excellence and liberality 
of translation, (2) by an excellent rendering of prceesse, which occurs three 
times, and (3) by the reproduction (except in two instances) of Beda's 
present tense, which occurs in almost every line of the chapter. 



PROCEEDINGS FOR 1892. IX 

The discussion of this paper was opened by Dr. J. W. Bright 
and continued by Professors H. E. Greene and J. M. Garnett. 
Professor Pearce, in reply to questions, added : 

My belief is that this work was translated in a monastery or a school, and 
not by any one man isolated from others. I believe that the Capitula and 
several chapters of Book I were translated by King Alfred himself. I can 
give you no incontestable reason for this, but I am satisfied that they are 
the work of some one man if not of Alfred, then of some other. The error 
pointed out in the use of the past participle creates occurs several times in 
the Capitula, and it occurs, if I remember rightly, in chapter 8 of Book I. 
That, I think, fixes those parts pretty surely as the work of one man. Then 
there is an extreme literalness extending through chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and 
8. Chapter 7 (on the sufferings and martyrdom of Saint Alban) I take to 
be by some one else. I believe that all of the Capitula and the chapters that 
I have mentioned in the first book were translated probably by King Alfred, 
but at all events by some one man, and that then the work was passed over 
to some collection of men to be finished ; that while translator A, for instance, 
was at work, translators B, C and D were at hand, occasionally helping with 
a word or a phrase. 

Professor Francis A. March : 

Perhaps I might say a word about the matter in a general way. 

It seems to me the investigations have an air of going further from the 
opinion that has been commonly held about these books than the facts 
warrant. It has been known, stated, and understood that King Alfred, 
who had all kinds of business on hand, was helped by his Bishops and 
scholars to make his translations, and the process by which it was done 
implies that he did not create the translation word by word, so to speak, 
but that he listened to, looked over, corrected, approved, or recomposed 
at his pleasure the work of his co-laborers. We know that the King James 
version and our later revised version of the Bible were made by bodies of 
men translating separately, and that in each one of these bodies there were 
eminent scholars who would be sure to do pretty much the whole of the 
real work in them, and it might be interesting, and perhaps profitable, to 
attempt to point out the work of each different translator and editor. Or 
take Pope's translation of the Odyssey, which we know was mainly the 
work of others, while Pope did this, that, and the other part, and was 
responsible for the style. We also know that Raleigh, in his History oj 
the World, had the assistance of secretaries to bring him his materials. 
This working through secretaries is becoming more and more familiar. 
There are continual illustrations of it in our active workers in public life 
to-day. A statesman is said to be preparing a great speech. That means 
that his secretaries are at work for him gathering materials. He makes 



X MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

the speech off-hand. It might be interesting to analyze the speeches and 
detect, from the mistakes or peculiarities of style here and there, which 
one of his secretaries prepared this and that part. Alfred's work has 
always been thought of as open to a similar analysis. It does not seem to 
me that the investigations now making give a new view of his authorship ; 
but they are none the less interesting on that account. 

Professor A. Marshall Elliott : 

I have been working for a year or two on the fables of Marie de France. 
In the epilogue she claims that she translated these fables rhymed them, 
as she calls it from English into French. The acceptance of this statement 
has found favor with certain French scholars, but upon investigation of the 
subject, at the British Museum a year ago, I was totally unable to find any 
hint of the fact, in editions of Alfred by English scholars, that he ever did 
any such work either directly or through a secretary. This is an interesting 
point in connection with the idea of the division of labor in producing the 
work discussed by Professor Pearce. Marie distinctly states : 

Li reis Alvrez qui mult 1'ama 
Le translata puis en engleis 
E jo 1'ai rime en frangeis. 

The question then arises, if that was the tradition in her time, and it was 
not true that King Alfred wrote or had these fables translated, who did ? 
Mr. Jacobs, in a recent work, The Fubles of Aesop, discusses this point. It 
is a little aside from the subject before us, but it shows that matters similar 
to those emphasized in the paper come up in a more general field. 

2. The Absolute Participle in Middle and Modern English. 
By Professor C. H. Ross, of the Agricultural and Mechanical 
College of Alabama. 

The discussion was opened by Professor J. M. Garnett : 

I consider this a valuable investigation. Some years ago, in a paper 
read at a meeting of the Association in Baltimore, I had occasion to 
quote a line from Hamlet: 

" Which done, she took the fruits of my advice." 

I remarked at the time how seldom a pupil could be found who could satis- 
factorily explain that construction. It is clear to my mind that the view 
which Professor Ross takes, and which had been previously taken by Dr. 
Bright, is the correct one in regard to this matter. Every year I have to 
correct the statement in Genung's Rhetoric, as to this construction being rare 
and not idiomatic English. 



PROCEEDINGS FOE 1892. xi 

There is one point on which I am glad to have been enlightened. While 
we are all familiar with the frequency of this construction, doubtless imi- 
tated from the Latin, because that exerted a great influence upon the syntax 
of Anglo-Saxon prose, I am glad to be informed that the cases in Middle 
English are so rare. That would look as if the people (who were really 
the makers of our Middle English, and not the writers), were not under the 
influence of this Latinized style of the Anglo-Saxon prose writers, and it 
was only after a more ornate style began to be used in English that the 
construction was revived and has become so common in modern times. 
Certainly it is only since the beginning of the Early Modern English period, 
as Professor Ross has well shown, that the construction has become so 
exceedingly common. 

I hope, if this paper is published, that Professor Ross will illustrate the 
periods of English and the occurrence of this idiom in examples from the 
writers he has quoted, so that we may see for ourselves just how far such a 
construction was common in the Early Middle English period, and how it 
increased from Chaucer on through the Late Middle English period and 
afterwards in the sixteenth century, in the Early Modern English period, 
where we have it certainly very common in Shakespeare at the close of that 
century, and so on through the after-centuries. It is a very natural idiom, 
and that the view taken as to the so-called nominative absolute, namely, 
that it is derived from the Anglo-Saxon dative absolute, is the correct one, 
seems to me to follow naturally of itself from the relation in which that 
phrase stands to the rest of the sentence. It takes the place of an adverbial 
element, occupying the position of some conditional, or causal, or temporal 
phrase. It is such a relation as would be expressed by the ablative absolute 
in Latin, or the genitive absolute in Greek, an oblique case used absolutely. 

The discussion was continued by Professors J. W. Bright, 
H. E. Green, J. T. Hatfield, J. W. Pearce and J. E. Matzke. 

Professor Francis A. March : 

As to this matter of the participle absolute, it strikes me, as it did Pro- 
fessor Green, that the common statements in regard to the rhetorical force 
and use of the ablative absolute are correct, and that it requires very judi- 
cious and careful handling to make good English sentences that abound with 
ablatives absolute. This construction of a noun and participle standing for 
a clause, without any finite verb for affirmation, seems to me to belong to 
two stages of language one a very early stage, prior perhaps to what our 
scientific men call thought proper. They say there is no thought unless 
there is an affirmation or proposition. But there are sensations and feelings, 
there is a jotting down, we will say, of sensations or feelings, uttering a noun, 
the name of some object, and adding to it descriptives without making 
affirmations. 



xii MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

The use of such clauses of utterancy is growing with some of our modern 
writers. Browning, for example, often runs together numbers of such loose 
clauses or memoranda. There will be a verb somewhere in the distance 
before and somewhere in the distance behind in these collocations of jottings, 
but which one of those verbs they are really related to is a puzzle ; they will 
go with either or neither to my mind, and in all probability in his mind, 
with neither. He has reverted to the piior judgment state of mind. Walt 
Whitman has pages of such clauses. It seems as though he composed, as is 
said, sitting on top of an omnibus, riding down Broadway, thinking rhyth- 
mical collocations df objects and descriptives, not meaning to make judg- 
ments, but merely to utter his sensations. 

In such primeval clauses the absolute noun would naturally be in the 
nominative case. There are, perhaps, relics of that early stage recognized 
in grammars captions, for example, and the like. 

Then there is the developed absolute clause which has been talked about 
this morning, where a sentence expressing the time or cause or concomitant 
of the main thought, and connected to the principal verb by a conjunction 
or relative pronoun, is compacted as a sort of adverb into the main sentence. 
When a subordinate clause expressing time, for example, has a noun in it 
which may represent the time, that noun is put in the oblique case which 
indicates time, letting the verb, turned participle, follow and agree with it. 
There is nothing mysterious then about a noun and the participle which is 
absolute with it, which throws it into the dative, the ablative, or the loca- 
tive case. The subject of a participle would naturally be in the nominative 
case; but because the clause as a clause is to denote time, the time termi- 
nations spring up in the mind naturally and attach themselves, not quite 
logically always, to the first noun that presents itself to take them. That 
makes it possible to incorporate subordinate clauses of time and manner 
into the principal clause, saving words neatly and making the whole seem 
more compact. 

It has come to pass, as has been described by Prof. Bright and Prof. Boss, 
that there is no longer power in the English language to express this 
relation of time, or concomitant, by endings of nouns, and we substitute a 
preposition 'for the ending. The modern representative of the old dative 
absolute would be a preposition with an oblique case. But that we do not 
use. The preposition exposes the illogical phrase. We use the nominative 
case in place of the dative. It is suggested that we still recognize this 
nominative as a disguised dative in case of nouns, and regard the nominative 
of pronouns as illogically used. According to the line of thought which I 
have presented, it seems to be proper to call the absolute clause in English 
a development, to say that the form of the absolute clause in which the 
nominative case is used with the participle has simply and naturally t;iken 
the place of the one in which the noun was put in an oblique case by a 
certain attraction and confusion of thought. 



PROCEEDINGS FOR 1892. xiii 

I should prefer, according to the line of thought here presented, to speak of 
the subjects or quasi-subjects of these absolute clauses not as being disguised 
datives, but as being developed nominatives by which the relation of the 
substantive to the participle is expressed instead of the relation of a time 
clause to the main clause. 



AFTERNOON SESSION. 

The Association was called to order at 3 o'clock by the 
President. 

3. The Sources of Udall's Roister Doister. By Professor 
George Hempl, of the University of Michigan. 

The paper was discussed by Professors J. W. Bright and 
A. Gudeman. 

4. The Gardener's Daughter ; or, the Pictures. By Profes- 
sor John Phelps Fruit, of Bethel College, Ky. ' 

A work of art is an organic whole. As such it means interdependence 
of parts, functional relation of parts. As such unity and harmony of parts 
are essential and fundamental. It is " a full circle of dependences," where- 
fore completeness is also essential. 

Completeness means just enough : a little lack or a little superfluity is 
not completeness. Overfulness is not completeness. Kedundancy in a work 
of art produces a feeling akin to that of one who has eaten to satiety of 
some good thing, and yet has something left over which he cannot get rid 
of, but must hold in his hand. The care of the superfluity mars the pleasure 
of what has been appropriated. The too much of a good thing destroys the 
pleasure of the "just enough." 

Rightly has a work of art been called a creation, for what but creative 
insight and energy is adequate to the making of a whole out of parts inter- 
dependently related ? 

As the anatomist finds the human organism fearfully and wonderfully 
made, so the student of literature finds in his domain literary organisms, 
works of fine art, just as instructive and interesting. 

That combination of parts which makes an organic whole is constructed 
for a purpose outside of itself. It is a purpose in the mind of the artist, 
his pleasure, for without doubt superlative pleasure does come with the 
exercise of creative power. While the prime object of the artist is the 
gratification of the imagination, he yet works at any given piece of art 
with a specific purpose, controlled somewhat by the material in which he 
works. 



XIV MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

The pleasure to the student is in re-creating. He finds the specific pur- 
pose for which a work of art exists, and tlieu notes how workmanship 
makes significant insignificant materials to express the purpose. It is the 
workmanship shown in adapting materials to express a purpose that 
pleases. 

In order for a student to find the aesthetic essentials in a work of art, it 
is necessary for him to get, first, a simple apprehension of the work as a 
whole, then proceed to a knowledge of the parts, and further to a knowledge 
of the parts of the parts, thus coming to an adequate knowledge of the 
work. Beginning with the simple apprehension, he ends with the compre- 
hension of what he has undertaken to study. 

In a piece of literary art the first thing for the student to do is to take a 
concise but complete outline view of it, like, in all respects, for example, to 
the ' argument ' that prefaces a book of Paradise Lost. Taking this first 
short outline as a unit of measure, he should write out the argument to 
twice the length, then to three times, and four times, and so on, till all the 
parts and items have fallen into their proper places. It is easy to under- 
stand that the student thus gets first an idea of the work as a whole, and 
goes step by step to a knowledge of the parts, finding as he proceeds the 
fitness and harmony of the parts, coming at last to a knowledge and enjoy- 
ment of the completeness of the whole. 

Let us exemplify the method in a study of The Gardener's Daughter; or, 
The Pictures. A brief answer to the question, What is the Gardener's 
Daughter about ? will give us the apprehension of the work as a whole. The 
Gardener's Daughter is about two brothers in art, one of whom, Eustace, 
loved Juliet, and painted her. A masterpiece it was. He challenged his 
friend to paint like that. At Juliet's suggestion this brother in art goes to 
see Rose, the Gardener's daughter. He loves, and paints a picture that 

" May not be dwelt on by the common day." 

So short a sketch reveals the purpose of the poem, namely, that Love 
must dominate the artist. It is better expressed in the reply that the friend 
made to Eustace's challenge : 

" 'Tis not your work, but Love's. Love unperceived, 
A more ideal Artist he than all." 

Take this longer draft and observe how the skeleton begins to take on the 
flesh and form that will make it a thing of beauty. The poem tells of two 
brothers in art whose friendship was the fable of the city where they dwelt. 
Eustace was muscular and broad of breast, and by some law that holds in 
love was drawn to a miniature of loveliness, Juliet. Eustace painted her. 
Then he said to his fellow : 

" When will you paint like this ?" 

The brother artist replied that it was not his work but Love's. Juliet, 
sitting by, suggested : 






PROCEEDINGS FOB 1892. XV 

" Go and see 

The Gardener's daughter : trust me, after that, 
You scarce can fail to match his masterpiece." 

Professor H. E. Greene : 

After listening to a paper like this, one is more inclined to reflection than 
to expression. Prof. Fruit's method and his presentation of it are so clear 
there is little need, perhaps, of discussion. The best way in which we can 
discuss the paper, it seems to me, is to state in what way his plan is avail- 
able for us in our own teaching. 

There is within this Association a pedagogical section, and to that section 
this paper distinctly belongs. At one time there was a feeling, I remember, 
that too much attention was given to discussion of methods. Certainly, 
there can be no fear at the present time that too much attention is given to 
discussions of that kind. Every teacher must work out for himself his 
method of teaching. The only method that is of practical use to him is 
that which he has thought out, and whatever method he has thought out 
he must be ready to adapt to the conditions he meets with in his teaching. 

Premising this, I would add that the method which Prof. Fruit has 
given us, is one that may be of use to nearly all teachers of literature. 
In the first place I shall point out that it is pedagogically sound. There 
are certain principles which all of us, I suppose, employ, sometimes 
consciously, sometimes, it is to be hoped, unconsciously, and therefore 
instinctively. We know that the true order of learning is from the par- 
ticular to the general, and then from the general to the particular. This 
order is followed out by Prof. Fruit in his plan ; first synthesis, then analysis 
based upon that synthesis. We read a poem, for example ; the title may 
give us some slight clue as to what is to follow, but of what is to follow we 
are entirely ignorant. As we read it, bit by bit there comes before us one 
particular after another, and we have a mass of particulars. Experienced 
readers may be able to see at once the general principle that pervades them 
all, and to see in them an exemplification of that principle. Certainly, the 
inexperienced reader is not altogether able to do this. By means, however, 
of the first reading, we are able to form this synthesis and to build up a 
general notion of what the poem is about ; and that, I take it, is the plan, 
the argument, which Prof. Fruit suggests should be made. Then, having 
a knowledge of what the poem is, on the second reading we can make our 
analysis, or application of this general principle in a series of details con- 
stantly widening, and can use each detail for the purpose which the author 
intended it to serve. 

There is one more step which should be taken, and although Prof. Fruit 
has not mentioned it distinctly in his paper, I doubt not that he uses it in 
his teaching. First the particulars, then the grouping of the particulars 
under the general ; then from the general to the particular ; and once more 



XVI MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

from the particular to the general. That is, first the imperfect synthesis, 
then the analysis, and then the more perfect synthesis. We know that the 
true knowledge is intuitive. I take it that Prof. Fruit means as much 
by his term " simple apprehension," and not until we have reduced our 
knowledge to "simple apprehension," in other words have made our 
knowledge immediate, have we the fullest knowledge. 

In our teaching, I suppose, we are inclined to place greater emphasis upon 
one or another of these steps perhaps to omit one of them. In teaching 
older pupils we often omit the first step; unskillful teachers omit it in teach- 
ing younger pupils. It should not be forgotten, however, that the second 
step cannot be taken until the first step has been taken either by the pupil 
or by the teacher. If the first step has been taken incorrectly, how shall 
we be able to take the second step with any success ? We see in the details 
which come, one after another, an application of a general thought. It is 
to express the thought that the poem is written. We enjoy the workman- 
ship ; but the workmanship is for the sake of the thought, not the thought 
for the sake of the workmanship. For this reason we get first at the thought ; 
in the workmanship we see the thought embodied. 

I have sometimes asked a pupil to take a narrative and give its substance 
in two pages, in one page, in half a page, in six lines ; what is newest to me 
is the plan of adopting a unit and then modifying that, multiplying by one, 
by two, etc. The question occurs, When does the right moment arrive for 
stopping the process ? 

English literature is a subject which almost every one thinks he can teach, 
until he comes to teach it ; then he finds that it is one of the most difficult 
subjects. We ask a pupil to study a poem. It is a grave matter to him, for 
he does not just know what to do. If we give him the same thing in Latin 
or French, he can translate it, for there is something definite to do. 

Some of you may have seen an article published within the year by Pro- 
fessor Hart on the scientific method of teaching English literature. The 
teaching of English literature is a different thing from applying, with more 
or less discrimination, laudatory epithets to this or that poem. The plan 
suggested by Professor Hart is admirably direct. The pupil is asked these 
questions : What was the author's aim in this work ? What are the means 
that he has used to accomplish this end? With what success has he accom- 
plished that end ? Such a definite study as is induced by these questions 
throws a flood of light upon the work. The pupil in doubt as to how to 
work, loses his feeling of vagueness, and knows what to undertake and in 
what manner to undertake it. 

One objection that might be raised to this plan of Professor Fruit's is that 
of time ; it certainly would consume a great deal of time. Objection can be 
made to any plan suggested. I think Professor Fruit's answer to this 
objection, I think it would be mine, would be that it will take a great deal 
of time, especially at first ; but that the result will justify such a use of time 
and that if the plan is pursued, it will in the end result in a saving of time. 



PROCEEDINGS FOR 1892. xvii 

5. The Legend of the Holy Grail. By Professor George 
M. Harper, of Princeton College, N. J. 

Professor F. M. Warren : 

The discussion of a paper like this is practically impossible, for the reason 
that so much ground is covered and the writer has limited himself to sum- 
ming up the theories in regard to the legend. In order to discuss it with 
any degree of seriousness, we are obliged to attack some one of the theories, 
which would throw the field open to general discussion. 

When we consider the difficulties that surround the subject we will see 
how impossible it will be to gain much in a short discussion. We know 
that especially those who are interested on the German side of the subject 
such men as Foerster and Zimmer, deny in toto the conclusions Professor 
Harper has given us to-day, seeing nothing Celtic whatever in the story of 
the Grail. 

I therefore call attention to one or two points. I think we are obliged 
to rely on the first man who wrote on the subject, and what we do not get 
from him, we simply surmise. In my opinion, he wrote the story of the 
Grail not far from the time when he wrote his other stories. They were 
written between 1160 and 1180. In regard to Kobert de Boron, the general 
theory in regard to his version of the Christian Legend of the Grail has 
been discussed at length by Gaston Paris in a Preface to his Merlin in the 
Early French Text Society series. 

In regard to the poet himself, if we read his poems he is found to be a 
man of no invention whatever; he versified; a court versifier of stories 
which came to his eye and ear, I should judge they came merely to his 
ear. There is a story known to all of us the story of Iwain, in which he 
made serious gaps, showing that he does not understand the matter and 
that you cannot rely on him. 

What Prof. Harper says relates to Chrestien's poem. The Knight of the 
Grail, or the Knight as we may call him, arrives at a castle hidden from 
sight ; enters and is entertained by the knight of the castle ; he sees carried 
through the halls the lance with a drop of blood, but refrains from asking 
questions ; soon after comes through the dish which gives out the light ; 
next morning he cannot find any one of whom he can ask a question he 
has been warned not to ask any questions ; the castle disappears and he sets 
out on a pilgrimage. 

In my mind there is no doubt, judging from other poems of Chrestien de 
Troies, that he got the story of the talismans and the other story at the same 
time, and that he did not put these two stories together, and that the whole 
thing came from one source; what it was we do not know. I wish to em- 
phasize the fact that we have got to come back to Chrestien. 

The indefiniteness of the story would show that the legend had not been 
developed. 

2 



XV111 MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

Another point is in regard to Walter Map. There is no proof that he 
had anything to do with the story of the Grail ; there is no proof that he 
wrote any such style of literature. The sooner we get rid of such names as 
Walter Map, who have definite dates and did definite things, I think we 
simplify the problem. I would criticise the paper in that Prof. Harper has 
brought in a man who is proved not to have had anything to do with the 
story of the Grail. I think in such a paper it is well to lay aside such points. 

Professor J. E. Matzke : 

I wish to make a remark on the conclusions which Professor Harper 
draws from the mention of Kiot of Provins by Wolfram von Eschenbach. 
When endeavoring to burden Provencal literature with the name of a 
writer of whom not even a trace has been found, it will be necessary to 
base his existence upon more convincing evidence than the statement that 
Wolfram is a serious writer and would not mention sources which he had 
not seen. As a matter of fact, Wolfram merely follows the custom of the 
time in giving an authority for his story ; and I would rather take it for 
granted that Kiot did not exist, just because Wolfram cites him. 

Professor G. M. Harper : 

I think it quite likely that the statement can be proved that Kiot never 
existed, but some one did exist whom he chose to call Kiot and who gave 
him material not found in any other of his authorities material which he 
did not understand himself; hence he did not merely invent; he used 
material which he did not comprehend and which we do not find in any of 
his predecessors ; he says he got it from a man named Kiot. He got it 
from some one ; whether this person was properly called Kiot, or not, is a 
matter of much less importance. 

From a careful reading of Wolfram von Eschenbach, I have come to the 
conclusion that his statements, when not intentionally funny, are, as a gen- 
eral thing, trustworthy ; except, of course, where they flagrantly fly in the 
face of historical truth, as they generally do in the first two books. But 
when he gets down to his subject, it has been my experience that where he 
does not indulge his peculiar kind of humor, and where he speaks of him- 
self and relates his history of the poem, he is as trustworthy as an author 
of that age and writing that kind of work can be. 



EVENING SESSION. 

The Association reassembled at 8 o'clock. Professor H. C. 
G. Brandt occupied the chair and introduced the speaker of 
the evening, Professor Francis A. March, President of the 
Association, who delivered an address on 



PROCEEDINGS FOR 1892. xix 

6. Recollections of Language Teaching. 

EJe described the teaching of reading, pronunciation and spelling in the 
Infant Schools of Worcester, Massachusetts, in 1830. He called attention 
to the fact that the spelling and pronunciation of Walker have since been 
simplified and drawn nearer together. He argued that the language was 
not moving according to any blind law of growth ; that the law of least 
effort becomes a subordinate force when the schoolmaster is abroad, and 
that the views of linguistic scholars exert an immense influence in favor of 
reasonable changes. 

He described the teaching of English Grammar in the secondary schools, 
and the teaching of Latin and Greek in the High School rapid, accurate 
and copious reading and parsing being the main work ; then the language 
teaching in college at Amherst, 1841-45, thorough study of small portions 
of text, dwelling in class on minutiae of pronunciation, etymology, moods 
and tenses, and points of classical philology. It is a pity that what was 
then a college method has since been pushed back into the High School, 
and the whole study of Greek and Latin made more archaeological and pro- 
fessorial and elective. 

The main purpose then was culture for appreciating and speaking classic 
English. Latin and Greek were both pronounced by the English method. 
This method was defended as being the best possible instruction in the pro- 
nunciation of English. Attention was drawn to etymologies illustrative of 
English, and to forms of syntax characteristic of scholarly English : quota- 
ble expressions were committed to memory. A sermon or a lawyer's plea 
then lacked professional style if it had no happy quotations of that sort. 
Since the study of Latin and Greek is pursued as archaeology, phonology, 
classical philology, bibliography, it is seen to be intended to educate pro- 
fessors of languages, and is naturally made elective. 

The modern languages, French in the High School, one term of French 
and of German in college, were taught like the Latin and Greek in the 
High School. Nothing more was attempted than rapid and accurate trans- 
lation ; and yet, with that special attention to particular needs which char- 
acterized the High School, one of our boys was taught to read French aloud 
intelligibly to an invalid kinswoman, and another was fitted for a clerkship 
with an importer in Boston by reading and copying manuscript volumes of 
mercantile correspondence in French, and writing the like himself. In 
college teaching now some comparative study may well be used. French 
with classical Sophomores may be begun by putting French selections into 
a sort of Latin, giving for each French word the Latin word of the same 
root. The professor at starting can meet the class at an earlier hour and 
give them the Latin words, with explanations of the letter changes, and an 
occasional needed German or Celtic word. They will soon be able to read 
readily in that way, and to understand many things. 

Noah Webster was one of the founders of Amherst College, and the 
Professor of Rhetoric and Oratory in my day, W. C. Fowler, LL. D., was 



XX MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

his son-in-law. The professor lectured on Anglo-Saxon among other 
things. He had imported Anglo-Saxon books, then curiosities. He held 
them up and exhibited them to us, as he lectured, exactly as the natural 
history men did precious shells, or minerals. He said there were only two 
or three men living who knew anything about the language. He was work- 
ing on one of the Webster dictionaries, and I became interested in the phi- 
lological side of English. 

In 1845, as a teacher in Leicester Academy, Massachusetts, I made my 
experiment of teaching English like Latin or Greek hearing a short 
Grammar lesson, the rest of the hour reading Milton as if it were Homer, 
calling for the meaning of words, their etymology when interesting, the 
relations of words, parsing when it would help, the connection of clauses, 
the mythology, the biography and other illustrative matter, suited to the 
class. 

In 1855 similar studies were begun at Lafayette College, but on a higher 
plane. Students who had nearly finished their Latin, Greek, French and 
German took two terms of Anglo-Saxon and Modern English. A profes- 
sorship was established for this study. It was thought that it was the first 
of the kind. The most important peculiarity of the teaching in the mind 
of the professor was, that it was work upon Anglo-Saxon and English texts 
to read and understand them ; not lectures about the languages, not lessons 
in descriptive or critical discourse about them, not a rhetorical but a lin- 
guistic study. There were no good text-books in 1855. Anglo-Saxon was 
studied for some years in Barnes's Delectus. In 1861 the difficulty of im- 
porting text-books led to the making of American books. Love of the 
work led to the making of a Comparative Grammar of Anglo-Saxon, beyond 
the ken of publishers of that day. The Modern Language Association 
of America will welcome a word of commemoration of the Trustees of 
Lafayette College, who had before set apart time for these studies and 
funds for procuring the apparatus of research, and who now personally 
paid the principal cost of publication. The Grammar and Header came 
out in 1869-70. 

In 1875 the United States Commissioner of Education sent out a circular 
to our colleges inquiring about their study of Anglo-Saxon. Twenty-three 
colleges then claimed to be reading some of it ; the University of Virginia 
(1825), Harvard (1851), Lafayette (1856), Haverford (1867), St. John's 
College (1868), Cornell University (1871), Columbia , College, the Univer- 
sity of Wisconsin, Yale, in the Sheffield School and post-graduate course. 
Most of the others were just beginning. The University of Michigan was 
"sorry to say that the study is not pursued at all;" so was Dartmouth. 
Princeton said it might be introduced hereafter ; so did the Central Uni- 
versity at Kichmond, Kentucky, and Vanderbilt University. Eight claimed 
to study it incidentally. Only sixteen were content with simply stating 
that they did not study Anglo-Saxon. Slight as this showing seems now, 
there was at that time, probably, nowhere else so much of this study as in 



PROCEEDINGS FOB 1892. Xxi 

America. Professor Child says, in his answer to the circular of the bureau, 
that " Anglo-Saxon is utterly neglected in England at present there is but 
one man in England that is known to know anything of it and not exten- 
sively pursued anywhere in America." The Germans, he adds, " cannot 
do their best for want of properly edited texts. Two or three American 
scholars, devoted to Anglo-Saxon, would have a great field to distinguish 
themselves in, undisputed by Englishmen." 

The eighteen years since 1875 have seen great advances ; Sweet's Anglo- 
Saxon Reader appeared in 1876, The Early English Text Society began to 
furnish materials for the Germans, and the press has teemed with critical 
studies, as well as text-books. This Anglo-Saxon study, delightful and 
important in itself to specialists, seems also to be necessary for a solid and 
learned support to the study of Modern English in college. The early 
professors had no recondite learning applicable to English, and did not 
know what to do with classes in it. They can now make English as 
hard as Greek. 

The introduction of studies of research in which looking up and reporting 
the contents of books is prescribed, and evidence of having examined books 
is taken instead of original thinking or mastery of thought, has greatly 
affected the study of English. Programs of researches of various kinds 
abound, so that a college class can be put through English literature very 
happily. The old teachers make light of this substitute for original think- 
ing ; but it is good, for all that, and is leading forward. We are having an 
outcry just now against stopping to study particular passages in literature, 
urging rapid emotional reading, the seeking to produce love of reading 
rather than knowledge of books, love of reading all the new magazines, I 
suppose, and newspapers, and novels, and facts that are stranger than fiction, 
instead of spending days and nights with the great authors. 

But professors who aim at the highest usefulness and the most honored 
position must labor to give profound knowledge, and excite lasting love of 
great books and devotion to great thoughts. Their linguistic studies must 
be scientific as well as historical, deep and not vulgar. Their literary 
studies must be mainly upon great authors. 

What books, what works shall we choose for study in schools and colleges ? 
Those which contain weighty truths, important facts, close packed, expressed 
in musical simplicity, or with rhythmic distinction. Bacon is such an au- 
thor, whether he comes home to men's business and bosoms in his Essays, 
or, as they said of Plato, speaks the language of the Gods in the rhythms 
of The Advancement of Learning. Benjamin Franklin is such an author, not 
attaining, to be sure, the rhythmic distinction which seems to be caught 
from the Greeks, for Franklin never heard Homer sing his apameibomenos ; 
but surpassing Bacon in knowledge of that style which characterises the 
workings of God .in nature, in the knowledge of which Sir Isaac Newton 
suggests that genius mainly consists, and surpassing Bacon also in cultured 
and cosmopolitan simplicity of style. 



XX11 MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

Important documents of American history afford good examples. The 
Declaration of Independence, which has every trait of distinction, weight 
of thought and rhythmic movement ; Bills of Rights ; great passages in the 
luminous decisions of Chief Justice Marshall which shaped the law for 
America ; and in the speeches of Webster, of like weight and greater 
eloquence. 

We do well also to study American authors of lyric poetry. Bryant will 
bear study. The Thanatopsis is a noble poem. The imagination that takes 
the whole globe and all its ages into one view, as naturally and simply as 
a country church-yard, and speaks the gentle words of Nature to the race, 
stealing away the sharpness of death, this is a higher power than that 
which sings the elegy of any swain in a country church-yard ; though 
Gray's elegy is a joy forever. 

In somewhat the same vein of thought, it may be said that Lowell's 
Agassiz is far better worth prolonged study than Tennyson's In Memoriam. 
Lowell was a supreme man, by natural endowment, by culture of the schools, 
by profound study and masterly criticism of the great literatures, by acting 
a great man's part in affairs, by experience of life ; a king of men. Agassiz 
was another king of men. The poem has every distinction of thought and 
style, every varied music of rhythm with which such a poet should celebrate 
the memory of such a friend. It is a far higher strain than the doubts and 
broodings of young Tennyson over his college friend, the " laborious orient 
ivory sphere in sphere" of his sonnet meters, beautiful as many of them are. 

Longfellow, too, and Emerson have a lift away from the constraints of 
English thought ; liberty, purity, hope, love, speak in their pages. They 
seem provincial to the English ; so, we know, did the Athenians to the 
court of the great king, and to the hierophants of the immemorial lore 
of hundred-gated Thebes. 



MORNING SESSION (Thursday, December 29). 
The President called the Association to order at 10 o'clock. 

7. A Grouping of Figures of Speech, based upon the Prin- 
ciple of their Effectiveness. By Professor Herbert E. Greene, 
of Wells College, N.Y. 

Professor John Phelps Fruit : 

In a certain sense figures originate in the poverty of language ; but I am 
inclined to think that that is an unfortunate expression. The natural facts 
of the universe come into the human mind and are idealized. These ideated 
forms are preserved in the memory, and it is in terms of these ideated forms 
that we communicate our thoughts. Our mind, our thoughts belong to the 



PROCEEDINGS FOR 1892. xxiii 

invisible universe, and through means of the natural facts, or the visible 
facts, we make plain the unseen ; so that it depends upon the natural facts, 
rather than the poverty of language. If we are poor in natural facts, in 
ideated forms, then are we poor in figures of speech, because a natural fact 
represents a mental or spiritual fact, and it is this natural fact, used to 
represent a spiritual fact, that makes the figure of speech. If we have one 
natural fact, or two natural facts, as our stock, we can have two metaphors, 
or in combination, three metaphors. It is a poverty, not of language so 
much, as a poverty of thought ; it is a poverty of the mental ability to see 
that a natural fact represents a spiritual fact. A grouping of figures for 
effectiveness seems to me to be a little difficult, for we must say figures are 
to be used for a certain purpose effective for a certain purpose. Suppose we 
are to use figures for instruction ; simile will come first. Suppose we use 
figures for the purpose of addressing the feelings ; metaphor will come first. 
When we define the purpose, we have a principle of logical division that 
controls the grouping. 

Dr. Greene's grouping, according to the amount of imagination exercised 
in interpreting, is very interesting, but it is not clear how it is a grouping 
"for effectiveness." In what way, general or particular, is the grouping 
effective ? For what purpose is the grouping effective ? 

Professor Greene : 

Professor Fruit made a series of figures, placing simile at one pole and 
antithesis at the other. It seems to me that this is confusion. He appar- 
ently agreed with me as to the distinction between trope and figure. Anti- 
thesis is not a figure at all in the sense that I mean. Antithesis is not a 
trope. It is a contrasting of two things that may be perfectly literal in 
intention, at least. Antithesis does not necessarily have anything of imagin- 
ation in it. If it had, Macaulay would be one of the most imaginative of 
writers. Simile has imagination in the sense that it compares something 
literal with something else, and makes the imagination do a part of the 
work. It is possible, by the use of simile or of other figures, to express 
thoughts which cannot be expressed in literal language because of the 
poverty of language. To express all our thoughts, we have to make some 
words do more work than they will bear literally. Take, for example, the 
figure familiar to us all used by Longfellow in Evangeline : 

" Homeward serenely she walked with God's benediction upon her. 
When she bad passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music." 

He described Evangeline in that way ; he could not have done it by the 
use of literal terms. The poverty of language made him use this means. 

Professor Fruit says that language represents spiritual facts. Perhaps he 
will allow me to say it can be made to represent spiritual facts. It is by 
the use of figures that we make it do what it does not ordinarily do. 



XXIV MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

As regards simile being addressed to the understanding. It is addressed 
to the understanding and also to the imagination. It is addressed more to 
the understanding than some other figures, more than metaphor. Meta- 
phor requires more imagination than simile ; but in all these figures, except 
allegory, there is required a blending of the understanding and the imagina- 
tion. Allegory, he says, is readily understood. It is, rather, felt or per- 
ceived. Children, he says, understand allegories. Don't they perceive 
them ? Don't they feel them ? A child has an active imagination. Its 
understanding is not very great. It feels, realizes, gets the force of the 
allegory ; by its help the child understands what it might not understand 
simply in the form of a literal statement. 

Once more I call attention to the fact that I spoke of in regard to the use 
of the parable. It was imperfect allegory that was best understood. When 
pure allegory was used, the disciples said, " What might this parable be?" 
(Luke, viii, 9.) Take the parable of the tares. The disciples said to the 
Master, " Declare unto us the parable of the tares." (Matt., xiii, 36.) That 
was something their imagination was not equal to, something they were 
not certain that they understood. 

The discussion was continued by Professors J. W. Bright, 
J. Pollard and J. T. Hatfield. 



8. Guernsey : its People and Dialect. By Professor E. S. 
Lewis, of Princeton College, N. J. 

Professor A. Marshall Elliott : 

I wish only to make one or two remarks in connection with this paper. 
Dr. Lewis undertook the work at my suggestion. Some years ago I was on 
the island of Guernsey, and I was impressed then with the great importance 
of having a scientific work published on the subject of the Guernsey Dia- 
lect. Dr. Lewis was kind enough three years ago to collect the material, a 
suggestion of which he has presented to you here this morning. This 
material is entirely too technical to be read before a general audience, and 
is of particular interest only to specialists and one engaged in phonetic 
work. The writer has simply given you a sketch outside entirely of his 
scientific work, with only a suggestion of the possibilities of the develop- 
ment of the work. The importance of such a treatise is suggested immedi- 
ately to any one who considers the position of the Channel Islands, and has 
a knowledge of the language used in England during the Norman Conquest. 

The Channel Islands to-day preserve many of the older forms of the lan- 
guage that belonged to the English in other words, the natural transition 
from the Continental French to the old Anglo-Norman French as used in 
England in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. This is an important 



PROCEEDINGS FOR 1892. XXV 

fact. It is hoped that such a study will show the importance of the con- 
nection between the speech of the islands of Guernsey, Jersey, etc., and the 
old language. The application of it is shown by a single example which Dr. 
Lewis presented to you the development of a Latin o giving you eight 
different forms. So the writer might present a number of other cases as 
strong as this one. 

The importance of the study, then, is one that has a bearing on the 
English language on the one hand, and on the French language on the 
other from a dialectal point of view a very great importance to-day, as 
we are working at the dialects of north, north-east, and north-west France. 
This study should show a mingling of the currents of English and French 
that meet here and settle into definite form of language. 

There are three distinct drifts of speech : the old language which belonged 
to England (the Anglo-Norman), which was transferred and mixed with 
the old language of the Continent, which, in its turn, was carried to the 
island; then the modern English current, and beside that the modern 
French current. These distinct currents of speech Dr. Lewis has attempted 
to trace in the scientific part of his work. 



9. The Literary Burlesque Ballad of Germany in the 
Eighteenth Century. By Dr. C. von Klenze, of Cornell 
University, N. Y. 

The ballad literature which flourished in Germany from about the middle 
of the eighteenth century to the beginning of our own was the best expres- 
sion of the great revulsion which took place at that time from artificiality 
to nature, from French models to English models. For just as the work of 
Bodmer and Breitinger, of Lessing, Herder and others was one powerful 
protest against the overwhelming French influence and the rule of literary 
ideals the effect of which was ruinous to Germany, because they were 
the product of a national character differing in many essentials from the 
German character, so Burger's ballad Lenore and a large number of bal- 
lads of a similar nature, modeled on the poetry of the people, were a protest 
against the burlesque ballad. This burlesque ballad had flourished for some 
time before the appearance of Burger's Lenore. It was imported from 
France by " Father " Gleim about the middle of the eighteenth century, 
immediately found favor, was taken up by many poets and did not disappear 
from German literature before the end of the century. It was avowedly a 
parody on the poetry of the people, and consequently the protest against it 
and the return to popular poetry for models on the part of Burger and his 
followers was a sign of great latent health in an apparently exhausted 
nation. 

Popular poetry had played a most important part in the intellectual life 
of Germany in former centuries, and might have continued to do so had not 



XXVI MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

political convulsions and had not humanism, with its anti-popular ideals, 
turned the attention of the cultured from the people and crushed much 
of the vigor of the lower classes. A glance at the history of popular 
poetry in Germany will better enable us to understand the position of 
the burlesque ballad in German literature and the nature of the protest 
implied in Burger's Lenore. 

Tn the earliest times all poetry was " Volks-Dichtung," l using the word 
" Volk " in its widest sense. That is, all classes were on a level, there was 
no distinction between the cultured and the uncultured. This condition 
of things lasted in Germany down to a comparatively recent period. The 
Heliand bears in every line the characteristics of popular poetry. In 
contrast with this Otfrid's poem is the work rather of a learned pedant 
than of a man of the people, and here and there in the religious poetry 
which follows, we find forces foreign to the people. But it is not until 
the middle of the twelfth century that we can speak of sets of works as 
the products of a distinct class. From, roughly speaking, 1150 on we find 
a brilliant literature produced by and addressed to one part of the nation 
rather than the whole nation. The Minnesanger and the court poets 
presuppose an atmosphere which the people never breathed. 

The culture of mediaeval court life based on scholastic ideals and the 
social and moral code of knighthood was destined, however, soon to decay 
in Germany, and court poetry went down. Once more the gap was closed, 
once more there was a literature of the people in the widest sense. Scho- 
lasticism lost its hold on Germany long before humanism became popular, 
and so it happened that from about 1450 to about 1550 the atmosphere was 
favorable to the poetry of the people. Furthermore, the religious discus- 
sions and the political convulsions stimulated the whole intellectual activity 
of the nation. Consequently we find high and low, rich and poor, clergy 
and laity taking part in a wonderful upheaval of popular poetry. The 
Volkslieder which have come down to us, and which may be studied in the 
collections mentioned above, are the exponents not only of the age which 
produced them, but in them we find incased, like insects in amber, many 
reminiscences of the old Germanic life (cp. the Krandieder, Uhland's Volksl. 
No. 3) or younger spurs of time honored forms of literature (like e. g. the 

'See Uhland's invaluable essays on the " Volkslied" in the third volume 
of his works, Schriften zur Geschichte der Dichtung u. Sage, Stuttgart, 1866 ; 
furthermore Uhland's collection of Volkslieder (2 Vols.) Stuttgart and Tu- 
bingen, 1844 and 1845 ; E. von Liliencron, Deutsches Leben im Volkslied um 
1530 (the thirteenth volume of Kiirschner's National- Litter alur). Impor- 
tant literature on the subject will be found in Uhland's notes to his essaj r s 
and in Liliencron, p. iv, seq. See, too, Koberstein, Grundriss der deutschen 
Nationallitteratur, 5th ed., Vol. I, p. 324, seq. ; Wackernagel, Geschichte der 
deutschen lAtteratur, Vol. II, Basel, 1885, \ 95 ; Scherer, Geschichte der deutschen 
Litteratur, p. 253, seq. 



PEOCEEDINGS FOE 1892. 

Thierfabd, cp. Uhland's Volksl No. 205), or remnants of the old " Weltan- 
schauung " (cp. TJhland's Volksl. No. 8, in which we have a reflex of the 
old personification of the seasons). 

Many Volkslieder, among them some of the most powerful, owe their 
existence to the political and religious events and sentiments of the times 
(e. g., Uhland, No. 349, Liliencron, Nos. 1, 6, 9, 22, 25, and others). 

All the songs of the people are characterized by great simplicity and direct- 
ness, and through most of them runs, like a golden thread, a wonderful love 
of nature. The element of the supernatural is strong in these poems ; animals 
and flowers are made to understand the troubles of man (cp. Uhland, Nos. 
16, 20, 94, and others). 

The Volkslied reached its culmination about the middle of the sixteenth 
century. After that, the ascendency of humanism with its classical ideals 
separated for good the cultured from the uncultured. The political disasters, 
too, which supervened, sapped the people, and the Volkslied languished. 
During nearly two centuries the poetry of the people was neglected, the 
influence of French literature, with its ideals of refinement and court-life, 
doing its share in keeping the cultured away from the people, until in 1756 
Gleim introduced the burlesque ballad as an attempt at reviving interest 
for popular poetry. 

The Volkslied, we saw, was the true exponent of the national spirit; the 
burlesque ballad was in all essentials a parody on popular poetry. 

Gleim published in 1756 three burlesque poems of an epic character, 
which he called " Romanzen." l His biogragher, Koerte, tells us (Gleirn's 
Leben, Halberstadt, 1811, p. 45) "Gleim's Absicht bei den Romanzen war 
besonders den Volkston zu treffen," but adds, " und jenen Sangern an den 
Strassenecken, die mit den Stecken die gamalte Leinwand erlautern, bes- 
sere Verse unterzulegen." In other words, the singers at fairs were to his 
mind the true exponents of the popular genius. Consequently his ballads 
and those of his followers are as contemptible rubbish as ever passed for 
valuable literature, and remarkable only as the expression of a strong 
undercurrent of low literary taste contemporary with the appearance of the 
greatest works in German literature. 

1 The following remarks on the burlesque ballad are based on my disser- 
tation "Die komischen Romanzen der Deutschen im 18ten Jahrhundert," 
Marburg, 1891 (to which I refer for all details), written under Professor 
Schroeder. The literature on the subject is not large. I give only the 
most important references : Holzhausen, " Die Ballade und Romanze von 
ihrem ersten Auftreten in der deutschen Kunstdichtung bis zu ihrer Aus- 
bildung durch Burger," Zacher's Zeitschrift, XV, pages 129, seq., and 297, seq. 
See, furthermore, Goedeke, Grundriss zur Geschichte der deutschen Dichtung, 
Dresden, 1862, Vol. II, pages 637, seq. ; furthermore, Koberstein, Grundriss 
der deutschen Nationallitteratur, fifth edition, Vol. V, \ 347 ; Sauer's edition 
of Burger's poems (in Kuerschner's Nationallitteratur), p. L, seq. 



XXV111 MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

This view of the burlesque ballad as a " Bankelsangerlied " determined 
the character of the ballads of Gleim and of his followers in many details, 
as we shall see. 

Gleim's Romanzen are characterized by shallow wit, obscenity, and the 
introduction of many anachronisms. It would lead too far to quote any of 
them here ; they may easily be found in his complete works, Halberstadt, 
1811, Vol. III., pages 95, seq. 

Gleim's burlesque ballads were received with delight, and soon found 
imitators. 1 It is almost incredible what a flood of similar poems was to 
come down on Germany before the end of the century. 

A few years after the appearance of Gleim's first Romanzen, J. F. Loewen 
(the same who is known in Lessing's biography) published five Romanzen 
with melodies (reprinted in his Works, Hamburg, 1765), which out-did 
Gleim for silliness and which added an element of coarseness from which 
the gentle Gleim would have shrunk. In 1769 the same Loewen published 
a new collection, and in 1771 a new edition of that with a few additions. 
In 1773 an edition of selected poems by Schiebeler came out which con- 
tained thirty-two Romanzen, which he had published at intervals from 
1767 on. In 1774 a volume by Geissler appeared in Mitau ; in the same 
year Hirschfeld published a selection of Romanzen by well-known Roman- 
zen poets (containing forty -six). In 1775 Grahl published Romanzen; in 
1778 the second part of Hirschfeld's selection of Romanzen appeared, and 
in 1780 there came a collection of poems, many of them Romanzen, enti- 
tled Leyerlieder, the like of which for low wit might not be found in the 
history of eighteenth century literature. Besides these, hosts of burlesque 
ballads appeared in the anthologies and Musenalmanache (of which the age 
was so fend), and in the collected works of poets who wrote Romanzen only 
occasionally. A few names will show how many circles were interested in 
this kind of literature. Burger (who was to make the most powerful pro- 
test against the Romanzen by writing the Lenore) published some of the most 
objectionable of all ; so notably the Romanze entitled Europa (see Sauer's 
edition of his poems). Among his friends, Boie, Hoelty and Miller tried 
their luck in burlesque ballads. Even Goethe's circle was affected. H. L. 
Wagner, Goethe's friend, wrote several Romanzen. Besides these, well- 
known men like Gotter, Claudius, Pfellel wrote burlesque ballads in larger 
or smaller numbers. All their Romanzen have silliness and low wit in 
common. 

After the burlesque ballads had had their sway, there began a new species 
of burlesque poems, the travesties of ancient classical works. The first 
poem of this kind is Leben und Thaten des theuren Hdden Aeneas, Halber- 
stadt, 1771 (see Joerden's Lexicon deutscher Dichter und Prosaisten, Vol. Ill, 
p. 571). Then came the famous travesty by Alois Blumauer, Abenteur des 

1 It may be remarked here that the burlesque ballads are sometimes 
called " Romanzen," and sometimes " Balladen." 



PROCEEDINGS FOR 1892. 

frommen Helden Aeneas, 1784-8, followed in 1790 by Huebner's Verwan- 
delte Ovidische Verwandlungen, and many others of the same kind. 

No anthology or Musenalmanach was complete without some Romanzen. 
The GiJttinger and the Voss'sche Musenalmanache were perhaps as popular 
media for the publication of burlesque ballads as any of the periodicals 
of the day. We find Romanzen in the former as early as 1770 and as late 
as 1791. Besides these, the Almanack der deutschen Musen contains a large 
number of Romanzen. Even the Merkur did not deem it below its 
dignity to publish several of them, as did also the Wandsbecker Bote and 
the Leipziger Musenalmanach. By and by, new periodicals published 
Romanzen. From 1780 on we find them in the Preussische Blumenlese 
published in Koenigsberg, in 1781 in the Frankfurter Musenalmanach, in 
1782 in the Nuemberger Blumenlese, in 1784 and later in the Schwaebische 
Blumenlese published in Tubingen, in the same year and later in the 
Wiener Musenalmanach. Between 1793 and 1797 the Berlinischer Musen- 
almanach published Romanzen in several of its issues. This list of peri- 
odicals is by no means exhaustive; many others like the Anthologie der 
Deutschen, etc., contain burlesque ballads. . 

After the publication of Gleim's Romanzen in 1756, no poems of the 
kind appeared until Loewen published his five Romanzen in 1765 ; in 1767, 
1769, 1771, Schiebeler published collections of Romanzen. From 1770 to 
1780 they came in large numbers every year from almost every part of 
Germany. After the end of the ninth decade they began to grow rarer. 

It is almost unintelligible to us how any one could have considered these 
Romanzen valuable. Yet some of the leading critics of the day could 
hardly praise them enough. Men like Moses Mendelssohn and the critics 
of the Klotz'sche Bibliothek, of the Neue Bibliothek der schoenen Wissen- 
schaften, even of the Merkur, speak of many Romanzen, among them 
Loewen's and Hoelty's, with high praise. 

The burlesque ballad as it presents itself to us in the literature of Ger- 
many in the eighteenth century was patterned in large part on foreign 
models. Spain, Italy and France had developed a civilization in which 
the popular element played a poor part, and it is from France and Spain 
that Gleim got much of his inspiration. He tells us himself, "Der Ver- 
fasser fand in einem uralten franzosischen Lehrbuch den Namen und bald 
nachher in einem franzosischen Dichter, in Moncrif, die Sache." This 
Moncrif (1687 to 1770) wrote three lyrico-epical poems of the burlesque 
order after one of which (Lea conslantes amours (PAlix et d? Alexis) he fash- 
ioned his first Romanze, Marianne. But Moncrif himself was influenced by 
the Spanish poet Gongora (1561 to 1627, see Ticknor, Hist, of Span. Lit., 
London, 1863, Vol. III., pp. 18-23), who also wrote burlesque ballads. 

Other works were used by Gleim's followers in writing burlesque ballads, 
notably the Recueil de Romances Historiques Tendres et Burlesques, etc., 1767, 
2 vols., which was a great source of inspiration, especially to Loewen ; 
furthermore, Livy, Ariosto, Don Quixote, Fe'ne'lon's Telemaque, even Field- 



XXX MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

ing's Tom Jones, and others. It should be noticed, too, that we find ballads 
dealing with Doctor Faust. 

One kind of burlesque ballads should be mentioned especially; those 
which take their subjects from Ovid. Ovid was very popular in the eigh- 
teenth century (see Lindner, Lehrreicher Zeitvertreib in Ovidianischen Ver- 
wandlungen, Leipzig, 1764), but the German Ovid-ballad was imported, like 
the other styles of burlesque ballads, from abroad. 

Quevedo (1580 to 1645, see Ticknor, Vol. II, pp. 274, seq. ; Vol. Ill, pp. 
74, 77, 412) seems to have been the first to write burlesque ballads based on 
Ovidian stories (see Parnaso Espanol, edition Madrid 1729, Thalia VI., 
Eomance XC.). The Frenchman Se"nece" (1643 to 1737) imitated Quevedo 
in this. Others followed ; so Scarron, Marmontel, and especially Gre"court 
in a poem called Pigmalion (Oeuvres, Paris, 1763, Vol. IV, p. 73, seq.) 
which though differing in some respects from the ordinary ballad-style, 
resembles it in all essentials. The Germans got the suggestion for the Ovid- 
ballad from the French. Schiebeler shows his indebtedness to Gre*court in 
his ballad Pigmalion. He wrote a large number of Ovid-ballads and was 
followed by many others, among them Hoelty and Burger. The travesties 
of classical epics were also modeled on French works. Scarron wrote his 
famous VirgUe travesty en vers burlesques (1648-51) and others travestied other 
classical works. Scarron himself seems to have gotten his suggestion from 
the Italian Lalli (1572-1637, see Morillot, Scarron et le genre burlesque, Paris, 
1888, p. 142). 

A comparison between the German burlesque ballads and the works of 
Rabener, Liscow, and Gellert shows a close connection between the former 
and the contemporaneous literature. 

Sensuality and adultery are favorite subjects of the burlesque ballads. 
There is an explanation for this in the low ideal of marriage in the eigh- 
teenth century (see Biedermann, Deulschland im 18ten Jahrhundert, Leipzig, 
1867, Vol. Ill, p. 38). Other burlesque ballads are aimed at the aristocracy, 
at the clergy, at poets, critics, actors, etc. The range of subjects is very 
large. Even the appearance of Werther called out burlesque ballads. 

The knowledge on the part of the German ballad poets of the burlesque 
literature of Spain and France introduced many elements which are paro- 
dies on popular poetry. So, for instance, in the German burlesque ballad, 
apparitions of all sorts, the ghosts of the dead, the devil and the infernal 
regions, are introduced to furnish an element of burlesque terror. Fur- 
thermore, to many burlesque ballads a moral, generally of a burlesque 
nature, is attached, or the whole poem is made to teach a burlesque lesson. 

Gleim regarded, as we saw, the ballad singers at fairs as true representa- 
tives of the popular genius, and hoped by his Romanzen to furnish them 
with better texts. His first Romanzen show traces of this view in every 
verse, and as his followers adopted many of his methods, a large number 
of burlesque ballads imitate the technique of singers at fairs. So we find 
many ballads with enormously long titles (see Gleim's three Romanzen in 



PROCEEDINGS FOR 1892. XXxi 

the third volume of his works, p. 95 seq., or Burger's Europa in Bauer's 
edition, p. 157). This trick is supposed to imitate the harangue of the 
ballad singer who tries to attract the attention of the populace. In the 
same way we find frequent exclamations ; sometimes they are addressed to 
the whole public, and sometimes only to certain classes. 

The meters of the burlesque ballads are all variations on a very few 
themes. The iamb prevails to the almost complete exclusion of every other 
metrical unit. The stanzas generally consist of four lines, although many 
of six and eight lines are also found. The shallow polish of these ballads 
contrasts curiously with the fascinating ruggedness of the Volkslied. . . . 

The burlesque ballad, we saw, kept a place in the literature of Germany 
down to the beginning of the nineteenth century. But long before its entire 
disappearance the best minds began violently to protest against it. In the 
Briejweschsel ilber Os&ian und die Lieder alter Volker (1773), Herder expressed 
in powerful language his contempt for the burlesque ballad. The key note 
was struck, and Germany found in G. A. Burger the poet, who, thoroughly 
appreciating the beauties of popular verse, introduced into Germany a new 
form of poetry based on the songs of the people, to which belong gems like 
Goethe's Erlkonig. The first poem of this nature was his Lenore (see E. 
Schmidt's exhaustive essay, " Burger's Lenore," in his Charakteristiken, 
Berlin, 1886). 

In the Lenore we see the old poetical spirit which had produced the 
Volkslied bursting all bonds of artificiality and, interwoven with the spirit 
of artistic training and culture, producing a healthy and beautiful form of 
poetry, the serious literary ballad. 

Professsor H. C. G. von Jagemann : 

I think one would understand from the paper read by Dr. von Klenze 
that the " burlesque ballad " went out of use and disappeared with the 
publication, or at least soon after the publication, of Burger's Lenore. Such 
ballads, however, as those of which the author of the paper has given speci- 
mens, may be heard to this day in Germany at all the fairs in the villages 
and small towns ; I have myself often heard them and, it seems to me, they 
have all the characteristics of the "burlesque" ballads of the eighteenth 
century. Furthermore, I am inclined to think that the " burlesque " ballad 
existed previous to the eighteenth century. If an event occurs that takes 
hold of the popular imagination, it would, most naturally, be treated in a 
way that appeals to the taste of the masses of the people. Now, if the 
event is one of great importance and is remembered long afterwards, it is 
treated in a variety of ways, and it is natural that some one of these forms 
should be more meritorious than others and acquire a greater and wider 
popularity, and then we have a historical Volkslied. So the origin and 
nature of the historical Volkslied is the same as that of the "burlesque" 
ballad, except that the latter treats of less important and more easily for- 



XXXI 1 MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

gotten events, such as the murder of a woman by her husband. Thus the 
"burlesque" ballad is a species of Volkslied, unless the word "burlesque" 
implies artificial and intended satire, and the ballad owes its origin to a 
particular writer that deals in this species of poetry. 

Professor H. C. G. Brandt : 

I got the same impression from the reading of the paper that Dr. von 
Jageman did, that the burlesque ballad has stopped now. I see now that 
the real title of Dr. von Klenze's paper should have been, The Burlesque 
Ballad in Classical Literature; and of course that would throw it into the 
eighteenth century. There is a burlesque ballad now, or a parody of the 
Volkslied, as Dr. von Klenze and Dr. von Jagemann have stated. I remem- 
ber as a boy, at the fairs of my native town, hearing the ' Bankelsanger ' 
sing. They had a sort of chart, or war map, strung up on a pole, which 
presented a series of six or twelve pictures. Most of these horrible 'mur- 
der-stories' would begin 

" Horet diese Mordgeschichte, 
Die sich zugetragen hat." 

I wish to ask Dr. von Klenze if he knows the ballad of the terrible 
robber Einaldo Einaldini, and whether that goes back to the eighteenth 
century ? 

Dr. von Klenze : 
I do not know it. 

Professor Brandt : 

That was very commonly sung, and set to very good music. It begins 

In des Waldes tiefsten Griinden, 
Und in Hohleu tief versteckt, 
Wohnt der Kauber aller kiihnste. 

That sounds very much like a survival of the eighteenth century bur- 
lesque ballad. 

Professor J. E. Matzke : 

I should like to add a word or two with regard to the origin that is attrib- 
uted to the burlesque part of the Volkslied, namely, its indebtedness to 
Spanish literature. In connection with that one thinks, at once, of that 
other department of literature which for its success is dependent upon the 
crowd, namely, the drama. It is very curious to notice that the Spanish 
idea of what is comical, from the earliest times, is that of a travesty. The 
'bobo' or 'simple,' or by whatever name it may be called, in the early 
drama, is always a travesty either of the common man or of his master. 



PROCEEDINGS FOR 1892. XXXu'i 

This tendency is still more characterized in the later comedies, where the 
servants always imitate the loves and intrigues of their masters. These 
comedies usually contain a second plot, and this is always a travesty of the 
general plot. 

The Committee appointed to nominate officers for the year 
1893 then reported as follows : 

For President, Professor Francis A. March. 

For Secretary, Professor James W. Bright. 

For Treasurer, Professor John E. Matzke. 

For the Executive Council : Professors Albert S. Cook, H. 
C. G. Brandt, H. C. G. von Jagemann, Walter D. Toy, J. B. 
Hennernan, Morgan Callaway, Jr., H. A. Todd, G. A. Hench, 
F. M. Warren. 

For President of the Phonetic Section, Professor A. Melville 
Bell. For Secretary of the Phonetic Section, Professor C. H. 
Grandgent. 

For President of the Pedagogical Section, Professor Charles 
Harris. For Secretary of the Pedagogical Section, Professor 
A. N. Van Daell. 

For the Editorial Committee : Professors A. Marshall Elliott 
and T. W. Hunt. 

The report was accepted, and on motion the Secretary cast 
the ballot electing the above candidates to the offices named. 

AFTERNOON SESSION. 
The Association was called to order at 4 o'clock. 

10. MS. 24310 and other MSS. in the Paris National 
Library which contain French Metrical Versions of the Fables 
of Walter of England. By Professor T. Logie, of Williams 
College, Mass. 

Professor A. Marshall Elliott : 

Prof. Logie has touched upon a subject that is fascinating, and one cer- 
tainly in which no two individuals have yet agreed throughout Fable 
literature. When you come back to the manuscripts, you get still further 

3 



XXXIV MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

off. Each investigator finds difficulty in being consistent with himself as 
his investigation proceeds. 

There are two or three questions suggested by the paper that I should like 
to ask. One of the MSS. he has examined and presented the results of that 
examination to you here, 24310, is a MS. that I have had occasion to use in 
connection with Marie de France. Speaking of it in particular with refer- 
ence to the 19123 MS., and the omissions in it as compared to the latter, 
I should like to ask whether these omissions have been traced in other 
places. Could these be traced elsewhere it might give us an idea of where 
the MS. was taken from, or, probably, where the scribe lived who worked 
on it. Do these omissions exist in other MSS. from which this one derives ? 
Did the scribe simply follow his copy ? If they do exist in other MSS., do 
they, or do they not, correspond exactly to these noted here ? The answer 
to these questions might give us some clue to the scribe. 

Another point is with reference to the originals of these copies, whether 
they have been traced. The prologue and epilogue vary here. The pro- 
logue of MS. 24310 differs considerably in the number of verses from that 
of others. In one you have an epilogue of eighteen verses and a prologue 
of eight verses. In the prologue of the work presented there are twenty- 
six verses, and only eight verses in another one belonging to the same general 
set. The question arises, What has become of the other verses ? Have they 
been added or drawn from some other work ? If they were not drawn from 
some other work, that would give a clue to finding out something of the 
origin of the manuscript. 

Another point. Do these MSS. come apparently from the same source ? 
Is there sufficient evidence in the agreement of the manuscripts to show 
that they came from one source, or were they drawn from various sources ? 
In other words, were the scribes that copied the four manuscripts, from 
different parts of the country, and did they work in different circumstances 
on the same original, or did they copy from various originals ? It seems to 
me that this is a question which ought to be very thoroughly investigated, 
and the differences in the prologue would certainly help in the determina- 
tion of that point. 

Now, the general question arises, Was there a Walter of England ? 
When Prof. Logie began, I was surprised that he spoke of Walter of Eng- 
land as if there were no question of his existence. To my mind, it is 
doubtful whether there ever was such a person as Walter of England. 
Jacobs assumes his existence as confidently as though there were no doubt 
about it, and accepts the Hervieux colophon, bull don't think that that proves 
anything. I think the statement is simply made, as so often happens, by a 
later scribe, from his imagination, or from some idea he had gotten; his 
statement has no weight whatever, so far as proving the existence of such 
a person. Foerster in his edition, has certainly wisely concluded to keep 
the old name Anonymus Neveletus. This was the name by which the set 
of fables were known and which Joseph Jacobs would place to the credit 



' 

PROCEEDINGS FOR 1892. XXXV 

of a Walter of England. I do not consider the point at all established 
that we have a Walter of England, in spite of the Gualterus Anglicus fecit 
hunc librum sub nomine Esopi. The mere fact that the MS. went under 
so many names, would, it seems to me, prove, considering the age, that it is 
very doubtful whether such a man as Walter ever existed. 

Remarks upon this paper were also made by Professors 
A. Gerber and J. E. Matzke. 



11. Erasmus' Works, especially the Encomium Moriae and 
the Colloquia, as Sources of Rabelais' political, religious and 
literary Satire. By Dr. Hermann Schonfeld, of Johns Hop- 
kins University. 

Professor J. A. Fontaine : 

The expression "Erasmian spirit" seems to me slightly inadequate. 
Erasmus was the most brilliant representative of that satirical spirit that 
took an especial development towards the beginning of the sixteenth cen- 
tury, and was directed against the Roman church, the monks, theologians, 
kings, judges, or, in general, against the institutions then existing ; but at 
the same time we should bear in mind that Erasmus was not the originator 
of that spirit of satire and opposition. It had already permeated to a 
greater or lesser degree the Provenpal and French literature of the Mid- 
dle Ages. 

Concerning the influence of Rabelais on French literature, I do not think 
.that too much emphasis can be laid on it. Rabelais has influenced French 
satire in its twofold tendencies: the philosophical or Pantagruelist ten- 
dency and the comical or panurgist tendency. There are two modern 
French authors that might have been mentioned on account of their direct 
imitation of Rabelais: Nodier imitating his style in Hisloire du roi de 
BoMme and Balzac imitating both style and thought in Contes drolaliques 
. . . pour Fesbaltement des Pantagruelistes. 

Now as to whether Rabelais studied Erasmus' works. We have, I think, 
positive evidence that Rabelais was acquainted with Erasmus' Querela pacis 
and we may presume also that he read his other works'. However, I do 
not think it has been satisfactorily proved that the Episiola ad Bernardum 
Salignacum was directed to Erasmus, and the controversy raised over Rabelais' 
famous letter is not, to my mind, yet settled. Of course it is important that 
it should be, because on that letter is based to a great extent the evidence 
of Erasmus' influence on Rabelais. I hope Dr. Schonfeld will throw more 
light on that question. 

Now as to the d, priori arguments. The thought and form are said to be 
analogous in the writings of both. That may be granted, and we may find 



XXXVI MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

in Erasmus almost every thing we find in Rabelais ; for instance we may 
argue that the " Thelemite " maxim Fais ce que voultras was borrowed from 
one of Erasmus' colloquies, in which the same idea of unlimited freedom 
is expressed. There is however some danger in exaggerating the thought 
indebtedness of Kabelais to Erasmus. The life experiences of Rabelais bear 
so striking a resemblance to that of Erasmus that they must have given 
rise in both to thoughts very much alike. Is there not also some difference 
in the form of the Encomium morice and that of Rabelais' works ? We have 
in Erasmus a well conceived and executed plan. Erasmus is witty, sar- 
castic and at times cynical ; his phrase is remarkable for its conciseness 
and elegance. Rabelais on the contrary seems to have been indifferent to 
the general plan and economy of his work and has taken special delight in 
a style, the richness, flexibility and descriptive adaptability of which have 
seldom been equaled. A closer resemblance will be found, I think, between 
the form in Rabelais' writings and that in the colloquies of Erasmus. 

As to the publication of Rabelais' works with forged interpolations, we 
have no strong evidence. In the privileges granted by Kings Francis I 
and Henry II, Rabelais is represented as having complained that some 
publishers had tampered with his writings ; he did so most likely in order 
to lessen his own responsibility and ward off the dangers of persecution. In 
the case of Erasmus, on the contrary, we have sufficient evidence that some 
of his works were published with forged interpolations. 

Professor Schonfeld : 

In consideration of Erasmus' immense influence upon the whole civilized 
world of his time, and owing to his unique and original mode of writing 
and thought which revolutionized a world, we may well-nigh speak of 
'Erasmian spirit,' as we speak of Aristophanian spirit. The satire and 
opposition of the Provenpal and French literature of the Middle Ages, 
which was directed against real or alleged abuses of the Popes and the 
clergy, does by no means cover the scope of this Erasmian spirit. 

It was not my aim to exhaust Rabelais' influence upon subsequent 
French literature, as it was not my intention to treat fully of that influence 
upon German, English, and Spanish literature. Books may, and I hope 
will, be written on that subject. " Wer vieles bringt, wird jedem etwas 
bringen," says Goethe, and Rabelais brought so much that I could merely 
hint in general at the broad rays emanating from his work. (See Publica- 
tions, Vol. VIII, pp. 4-8.) 

That Rabelais knew Erasmus' works entirely and completely, so far as 
they had been published, is a matter of course. This fact presses itself 
upon every careful reader and has been recognized as early as Rabelais' 
work became known. To doubt this would be to doubt whether Lessing, 
for instance, ever knew and read Voltaire. It could therefore only be my 
purpose to show to what extent the correlation took place. As to the famous 



PROCEEDINGS FOR 1892. XXXVli 

Kabelais letter, it is proved by Birch-Hirschfeld (I, 216, Anna. 8), and 
generally accepted as final, that it was not addressed to a petty noble, but 
to Erasmus. I may with safety refer the reader to this source and to Th. 
Ziesing: Erasme ou Salignac? Paris, 1887. 

I acknowledge the truth of Professor Fontaine's statement, that there 
is some danger of exaggerating the thought-indebtedness of one author to 
another. In the published form of my paper this point will be found duly 
regarded. Such striking similarities, not only in content but even in form, 
as are noticed at pp. 43-44, 60, 64, 65, 66, 68, etc., of Publications, Vol. VIII, 
cannot be accidental, nor can they be explained by the resemblance of the 
life of the two men, but I have employed this view (cf. pp. 13-15) as a 
strong argument for their common Weltanschauung. As to the form of their 
works as a whole, I hold, even more strongly than does Professor Fontaine, 
that they cannot be compared in any way, nor have I attempted to do so. 



The President of the Phonetic Section, Professor A. Mel- 
ville Bell, gave a reception to the members of the Association, 
at his residence, 1525 Thirty-fifth Street, at 8 o'clock p. m. 

MORNING SESSION (Friday, December 30). 
The President called the Association to order at 10 o'clock. 

Professsor F. M. Warren, Chairman of the Committee on 
Place of Meeting, submitted the following report : 

The Committee recommends that this Association hold an 
Extra Session next July, at Chicago, under the auspices of 
the World's Congress Auxiliary of the World's Columbian 
Exposition, in accordance with the special invitation extended 
by the World's Congress Auxiliary ; and that the next regu- 
lar meeting of this Association be held at Washington, D. C., 
during the Christmas holidays of 1893, the exact date to be 
determined by the Executive Council. 

This report was adopted. 

The Secretary, Professor A. Marshall Elliott, as Chairman 
of the Committee for the revision of the "List of Colleges 
and of their Modern Language Teachers" (see Proceedings for 



XXXV111 MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION. 

1891, p. xliv), reported progress, and offered the motion that 
the Committee be continued, with the newly elected Secretary 
as its Chairman. 

The motion was adopted. 

Professor A. Gudeman : 

This meeting should not pass into history without an ex- 
pression of our appreciation of the services of our retiring 
Secretary, Professor A. Marshall Elliott, who has during the 
entire existence of this Association devoted his energy and 
editorial skill to its organization and growth. I therefore 
beg to offer the following resolution : 

Resolved, That the Modern Language Association of Amer- 
ica, in convention assembled, sincerely regretting the retire- 
ment of its Secretary, Professor A. Marshall Elliott, hereby 
expresses its deep appreciation of his devoted and invaluable 
services in behalf of this Association. 

Professor James W. Bright : 

I wish to second this resolution and to re-echo heartily the 
sentiment with which it has been presented. Professor Elliott 
has been a zealous and indefatigable Secretary to this Associa- 
tion, but he has also been more than that ; he is its founder, 
and has done most in promoting it. With prophetic outlook, 
he knew how to lay the foundation of this structure, and his 
self-sacrificing devotion to the cause of scholarship and his 
enthusiastic work and guidance have made possible the building 
upon that foundation. 

Professor A. Gerber : 

As an amendment to the resolution offered by Professor 
Gudeman, I